by Patrick Lee
Included in the GSM employment total are 525 laborers, 345 carpenters, 100 steamfitters, 70 mechanics, 68 truck drivers, 60 electricians as well as other crafts and trades. Our employment pattern at Hungry Horse actually calls for a large crew working through the middle of September.
Other items of interest are as follows:
First of all, the federal auditor will be here next Tuesday to begin his month—long audit of the books. Make sure your payroll, time cards, overtime, everything is up to snuff. Our office people only give what you tell them.
Number two; I’ll meet with two FBI agents here on Friday. I don’t know what’s that all about, but I’ll fill you in after I meet with them.
Number three; Hungry Horse will operate before October 20th of this year. President Truman will be here to throw the switch on the first two turbines. We can expect lots of newspaper, magazine, radio, and secret service people starting to show up on site. It will be wild around here in late September.
Scalf signed the memo and took it to his secretary and said, “Mary, please run copies and get them distributed today. Also, send a copy to Al Sutter at the Hungry Horse News.” He walked back to his office and put on his rain slicker. Before leaving he stopped by Mary’s office again. “Oh, and Mary, I’m goin’ into Columbia Falls to give my respect to the Dick Curtain family. Dick was the man who died yesterday in the logging accident. I’ll stop and pick up some groceries for them first.”
The next morning David Sednick scanned the memo from Superintendent Scalf. His eyes stopped on the item about the federal auditor coming next week.
The telephone on the wall in the foreman’s shack rang and shook David from his deep concentration on the Superintendent’s September 27th memo. He picked up the phone. “Hey Dave, how about a beer after shift tonight at the Blue Moon? We need to sit down and talk about Scalf’s memo and the auditor’s visit next week.”
David’s stomach turned as he answered, “Ya, ya that’ll work. How about 5:00?”
“Great. We don’t have anything to worry about, do we?”
“No. Everything’s fine. See you then.” He hung up the black wall phone and walked out to the back porch of the shack. From there he stared toward the backside of the partially cloud-clad Columbia Mountain. He took a deep breath as he thought.
The reality of his extra source of income frightened him in the beginning, but after two years of stockpiling thousands of dollars from his commission, the scheme no longer frightened him. Now the fear roared back into his mind. Every two weeks, he deposited two-thousand dollars into savings accounts in various banks around the Flathead Valley. David didn’t know the source of the laundered money, and he didn’t want to know. He followed instructions and collected his commission.
The man on the other end of the telephone recruited David two years ago to become part of his fraudulent scheme. David also received a walking boss job in addition to his commission for processing the checks.
David devised his own scheme for making additional money. He processed five bogus, fictitious workers with employee records, timecards, employee numbers, and non-existent payroll deductions. Each pay period he handled all of the paychecks for his shift. Now the whole thing might surface with the auditor reviewing the payroll records.
Panic stricken, David mulled over his mistake. “I just had to do it, didn’t I. How in the hell will I account for five extra men on the payroll for May and June? I need time to think. He’ll have my ass if he finds out. I just have to find a way to cover the last two months.”
CHAPTER TEN
It was Tuesday morning and the Care Less Group broke with their Friday morning tradition for breakfast at the Club Café. The fundraiser dance to purchase the resuscitator for the volunteer fire department was only five days away. The four women sat around the corner table cluttered with lists and bags of decorations. Betty Hansen tapped her water glass as she attempted to bring the group back to the tasks at hand. The other three women talked at the same time. No one seemed to be listening to the other one talking. “Ladies. We’ve lots to do. July 2nd is only a few days away. Where are we with everything?”
Hannah picked up her list that contained large checkmarks. “Well, I got the decorations, lined up the music, picked up the beer and whiskey, and I got a crew of kids to help me clean and set up at Rocco’s. I still need to get a couple of door prizes and three bartenders. Other’n that, I’m set.”
