“Any with the Teamsters?” Reardon asked.
“No, but I’ve told him all about Arena. He’ll know how to keep it moving when I’m not around, and he’ll make sure I’m up to the minute on everything that happens.”
Cardella’s eye caught the red digital reading on his calculator and he reached over to push the “off” button before continuing. “Arena will have the usual two-man committee of drivers with him at the meetings. As always, he’ll be looking to get together and agree to things ahead of time. I’m convinced he does it just for the dinner and the booze. I’ve never seen him pick up a tab. But we’ll only set it up when I can be there with you. I don’t trust Tommy for a second, and he knows it. Even when we’re off the record, I take notes. I do it so he won’t try to pull any shit later on and say we reached an understanding on something if we didn’t.”
Reardon took a muffin out of the Dunkin’ Donuts box, broke it roughly in half and put one piece back. “I’ve been wondering, Richie, what do you think’s going to happen to Arena at that trial in November?” Word of the impending trial was published in the Herald just several days after Arena received his notification in the mail.
Cardella shook his head. “I don’t know. It depends on the evidence. If they’ve got enough on him, they could get him thrown out of the Union.”
“Could he appeal it, or what?”
“Yeah. He’s entitled to an appeal. There’s a judge in New York who’s got jurisdiction over the whole deal between the Teamsters and the Justice Department. But his chances of getting the decision reversed would be pretty thin.”
“I know the guy’s a bastard, but do you think he has connections with Federal Hill? As I get it from the grapevine, the government’s accusing him of playing footsy with the Tarantino family. He’s either supposed to be on their payroll for something he does for them, or he’s moving money from the Union into their pockets for some reason. That’s what they’ve got to prove, right?”
Cardella chose his words carefully. “I guess that’s the case they’re going to try to make.”
Reardon wasn’t put off that easily. “You didn’t answer my question, counselor. Or let me make it a little clearer. Do you think they’ll prove it? You’ve known him for years.”
Cardella got up to stretch his legs. “Tommy brags a lot, you know that. He likes people to think he’s a big man on campus, can do anything he wants, that he’s got good connections. Sometimes what he says is true, but usually he’s full of shit. He makes most of it up as he goes along, I think, just to sound tough, just for the effect. It might depend on whether he ever talked about stuff that really was true just to get a rise out of the people he was with. Maybe he wished later on he kept his mouth shut. That’s why I said it’ll depend on the evidence.”
Reardon turned his chair partway around so he could face Cardella who had walked to the other end of the room. “His trial is a week after the election in November,” he said. “I don’t see it having any effect on our negotiations, do you?”
Richie moved slowly back toward the table. “None, none at all,” he answered. There was a certainty in his voice. “I figure Tommy, you and I will probably be sitting down for breakfast on September 30th, working out the final settlement before the last meeting starts later that morning. Just like we’ve done it the other times, Terry. And if Arena’s satisfied, he’ll sell the package to the committee and jam it home at the ratification meeting. It’s good to know exactly what his routine is all the time. If the feds make an ex-Teamster out of him, I think I’ll miss the guy.”
55
GEORGE RYDER WASN’T SURPRISED when his secretary informed him that Ed Jackson wanted to see him at three o’clock that afternoon. The latest computer printouts told the whole story. His billable hours for June, which he and Jackson discussed earlier, were up slightly, at ninety-one. But July was a total disaster for him.
There was no doubt in Ryder’s mind that favorable settlements he worked out for two of the firm’s clients that month cost him over a hundred billable hours. His skill and experience had moved the cases off the litigation track on which they were headed. Each case would have required lengthy hearings, one with a Federal agency, the other before an arbitrator. The chances of being forced to pay out large sums of money in both, by way of back pay or damages, were quite high. Ryder engineered settlements that let both employers off cheaply, but the result, in terms of his billables, was anything but good. Production records for the month showed only seventy hours of his time for which Walters, Cassidy & Breen would be paid. Paul Castillo did not give him work of any sort in that period, although Castillo continued to show a full billing schedule for the month.
What upset Ryder the most was finding out from Alan Deveraux, who invited him to lunch, that Deveraux was already aware of the fate in store for his good friend George that afternoon. Before the deli sandwiches they ordered were brought to the table, Deveraux took out a copy of a memo addressed to Ryder from Ed Jackson. The memo first outlined the history of his billable hours over the past two years. After that came the terms the firm was prepared to offer him in exchange for a voluntary resignation. Deveraux informed him that his secretary found the document in the copy machine that morning when she went to use it.
“I think it’s a goddam insult for them to be offering you three months’ severance, George. You’ve got about thirty years with the firm, right?”
“A little over thirty-two, but it doesn’t surprise me. We’ve been going in this direction ever since Fiore became managing partner. Everything is strictly bottom line now. What you’ve done for the firm in the past doesn’t mean diddly-squat.”
“Do you think he’s behind this?” Deveraux asked.
