by Grey, Harry
“What kind of spying, for thieves among the employees?”
The guy laughed. “Once in awhile. That kind of spying we like. Then we make a buck when we catch the guy. We clip him for all he stole.”
“Then you turn him in?” I asked.
“These bastards do, yeah. They ain't got a heart. But not me. I just shake the guy down and chase him. We do a lot of labor spying.”
Cockeye came back from Rappaport's with a large pot of kreplach.
Patsy said, “What—no forks?”
“No forks,” Cockeye replied.
Maxie stuck his hand in the pot and said, “The hell with forks.”
“Forks to you,” Cockeye said sticking his hand in.
“This forkin' gag is getting forkin' silly,” I said.
“Okay, okay, let's quit forking around,” Maxie said.
We all laughed with our mouths full of kreplach.
The phone rang. Maxie picked it up. It was Crowning again.
Maxie said, “I'm Thespus' secretary. What can I do for you?”
We could hear Crowning at the other end shouting, “Lousy crooks! I paid you in advance. Where's all them goddamn men?”
Maxie said, “Mr. Thespus wants five grand more, or he won't send any men out.”
We heard him shout on the other end, “I'm coming up, but that'll be the last piece of business you ever get from me, you lousy crook.”
He hung up.
We finished the pot of kreplach.
Maxie called Eddie on the phone. “How's it going, Ed?”
“Okay, everything is copacetic,” Ed said.
“Much action on the street?”
“There was a little in the morning. Now it's quiet. Most of the scabs quit when they saw heads being broken and they didn't have protection.”
The room was quiet; we could distinctly hear Eddie talking.
“Any of your boys get picked up, Ed?” Max said.
“Three out of three hundred. Ain't bad, eh, Max? I got them out on bail.”
“What's the charge?”
“Simple assault.”
“Did you call the club?”
“Yeah, I called the club. They said call the judge and he'd have it thrown out of court. Otherwise, anything else I can do, Max?”
“No, Ed. Everything's under control. So long.”
Max hung up, a satisfied smile on his face.
I said, “They've got to sign now. The tenants will raise hell with the owners. They can't conduct business for a minute without elevator service.”
“Yep,” Maxie said, “it won't be long now.”
We heard a noise in the adjoining office. I went in to investigate. One big guy was staggering around, tripping over everybody's feet.
He looked at me bleary-eyed.
He said, “Where am I? I got to take a leak.”
He went into the toilet. He came out. He looked at us. We looked at him. He was sullen.
“You want a drink, pal?” I asked.
“Water,” he said.
He went back into the toilet. I watched as he drank directly from the faucet and washed his face. He came out. He looked at us in a dopey sort of way. He started walking to the door.
Max said, “You can't leave; class ain't dismissed yet.”
He kept right on walking. Patsy clipped him a shot flush on the chin. The guy reeled around the room.
“Better take a drink, pal,” I said.
“I don't want a drink,” he grumbled.
“Go ahead, you stupid bastard, take a drink or you'll get your teeth kicked in,” I said.
I poured him a drink. He drank it down. I led him back into the inner office. He sat down on the floor. I watched him fall asleep.
Patsy went back to examine the files. They were very revealing. Every once in awhile he came over and showed us an interesting piece of correspondence. There were dossiers on hundreds of people, some of them quite prominent people. For what purpose I could not understand unless it was for blackmail. They contained such detailed information that Max and I discussed his methods and marveled. This agency had specific knowledge and actual pictures of a number of wealthy and prominent men and women in acts of perversion.
I called the union and asked for Jimmy. The girl said he was out. I asked for Fitz. She said they were both called to a conference by an impartial chairman appointed by City Hall. I told her in case either of them called to phone me right away. I gave her the agency telephone number.
There was a lull for quite awhile. Nobody came in, and no calls came over the wire. Cockeye was out front playing his harmonica. Patsy was examining the files again. Max and I were listening to the slim guy from the West Side. He told us his name was Kelly. He was telling us about some of the work he did for the Thespus agency on one of their railroad accounts.
The phone rang. I picked up the receiver. It was Fitz at City Hall. He was calling from a booth in the lobby. He said the employer group wasn't too militant, but the impartial chairman was acting partial to the bosses. Otherwise things seemed on their way.
I told Fitz, “Don't worry, things will certainly be on their way. These owners are getting terrific pressure from their tenants. No matter how they twist and turn to try and get men to operate their elevators, they'll fail. We can trump any card they play. We'll shove the contract down their throats. And as far as the impartial or partial chairman, as you call him, is concerned, we'll clip that bastard's wings.”
Fitz said, “The bastard acts as if he's on the payroll of the employer group.”
“Okay,” I said, “I'll straighten him right out. You'll see a change in his attitude pretty quick, or you may have a different chairman altogether. Keep me posted at this number. Another thing, Fitz, don't budge an inch. Don't compromise; we got the thing licked.”
Fitz said, “Okay, fine, that's fine.”
We both hung up.
I called the main office. I told them to contact City Hall, and make that impartial chairman partial to our interests. They laughed and said it would be taken care of right away.
I called Eddie at his hotel. I asked him, “How's things going at your end?”
