The Badger Riot

by J. A. Ricketts

  “Perhaps the doctor needs to look at it.”

  “Doctor’s gone, sir. He’s hightailed it off to Grand Falls with the rest of them.” He focused on me unsteadily. “What are you still doing in Badger? The bishop got everything belonged to you closed up.”

  I sighed. “This is the place that I think God wants me to be right now, Rod.”

  “How did you know about my shoulder? And what are you doing here in my house so late at night? I’m not even a Catholic.” Then he added, “Not that you’re not welcome. Of course you are.” He tipped his glass up to his lips again. “Yes you are. Yes.”

  I had to be careful. In his inebriated state, he might do anything when I told him. “Rod, Richard Fagan is at my residence.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Rod exploded. “That goddamned townie corner boy attacked me with his fuckin’ stick. I knew I shouldn’t have let Audrey marry him! He’s a goddamned coward, running to his priest instead of coming to me like a man. I could be dead, sure, and he wouldn’t even care.”

  “He was so scared, Rod, that he didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Little townie fucker. All them little townie fuckers. They should never have been out here. And what was his father thinking about, sending Richard out here and not wiring me a telegram to say he was coming? I just can’t understand it, sir.”

  Suddenly, he lurched out of his chair and toward the door. “Excuse me, sir, I’m gonna be sick. Ow! My God, me shoulder!” He was gone out into the snow.

  I followed him and held him as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the snow. He stopped retching after a bit. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his coat.

  “Oh Christ, I’m sorry, sir. I’m so sorry. I never had any supper; nothing to eat since the Jam Jams for my breakfast, and the rum must have hit my stomach like a brick. Ah my Jesus, I got some bad shoulder.”

  We went back into the house where I boiled the kettle, found some instant coffee in the cupboard and measured out two heaping teaspoons to make it strong. I cut and buttered some bread. There was a tin of bully beef sitting on the counter, so I made him a sandwich of sorts. If someone had told me twenty-four hours ago that I would be in Rod Anderson’s house making him a meal, I would’ve said they were crazy. But here I was.

  Rod sat in a daze all the while. But when I put the food in front of him he had sense enough to eat.

  I sat and watched him as he finished the sandwich and drank the strong coffee. Then I asked him, “Do you think that the food helped your stomach, my son?”

  “It feels much better, sir. Thank you very much for helping me like this.” And indeed, the vomiting and the food had sobered him somewhat. At least he wasn’t cursing anymore.

  “How about we go to my place, Rod?” I coaxed gently. “You and I and Richard can talk. I’ll help you sort it out. This terrible mistake has to be resolved.”

  “I can’t, Father. I can’t face him, sir. I don’t trust myself. I’m likely to kill that townie bastard.”

  “Rod, think of the alternative. Richard explained to me about your wife being in St. John’s with your daughter, Audrey. They have no idea Richard is out here. He was sent out on a secret mission. His father had no control over it. Just a routine patrol to keep the peace, he was told. Richard hoped to be gone and never see you. This is a cruel twist of fate. We have to work it out. Many lives stand in the balance – your own, Ruth’s, your daughter Audrey’s, the two little girls and Richard’s. And two more – Richard’s parents.”

  30

  I don’t know who got the biggest fright, the young policemen or me. Before we could gather our wits about us, the priest hustled us out through the back door of the church and into his residence. Then he left the two of us there and made off for Rod Anderson’s.

  As he went out the door, he said to me, “Now Jennie, I am depending on you. Stay with Richard until I get back. Get tea and some food for yourselves. I am hoping to bring Mr. Anderson back, but he might be injured. I’ll need you then too. Stand by, both of you.”

  I started to get us a cup of tea. It took me a bit of searching to find cups and spoons, a sugar basin and some milk, which turned out to be what we called “fresh” milk and not the tinned Carnation kind that most of us used. The priest’s kitchen was spotless. I was half afraid to touch anything. Oh Mam, if you could see me now. Father Murphy had a housekeeper, but she wasn’t here. Perhaps she was sent away with the nuns.

