The Brick People

by Alejandro Morales

  Malaquías appeared from the back of the house guiding two horses that were pulling a large wagon, with a third horse tied to the back. In fifteen minutes, Malaquías, Lorenza and the children loaded the wagon. Lorenza, heavily pregnant, helped the children onto the wagon, climbed onto the driver’s seat, took the reins and waited for Malaquías’ order to move ahead.

  Proud of his wife and family, Malaquías spurred the horses forward and never looked back. Perhaps only Nana, holding one of her potted plants, had a parting thought for the house and the porch she had beautifully decorated. With the clip-clop of the horses and as the porch became smaller, she promised innocently that someday she would have a home from which she would never be forced to leave.

  “Goodbye, Octavio,” Malaquías called out. “Good luck.”

  Nana caught a glimpse of a young man standing on the edge of the street. For an instant, their eyes met. She quickly turned away to face the oncoming road.

  Octavio waved and silently watched the de Leon family leave Simons. The idea of survival dominated his mind. Octavio would never allow Gonzalo to step on him. Like Malaquías, Octavio would rather face the consequences than live enslaved by fear. Octavio continued toward the job site. The families of Simons were engaged in the day’s chores. His mother, brothers and sisters came to mind. He wanted them present, accounted for and happy with his father. He shivered in the morning sun at the thought of his father falling back to the vices he had enjoyed in Mexico. To him, the first-born, fell the responsibility to protect and support the family. If Damian relapsed, Octavio would willingly accept the charge.

  Octavio analyzed the relations of power in Simons. Gonzalo’s power rested on his relationship with the patron, but there was one other element that Gonzalo respected: money. As his purchasing power grew, Malaquías had become a danger to Gonzalo. Malaquías had expanded his material wealth by the purchase of horses which allowed him the freedom of movement and choice. He could buy and sell in any Mexican barrio he pleased. He did not depend on Simons and never saw himself at the mercy of Gonzalo. Malaquías represented an option opposed to the Walter Robey Simons philosophy of the Mexican worker, and thus he was not tolerated in Simons.

  In a few minutes Octavio would arrive at the job site, and for the first time in his life Damian’s presence did not matter. Survival depended on Octavio, not his father. Octavio Mondragon Sandoval made sure of personal survival, but he honored traditional teachings: obedience, respect and loyalty to the family patriarch, regardless of his actions. However, for the welfare of the family, Octavio justified his values. From today on, he would contribute but a portion of his salary to Damian. He wanted to save money for the future. Perhaps he would build or buy a home for his mother, brothers and sisters. Hard work would earn him a steady amount, but he was interested in adding to his earnings. Periodically the square face of Gonzalo appeared and jabbed his brain.

  Ever since he started playing, Octavio had won in games of chance. He had rejected gambling as a source of income for it often led to confrontation among friends. However, he possessed a special talent, a gift of special intelligence, a genius manifested in the extraordinary ability to calculate and memorize the number of times the faces of cards appeared in a hand. Poker, cunquillan and malilla were his specialities, and dice were a challenge. He considered himself qualified to play and win at any card game that was held in Simons. But before setting out on the path of chance, which could be dangerous, he decided to observe the gamblers who came to Simons to practice their skill. ... Observe, study, be the best gambler in the world, trust no one and work hard to hold the family together, Octavio thought as he took off his sweater and prepared to stack brick.

  The decision to make extra money through gambling and not to give his earnings to his father showed in Octavio’s face and his manner in dealing with the man who had engendered him. A split developed between father and son. As Octavio became increasingly independent, Damian could see the grip he once had on his first-born’s life weaken rapidly. That morning when he awoke and discovered that his son had left, Damian realized that he would have to work harder to keep up with Octavio.

  When Damian arrived at the job site, he found his son setting brick up for loading onto the wagon that would transport it to Plymouth Avenue. He did not communicate a word to Octavio. He placed himself in front of the wagon, a signal he was ready to load. Instead of stacking seven bricks on his hand and forearm, Octavio readied nine. He looked at his father and tossed the nine. Damian’s face manifested surprise at the odd number which his son threw. He caught the bricks and hoped that Octavio would not throw that many again. His wish was not answered.

