PINNICK KINNICK HILL: AN AMERICAN STORY

Chapter Ten

PINNICK KINNICK HILL We got paid Saturday afternoon, just before quitting time at four o’clock. When the foreman gave Nick and me a scrap of paper each, we stood and looked at what we’d received. On my scrap, written in long hand, were these words: “Pay to the order of Tino Villanueva the sum of $30.” And it was signed: “Walter Patterson.” Nick and I looked at each other. “Is this any good?” he asked. “It doesn’t look any good to me,” I replied. “Let’s ask him.” We waited until Mr. Patterson walked back our way. It looked like he was giving all the other workers the same kind of paper. As he came near us, I spoke up: “Say, Mr. Patterson, what do we do with this paper?” “That’s your pay for the week,” he said. “You take it to the bank in Shinnston. They will have you sign your name on the back and give you $30. Don’t worry. The money is there for you.” And so it was. I couldn’t wait to get home to give Mother the money. Nick and I worked all summer long. The job ended two weeks before school started in September. In the spring, I was graduated from the eighth grade. There were only seven in the class, and toward the end of the school year we were sent to Clarkston, where we spent the last four weeks preparing to graduate with the students there. Chapter Ten F ather’s partnership with the Genettis ended just after my graduation. The manager of the company store had been complaining about losing so much business to a store being run by a person who was not an employee of the smelter. They called Mrs. Genetti in and told her she could no longer rent the building. The merchandise and fixtures were sold to a man who was eligible because he worked in the smelter. The manager of the company store didn’t object, as he thought this man would not give him the competition Juan Villanueva had given him. And he was right, for the man didn’t know the first thing about meat cutting or running a store. He ran it for six months and gave up. We moved back to our house in Glenncoe. Uncle Diego had been living in it. This is when I went to Belleport with my cousin Angel and got the job at the Belleport Lamp Chimney Company. Many of the smelter workers had left for other smelters near and far. Production at the local smelter had been down for months and was just now beginning to pick up. Father decided to stay out of business because of the economic conditions in the town. He went to see the superintendent at the office and asked for a job. Otto Ahrens said yes, he would give him a job as a metal drawer. He told him to report for work the next afternoon. The next day Father went to the office to find out from Mr. Ahrens what Tizador he should report to. Mr. Ahrens looked at Juan and said, “You know the 77 PINNICK KINNICK HILL one you would want to work with. You tell me who it is and that is who you will work for.” After considering this for a few moments, Father said, “I’ll work for any of them, but as long as there is a choice, I’ll go with Crispin Sirgo.” “Very well, but please, let us not have any union talk. We’ve had enough of that in the past.” “Don’t worry about that. All I want to do is to work and take care of my family. If I had all the money owed to me, I wouldn’t have to go to work for a long time.” Crispin Sirgo was a hard taskmaster. But he didn’t try to curry any favors from the men he directed. He was one of the best firemen in the plant. He was delighted when my father reported to work for him. He didn’t know how to read, as he had never had the opportunity to attend school, but he was very interested in the affairs of the world. He would have my father spend some time before starting his shift reading the Clarkston Courier aloud. Several of the other men would gather round to listen as Father translated the English words to Spanish...