In each of their minds, the four ladies separately looked forward to the event with some trepidation and with some excitement. Hannah wondered if Mikhail would attend, and if he did, would he show her any attention. She still wondered how their day on Lion Lake went. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since they parted late Saturday afternoon.
Lila worried about David showing up. She wanted to see him, and at the same time hoped he wouldn’t attend. Her husband was on the road for the weekend, and David was off work Saturday and Sunday. If he was drinking, he might make a scene and their secret might be exposed. Oh, I wish he’d call and let me know what his plans are. That man drives me crazy.
Betty Hansen experienced a terrible argument with her husband before he left for work at the Dam that morning. In her mind, she reviewed their argument. He told her he wasn’t going to any ridiculous dance with a bunch of drunks and worn-out old women. Instead, he was going to Kalispell with a lawyer friend of his to see the movie Singing in the Rain. “Sometimes I wish he’d drown in the rain. He’s so boring and self-centered. We do nothing fun together. Maybe I’ll just have more than a few drinks and dance up a storm with some rowdy Dam workers. That would serve Mr. Hansen right,” she said to herself.
She sat and looked at her friends as they reviewed their lists and made final plans for the dance on Saturday night. Mabel Simons smiled and enjoyed the friendship and banter of her three close friends. They accepted her for just who she was. Her Madam job really never mattered to any of them. She cleared her throat before she joined in the exciting planning discussion for their big event. “I talked to Mary Curtain today after her husband’s funeral. I asked her about comin’ with me Saturday night. She said it’s too soon after her husband’s accidental death on Sunday. But I told her I need her to help me with the raffle ticket sales. At any rate, I think we’ll give her whatever money we make over the cost of the resuscitator.”
Hannah wiped the tears from her eyes as she spoke, “You’re a great lady, Mabel. We’re so lucky you live here. Thank you.”
The other ladies echoed Hannah’s sentiment and wrapped up their meeting. They planned to get together Saturday afternoon at 2:00 to decorate and get Rocco’s Super Club ready for the July 2nd fundraiser dance.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Each year since the beginning of the Dam construction, the Ironworkers Union sponsored the Ironworkers Ball. The celebration began and ended at the Blue Moon. The wooden building took up a double lot at the intersection of Highway 40 and LaSalle. Traffic from Kalispell and Whitefish intersected at the front door of the Blue Moon. The past winter at the Ironworkers Ball, a fight broke out inside the bar near the front door. A fierce winter storm raged outside but paled in comparison to the intensity of the two men fighting. The heavy wooden door didn’t hold the force of the two men as they exploded through the door and out into the parking lot. Two other men held the door in place and the driving snow out. No one knew who won the fight as the crowd quickly came back inside as the fight and the storm raged on.
The mounted deer, mountain goats, fish, and elk crowded the walls of the Blue Moon and brought the flavor of hunting and fishing in Montana inside the famous watering hole. David Sednick opened the door to the Blue Moon Bar. Four men sat at the bar and quietly talked and drank their tap beers. They made a passing glance at him as he entered. A young man and woman stood off to the left of the bar and played eight ball.
David stopped by the bar and ordered a double shot of Jim Beam and quickly drained it. He picked up his can of Great Falls Select beer and walked over t
o the corner table near the west wall of the bar. He faced the door. His plan was simple. He’d tell the truth about the additional two months of fraudulent time cards and ask him for a way out.
The large wooden door opened slowly and the late afternoon light from the outside poured into the dimly lit Blue Moon. The man in the expensive blue suit looked out of place as he stopped at the bar and ordered a bottle of Pepsi Cola. He acknowledged David’s wave and walked over and sat down at his table. “Thanks for coming, Dave. How’s your family in Butte doing?”
David nervously took a long drink of his beer before he answered, “My little Anna is doin’ a lot better. I talked to my wife yesterday. The strike’s getting worse, and she’s worried about it getting rough. She’d like to move up here, but until Anna gets strong enough to get off the iron lung, she’s goin’ to have to hang tough in Butte. I’m goin’ down in three weeks or so.”
