great lengths to make sure that he was noticed. They would surge around the
foreman, calling out their given names and attesting to their physical strength
and willingness to work. Often they were beaten back by overseers that the
foreman had brought along, both for his own protection from the would-be
workers’ enthusiasm and also to have some brutal fun at the expense of these
displaced peasants.
Most of these ‘bosses’ had a keen eye for strength and stamina, and often
the old or the frail would be passed over in favor of younger, fitter prospects.
At fifteen, Lonfranco already stood in excess of six feet, and his tight,
angular body was well muscled as a result of his labors for his father over the
past eight years. His straight black hair was slicked back with pomade and
despite his tortuous journey overseas, he looked as robust and fit as any man
in the plaza.
Jimmy Shaunaker, the big Irish foreman, must have thought so as well,
for he had chosen the youth to join his pick and shovel brigade with a wave
of his baton. The half-dozen men that were selected bid farewell to their less
fortunate compatriots and were marched out of the plaza.
Lonfranco marveled at the size of the homes as they wound their way
through streets bustling with tradesmen, merchants, and well-to-do residents.
Each estate was surrounded by a high wall or fence, often affording only a
glimpse of the residence and grounds. The styles and architecture varied
dramatically from lot to lot, Italianate beside French colonial, beside English-
style tutor. Lush gardens and fountains could be seen in the front courtyards of
many. Perhaps one day . . . Lonfranco thought to himself.
Finally, the procession came to a halt in front of a large vacant lot on Calle
Arenales. Tools were issued to the newcomers, and they were told to jump
down into the excavated hole and take instructions from the line boss.
Tucho Ortiz was not a man that Lonfranco would enjoy taking orders
from, for his methods and his demeanor were as ugly as his face. The work was
backbreaking and relentless, with only a half hour break for lunch. Each man
was assigned an area to dig. If their progress was insufficient, Tucho’s baton,
a larger version of Shaunaker’s, would come crashing down on his backside
accompanied by a stream of invectives.
Lonfranco made sure that he kept up a favorable pace, even though his
hands were becoming swollen and blistered. He was able to make it through
3
JAMES McCREATH
his first day without facing Tucho’s wrath, and to his delight, he was asked
back for the next morning with a promise of long-term employment if he made
it through his first week. He collected his pay and set out to find good work
gloves and bandages with a noticeable spring in his step.
Despite the severe condition of his hands, he completed his first week as
a common laborer by keeping his mouth shut, his eyes and ears open, and his
shovel constantly moving. Many of his co-workers were not as fortunate, often
being physically expelled from the job site with harsh words or even a beating
by Tucho and his underlings. The conditions were barely above slave labor, but
there were always men anxious to take the place of anyone who fell into Tucho’s
disfavor.
They worked six days a week and rested on Sunday. Lonfranco had been
asked by one of the married workers he had befriended to come for Sunday
dinner, and he spent his most enjoyable evening to date in his new country at
the small flat of Luigi Monza and his family.
Monza had been an immigrant laborer for almost three years, since
arriving from southern Italy. His wife worked as a seamstress, and with their
combined income, they were able to maintain a modest lifestyle. They were a
fountain of knowledge for young Lonfranco, outlining local customs and habits,
as well as recommending where to get cheap food, clothing, and lodging. The
boy had found a good friend in the older, more worldly Monza, and he began
to feel more secure and at ease about fulfilling his father’s wishes than at any
time since he had left Italy.
By the start of his fourth week on the job site, his hands had become tough
and callused, his back strong and tanned. The foundation of the mammoth
home was being formed with concrete, and the work was proceeding at a frantic
pace.
Tucho was ever-present, but he never bothered Lonfranco. As a matter of
fact, the boy became one of the crew’s most able workers, catching the eye of
not only Shaunaker, but his peers as well.
The home that they labored on was being built for one ‘General Figueroa
San Marco,’ a hero of the Indian wars whose victories had opened up the rich
agricultural hinterland known as the Pampas for settlement.
General San Marco was by now the preeminent figure within both military
and political circles in Buenos Aires. It was the ongoing use of his wide-ranging
influence that allowed the current regime to stay in political power these last
several years. Without support of a united military, no president had ever stayed
in office more than a few months. San Marco’s enormous popularity with the
soldiers serving under him, as well as the romanticized folklore surrounding
his combat heroics, made him exulted by the masses.
38
RENALDO
Figueroa San Marco, it could be said, was the most influential man in all
of Argentina.
