intruders with their books.
The first argument was forgotten. The hook fight was forgotten.
The oontraband was their livelihood and they would die defending it.
Canfield, who had raced up the stairs to the glassen~losed booth high above
the pier, watched the angry crowd. A shouting match began between the men
on the loading dock and the sailors of the Genoa-Stella- For fifteen
minutes the opponents yelled at each other, accompanying their shouts with
obscene gestures. But no one drew a weapon. No one threw a hook or knife.
They were waiting.
Canfield realized that no one in the customs office made any move to call
the authorities. “For Chrisfs sakel Someone get the police downl”
There was silence from the four men in the room with Canfield.
“Did you hear me? Call the policel”
Still the silence of the frightened men wearing the uniforms of the Customs
Service.
Finally one man spoke. He stood by Matthew Canfield, looking out the glass
partition at the gangster army below. “No one calls -the police, young
fella. Not if you want to show up at the docks tomorrow.”
, “Show up anywhere tomorrow,” added another man, who calmly sat down and
picked up a newspaper from his tiny desk.
“Why not? Somebody down there could get killedl”
“They’ll settle it themselves,” said the older customs man.
“What port did you come from again? . . . Erie? . . . You must have had
different rules. Lake shipping has different rules. . . .”
“That’s a lot of crapl”
66
A third man wandered over to CAnfield. “Look, hick, Just mind your own
business, all rightr’
“What the hen kind of talk h that? I mean, just what the hell kind of talk
is that?”
“Came, hick.” Ile thud man, whom thin bodY and narrow face seemed lost In
his loose-fitting uniform, took Canfield by the e1ow and walked him to a
corner. 110 others pretended not to notice but their eyes kept darting over
to the two men. They were concerned. even worned. “You got a wife and
kids?” the thin man asked quiedy-
“No… So what?”
“We do. That’s what.” The thin man put his hand into his pocket and
withdrew several bins. “Here. Here’s sixty
bucks. . . . Just don!t rock the boat, hub? Calling the
cops wouldet do no good, anyhow They’d rat on
YOU- It
“Jesust Sixty dollarsl”
“Two weeks’ pay, kid. Have a party.”
“Okay… Okay, I will.”
“Here they come, Jesse.” The older guard by the window spoke softly to the
man next to Canfield.
“amou, hick. Get an education,” said the man with the money, leading
Canfield to the window overlooking the interior of the pier.
Down at the street-loading entrance, Canfield saw that two large
automobiles, one behind the other, had pulled up-the first car halfway into
the building. Several men in dark overcoats had gotten out of the lead car
and were walking toward the phalanx of dock workers surrounding the damaged
crate&
‘T&M are they doingr’
“They’re the goons, kid,” answered the guard named Jesse. “I’licy muscle.9*
,,muscle whair,
“Hahl” came a guttural laugh from the man at the tiny desk with the
newspaper.
‘Inmy muscle what has to be put in line. No whatWhol”
Ile men in overcoats-five in all-began wandering up to the various
stevedores and talking quietly. Cheek to Cheek, thought Canfield. With a
few, they shoved them humorously and patted their thick neck& They
67
were like zoo keepers, pacifying their animal& Two of the men walked up the
gangplank onto the ship. The head man, who wore a white felt fedora and was
now the central figure of the remaining three on the pier, looked back
toward the automobiles and then up at the
booth. He nmkled his head and started toward the stairs. The guard,
Jesse, spoke.
“M handle this. Everyone stay put.”
He opened the door and waited on the steel platform for the m-n in the
white fedom
Canfield could see the two men talking through the glass. Mw white fedora
was smiling, even obsequiouL But then was a hard look in his eyes, a
serious look in his eyes. And then he seemed concerned. angry. and the two
men looked into the office.
They looked at Matthm Canfield.
The door was opened by Jesse, “You. Cannon. b1itch Cannon, c’mere.”
it was always easier to use a cover having ones own initialL You never
could tell whod send you a Christmas 8ft
Canfield walked out onto the steel platform as the man in the white fedora
descended the stairs to the cement floor of the pier.
