Canyon Secret (2 page)

Rumors of the Anaconda Company beginning open-pit mining instead of underground mining threatened the McQueen Addition and its sister neighborhoods, Meaderville and East Butte. The Company planned the open-pit mine right where these historic neighborhoods thrived. The nearby hillsides and the neighborhoods would be destroyed once the Company dug the open-pit mine. The Company already approached two neighbors to sell their homes and property. Mikhail’s stomach turned each time he thought of losing his beloved home and neighborhood McQueen. Most likely he’d never return to Butte following his work at Hungry Horse. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of the changes to come. His neighbors didn’t believe the Company about the pit. The handwriting was on the wall, and Mikhail knew it.

The most painful problem for Mikhail was still the loss of his wife to the owner of the National Bank where she worked. For months after their divorce, he still thought she would come to her senses and return to him and their home in McQueen. This hope ended a week earlier when he read her marriage announcement in the
Montana Standard
. Mikhail snapped out of his torturing self-talk when he heard the front door close as his son Tomas walked into the kitchen.

The next evening, Mikhail and Tomas drove in silence. As he pulled away from the curb in front of his house he recalled the days of the streetcar. Until 1937 when the buses came, he and his family caught
The Dinky
in front of his house and rode it over to the Pittsmont Mine. From there they transferred and rode out to the Columbia Gardens or to uptown Butte. The crowded streetcar ran continually up to midnight.

He looked straight ahead as he steered his black 1949 Chevy sedan around the corner of Front Street and headed north up Main Street. The windshield wipers kept time with the radio and Hank Williams and his new hit song, “
Your Cheating Heart.
” With one quick motion, he turned the volume knob down. She was on his mind all day long and this song pushed the pain to the front of his troubled brain. Two years seemed like yesterday; it still made him crazy to think about her. The sudden silence in the radio caused his son to turn and look at him. “Don’t like that song, Dad?”

He didn’t answer and stared straight ahead. His mind now shifted and focused on the upcoming union meeting. Union leaders promised a quick week or two and the Company would beg to have them back at work. That was five months ago. No end in sight. Tension grew at home between the strikers and their families. Wives grew impatient and more frightened as the meals became smaller and the bills piled higher. Some strikers wasted what little money available from maintenance shifts at their favorite beer joints. The lack of money affected the gas stations, bars, and clothing stores. Grocery store owners no longer carried the men. The men on strike feuded with one another. His announcement tonight promised to be very unexpected and unpopular.

His son spoke again. “Dad, will any of the men get mad enough to want to pick a fight with us? I guess they’ll be unhappy with us leaving.”

Mikhail stopped for the red traffic light at the corner of Main and Granite. He cleared his throat and spoke, “We might. Most likely we’ll have to fight more than one if it gets goin’.”

“But who’d be crazy enough to choose you?”

“John Navarro might.”

“Is he as tough as everyone says? He ain’t close to your size.”

Mikhail directed his car left onto Granite Street and shifted into second gear. “He is. I seen him fight two men at once.” Tomas shifted nervously in his seat as his stomach somersaulted. “Who’ll most likely come for me?”

“Nelson. Or maybe O’Leary.” He slowed and angle parked in front of the Union Hall. A good crowd of men wearing bib overalls and yellow slicker raincoats stood outside of the Iron Workers Union Hall door. Some of the men passed a bottle of cheap whiskey and wiped off the bottle lip before and after they took long swigs. Tomas noticed that many of the men wore white carpenter caps like his father.

As Tomas and Mikhail joined the men, Tomas sized up Jimmy Nelson and Dick O’Leary. He told himself that he might have a chance with Jimmy, but O’Leary probably would knock him out. His stomach continued to churn as Dick O’Leary welcomed the father and son to the crowd. “Take a pull Mik, it’ll cure what ails ya.”

Mikhail shook his head no. Everyone knew he was on the wagon since he hit his wife’s new lover. His powerful backhand slap broke the man’s nose and eyeglasses. The man didn’t press charges, and Mikhail swore off liquor following that incident.

The front door opened and the men trudged down the hallway toward the meeting room. Nineteen-year-old Tomas glanced at the photo of his father on the wall along with the photos of the other trustees and officers. Again nerves engulfed his stomach. “This is gonna be bad. Dad’s been one of the leaders at the picket line and I been there with him. Now we’re leavin’. I wish it was over.”