  Chapter 8

  In comparison to life in Mexico, the years between 1910 and 1920 were peaceful building days for the people of Simons. By 1920, Malaquías and Lorenza de Leon and their children Paquita, Nana, Jesus, Andrea and two boys, Leonardo and Juan, were farming ten acres of rented Japanese land on Telegraph Road in Downey. Although Malaquías had left Simons, he had not burned his bridges and he kept his family close enough to the brickyard in case of a purge on the Mexicans by the gringos. For the moment, Malaquías, Lorenza and family existed by caring for each other and producing for the good of all the community.

  Damian Revueltas settled into the life he chose to live. He became a superior brickmaker, mastering every step of the brick-making process. Within a year he had earned the highest paying job in the yard, that of quemador, burner in charge of a kiln, a big responsibility since a slight change in temperature could cause the loss of hundreds of thousands of bricks. Damian accepted the responsibility with great seriousness, and when he was on the job, Gonzalo was sure that Damian would not make a mistake. Besides establishing himself as one of the best workers in the yard, Damian was seen by the community as an excellent provider for his family. He had been given one of the nicer houses on Southworth Street where he had taken his wife Milagros the day she arrived.

  Damian was proud to offer Milagros a home and a material life much better than what she had in Mexico, but the old vices again swallowed Damian. He drank, chased women, listened to mariachis late into the night and often stayed away from home for days. For years Milagros had not allowed Damian to touch her. He had known other women, had explored and tasted the moisture of their bodies. To Milagros, Damian’s hands would always remain dirty. Neither water nor blood could ever cleanse the violation of her person, body and holy marriage vows. Damian had condemned himself forever from his bride’s white sheets. He absented himself from the sight of his wife and children, confident that his oldest son would provide for the family. Damian’s attitude penetrated Octavio’s heart and mind as a burning, heavy rancor, but Octavio always came through.

  The United States, Octavio decided, was the place where he would build a house for his own family. Mexico retreated into fading images in his memory, and life in Simons and in Los Angeles became more exciting every day. He worked hard during the day and in the evenings went out to gamble with his uncle Ignacio Sandoval, one year his senior. At first he just observed, but soon he calculated the feel of the luck of the cards. He developed a sense of when to enter and exit a game, when to bluff, when to raise or pass, and he studied the reactions of men when they won and most important, when they lost.

  Within months Octavio had men betting on whether he would win or lose, and more often the bets were made on how much he would win. Several financial backings were offered, but Octavio refused, preferring to remain independent and not share his winnings or compound his losses. His calculative genius gained him constant money in his pocket, credit from anyone and respect from the men of Simons. He never asked for money, but he was always willing to lend to responsible fellow workers. He was considered an intelligent man with a special gift.

  Octavio gambled in Los Angeles, East Los Angeles, Belvedere, Whittier. Monday through Thursday he played poker, cunquillan or malilla at his home table at Simons. When his father entered the room where the game simmered, Oc
tavio became uncomfortable, and after a hand or two, winning or losing, he would fold and walk away from the game. Damian would then buy in, taking Octavio’s place. With a look, Damian would indicate to his son to leave and Octavio always obeyed. To Gonzalo, who played often, beating Octavio became an obsession. When Octavio would get up to leave, Gonzalo, noticeably angered, would throw his cards down.

  “Stay, man!” Gonzalo would yell as Octavio pushed away from the financial meal.

  “There will be another night for revenge,” Octavio would reply, acknowledging Damian, who to Gonzalo’s irritation, sat next to him.

  Gonzalo respected both men, but he had paid a high price for the great admiration he had for Octavio ... Some day your luck will run out and I’ll beat you, thought Gonzalo as the door closed behind Octavio.