“That’s good news, Dave. How’s it working out with your father-in-law working here?”
“I ain’t seen him in a couple of weeks. I see my brother-in-law some and that’s been fun. He’s a good kid.”
The man across from David calmly lit his Chesterfield and blew a large, perfect circle of smoke. He admired it as it disappeared into the air and then he looked at David. “We need to be sure of everything before the auditor digs into payroll. Accounts payable matches perfectly. Make sure—”
“I, I have it taken care of. We’re in great shape.”
The man systematically rubbed out the remains of his cigarette in the glass ashtray. His entire mood and demeanor changed and his pasted smile turned into a scowl. Without looking up from the ashtray he spoke, “Now with our other project, Dave. Everything is ship shape, right.”
Perspiration rolled down David’s armpit and blood rushed to his face and neck, “Ya. We’re in great shape.”
“You’re repeating yourself David. That concerns me a little bit. For your sake, we better be in great shape. As I was saying, Dave, make sure your records match mine. Bring them around Friday afternoon and we’ll compare. I want to see my deposits on our other project too. Follow.” He stood up, straightened his tie in the reflection of the mirror above the beer sign, and left through the side door.
David sat motionless. His brain went numb while his stomach hinted at emptying his baloney sandwich lunch. He walked into the men’s room and splashed some cold water in his face. His pale face stared back at him in the cracked wall mirror. Oh shit! I’m in it up to my eyeballs. What the hell am I going to do with May and June? It’s all written in ink. The paymaster’s records will show I paid out five more checks than there are men for two months.
Back in Martin City, Tim Nolan sat across from Tomas in the Club Café. He enjoyed watching the young man devour his cheeseburger deluxe and fries. It was obvious Tomas was in the middle of a growth spurt. Just in a matter of a month, his biceps and shoulders showed muscular definition. He ate like a man who faced his last meal. Tomas looked like he grew several inches just since his high school graduation a year earlier. His voice even seemed deeper and more man-like. Nolan guessed Tomas put on ten to fifteen pounds in the last couple of months.
His thoughts came to an abrupt end as Tomas wiped the corner of his mouth with his paper napkin and their eyes met. “I think you and Dad are wrong about David. He’s really a good man. I’m gettin’ to know him, and—”
“Bullshit, Kid. He’s a first class prick. Stay away from him. He’ll take you down the wrong road.”
Tomas sat back in the booth. “You’re wrong. I know you’re wrong.” His voice quivered as he finished his words. It was the first time he ever spoke like this to his godfather. The words came out before he measured what he said. “I, I’m sorry. Please just give David a chance. That’s all I mean. You’ll see.”
Nolan’s face reddened as he waived his finger at Tomas. He stammered as he spoke, “Don’t you never talk to me like that again, Kid. Where was he when you made your First Communion? I was there. Where was he when that Stosich kid kicked your ass after school and you came to me cryin’? Who taught you how to box so you gave that kid his own asskickin’? And I don’t remember seeing him at your graduation from Butte High. Where was he when your mother moved out on you and your dad? Goddamn you! You listen to me. Stay away from that crooked, worthless son of a bitch! He’s no earthly good I tell ya.” The other customers looked over toward their booth, but no one said a word.
Tomas watched and heard the café door slam as Tim Nolan disappeared into the street. He had never seen his godfather so mad. Oh God, what’ve I done? He walked over to the cash register and paid his bill. The young girl working there smiled at him as he fumbled for his wallet. “Your father’s pretty mad at you ain’t he.”
“He ain’t my father.” Tomas shrugged his broadening shoulders, forced a polite smile, and walked outside to look to see if he could track down John Nolan.
For the first day in two weeks it didn’t rain. Friday, he thought as he set his coffee cup down on his office desk. “Today I get to meet with two FBI agents. I wonder what the hell they want with me?”
His secretary Mary knocked on the doorframe to his makeshift shack of an office. “W.R., the two gentlemen from the FBI are here to see you.”