General San Marco would often visit the sight of his new home to make
inspections and update or change architectural plans. There were no beatings
or dressing downs when he was on the job site. Tucho and Shaunaker were on
their best subservient behavior.
If the general was pleased with the progress, he would sometimes
speak directly to the assembled workers, thanking them and giving them
encouragement.
He is a man of regal bearing, Lonfranco thought.
Perhaps fifty years of age, the general was not an overly tall man, rather
more bowlegged in posture from too many years of cavalry service. He was
barrel-chested and powerfully built, however, with a large, hawk-like nose,
piercing eyes, and a shock of full, grey hair.
More than anything, it was his voice that inspired respect. One could just
imagine the booming baritone imploring his troop to ‘push on, push on to
glory!’ in the face of overwhelming enemy odds. His talks always left the men
with uplifted spirits. Even Tucho would be in a good mood for a few hours after
the general’s departure.
On the few occasions that work had fallen behind schedule due to excessive
rains or the unavailability of certain material, the general would quietly walk
off the sight. He would simply say to Shaunaker that he was sure that the
foreman would have the building timetable back on track soon.
This mild reprimand was translated into escalated proddings and beatings
by Tucho’s bullies. They would drive the men incessantly, often late into the
night. There was some talk among the workers of revolt on these occasions, but
each man needed this work, and no one was willing to actua
lly put his job on
the line.
It was during one of Tucho’s foul moods that Luigi Monza accidentally
overturned a wheelbarrow of cement when its front wheel became bogged
down in the mud. Tucho was there in an instant, flailing away at Monza with
his baton while screaming insults and kicking the legs out from under the
startled, apologetic Italian. The cruel man’s gang now joined in, and Monza
was picked up and passed from bully to bully, pelted, beaten, and insulted.
Lonfranco’s blood was boiling. There was a ringing in his ears that he had
never experienced before, and he stood, shaking with rage.
Unable to control himself, the youth lunged at Tucho, knocking him into
the wheelbarrow and stumbling on into the mud. As the line boss tried to
regain his balance and composure, three well-placed punches to the face sent
the Argentine reeling backwards again, this time covered in his own blood.
39
JAMES McCREATH
Lonfranco turned to face the other tormentors. As they came at him one
by one, he was able to dispatch each, in turn, into the muck. His co-workers
cheered him on heartily, but offered no assistance. Even Monza was too stunned
to come to Lonfranco’s aid.
Tucho, now brandishing a knife as well as his ever-present baton, had
maneuvered behind the boy and was about to strike a telling blow to his head
when a pistol shot exploded a few feet away. The combatants stopped dead in
their tracks.
There on a scaffold propped against cement blocks stood General Figueroa
San Marco. He motioned for Tucho to drop the knife, but the overseer was
so incensed at the loss of face he had suffered that he hesitated momentarily,
gesturing at Lonfranco to continue their dance of death.
A second shot struck the gleaming blade just inches above the handle,
carrying it out of the Tucho’s grasp. San Marco ordered the bully and his
followers off of his property at once, for he had witnessed the entire episode.
Loud cheers from the workers greeted this news, and they ran to congratulate
Lonfranco. They were silenced by the general’s booming voice.
“Be still, you men! You there, the fighter. Come up here. I want to have a
word with you.” Lonfranco was now filled with dread, fearing the same fate as
Tucho. Slowly he made his way to the scaffold.
“Hurry up, boy, I don’t bite. Not unless I’m hungry, and luckily for you,
I’ve just had my lunch.”
Finally, the worker stood only a few feet from the general, and he launched
into a course of humble apologies.
“Be quiet, young man! Is it your habit to always think with your fists, or
do you have a brain in that handsome head of yours?”
Lonfranco stood there dumbfounded, unable to answer.
“That was a fine bit of work you just did there, trying to help your friend
and all, but it would seem that you have left me without a line boss to finish
my home. What do you expect me to do now?”
Lonfranco found his tongue instantly.
“The men will work better with that ogre gone, Señor General. We do
not have to be beaten and insulted to work hard. It is for every one of us a
great honor to work on the general’s residence, and we will prove to you that
Tucho and his likes will not be missed. Besides, Señor General, those men were
stealing supplies from you. Back in Livorno where I come from, I used to help
the dock foremen count cargo containers as they came off the ships. When I
started to work here, I noticed that every morning there was less material on the
site than the evening before. So I started to count stacks of lumber and cement
blocks. I am very good with numbers, Señor General. Tucho and his men were
thieves, as well as tyrants. They will not be missed here, believe me.”