  Richard was restless. For sure he figured he should be out there with his unit, chasing down loggers. Privately I thought that every cop that the loggers didn’t have to worry about, the better. Of course I never said that to Richard, and he never said anything to me about chasing down loggers. We each respected the other.

  I actually didn’t know what to say to him, and that wasn’t like me. I was never stuck for words. We’d only met a couple of times. I always thought him rather nice, but reserved. Tom played ball with him over on the field sometimes. He said Richard was hard to get to know. He wasn’t much like his father, Mr. Abernathy, who talked to everyone, right from the A.N.D. Company manager down to me. Most people in Badger called him by his first name, Levi. Everyone said, “What a nice man; never know he’s a police sergeant.”

  I got our tea. I found a cake tin with a rich, dark fruitcake in it. Trust the priest’s housekeeper to make fruitcake when it wasn’t even Christmas. I cut off three or four pieces, put them on a plate – lovely Royal Albert china – and laid the plate in front of Richard.

  “How are Audrey and the little ones doing?” I asked. “I heard that Ruth went in to St. John’s to be with them for awhile.” That was putting it delicately. Rod had hustled Ruth off because contractors in Badger had been threatened and Rod was afraid for his wife being alone in the house if he was across the River.

  “They’re all well.” He spooned some more sugar into his tea. I was counting, and that was six teaspoons. I was pretty sure that he didn’t even know he was doing it. “None of them has a clue I’m out here, you know.”

  Well! What kind of tangle was that? “And where’s your father? Is he out here too?” I had this vivid image of Levi Abernathy – Police Sergeant Abernathy – galumphin’ through the snow, striking loggers down with his nightstick.

  “No, my father’s not here. Thank God for that. He loves this town and its people. He’d never go along with what has happened here tonight. He’ll never believe it when he hears. I can hardly believe it myself.” He sighed and put his head down in his hands. “And now, this thing with Rod . . . I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  I patted his arm in sympathy. I was always a good arm patter. Mam was too. She always said human contact, an arm pat or a shoulder pat, was important when someone was in trouble. “Tell me about you and Rod while we wait for Father Murphy to come back.”

  And he did. Poor Richard. What a miserable stroke of luck, and no fault of his own. If Joey Smallwood or the A.N.D. Company officials were to ever hear the story of how lives were ruined this night, how many people would never be the same, how children’s minds were scarred forever, would they care? I thought not.

  Back came Father Murphy, towing a half-drunk Rod who had a sore shoulder and a lot of anger.

  I knew it wasn’t going to work when they walked in. I could see it in Rod’s eyes. The friggin’ rum, you know. It makes men say stuff that they later regret.

  So Father Murphy tried to patch it up between them. Richard was sorry; scared and sorry. Father encouraged him to say what he was feeling. “I don’t know what came over me to hit someone. I never have before, in my whole career. It was as if I was caught up in the violence, in the power that we were exerting by defeating the strikers and breaking them up. I know it was wrong. I can see it now. I’m sorry.”

  But Rod didn’t want to listen. He lurched out of his chair. “Father, can I use your bathroom? I think I’m going to be sick again. And you, you goddamn townie bastard, get back to St. John’s. Send my wife back to me, and tell Audrey what you did to
her father. See how she feels about it.” With that he was gone down the hall with the priest, groaning aloud about his shoulder.

  Richard looked at me. “I’m leaving.”

  “No, Richard. Stay. Please.”

  “Sorry, Jennie, there’s nothing else I can do. He’s only going to get madder.” He was dressing as he spoke, putting on his heavy black greatcoat, fur hat and gloves. His ill-fated nightstick was on the table. He picked it up. “I’m gone now. Thanks for your help. I hope we meet again under happier circumstances.”

  “Wait . . . wait . . .” But he was gone out into the cold dark night. I wanted to tell him to watch out for Tom and Ralph and others that he knew. Surely he would. Surely he wouldn’t get caught up in the savagery any more. But I worried about it all.

  I left the priest’s house on a run. My father-in-law’s anger and pain was too much for me to watch.

  Ducking under the big trees, my gaiters sinking through the snow, I reached the road. There was no one in sight. It must be nearly one o’clock in the morning. Had my entire contingent gone?