He answered, “Everything's all right. My zulus are coming back in groups. They say everything on the street is clean. No strikebreakers to bang around.”
“Keep them out on the street, Ed,” I said. “It's possible the owners may contact a new strikebreaking agency. And if so, we want to know immediately.”
“Okay,” Eddie said. “I see what you mean. I'll gander around myself. I'll keep you posted.”
I didn't have a chance to answer. I heard the front door being kicked open and then slammed shut with a terrific bang. I still had the phone in my hand.
Eddie at the other end was saying, “Hello, Noodles. Hello, you still there?” Outside I heard a voice shouting, “Thespus, where the hell's Thespus?”
I spoke hurriedly into the phone. “Okay, Ed. Anything else? I got to hang up. There's something popping here.”
“Nothing important,” he answered.
“Okay, Ed,” I said.
“Okay, Noodles,” he said.
We both hung up. The shouting continued in the outer office. Max was sitting with, his feet on the desk, calmly smoking his cigar.
“It sounds like Crowning outside,” he said, smiling.
“Yeh,” I said.
“Hey, Cockeye,” Maxie shouted, “let the pot-bellied bastard come in.”
Like a bull, a colossal infuriated bull, Crowning charged in, bellowing, “Thespus! Where's Thespus?”
He stopped and puffed in amazement when he saw Max and me sitting nonchalantly with our feet up on the desk.
His face was as red as a red face could ever get before popping a blood vessel. His eyes through his thick glasses shot his hate at us as he recognized us.
“What are you doing here? Where's Thespus?” he demanded.
Pat and Cockeye were right behind him. Cockeye held his .45 by the muzzle and was sig
naling to know whether to smack Crowning over the head with the butt end.
I couldn't help laughing at Cockeye. He was so mad and excited that his eyes were way out of focus. I couldn't tell if he was looking at Max or me for the okay signal to hit Crowning.
I said, “No good, Cockeye, at least not yet.”
“Sit down, Crowning,” I motioned to a chair. “Let's have a friendly chat.”
He didn't. He stood glaring and puffing. He looked around the room.
“Where the hell is Thespus?” he blustered.
“He dropped dead,” Max said.
Crowning wheeled around and made for the door. Little Kelly put out his foot. Crowning staggered and almost fell.
“Come here, you big stupid bastard, and sit down,” I said.
He wheeled around like a charging bull. He stood above me fuming. I sat there with my feet on the desk.
“Yes?” I said.
“I won't have anybody talking to me like that,” he raged, gesticulating with his finger.
“Okay,” I said, “I apologize.”
I smiled up at him.
“That's more like it. That's different,” he said. “Nobody is going to bluff me. If you want to have a chat on a friendly basis, well, all right.”
He sat down.
Even Kelly laughed at the four-flusher.
“You're licked, Crowning,” I said. “There won't be an elevator running up or down unless a contract is signed.”
“That's what you think,” he snapped. “I'll get men to operate them, and protection, too. This is still the United States of America and you hoodlums aren't running everything with your high-handed gangster methods.”
“You know, Crowning,” I said, “you have the typical businessman's state of mind. You set a precedent, then if anybody follows your example and uses the methods you originated, you berate him, you call him a gangster, high-handed and what not. It's all true, of course. It's just what you call it. But what's goose for the gander is kind of goosie, don't you think?”
Everybody laughed but Crowning.
“Seriously, Crowning,” I continued, “all right, let's start from scratch. We—” I waved my arm around the room, 'let's assume we're gangsters. So as a gangster—I speak as a gangster with authority—I can say, you supposedly legitimate businessmen are the ones who brought us gangsters into labor disputes. You follow me? It's you employers that first attracted us and showed us how lucrative these disputes can be. Take this situation as an example. You brought Salvy and his men into this dispute. He was on your payroll. Right? Besides hiring gangsters, you, a legit, straightforward businessman, bribe a union official. Do you know that's committing a felony?”
“I did nothing of the sort, you can't prove it,” Crowning screamed.
“Look, Crowning, don't yell. I'm sitting right here. I'm not proving anything. I'm just telling you what Fitz told me. He told me you've had him on your payroll for years, and I don't doubt it. I know from experience it's the common practice of business associations, and the individual businessmen belonging to these associations, to make it appear they know nothing about it. You and I know these sanctimonious bastards are full of crap. That's part of the reason why they pay dues to you. And I know there are many other illegit functions of your trade associations besides bribing union officials, lobbying at Washington and state capitals. And truthfully just between you and me, isn't lobbying just a polite name for bribing legislative bodies?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Crowning said.
“You're full of crap, Crowning,” I said, “and you know it. You supposedly legit business men taught us how to corrupt the lawmaking and law enforcement bodies from way back. You businessmen conduct your activities with less honesty than we do. I have seen it all around. In that file there is plenty to substantiate what I am saying. There's dope in there on many business firms in this and other cities. Why and how this agency amassed such a load of crap, I don't know. But reading how some of them operate their businesses, let me tell you, it's pretty filthy reading.”
I got an idea. “Hey Pat,” I said, “how far are you? I mean up to what letter in the file did you come to?”