  Although Prohibition had been imposed, Octavio and Ignacio, his constant companion and fellow gambling traveler, found good Mexican whiskey easy to get in La Calle de los Negros, located at the plaza de Los Angeles in the Mexican section of Los Angeles. The closed bars were transformed into restaurants, facades for the infamous speakeasies where whiskey, wine, and beer were as available as before Prohibition.

  Liquor was never difficult to purchase for Octavio, the Simons workers and the general population. At first there was a scarcity of alcohol, but soon after the implementation of the law, bootleggers produced enough whiskey, wine and beer to supply most of Los Angeles. Certain parts of the city became known for producing the best wine, whiskey or beer. Spirit production went underground and became a bigger business than before the dry law. For some winemakers going underground meant the survival of a family tradition, a way of life and meeting an economic need.

  In his gambling adventures, Octavio had met several alcohol producers who gladly gave him the liquor he needed. In Simons, several families fermented wine or had whiskey or beer distilleries. Simons never lacked for alcoholic beverages. For home bootleggers and gamblers and a number of Los Angeles gamblers and prostitutes, Simons was a safe enclave from law enforcement agencies, including the federal and Montebello police.

  “Payday!” Saturdays were dominated by tremendous human activity. Vendors came into town at about six in the morning to set up stands and park their wagons full of the products and services they sold. The bootleggers displayed bottles of spirits to the Simons residents and to outsiders who had been invited by the men to enjoy the excellent card and dice games that developed on Saturday night. At the time the payroll line formed, the prostitutes were brought by a man and woman known only as the Benicasim, to whom Gonzalo rented two rooms. One was the cocktail lounge where the men got to know, choose and come to an economic agreement with the woman desired. The other room was partitioned into as many cubicles as there were women working, usually seven to ten daughters of joy, with portable folding screens painted with pornographic scenes. The women started to service the clients when darkness overcame daylight, no later, no sooner, and worked until daybreak.

  With the night, the area behind the general store appeared like a circus. Men, some women and a few children drank whiskey, wine or beer and chatted or played. The men discussed the week’s work, counted their money and evaluated the different levels of gambling that the night offered. Octavio Revueltas was always mentioned among the top competition and highest stakes, but never did he allow himself to get enticed into the prostitutes’ rooms.

  Small groups of men gathered around the Benicasim doors waiting to buy their turn at a moment of intense pleasure in the vagina, anus or mouth of one of the loving ladies. These activities became known to the people of Montebello who already had negative opinions about Mexicans in general and the workers of Simons in particular. Sodom and Gomorrah were children’s playgrounds compared to the Montebellans’ images of what went on in Simons. The little that most Montebellans saw of Simons was from the bluff off Date and Maple streets. From there they looked downward into the brickyard. This descending point of view, coupled with what was heard about the occurrences in the brickyard, resulted in “the hole,” a name given by Montebellans and translated to El Hoyo by Simons residents.

  Payday gathered momentum at ten minutes to three in the afternoon. The men who finished the day’s work early started to form a line. Exactly at three, William and Gonzalo, armed with handguns and Winchester rifles, escorted James Simons, who carried a small metal payroll box. James drew a pistol from inside his coat and calmly introduced it behind his belt buckle. Afraid of being robbed, he insisted on armed security during payroll call. He would never be able to live down a loss of control over the workers and he believed such an incident would be symptomatic of psychological weaknesses passed on to him by his father, Joseph.

  On one particular Saturday, Walter Simons arrived at the brickyard early in the morning to deliver the bimonthly payroll box. His nephew James entered and immediately started to prepare the wages. James’s face revealed tension and his tired eyes communicated the heavy hatred he felt for his father. Through most of the morning uncle and nephew did not speak.

  With the work finished, Walter thought of his brother whom he had not seen for some time. He decided to see him during the weekend. He spoke to Gonzalo and William and started for the door.

  “James, say hello to your father,” Walter said sternly, expressing the disappointment he felt because of their constant quarreling. James attempted to smile.

