The Hoods

by Grey, Harry

  “Before.”

  “Steak or chicken?”

  “Steak and french fries,” she said.

  “Supper will be served at nine,” I said.

  “The other thing will be served at ten,” she said as she went out the door.

  In groups, pairs and singly, all the girls left. We watched as the Fairy danced solemnly around the dance floor accompanied only by the tinkle of the piano.

  He twirled and capered with an uninhibited, unabashed and dazzling artistry. One moment his feet twinkled in a mad rhythmic tap interpreting anger and frustration. Then around and around he went, his hands waving with the graceful significances of a hula dancer.

  He stooped in front of me out of breath, and whispered, “I danced a message especially for you.”

  I walked away without comment. Maxie laughed. We sat and waited around. It was one p.m. Cockeye, to the disgust of the Fairy, foraged round the kitchen. He came out with thick ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches. We sat eating, and drinking highballs.

  Big Mike came over.

  He said with an apologetic smile, “I guess I'll leave you fellows. Salvy'll be here soon. I can't stand it, in case there may be rough stuff.”

  We looked at him coldly.

  Max grunted, “Okay.”

  He left.

  Baldy, the piano player, left, right after Mike. Theodore retreated to the cubby hole of an office. Through the glass door I saw him writing in a big ledger.

  I looked at the clock over the bar. It was one-thirty. We sat around drinking and smoking, hardly talking.

  The door opened. Two people walked in. Both about five nine. One was middle-aged and stocky; the other, young and whippet lean. I sized them both up as Irish. I shook my head to Max. Salvy was Italian. Willie was German.

  He said, “Yep, that's not them.”

  They stood, looking around. Casually, I meandered over.

  “Looking for somebody, fellers?” I asked.

  The older one said, “We have an appointment with Salvy and some people.”

  The young one looked at me curiously, with a tinge of hostility.

  I said, “Yeh, Salvy told me, we're in on this with him. He'll be a little late. Meanwhile we can become acquainted. Have a drink with us?”

  Without waiting for their response, smiling sociably, I took them under the arms and led them to our table.

  Max looked at me.

  I nodded and smiled. “These are part of the group Salvy told us to expect.”

  I reached for the bottle. I poured two drinks.

  The young one said, “Thanks, I don't drink.”

  The older one smiled as he reached for his. He said, “Thanks, I do.”

  In my most gracious manner I pulled up two chairs.

  I said, “Won't you fellows sit down?”

  They sat down, looking at us self-consciously.

  I said, “May I introduce ourselves?”

  I tried to make my laugh as self-conscious as their behavior. I gave fictitious names. I said, “My name is Morris, this is Miltie,” motioning to Max, “and this is Murray and this is Mario.” I gestured to Cockeye and Patsy. Maxie laughed at all the names which began with an “M”.

  The older man smiled in a friendly way and said, “People call me Fitz, short for Fitzgerald, and he's Jimmy.”

  “Another drink, Fitz?” Max asked.

  “Yes, I don't mind,” Fitz said.

  “Which group do you fellows represent?” Max asked.

  “Oh, it's pretty obvious,” I said coyly.

  “We're from the union,” Fitz said. “We're the delegates.”

  “Yeh, I supposed so,” I said sagely.

  “How's it going?” Max asked smiling.

  “Any action?” Cockeye asked.

  Max gave him a warning look. He tightened his lips as a sign for him to keep quiet.

  “Not much action, the little there is—Salvy sent some of his boys out. That helped a little,” Fitz said.

  Cockeye gave Max a triumphant look.

  “So a little progress has been made,” I prompted.

  “Yes, not bad. There's a few buildings Salvy don't want touched. I guess he has his reasons,” Fitz said.

  “I don't like it, the way things are run,” the young man named Jimmy said.

  Fitz sighed. He gestured with his head to Jimmy. “He's new in this business; he just got elected. He thinks he's a knight in shining armor. Out to save the downtrodden workingman.”

  Fitz patted the young Irishman on the back. “You got ideas, Jim, but you got to play ball with people.”

  Fitz turned to us. “You ought to see this kid at a meeting. A real spellbinder.”