“Up to the letter R,” Patsy said.
“Look in the C files again. C for Crowning,” I said.
“There's no file on me,” Crowning snorted.
“Just for the hell of it,” I said.
Patsy opened the C compartment. He flipped his thumb over a few folders. He pulled one out. He looked inside, then he put it back. He flipped a few more down the line. He stopped, looked intently, and pulled it out. He looked inside. He smiled.
“Yeh, he's got one, all right,” he said.
Max asked, “Any pictures?”
Pat said, “No pictures.”
He tossed the folder on the desk.
I emptied the contents. There were three closely typed pages. One was about his relationships with young men and young girls. This guy had some history. He was picked up by the cops on a few occasions, but never convicted in court. His case was always dismissed for lack of evidence. In every case the boy or girl and arresting officer changed their testimony in court. In parenthesis were notations of how much money the agency paid the cops and the youths in the case. In one case a large sum of money was given. I handed the sheet to Maxie.
I said, “The bastard is a Sodomite.”
Crowning just looked at me, mouth open, breathing heavily, a helpless fear in his eyes.
The second sheet contained a list of his businesses. He was quite a big wheel. He controlled some big real estate parcels. He had a woolen mill up in Massachusetts and a big uniform manufacturing plant in Jersey. He was a director of a bank here in New York. He belonged and was a contributor to many large organizations.
He was a member in good standing of the American Association of Manufacturers. He belonged to every flag-waving, anti-Semitic, reactionary group out to make trouble and frig the little people of this country. They were all self-sacrificing, super-patriotic organizations as long as there was a buck in it. I handed the sheet to Maxie.
I said, “A real hooray-for-America guy. Frig you; hooray for me.”
I looked at Crowning. His eyes were wide and afraid. He was nervously wetting his thin, purple lips.
The third typed sheet pertained to records of his fraudulent dealings with a business partner named Moritz. There were detailed accounts of his collusion with union officials in Jersey, Massachusetts and New York.
There was a case history of deceit and profiteering in contracts with the government for the manufacture of army uniforms during the last war.
There was an item concerning Federal income tax evasion.
I handed the sheet to Crowning. I said nothing. As he read, his eyes blinked. His Adam's apple fluttered as he tried to swallow. He licked his dry lips. His hands and the paper shook. The paper fell out of his nerveless hands.
He croaked hoarsely, “A glass of water, some water, please.”
Kelly brought it to him.
“We're not interested in this crap,” I said, referring to the sheets on the table. “What we're interested in is to settle the contract that's being negotiated down at City Hall.”
“Can I have these papers, then?” Browning asked.
“No,” I said, “I'll keep them for the future. We don't need them now, we have you licked. Maybe we'll need them at some later date. We may get into a dispute and these can act as—persuaders.”
“Thespus sell me out?” Crowning asked. “Is he in there?” He nodded to the other office. He got up. “I would like to talk to him.”
He went for the door of the office. Little Kelly blocked his way.
“Okay, Kelly,” I said, “let him see what we got in there.”
Kelly swung the door open. Crowning stared with his mouth open.
“Are they all dead?” he gasped.
I got up to look. Jesus, they all looked as if they were dead. I walked in and looked closer. I was relieved; t
hey were all fast asleep.
I winked at Max and said, “Yeh, they're all dead.”
He was trembling at the sight. I could imagine how those prostrate bodies must have affected him.
He sat down.
“Can I have some of this whiskey?” he faltered.
“Not now,” I said, “let's talk some more first. You're one of the big shots in the association? The real estate association?”
“I'm a member,” he replied cautiously.
“Your outfit is licked,” Maxie said. “Call your associates and tell them to sign up.”
“I can't do anything myself.” He was trembling and barely audible. “Can I call my partner and consult with him?”
“Yeh,” I said, “but no tricks. Straight talk over the phone or you'll get hurt.”
“I understand. I don't want any trouble. I want this settled, so I can leave.”
I nodded.
He reached and called a number into the phone. The exchange was the same as this agency's.
He called the man on the other end Moritz. Moritz seemed obstinate. He turned to me. I put my hand over the mouthpiece.
Crowning said, “I can't convince him, what shall I do?”
“Tell him to come here. It ain't far where he is, is it?” Max asked.
“Five minute's walk,” Crowning said. “Moritz is a nice fellow,” he smiled ingratiatingly. “He's a white Jew.”
I was going to smack the shmuck. But what would be the use, I thought.
Ten minutes later Moritz came in with an automatic smile and a professional handshake. He was tall, medium built, and much too smooth. He had a small gold and diamond insignia in his lapel. It was a Mason button.
“Can Moritz and I have a private discussion?” Crowning asked.
“Sure, go ahead,” I said.
They went into a huddle together in a corner. Crowning pointed me out to Moritz with a gesture of the head. I heard them murmuring the word “Jewish” when he gestured in my direction. Moritz scrutinized Max and me. He nodded his head in understanding.
It was obvious what they were whispering about. Moritz was a “white Jew” all right, a perfect partner to Crowning, the type that uses any means for self gain. He used his Jewishness, his Masonry, anything, like a whore. Yeh, you find guys like this Moritz everywhere.