“Thanks Mary, send them on in.”
Two men in dark blue suits walked into his office. They introduced themselves as Agents Hughes and Moore. “Mr. Scalf, we’re here to talk to you about something confidential. It’s imperative that this conversation remains here between us only. Is that understood?”
“I understand. What’s going on?”
Hughes went ahead first, “We have good reason to believe that there is a murderer here on the Hungry Horse Dam site. There were identical unsolved murders at the Hoover and Grand Coulee Dam building sites. Both murders occurred during the last months of completion. Both murders were execution style with single gunshots to the head. Both were from the same rifle.”
Scalf walked toward the coffee pot and filled his white clay cup. “Can I get either one of you a cup?”
Moore motioned yes with his finger. Scalf filled a cup and brought it to him at his chair near the window. Agent Moore picked up where his partner left off. “Both men killed were shift bosses and had been with the projects for at least two years.”
His partner cleared his throat and continued, “We need a list of every man employed here now who worked on either or both Hoover or Grand Coulee. We also want a list of your walking bosses. We’d like those lists before five o’clock today.”
W.R. Scalf wasn’t used to being instructed what to do. He normally was the one barking out the orders. “Why do you need the list of those men?”
Moore answered, “If they worked on the other two projects, they might be good suspects in those other murders. Or they may be planning to kill someone else here. I think it’s obvious why we want a list of your walking bosses.”
Scalf nodded his head before he replied, “I’ll get those lists to you before five. Come back then and pick up the list from my secretary.”
“No, you compile the lists and you keep the lists with you. No one else is to have any idea what we’re doing here. Not even your secretary.”
His lip curled and he rubbed his right ear as he normally did when his temper flared. Scalf organized the papers in front of him “Pick up the lists from me later.”
Before Al Sutter became the owner, publisher, editor, and photographer for the Columbian News, four previous publishers in the area saw their newspaper company fail. All he had when he founded The Hungry Horse News was the $4,000 he saved from his career in the United States Navy, a desk, a portable typewriter, and his trademark Speed Graphic camera. Sutter was thirty-one years old in 1946 when he founded his newspaper. In the beginning, he distributed the first editions of his news for free in an effort to attract businesses interested in becoming advertisers. Much of his early advertising arose from the many bars and taverns that catered to the Hungry Horse Dam worke
rs.
The Hungry Horse News featured black and white photographs mixed in with local news articles and controversial editorial written by Sutter. His newspaper depended heavily on photographs.
Breaking news events became a large part of his repertoire. His nose for late breaking news allowed him to be first on the scene of a car accident, a burning building, or important event like the first photographs of the building of Hungry Horse Dam. He used the unwieldy Speed Graphic to insure high quality photographs. His photographs allowed for short, concise stories. These photographs portrayed the story.
Superintendent Scalf kept Sutter informed of all progress in the building of Hungry Horse Dam as he chronicled each phase of construction. He was the only person allowed to see Scalf without an appointment. Sutter greeted the Superintendent’s secretary as he entered her office. “Hello there, Mary. You got any news for me?”
“No, Al. Pretty quiet as far as I know. But then I don’t know much about what goes on around here.”
He dressed in a checkered shirt, weathered sport coat, a white hat with a colored band around the rim, and he toted his oversized camera, clipboard, and a light meter. “Is the Supt busy?”
“I imagine he is, but he seems anxious to see you all the time. Just go ahead and knock on his door as you always do.”
Scalf motioned him in and managed a smile. “I see you got a copy of my latest memo.”
“I did. What’s the FBI want?”
Scalf shook his head slightly as he shuffled the papers on his desk into his briefcase on the floor. “I can’t tell you much at this point, Al. Maybe I’ll have somethin’ for you in a week or two.”
The young newsman rested his camera on the floor and lifted his clipboard to the desk as he sat down across from the Superintendent. “Did they ask you about the unsolved murders on the Grand Coulee and Hoover Projects?”