  A lone patrol car coasted past. I waved frantically. The driver must have seen me in his rear-view mirror. His brake lights came on and I ran forward. It was the RCMP. “What are you doing out here alone, b’y? Most of the members have gone on down to Grand Falls.”

  “I had a bit of trouble,” I answered. “Got knocked down.”

  “Climb in back there. We’re going to cruise around for another bit and then we’re going to head on down too.” I climbed in the back of the police car.

  “You okay back there?” one of them asked.

  “Yeah, sure. I’m good. Thanks.” They weren’t Constabulary; they were Mounties, strangers to me. There was always a certain rivalry between us. If you were accepted into the RCMP you were considered to be a notch above the Constabulary. However, despite the rivalry there was a brotherhood. We were all police officers. We would always watch each other’s back.

  We cruised the streets for awhile. Streets that I had walked with Audrey. Streets that now had witnessed extreme violence. There was no one about. The boys decided to call it a night and head back to Grand Falls. When we arrived, they dropped me off at my billet on Cromer Avenue.

  Rod and Father came back. The priest looked around. “Where’s Richard?”

  “He thought it better if he left.”

  “Well, so much for that. Let’s hope he doesn’t get into more trouble out there tonight.” Father Murphy sighed. “Jennie, I’m keeping Rod here with me tonight. He needs that shoulder looked at. Maybe I’ll send someone for Mrs. Drum. She’ll know if it is broken, at least. You can stay too, my child, if you wish.”

  “No, Father, thank you. I have to get home to my house. Tom will be worried about me, as I am worried about him. I don’t know where they all went.”

  Rod looked at me. I think he was relieved to see Richard gone. He was a sorry sight, as pale as death, his eyes pain-filled, angry, yet defeated at the same time. “I bet you never thought you’d see the day when a good Protestant like me would sleep in a priest’s house, did you, Jennie?” A small smile touched his mouth at the irony of it all.

  Father Murphy was getting more tea. I cleared away the cups that Richard and I had used. Rod picked up a piece of the untouched fruitcake and started to eat it. I hoped he wouldn’t get sick again.

  “I wish there was someone to walk you home, Jennie,” the priest said as he poured the boiling water into the teapot.

  “Don’t worry about me, Father. I can look after myself. I know all the shortcuts in Badger, all the hiding places. This is my home. I’ll be all right.” I pulled on my coat. There were no buttons left to do up. The cop had torn them off earlier.

  So I left them. Out I went, into the darkness under the big trees, following much the same path as Richard must have done. It was one o’clock in the morning, and the whole length of Church Road was dark and silent.

  No one stopped me as I walked down the road, turned left toward the railway tracks, passed through the town’s centre and on in toward Halls Bay Road. I looked neither left nor right. I focused on getting to my little house, my haven. As I walked, I prayed that Tom would be there waiting for me.

  The morning of March 11 dawned cold and frosty. The mild spurt of weather was over.

  As I walked down the road to my telegraph office, I could see that poor old Badger looked used and bruised. Every inch of snow was trampled in a town where stretches of land never saw a footprint all winter. There were a couple of overturned fire barrels, their charred wood and ashes smeared across the whiteness. The Mountie cars were still around too. I wondered about the policeman who was struck down last night.

  I had not gone back down to the goat house to check on the fugitives before I left. I figured Ralph would look after that when the coast was clear. I was worried about my film and about them pissing on my floor or in my acids, but nothing could be done about it now.

  Not long after I opened the office, Ralph came in. He looked worn out. “Ralph, my son, you look like you could use a nap.”

  “Yes, Alf b’y, we had a hard night. We got everyone away, though. Only nine fellas were arrested. Half of Badger got people hiding.”

  “Here, Ralph, take the key to the goat house. Will you have them fellas gone before I get home?”

  “Yes, Alf, they’ll be gone. Don’t worry.” He pocketed the key. “Did you hear about Landon Ladd?”

  “No. What about him?” I had forgotten about the IWA president. There were so many things on the go that I never gave a thought where he would be.