  Outside, Walter saw the church and prayed that he would always get along with his children. He was needed at home, for Sara could give birth at any moment. At least that was what she had told him that morning. She felt the baby would come today, tomorrow or yesterday. Walter chuckled at Sara’s yesterday. He moved past machine number seven and headed toward the library which Sara had insisted on building. It was filled mainly with magazines from Mexico and children’s books written in English. The clinic was next to the library. Monday to Friday, from eight in the morning to two in the afternoon the doctor tended to the ill, injured, and pregnant.

  Two pregnant women entered the clinic. Walter understood in those two full wombs a metaphor of Sara. ... Women get and are pregnant the same way, no matter who or where they are, he reasoned. His mind shifted from making babies to constructing houses. He worried whether the prefabricated house packages that he had designed would sell. He had invested thousands on this idea of selling a one-family preconstructed dwelling which was planned to the last block. The workmen had only to put it together. The predesigned packages were all the same: a ten-room house, 74’ x 54’ overall. The total cost of the hollow tile house delivered on the job was $407.

  The horse ride home was peaceful. For a greater part of it, Walter thought of the five trucks that William had ordered. They were scheduled for delivery by the end of the year. He would have to learn how to drive. The trucks certainly moved faster than the horse that Walter whipped. Sara waited for him at home, possibly giving birth this instant, he thought, and whipped the beast again.

  An hour passed and the animal tired suddenly. He was close to his home, but space became larger as time seemed to crawl. Bothersome frames of the past appeared, making the way difficult. Large anguished chunks of Orin Elmer’s death superimposed themselves on the sights of the road. He needed to get home as fast as possible, but the more he hurried the exhausted horse, the slower time moved. Walter pushed his wet hair back and wiped his perspiring face. He felt near his home. At the end of the road, a series of brick walls appeared moving toward him, and as they passed he understood that he had reached his brick house. Before the front gate, a fear invaded his mind and he refused for a moment to look at the front. When he did, he saw Joseph and Laura.

  “Damn it!” Walter whispered. Of course they had come to help with the baby, but Sara had a nurse and the doctor said he would come by that morning.

  In the living room, Melissa described inner walls, fluids and blood. As she spoke Walter saw in the depth of his pupils a ripped picture come together. One Simons vacuum double-wall system, a hollow w
all of solid brick which he could simultaneously see from every possible angle, was streaked with blood, flesh, fingers, a tiny hand, an adult foot, a baby’s leg, a woman’s breast dripping milk, an infant’s head, a woman’s arm struggling to escape, a baby boy’s testicles and penis, and Sara’s beautiful face peering from within the hollow minute space. Suddenly a scream surged from Walter so loud that no one heard. Exhausted and drenched, he saw through his red eyes the door to the bedroom where his Sara and their son lay in state.

  Late that evening, Joseph, Laura, James, Melissa, the doctor, a nurse, a few neighbors, two police and two ambulance attendants heard deep sobs coming from the bedroom. Joseph, relieved that his brother finally cried, went to accompany him. At one in the morning the doctor signed the death certificate. Walter allowed the bodies of his wife and son to be taken to the Christian Presbyterian Mortuary. He asked to be left alone. After everyone left, he sat in his and Sara’s bedroom and saw millions of brownish square insects overrun the house.

  Not long after Sara’s death, Walter discovered he could not continue without the companionship of a woman. He let it be known that he searched for a wife. He did this knowing that some people would scowl at the short mourning period he offered Sara. Walter was convinced that the love which Sara had given him needed to be expressed and not suppressed in tears and black clothing for the length of time society deemed proper for mourning. What he had experienced with Sara he would feel again, and because of Sara he would love more intensely. Walter cultivated a circle of friends, members of the clubs and organizations his mother belonged to. Laura, who was excited about the idea of a new wife for her brother-in-law, encouraged him to attend her social club functions. She held membership in an organization that particularly interested Walter, the Pasadena Dames of the Red Earth, which was made up of women whose husbands were related to the construction industry. Speakers invited by the club presented topics dealing with building in Southern California. Joseph had spoken on several occasions. He had embarked on a writing and lecturing campaign about the contributions and benefits of brick to the Southern California economy.