Election Day: A Harry Cassidy Novel

by Henry Hack

  Despite Chris’s protests, knowing his family’s fortunes were in decline, they all flew out to D.C. and rented a couple of vans for the drive to Marine Corps Base Quantico to witness Christopher’s graduation from OCS and his commissioning as a second lieutenant in the USMC. He looked fit and happy as he joined them after the ceremony. There were kisses and hugs all around and he introduced them to his benefactor, Major James O’Grady. O’Grady shook Walter Steadman’s hand and said, “You have a fine son here, Mr. Steadman. He will do his country proud. There is something special about him that transcends the Marine Corps. I know what’s happening with your business and with our country. Someday, men like your son will correct it. Of this, I’m certain.”

  Unsure exactly what the Major meant Walter just smiled and said, “Thank you, sir. We all have high hopes for Chris.”

  “Oh, by the way Lieutenant,” O’Grady said. “You have two weeks off to get your affairs in order and then you will travel far away from here for your first posting.”

  They all looked at O’Grady as he put reading glasses on and carefully opened Chris’s orders. He frowned and shook his head in dismay, “Oh, my God, what an awful place! I guess my influence has deserted me around here.”

  Christopher gulped. “Uh, sir, uh, where…?”

  He shook his head and said, “A place where I was once and never want to go back to – MCBCP.”

  Everyone was dismayed and stood in silence until Chris finally deciphered the letters – Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton – San Diego County, Oceanside California –twenty miles from home! He grabbed O’Grady by the hand and pumped it madly. “Thank you, sir!” He turned to his family with a huge smile on his face and shouted, “Camp Pendleton! I’m coming home!” They all cheered and patted him on the back. The happiness and closeness they shared at that singular moment in time would not, unfortunately, be equaled again.

  * * *

  Chris and Pauline sold the house anyway figuring to take the money before the economy got any worse than it already was, and she moved in with him in a small cottage on the base. If she was going to be an officer’s wife, she figured she might as well learn how to be so right away. About a month after they were settled in, and right after Chris had told her how happy he was that she loved him, and how much her support of his new life was to him she said, “Hey, what’s not to like? A steady job, a decent salary, great benefits which are now very important because I decided not to seek employment, but to be a stay-at-home mom.”

  “Good for you, hon. What changed your mind?”

  “I just think it’s better for the children to have me here at least until they begin first grade.”

  Christopher had immediately picked up on Pauline’s use of the plural and said, “Pardon me, dear? Children?”

  “Remember the day you graduated and the night we spent in the motel?”

  “I sure do,” he said, remembering how they threw themselves at each other after three months of abstinence.

  “Well, there you go.”

  “And when will this blessed event occur?”

  “You can count as well as I can – about seven and a half months.”

  “Terrific!” he said. “Let’s go out and celebrate. We’ll tell the family tomorrow.”

  “Semper Fi, Lieutenant,” she said.

  When they were all gathered together at Bill’s house – his was the one with the largest dining room – Chris broke the news. Although there were smiles and congratulations there seemed to be an underlying tone of somberness that he, in his preoccupation with the impending arrival of his second child, had failed to notice. But he finally picked up on the vibe now and he blurted out, “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  “Oh, let’s not talk about business now,” he said. “Let’s enjoy the day and the fact that we are all together once again.”

  “Okay,” Chris said reluctantly backing off as they began to eat. He was glad he didn’t push the issue as the dinner and dessert turned out just fine. But he made sure he and Pauline, and the now sleeping Elizabeth, were the last to leave. He cornered his brother Bill, the sibling he had always been the closest to both on and off the job and said, “What’s going on, big brother?”

  “In a nutshell, we’re sinking fast. Business is terrible and the union just released their demands for their next contract. We’ll stall and bargain, we’ll go to mediation, but when we go to arbitration, we’ll lose again. This goddamn state is anti-business and pro-union, and so are their hand-picked arbitrators.”

  “And that would mean the end of Mainstay Metals?”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “Jesus! Poor Mom and Dad.”

  Bill smiled and said, “And poor Bill and family, and poor Greg and …”

  “Are those two union local leaders still in the picture?” Uh, Moran and Wagner?”

  “Yeah, what are you going to do little brother, mount a charge with your platoon?”

  “Let me talk to Moran alone and see what I can do. I seemed to have a rapport with him.”

  “Okay, give me your free time schedule and I’ll give him a call.”

  * * *

  They met for lunch a week later in a cheery businessman’s café near the water in Oceanside and Chris wore civvies for the occasion. After they shook hands and ordered tap beers Moran said, “How’s the Corps treating you, Chris? Bill told me of your career change.”

  “The career change you kinda forced on me, Jimmy?”

  “Now, Chris…”

  Chris reached across the table and patted Jimmy’s thick-fingered hand. He said, “I didn’t mean it the way it came out, and it probably will turn out to be the best thing for me anyway. So Jimmy, thanks for that.”

  “I know what you mean and I think I know why you wanted to talk. Did you ever feel that no matter what you did things spun out of control on you, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it?”

  “Sure, ask my father.”