“Of course he is,” Ryder replied. “He’s been after my ass for years, ever since he succeeded me as managing partner. He didn’t want me to run against him that year. Said he had all the votes he needed to win at the partners meeting, and I should recommend his election unanimously. I told him I didn’t think he was the right person to lead the firm at that time and that he’d have to beat me on the ballot. That pissed him off real good and he warned me I’d regret it someday. I guess I handed him the opportunity and today’s the day.”
“Then you figure Jackson’s just doing what he’s been told?”
“Absolutely. He’s just a wimp. He knows it, and so does everyone else. He’s a workaholic with no balls. Big smile, friendly guy, but principles don’t mean a thing to Ed if he has to worry about his own rear end. That’s why Fiore put him where he is.”
“You know, George, if you don’t resign, Ed’s recommendation will have to go to a vote of the partners, and he may be worried about whether a majority would support him. He barely won his own election. If he gets voted down on this, it’s a big slap in the face. He’d definitely lose most of his power and he might have to step down himself. Maybe you can negotiate a better severance package out of him for that reason, unless you intend to fight it altogether. You’d have plenty of support.”
“I’m not sure, Alan. I’ll have to think it over. Practicing with this firm isn’t the fun it used to be. This may be the right time to get out and go somewhere else, or even start a new career. The best thing that could happen to WC&B is for Doug Fiore to be elected governor. And I don’t mean because it would bring in business.”
* * *
At a few minutes after three, Ryder picked up the paper Ed Jackson pushed across his desk. He took less than ten seconds to scan it, to make sure it was the same one he was shown at lunch by Deveraux.
“Make it nine months’ severance and I’ll resign today,” he said. He was prepared to accept a counterproposal extending the package through the end of the year, making it a five-month deal.
Jackson was shocked at the speed with which Ryder reviewed the memo and responded to it. He hardly had time to turn his chair toward the window and puff away at his pipe. “I’m not sure we can do that,” he said.
Ryder feigned surpr
ise. “Come on Ed, I’ve been here thirty-two years, a little more than you. You don’t think I’m asking for too much, do you?” He made it sound as caustic as he could. “Make believe no one was going bankrupt anymore, and your undertaker services weren’t needed. You wouldn’t think severance pay from August through April was excessive after all that time in the firm, would you?” He looked hard at Jackson who had a blank look in his eyes while he continued blowing smoke in the air.
“And I’m not so sure the partners of this firm are willing to sit back and watch someone with my seniority get booted out just because sales happen to be down for a while. Maybe they’d rather see my billables for the past thirty years and then vote on this kind of a policy.”
Jackson held the pipe away from his mouth and pursed his lips several times. He seemed to suddenly realize that Ryder was waiting for an answer. He had no idea how to respond to the proposal. “What you do is up to you, George. I’m not prepared to change the offer today. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you in a day or two.”
“Do you mean you want to discuss it with Fiore?” Ryder paused for just a second. “I mean with the Executive Committee?”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. That’s up to me to decide.”
“Have you already gone through this with the Committee?”
“That’s confidential. The partnership agreement says I can handle this kind of thing myself or bring the Committee in on it. You know that.”
“Right. And I also remember that while I was managing partner anything this serious had to get a majority vote at the Committee to get off the ground.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, George. If I needed three votes, I’d have Rubin’s and Zappala’s.”
Ryder stood up. “That’s right, I forgot that the court has been packed.” He dropped the memo on Jackson’s desk.
“That’s your copy,” Jackson said. “Hold on to it.”
Ryder turned to leave. “I don’t need this one. I’ll wait until it gets changed.”
* * *
But there was no change. Fiore laughed to himself at Ryder’s request for extended severance pay. He knew he could successfully help Jackson bully enough partners into upholding a termination if it came to that. The vote would be close but he counted heads and knew which partners would be afraid to oppose him.
“Listen, Ed, I’m not happy about it but I think you’ll just have to tell Ryder the three months you offered him is all he’s going to get for his resignation. He knows that the firm’s been overpaying him for almost the last two years. His salary has been higher than his billables for all that time. I like George as much as anyone, but times are tough right now and we’ve treated him well. If this was a year ago, I could see giving him five or six months’ severance, but we’ve more than made up for that in the pay he’s received while WC&B was losing money on him. To give him the severance he’s asking for now wouldn’t be fair to the partners who have been doing the work and bringing in our revenue. I think George knows that. I don’t blame him for asking for more, but if he doesn’t want to go along with the fair offer we’ve given him, be sure he understands that you’ll submit a motion for his termination at next week’s partners’ meeting, supported by a recommendation from the Executive Committee. Tell him you’re well aware that he could fight it but that you’re not worried about getting a majority of the partners to support the Committee. If he wants to force a vote, we’ll respect his decision but there’ll be no severance pay for him at all if he loses.”
Jackson didn’t look forward to another face-to-face meeting with Ryder. He began dialing his number, intending to communicate the decision over the phone and to support it with some of the thoughts Fiore laid out for him, but then decided he didn’t want to speak to Ryder at all. He took out a copy of the memorandum, updated it with a hand-written note in which he said that the Executive Committee had decided not to change its severance offer, and asked for an immediate reply. He had the mail room send a clerk to his office and instructed him to deliver the sealed envelope to Ryder. When the messenger arrived, Ryder told him to wait. He read the memo and figured that Fiore had the votes he needed to support Jackson. Without hesitating, he wrote “OK” at the bottom of the page, initialed it and sent it back.