  “He had a head-on collision with a meat truck last night. Demolished his car, but he never got hurt.” Ralph rubbed his hands over his tired face. He looked like he was on his last legs.

  “Where did that happen? On the road to Grand Falls?” I had assumed Ladd had been staying down there.

  “No. Out on the Halls Bay Road. Someone said that he was staying at a cabin on the Halls Bay Line.”

  “Hmm. First I ever heard about that. Perhaps he’s not wanted in Grand Falls these days. The mood is ugly down there too – in a different way than it is here.” I tidied away the office as we talked, sweeping the floor, wiping off the counter, setting out a fresh message pad with the carbon paper in it.

  “Yeah, I dare say you got that right.”

  “So, Ralph, what do you think of what happened?”

  Ralph shook his head. “That was terrible, Alf. I was up there, b’y. Me and Tom were right up front. We were having a great laugh at Vern trying to sneak the scabs through.” He leaned on the counter and scrubbed his hands over his face, as if he were trying to wipe away his fatigue. “Then we saw the police marching up and we didn’t know what to expect. We thought it was their way of showing force. But they must have been ordered to destroy us, because when they came back down the road, the head cop shouted ‘Right wheel,’ and there they were, right in our faces. Then the police waded in among us with their nightsticks swinging.”

  “Did you see who struck down the policeman?”

  “Naw. Too much going on for that. Maybe it was one of the police themselves who struck him.”

  Ralph turned away from me and looked out the window. Hmm, maybe the less that was said about last night, the better it would be for us all.

  “Well, poor Landon Ladd,” I said. “I guess he lost his fight after all. What do you think the loggers will do now, Ralph?”

  “I dunno, b’y. The IWA is decertified. All of Newfoundland is on Joey’s side. That friggin’ Joey is like a dictator. No one will speak out against him. I’m thinking the loggers will be forced into joining Joey’s union if they want to keep their jobs.”

  My phone rang. It was the Grand Falls office, ready to transmit incoming telegrams. Ralph nodded, jingled the goat house key at me, and went on out the door. As I took the messages, my mind was only half occupied with my work. The other half was thinking about what Ralph had said – and what he hadn’t said.

&nb
sp; Later in the day, Arnold Brown dropped in. Arnold works on the trains as a conductor. He was on his days off. “Jesus, Alf, I don’t know what to do. I got four strikers hid up in me attic. I knows someone else who got some hid down in his basement.”

  “Arnold b’y,” I said, “that’s dangerous stuff, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Goddamn right, buddy. Anyone caught at that will be in some trouble.”

  Christ! I hope Ralph got them fellas outta my goat house.

  31

  I was nearly dead on my feet. What a night! Alf gave me the keys of the goat house and I trudged over to let the boys out, keeping my eye out for any stray Mounties that might still be around.

  The men were cold, hungry and needed to use the outhouse. At least they never pissed on Alf’s stuff. They all knew their asses had been saved last night, and now, by whatever transportation could be found, they would make their way back home. The loggers, all of them, were broken, defeated men. Their high hopes of January had been destroyed forever.

  The buzzword around town was that the cop who had been struck down was in a coma at the hospital in Grand Falls. Doctors didn’t expect him to live. Bad news always travelled fast. Was it the same cop that I had knocked away from Jennie? Or was it another one, struck by someone else? I shouldn’t have run. This thought kept racing through my tired brain as I tried to clue up my tasks.

  After we had stowed the men in the goat house, Tom and I had split up. I went back down to the River and he took three more fellows to the pastor’s house to hide out. Tom was worried about Jennie. Jesus, I was worried about her too, but I couldn’t let on to Tom. So I told Tom to go on home when he finished at the pastor’s. I said I was going to hide some men up in the woods in a couple of old tilts in among the trees.

  I couldn’t ask Tom directly about striking the policeman. He hadn’t seen me do it. Probably didn’t even know I was near Jennie at the time. When the cop grabbed Tom, Jennie jumped from the snowbank onto the back of the cop, who turned and grappled with her. Tom was swung away from them in the furious ebb and flow of loggers and police. When I sprinted over to help her, he wasn’t even close.