  “I was talking about me, Chris. Me. Jimmy Moran.”

  “Oh?”

  “Look, I’ve been doing union work most of my life and for the most part – up until maybe ten years ago – I felt I was doing a useful job for the workers.”

  “And you probably were. Listen, I don’t hate unions or the concept of organizing workers for a better life, but things have gotten crazy. Mainstay Metals didn’t need a union.”

  “No, they didn’t, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “By organizing Mainstay’s workers me and Tommy got a nice commission, and whether Mainstay closes down or manages to survive, the national board doesn’t care. They got more dues paying members, and they’ll use those dues to grease the politicians.”

  “The liberal, left-wing politicians, right?”

  “Mostly, yeah.”

  “What do you think is going to happen to Mainstay now?”

  “Your dad can’t accept our demands; it will force him to close the doors. If he goes all the way to arbitration, he’ll lose. All those guys are hired by the state and have a pro-union agenda.”

  “What if my father refuses to bargain?”

  “The workers go on strike.”

  “Forcing him to close the doors and lose the business anyway.”

  “Correct.”

  “But then they have no jobs. There are no winners. Everybody loses.”

  “Not so. The union wins. They have a lot more new dues paying members who they will attempt to place in other union shops.”

  “What are the chances of that?”

  Jimmy swallowed down his last mouthful of beer as their sandwiches arrived. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and said, “Zero.”

  “So how does your union win? How do these people continue to pay your lousy dues without jobs?”

  “Unemployment checks, that’s how. And that makes them winners also. Three years of checks in our great state of California at $575 per week. They don’t need a job for a long, long time.”

&nb
sp; “So only our business loses.”

  “Correct, and that’s why I don’t sleep at night, eat right, shit right and have heart disease, high blood pressure, arthritis and diabetes.”

  “If you want my sympathy Jimmy, it’s not going to happen.”

  “I understand. I guess I just wanted to let you know I’m not a total heartless bastard.”

  “Why do you still do this dirty business?”

  “I gotta live. My wife is sicker than me. I need the benefits, and I need another two years to reach social security age.”

  Chris was silent. They both bit into their sandwiches and chewed through a half of them before Jimmy spoke again, “Chris, our country is headed for destruction or a takeover. Thank God I’m too old to be around when it happens. But you’ll be around, and your kids and my kids will be around. So Lieutenant, you have to do something to prevent it.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you’re a natural born leader. The workers at Mainstay adore you.”

  “What?”

  “Remember when I asked you to come work with me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was a compliment. I know you would never go into union work, but I wanted you to know that I thought a lot about you.”

  “Are you saying I should put these alleged leadership abilities of mine into good use and lead a movement to take back our country, like a second American Revolution?”

  “Now you’re talking. That’s just what I believe will be needed to save us from ourselves.”

  “Maybe I will rise in the ranks and lead my marines into battle on the streets of Washington?”

  Jimmy laughed and said, “Semper Fi, buddy.”

  “Semper Fi? You were a grunt?”

  “Yeah, Vietnam. A long time ago.”

  Christopher looked across the table at the aging, sickly union organizer in a different light now, and a substantial degree of sympathy for him flowed through his body. He said, “I’ll see what I can do. Who knows what the future holds.”

  * * *

  The situation played out in pretty much the way Jimmy Moran had outlined to Christopher at their lunch meeting several months ago. Walter Steadman told his workers he couldn’t meet their demands. He begged them to be reasonable, so that the business – and their jobs – could continue. They refused. He refused. They went on strike. Walter was forced to shut the doors. Everyone lost their jobs, but the unionized workers didn’t seem to care. Walter and the family cared very much. They were not – as owners – eligible for unemployment insurance.

  Greg and Bill, as their family’s breadwinners, went on the job hunt. Their sister Linda was fortunate to have a husband with a good-paying position, but the bit of high-living that went along with her salary was now gone. Walter and Emily were lucky to have been old enough to be eligible for Medicare, and they also applied to collect their social security benefits.

  About a year after the business closed, just about the time Christopher received a promotion to first lieutenant, Walter Steadman has a cerebral hemorrhage and died two days later. Three months later, Bill got word that union organizer Jimmy Moran had a fatal heart attack. “Served the bastard right,” Bill had said when he informed Christopher. “His fucking union shit probably caused Dad’s early death.”

  Christopher said nothing, except silently to himself – Semper Fi, buddy.

  * * *

  Now, twenty-four years later, Christopher Steadman drove his Harley steadily and purposefully to his destination. Although he was no longer a marine, having retired some months ago with the rank of lieutenant colonel, he was a man on a mission. He had a date with destiny, a meeting with his friend and supporter, the Reverend Alton Phineas, leader of the powerful and influential Church of the Universal Brotherhood headquartered near Cody, Wyoming.

  It was time to gather the true believers.

  It was time to put the plans into action.

  It was time to start taking back America.

  Chapter Six

  After much discussion with Susan, Harry decided to sell his share of the business to the other two junior partners, but there was a catch. Mel Ridky and Leo Ahearn, both good guys and also former law enforcement officers, were uncertain if they themselves could come up with the money to complete the buyout.