40
RENALDO
“Well, Mister Shaunaker, what do you think? Should we give them a
chance to see if they can do it their way?” the general queried. “It’s your neck
on the line as well!”
“The boy is a good worker to be sure, General, and the other men all like
him,” Shaunaker confirmed. “Why don’t we let him be the line boss for a few
days and see what happens. In any event, it will take me some time to round
up another group of overseers.”
“Very well. You have five days, young man. Let’s see if you and the others
can pull things together and stay on schedule. I will be back for your report at
that time, but from now on, my visits will be unannounced and spontaneous.
Things seem to be much more revealing that way.”
With that, he abruptly turned about-face and was gone. The men stood in
silence, the image of the general in his crisp military uniform, polished knee-
high boots, and ostrich-plumed kepi etched in their minds.
Shaunaker addressed them all, indicating that he would go along with the
plan only if he could see progress. The men were more than glad to be rid of
Tucho and his gang, and a new spirit was born on the job site that afternoon.
Lonfranco continued to do his share of the physical work, but he also
encouraged and reassured the others in their toil. Not wanting to see the return
of the likes of Tucho, each man seemed to find new enthusiasm and pride in
his work. When General San Marco appeared on the site five days later, he was
full of praise for Shaunaker and his ‘lads.’ He specifically asked about the young
prize fighter whom he had promoted on his last visit.
“The boy seems to have a handle on things,” the big Irishman assured
the general. “The men are working harder than ever, probably out of fear of
Tucho’s return. Nevertheless, all is running smoothly, so I see no need to make
a change. By the way, the boy was right about the stealing. I was about to
make a report to you myself when the topic came up unexpectedly that day. I
have placed an armed night guard on the site. There will be no further theft,
General.”
“Good, I will save some money not having to pay the likes of that rabble
to steal from me. Get the boy. I want to talk to him.”
Lonfranco had awaited the general’s arrival with trepidation. If things
were not to San Marco’s liking, he felt sure that the burden would rest on his
shoulders, and it would cost him his job.
“So what do they call you, young man?” the general inquired of the boy.
“Lonfranco Guissepe De Seta, Señor General.”
“Shaunaker says that the men are working better than ever before, but do
they not resent you for being so young? You have the face of an angel, but the
body of prize fighter.”
41
JAMES McCREATH
“They fear the return of the line bosses more than anything else, Señor
General, and I think they are willing to accept any leader that does not use a
baton on them for inspiration.”
“You were the only one willing to stand up for your friend. You are a man
of action, they saw that. Where do you come from? Is your family with you?”
“Livorno, Italy, Señor General. My family is all still there. They do plan to
join me in Argentina as soon as possible though, within the year, I hope.”
�
�Well, Lonfranco Guissepe De Seta, you have a way of attracting attention
to yourself, it seems. You have caught my eye now, and I would hate to have you
disappoint me. There will be no more line bosses for the time being, but both
Shaunaker and I will be watching you! And my wife will be watching me, so
make all possible haste to finish this damned house. She is extremely anxious
to move here, and she is driving me crazy! So off you go, and keep your men
working smoothly. Prove that you can do this for me, Lonfranco Guissepe De
Seta.”
The boy’s feet hardly seemed to touch the ground as he walked back to
the site where his co-workers waited for the news.
“No more Tucho!” he said with a broad grin as the men broke out into
spontaneous celebration. “But it is up to us to keep it that way. We will be
watched all the time, and every man must pull his weight. Does anyone have a
problem with that?” Silence was all that could be heard in the cluster of men.
“Good, now let’s show them what we can do!”
Over the next few months, the Casa San Marco took shape in record time.
Other contractors from all over the city came not only to inspect the beautiful
structure, but also to see for themselves the unheard of process of building
without strong-armed line bosses.
When most of the physical labor had been completed on the exterior, the
majority of the workers were released in favor of skilled interior craftsmen. The
general continued to employ Lonfranco as Shaunaker’s assistant as a reward for
his diligence in completing his tasks so efficiently. San Marco would frequently
seek out the boy and ask him personally for his appraisal of various situations.
Their relationship grew to be somewhat like uncle and nephew, for the
general had conceived four daughters but no sons. He would say to Lonfranco
that he wished for just one son to carry on the family name and provide him
with some manly companionship around his home.
“Surely you must get all the male company you want in the military?”
Lonfranco had questioned.
“It is true that I am surrounded by men every day, but they are not my
blood. They are not family. Unfortunately, my wife cannot have another child.
I have fought my wars, and now it is time for me to enjoy the fruits of my labor
with the ones I love. But as much as I love my wife and daughters, I can’t teach
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