“You go down and sign the search papers.”
M hall you say, buddyl”
“I said go down and sign the papersf They want to know you’re clean.” And
then Jesse smiled. ‘I’be big boys are here… Youll got another little
dividend. But I So fifty Weent, understandr
“Yeah,” Canfield said reluctantly. “I understand.” He started down the
steps looking at the man who waited for him.
“Now hem huhr,
#TeaLl,
491YVIlere ya. frorart
‘IAke Eno. Lot of action in I.Ake Erie.”
What dya workT’
“Canadiari stufL What else? … Good booch that Canadian stuff.”
“We import wooll Como wooll”
‘Teah, sure, friend. In Ene its Canadian pelts, fabric.
.” Canfield winked at the waterfront subaltern. “Good soft packing. huhr,
68
“Look, fella. Nobody needs a wise guy.”
“Okay. . . . Like I said. Wool.”
“Come over to the dispatchers. … You sign for the
loads.10
Canfield walked with the large man to the dispatcher’s booth where a second
man thrust a clipboard filled with papers at him.
“Write clear and mark tfie dates and times perfectl” ordered the man in the
booth.
After Canfield had complied, the first man spoke. “Okay… C’mon with me.”
He led Canfield over to the automobiles. The field accountant could see two
men talking in the back seat of the second vehicle. No one but a driver
remained in the first car. “Wait here.”
Canfield wondered why he had been singled out. Had anything gone wrong in
Washington? There hadn’t been enough time for anything to go wrong.
There was a commotion from the pier. The two goons who had boarded the ship
were escorting a man in uniform down the gangplank. Canfield saw that it
was the captain of the Genoa-Stellm
The man in the white fedora was now leaning into the window tallrina with
the two men in the second car. They hadVt noticed the noise from the pier.
The large man opened the car door and a short, very dark Italian stepped
out. He was no more than five feet three.
The short man beckoned the field accountant to come over. He reached into
his coat pocket, took out a billfold, and withdrew several bills from it
His speech was heavily accented. “You a new man?”
4111res, sk..v
“I.ake Erie? TWs rightr’
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s name?”
The Italian looked at the man in the white fedora.
The man shrugged. “Non conosco. . . .”
“Here.” He handed Canfield two fifty-dollar bills. “You be a good boy. . .
. We take care of good boys, don’t we, Maggiore? . . . We also take care of
boys who ain’t so good… Capiscer
“You bett Thanks very. .
It was as far as the field acootiritant got. -fhe two men escorting the
Genoa-SteUa captain had reached the first
69
automobile. They were now forcibly holding him, propelling him against his
will.
“Lascka mil Lascia mil Maialil” The captain tried to break the grip of the
two hoodlu . He swung his shoulders back and forth but to no avail.
The small Italian brushed Canfield aside as the goons brought the captain
up to him. The ship’s officer and his two captors started shouting at the
same time. The Italian listened and stared at the captain.
And then the other man, the man who remained in the back seat of the second
automobile, leaned forward toward the window, half hidden in the shadows.
“What’s the matter? What are they yelling about, Vitone?”
“Mis comandante doesn’t like the way we do business, Padrone. He says he
won!t let us unload no more.”
“A)Vby not?”
“Si riflutil” shouted the captain, sensing what was being said though not
understanding the words.
“He says he don’t see anyone he knows. -He says we don1 have no rights with
his sWpl He wants to make telephone
“M bet he does,” the man in shadow Wd quietly. “I know just who he wants to
call.”
“You gonna let him?” asked the short Italian.
“DonI be foolish, Vitone . . . . Talk nice. Smile. Wave back at the ship.
All of youl . . . That’s a powder keg back there, you imbecilesl … Let
them think ever-ything’s fine.”
“Sure. Sure, Padrone.”
All of them laughed and waved except the captain, who furiously tried to
release his arms. The effect was comic, and Canfield found himself nearly