  In the end it all finally worked out, but only by bringing in four additional partners. Mel and Leo became the senior partners with 30% each and the new, junior partners received 10% each. A complete audit and evaluation of the company’s financial position valued Harry’s 15% at one-third less than he bought it for, but he took the loss in stride – after all he still had his job there.

  A month after the change in ownership was complete, Mel and Leo called Harry in and told him a necessary business reorganization would eliminate his position and the position of several other highly compensated executives. “Business has taken another turn for the worse,” Leo said apologetically.

  “And the quarterly taxes due increased by almost 20%,” Mel said. “We had to make these cuts, and we are truly upset about it.”

  “Hey you two, business is business. I understand what’s going on and I wish you nothing but future success with Sheldrake.”

  “Thanks,” Leo said. “But we have been worrying maybe we did the wrong thing. Maybe we bought a sinking ship.”

  “A lot of ships are sinking, and you, my friends, are not to blame. I’ll go pack up my personal things and quietly leave after five o’clock.”

  “You’re a class act,” Mel said. “I hope we can remain friends.”

  “Of course we will. There may come a time when friends are all we have left.”

  Before he left the office he called Susan at Vasky, Halloran and asked her to meet him at their favorite restaurant – Pasquale’s – at six o’clock for drinks and dinner. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.

  “I got a promotion,” he said. “Tell you about it later.”

  After they ordered drinks Susan said, “How could you get a promotion when Sheldrake is on hard times?”

  “They promoted me right out the door that’s how,” he said with a forced smile on his face.

  “Oh, crap. Three hundred grand a year gone.”

  “So what? I have a few hundred thousand from the buyout, and I’m still married to a beautiful million dollar baby.”

  “Maybe for not much longer,” she said.

  “You mean you’re going to divorce me because I lost my job?”

  “No silly, but we have a big meeting this Friday of all the partners, and I’m sure it’s going to be bad news.”

  “You’re not going to lose your job, too, I hope?”

  “I don’t think so, but something has to give. We’re losing more and more clients no matter what we do.”

  “Well, no use worrying about it now. Let’s order a good dinner and an expensive bottle of Amarone – while we still can.”

  * * *

  Harry, not used to being idle, took a long brisk walk in Central Park that Friday afternoon all the time worrying about Susan and her future employment. He showered and shaved in plenty of time to greet her at the apartment door, drink in hand. She smiled, kissed him and took a long sip from the ice cold vodkatini. “To use an oft-quoted line – thanks, I needed that.”

  “You’re welcome. How did things go? Don’t keep me hanging.”

  Susan sniffed the air and said, “I don’t smell anything cooking. If you’re going to be a house husband, I expect dinner promptly when I arrive home from the office.”

  “So you still have a job?”

  “Yes – for now. And that’s all the good news I have.”

  “Sit down and tell me the bad news.”

  “I’ve never seen Jimmy Halloran so gloomy. I have a job, all right, at a 30% cut in salary and there will be no profit sharing this year either.”

  Harry did a quick mental calculation and said, “So my million dollar baby is now a three hundred thousand dollar baby?”

  “Fo
r half a year, anyway.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Jimmy said the pay cuts will take us through the next six months, but if business doesn’t improve during that time a lot of jobs will be lost, including several of the partners. He said we had better drum up some good business, or get our resumes in order.”

  “If you lose your job there’s no way we can keep up this apartment very long.”

  “Seems like our future decisions are being forced on us,” Susan said.

  “Are you hungry? I’ll order in some Chinese.”

  “No, not really. How about another drink?”

  * * *

  Six months passed and business had not gotten better at Vasky, Halloran – it had gotten worse. Seeing the handwriting on the wall, five of the general partners had already left the firm for positions elsewhere. Four left New York, and the one who remained signed on at a smaller specialty firm and suffered a substantial pay cut. The managing partners cut five more of the fifteen general partners and Susan Cassidy was one of them. She was given two month’s severance and a big thank you by Jimmy Halloran himself as he hugged her good-bye. “I’m so sorry, Susan,” he had said, “but business is business.”

  Where had she heard that before?

  Now they were both unemployed.

  Harry and Susan took stock of their situation, and it wasn’t as bad as they first thought. Harry had his police pension of $100,000 per year and fully-paid health insurance coverage at no cost for him and Susan. Both not being big spenders, they had accumulated a substantial portfolio of stocks, bonds and cash – just a bit under a million dollars. After taxes, his pension income – now their only source of steady income – would just about cover their rent and food. They would have to tap their portfolio for other expenses, including clothing, travel and entertainment.

  With their immediate concerns and needs taken care of for a while they could breathe a little easier, but one of them – preferably both of them – would have to get a job in a few months in order to maintain their life style in Manhattan. As they soon found out, good jobs were in short supply. Law firms were simply not hiring experienced attorneys. Any openings they had were filled with new law school graduates, who they paid little, and worked to the point of exhaustion. Even the five district attorney’s offices were not hiring, despite the normal losses due to the attrition, due to a city-wide job and salary freeze on all non-union employees.