  Jimmy muttered, “I promised the men this would be on the up and up.”

  I looked at the young Irishman. He had a clean, fresh, honest look about him.

  I said, “Listen, Jim, in this labor business you got to be a politician, just like Fitz said. You got to compromise your position at times.”

  He shrugged. He looked at me stubbornly.

  “I don't compromise. What is there to compromise? The men who elected me depend on me for honest representation. They aren't making a living. Married men, making twelve and fifteen bucks a week for fifty-four and sixty hours work, and Salvy said to keep my shirt on, and he'll get us a buck raise. Without shorter hours or any other conditions.” He looked around at us stubbornly, “I came here to tell Salvy off, I got hundreds of men and their families to take care of.”

  “For Christ sake, Jim,” Fitz said, looking around at us apologetically. “Excuse the kid, fellows, he's a little excited.”

  “Jim's all right,” I said. “Never mind what Salvy said. What do you expect?”

  Fitz said in a shocked tone, “Never mind what Salvy said?”

  He looked at me uncertainly as if I had committed blasphemy.

  “Yep, never mind what that snake bastard said. He's out of the picture,” Max said grimly, looking at Fitz.

  Fitz looked at Max. Then at me. Then at Patsy. Then slowly at Cockeye. We were all smiling. We were genuinely amused at the awe on his face. Just because Max had said snake bastard.

  “Nebish,” I said.

  “What?” Fitz asked.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “I thought you guys were friends of Salvy's,” Fitz said. “What are you guys doing—taking over? Muscling in?”

  “Yep, that's what we're doing,” Max said.

  “Oh,” Fitz said with a nascent understanding.

  “I don't like this,” Jimmy said.

  “I don't blame you, Jim,” I said. “Now, tell me, what's the 'package' you would like to deliver to your men?”

  Jim looked dubiously at me for a moment. Then he blurted out, “A forty-eight hour week, forty cents an hour minimum and time and a half for overtime. Pay and time off for the legal holidays and recognition of the union.”

  “Wrap it up, Jim,” I laughed. “The package is yours.”

  Max looked at me and smiled. He nodded, “Okay.”

  Jimmy and Fitz looked at me as if I were crazy, or, at least, kidding.

  “How are you going to produce a package like that for me to deliver to my men?” Jim asked. “On whose authority?”

  “That's our problem; you follow instructions and everything will be all right,” Max said confidently.

  “I don't know how you fellows can be so positive. What are your relations to this strike? What I mean is, what's your interest, what do you fellows get out of it?”

  Before I was able to think of a reply, Fitz snapped at him. “For Christ's sake, Jim, don't be so goddamn green. Their interest is the same as Salvy's. They're taking it all over. The union, everything.”

  “I don't know. I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now. It isn't good unionism.”

  Max looked at me. I shook my head at Max.

  I said, “Listen to me, kid. There's a lot for you to learn. Especially this end of it. This branch of labor relations work isn't f
ound in any textbooks or taught in any schools. But it's the most important part of labor relations. Don't you know that whichever side we happen to be on usually comes out on top?”

  “Yes, but you fellows have no business interfering. You aren't workingmen; neither are you employers. It's between us—the bosses and us —let us fight it out.”

  “Oh, for Christ sake, Jim, don't be so goddamned stupid,” Fitz muttered.

  “Leave him alone, Fitz,” I said, “the kid's perfectly right. It's true we have no business interfering. But it seems in the scheme of things we're a necessary evil. One or the other side invariably calls us in. And, as far as I know, the bosses were the first to use us—us—” I hesitated.

  “Gunmen,” Jimmy muttered.

  “Aw, for Christ sake, Jim,” Fitz lamented.

  “Okay, Fitz,” Max laughed, “we ain't embarrassed.”

  “Yeh, as I was saying, it's unfortunate but true. Bosses originated this custom from way back—of hiring strong-arm men to intimidate workmen and their elected union officials. And if they couldn't intimidate the union officials, the employers, through their lawyers and business associations, bribed them to sell their men out. This part also is not mentioned in textbooks or taught in schools. Intimidation and bribery are the fundamentals, the basic, the deciding factors, in most labor disputes. Something the public rarely finds out about.”