Almost immediately he experienced an unexpected surge of relief. In one sense Ryder felt defeated, saddened by the fact that a distinguished career was coming to an end in such a shabby manner. He always looked forward to a kind of “Goodbye, Mr. Chips” farewell when he left the firm, with everyone applauding his final words about friendship and loyalty. He never imagined that his departure would be forced on him. Worse yet, that it would come on the heels of an argument with some gutless partner over the length of his severance pay. At the same time, there was a rush of pleasure at what was happening. He realized that he wouldn’t have to have anything more to do with the likes of Fiore and Jackson and those partners whose cowardly conduct, in his estimation, reflected the knowledge that it was in the best interest of their careers to go along with whatever Fiore wanted to do.
Ryder was no longer obligated to give WC&B a single billable hour. It was up to him whether he cleaned out his office and left the next day, or chose to use it for the entire three months while he made telephone calls, received secretarial assistance and looked for other employment in town. He knew that a letter of resignation, approved by Jackson, could be circulated to the firm anytime he desired. That’s when he could announce his date of departure and go out a gentleman, not someone who seemed bent on revenge. It was understood that the office manager would arrange a party for him on his last afternoon unless he notified her to the contrary ahead of time. Coffee and cake would be served to those who came around for a final handshake. He circled the date on the calendar that would be his last day in the office. Ironically, he saw that his three-month severance would officially end on the day before the general election in November. If Fiore was the Republican candidate, Ryder wouldn’t be showing any disloyalty to his “employer” when he voted Democratic.
56
IN THE FIRST WEEK of August the Providence Herald reported that Richie Cardella’s lead over Doug Fiore now stood at 55 to 45 percent. The Fiore campaign team was delighted with the numbers. They told anyone who would listen that their candidate was climbing steadily in the polls as more and more people got to hear his message. They were confident he would be peaking at just the right time for the September 13th primary.
Two weeks later, Fiore stood in the middle of the living room in Cyril Berman’s suite, fielding questions from Berman, Walsh, and Karp in preparation for another open forum that evening. Cardella’s margin over him had moved back up to twelve points.
“I think we’ve hit a brick wall,” Russell Walsh told the others before the session began. “The positive campaigning brought us to one level. We’re going to have to bring out all of Cardella’s negatives to get beyond where we are.”
“Russ’s right,” Lester Karp said. “I could see contributions begin slowing down when we stopped gaining ground in the polls. This past week was the worst we’ve had. We need something to give us a jump start and wake up our supporters. What do you say, Cyril?”
Berman didn’t look ruffled. He sat at one end of the long sofa, leaning back into the corner where several small pillows were placed for support. He held a drink in his hand. “I say it’s easier said than done,” he answered. “Cardella had four good years as Attorney General, I told you that before. We read every editorial the Herald wrote about the guy during that time. You’d think he was the publisher’s nephew for Chrissake. They loved him, which is why I can’t help feeling they’ll endorse him before the primary.”
The others said nothing, waiting for Berman to continue.
“I think what we ought to do is take a closer look at his law firm and see what kind of connections it has with State government. Maybe we can find something that will let us accuse Cardella of wanting to funnel money from the State cof
fers to his fellow partners. That would be hitting the jackpot. We should also put a private eye on him. It might help to know where he goes and who he’s with when he leaves his office. With a little luck we may find out he’s fooling around somewhere.”
Berman turned toward Fiore who was thumbing through the latest issue of Rhode Island Monthly Magazine. “How about you, Doug? If we can dig up some dirt on Cardella, do you have any problem using it?”
Fiore looked up from the magazine and was silent just briefly. The things he said earlier about running a clean campaign and not doing anything that would cost him his self-respect flashed through his mind. They weren’t asking him to tell lies. They simply wanted him to reveal Cardella’s negatives, if they found any, in his speeches. He had said earlier that if Richie’s past conduct included anything he now may regret having said or done, it was fair game to remind the public about it. Fiore believed that doing what Cyril suggested did not turn a clean campaign into a dirty one because it was not being dishonest. He looked and sounded very serious when he answered Berman’s question. “We’ve done a lot of work to get where we are, and if that will help us win, I’ll do it.”
Berman smiled at him. “Good. Then we’re all together on this, because Sandy Tarantino thinks we ought to start digging.”
57
THE SIXTH NEGOTIATING SESSION between the Herald and the Teamsters wasn’t going well at all. Terry Reardon wanted to get as many issues as possible out of the way before the primary. Despite Cardella’s assurances, Reardon feared there would be tremendous pressure on the candidate to drop everything after his primary victory and spend all his time campaigning for the general election. It would be difficult to get him to a meeting for at least a week after the primary, leaving just ten days before the contract expired.
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