  I looked at the clock. It was a quarter after two. Salvy was really late.

  “Besides, Jim,” I continued, “and Fitz will bear me out, if we didn't step in, some other mob would. This part you can understand for yourself. Before Salvy, there was somebody else, wasn't there, Fitz?”

  “Yeh,” Fitz said, “a little mob from uptown.”

  “Salvy chased them,” I pointed out, “and we ease Salvy out. Get it, Jim? You'll always have somebody to contend with. So it may as well be us. We have influence. We can do things for you. We'll save you a lot of headaches, especially after you're completely organized. All sorts of parasites will flock around for a shake: cops, city officials, petty hoods and you will refer them to us. We'll take care of them. Besides, believe it or not, we're partial to labor. We were organizers ourselves once. You and your men will get a better break from us than from anybody else.”

  “You were organizers?” Jimmy snorted. “For what union?”

  “Laundry drivers,” I said.

  “All right, say I'll play ball with you fellows. I'm not saying I will, mind you—”

  “We're sure you will, kiddo,” Max said.

  “I'm not sure,” the kid flashed back.

  “Go ahead, Jim, what were you saying?”

  I looked at Max.

  “How do I know somebody else doesn't come around and muscle in, and push you guys out?”

  Maxie and Patsy laughed.

  I smiled. “Of course it's possible, Jim, like anything is possible—like we'll have an earthquake in New York tomorrow. But it's highly improbable. We're the largest and most powerful mob in the country.”

  Fitz leaned over and whispered in excited, delighted tones, “Combination?”

  I nodded.

  “I'll think it over just the same. I'll consult the membership.” Jim was pale but stubborn.

  “I'll talk to him, private. I'll explain the facts of life,” Fitz said.

  “Look, Jim,” I began impatiently, 'let me explain it this way—”

  I didn't. I was interrupted. The door opened.

  CHAPTER 32

  Never, in all my experiences have I laid eyes on two such apparitions as came through the Paradise door. I'll be goddamned if I ever saw anything—fowl, fish, man or beast, living or dead—as grotesque as this twosome. Not even in my wildest pipe dreams. The devil himself must have paired this combination: nobody else could have. No mere accident produced this masterpiece of hideousness.

  I looked at Max. Max looked at me. We couldn't believe it.

  One was a long, lean, creepy-looking bastard. He approached with a gliding, reptilian movement. I could almost believe he had no spinal column. His rubber-like torso seemed to undulate. His elongated head grew out from an abnormally extended neck. His face was a sickly jaundiced color. As he looked at us with his beady, bright eyes, his head darted forward and from side to side, in sharp, jerky movements. He wore a flashy, form-fitting, yellowish-brown, striped suit with a shirt and tie of similar color. This was the guy who was reputed to have untold knife and bullet holes all over his body. This was the much publicized Snake, the one who couldn't be killed, by a car or by any other lethal weapon, who always survived to kill those who were his enemies. This was the man who was too vicious and irresponsible to be a member of the Combine. There was no mistaking him.

  And his companion—boy!—was he a distorted-looking sonofabitch. He was slightly gibbous and bow-legged. He was flat-nosed and thick-lipped. He was a throwback to way back. A real Pithecanthropus type. He was a genuine shmuck with ear laps. He was Willie the Ape.

  At the sight of us they stopped in their tracks in the middle of the room. The four of us had our rods out. We walked over, and surrounded them. Salvy's hand was reaching for his pocket.

  Maxie barked out, “None of that, Salvy. Let's keep it on a friendly basis.”

  They looked perplexed, but defiant.

  “Who are you guys? What do you want?” Salvy said. He jerked his head from side to side.

  “If you don't mind, Salvy,” I said, “we have a little business to discuss.”

  I motioned to some chairs at a nearby table. Reluctantly they sat down. We put our guns away.

  I saw the Fairy standing at the door of the office watching us. The two delegates, still at the table, looked startled at the turn of events.

  Maxie came right to the point. He said, “We're from the Combination. We're taking the strike over—and the union. And you guys are stepping out.”

  The Snake gave each of us a quick, furtive glance. “How do I know you guys are from the Combination? Besides, me and Willie don't belong. Why should we take orders from the Combination?”

  “We're not asking you to take orders,” I said. “We're giving you orders—lay off.”

  “That ain't right, the Combination muscling in on everything,” Willie the Ape said. “We got to eat, too, you know.”

  “Why?” Patsy asked coldly.

  “Why?” the Ape repeated foolishly. “We got to live, don't we?”

  “Why you got to live?” Cockeye looked Willie in the eye.

  “Keep quiet, Willie,” the Snake said. To us he said, “So this is it?”

  “This is it,” Maxie said coldly.

  Salvy said, “What can I say? Nuthin.” He shrugged.

  “Say nuthin. Do nuthin. And nuthin will happen to you,” Maxie said.

  Willie looked at Salvy. Salvy looked at us. They said nuthin.

  The Fairy came over. He said to me, “Can you make these ruffians stay away from this place? I don't want them hanging around.”

  The Snake slithered across the table at the Fairy, an ice pick in his hand. He hissed, “You friggin queer. I told you I got a piece of this joint.”

  The Fairy danced backward, out of his reach. He shrilled, “You filthy snake in the grass.”

  “I'll kill you, you friggin fairy, and take the whole place away,” Salvy hissed.

  “You won't, you won't. I'm not afraid of you.” The Fairy danced around angrily but at a safe distance. “Chase those ruffians out of this place.” He shrilled at us.

  Salvy looked at us.

  Maxie said, “We don't interfere in a lover's quarrel.”

  The Ape guffawed. Salvy glared. He walked toward the Fairy. The Fairy danced backwards, onto the dance floor. The Snake followed with the ice pick. The two delegates looked at the tableau, their mouths wide open.

  I walked after the Snake, my hand in my pocket fingering my knife.

  I called out, “Hey, Salvy, cut the crap.”

  He wheeled around at me.

  I said, “Go ahea
d, scram, take a powder. Leave the Fairy alone.”

  He glared at me for a moment. Then he walked away into the toilet.

  The Fairy came over. “Good God, isn't this situation awful? I'm really ashamed of myself. How did I ever complicate myself with that disgusting creature.”

  The Ape said, “G'wan, you friggin Fairy. Didn't you say you loved him once? And didn't you make a play for me, too?”

  Theodore was about to answer when the door opened. There stood a man. He filled the entire frame of the doorway, he was that big. What a goddamn place, I thought: everything comes into this joint. He walked in.

  He was a colossus: about six foot six with an enormous potbelly. His red face was crisscrossed with tiny purplish veins. He looked as though he ate rare steak every meal. His pig eyes glared from behind thick bifocals. The tip of his long thin nose actually ran into his mouth.

  Fitz came hurriedly over to us.

  He whispered, “That's the big mucky muck from the employers' group. Anything he says that group does. I been on his payroll. His name is Crowning.”

  I nodded to Fitz. I walked over to the guy. I said, “Come in, come in. We were just discussing you, Mr. Crowning.”

  “Discussing me? Who was discussing me? Where's Salvy?”

  “Salvy's slightly indisposed for the moment. We're in his confidence. We're close associates of his.” I smiled at the guy.

  “Huh,” he grunted as he followed me to our table. He nodded to the Ape.

  He said, “Hello, Fitz.”

  “Have a drink?” I invited.

  I poured a round.

  He said, “Thanks” as he reached for his. He raised his glass and chuckled. “To a long and bloody strike.”

  Jimmy said, “Horseshit.”

  “Who is this kid?” Browning asked.

  “He's all right, he's the new delegate. A little new at the game,” Fitz said.

  “New delegate, hey?” The big guy said, “Young to be a delegate— well, well, I like young boys.” He gave Jimmy a pinch on his buttocks.

  Jim edged away. He snarled, “Keep your goddamn hands off me, you fat bastard.”

  The big guy looked hurt.

  He said, “I didn't come here to get insulted. I came here on business.”

  “Okay,” Max said, “let's get down to business.”