Mikhail sat in a wooden chair near a table on the small stage in front of the rows of collapsible wooden chairs. Chairman Vic Pollard called the meeting to order, “Brothers, welcome. We got two or three things to talk about before I open it up to floor. First, we’re shy on pickets Sunday morning in front of the Mountain Con Mine. I need three more men. Sign up with Ducky Kelly before you leave tonight. Number two—”

Dick O’Leary interrupted the chairman as he accidentally dropped the empty whiskey bottle on the wooden floor. “Sorry, Vic.” The other men threw impatient stares at the red-faced O’Leary as Chairman Pollard prepared to continue. Pollard cleared his throat and used his gravely voice to gain the attention of the men, “As I was saying there, number two, Mother’s Day is this here Sunday, and it would be a good idea if we shortened up the picket time for the married men. Some of you single guys need to take longer turns at the gates. Sign up with Duckey on that too.”

He coughed and sipped from his water glass, “Another thing. You probably heard Senator Mansfield ain’t about to help us force the bastards to the table. We might be needing a vote in a week or so to see if we want to keep goin’. Be thinking about it. Now I open it up to the floor.” A slight pause followed as Mikhail slowly raised his hand. “Chair recognizes Brother Mik Anzich.”

Mikhail clumsily pushed back the undersized chair and he stood up to speak. His six-foot-seven frame and two hundred and fifty pounds rose from the table as he prepared to talk. Some of the men in the front two rows cranked their necks to make eye contact with him. “I got somethin’ to say. So I’ll say it right out. Don’t want any of yous’ to hear it second hand. Me and my boy leave Monday for Hungry Horse to work. My little Anna has the polio. We got to work to pay the bills. Ain’t nothing we planned to do. Family comes first. We’ll be out in back after the meetin’. If you’ve got a problem, that’ll be the time to speak up.”

He sat down and stared straight ahead toward the back of the room. The silence roared and deafened the room. No one made a sound. Chairman Pollard cleared his throat. “The floor’s open.” Still silence. Only hushed grumbling by O’Leary and Nelson. “Well, I guess this meeting’s over.” He slammed the gavel down and looked across as Mikhail walked down the three stairs toward the back door. Tomas followed him out the door and into the dimly lit gravel alley behind Union Hall.

Mikhail walked to the edge of the alley where it met a wooden picket fence. He slowly took off his gray sweatshirt and hooked it on an exposed nail on the fence. Pulling out a pair of worn leather gloves from his pocket, he slipped them on his giant calloused hands. Tomas took off his black horned rimmed glasses and placed them in the pocket of his jean jacket, which now hung on the fence. He slipped on his yellow leather gloves and pulled them tight over his fingers. “I’m scared Dad. Most scared I’ve been in my life.”

“Me too, Tomas. It got’a be done this way.”

“Any tips for me?”

“Stay on your feet. Both men’ll put the boots to you if you go down. Stay up and box like Nolan learned you.” The back door of the Union Hall exploded open. Dick O’Leary led the group toward the two men standing in the alley. A large circle of men choked off the alley as they surrounded Mikhail and Tomas. Mikhail spoke first, “Do you chose me, John Navarro?”

The short, stocky Mexican made his way into the circle and faced Mikhail. He spoke broken English through his wide smiling lips, “You’re wrong to leave, Mik. I don’t fight you. I owe you one favor. You got me and my brother our jobs. I fight on your side this time. He took off his white dress shirt and handed it to his brother. Tomas stared at Navarro’s huge dark chest, biceps and neck. The men standing near him took a couple of steps backward. Navarro walked over and stood alongside Mikhail.

Dick O’Leary stepped into the circle. “I can’t take you, Mikhail, and I’m sure as hell not going to try Navarro. But I chose your pup there. Nelson gets to finish him off if I don’t git the job done.”

“Now hold on there lads.” Tim Nolan pushed his way from the back of the crowd and entered the circle. “I can’t miss all of this fun now can I? It’s not goin’ to work for the Kid to fight the both of you, now will it? I’ll go a few rounds with you, O’Leary. My nephew can have it out with Pee Pee Pants Nelson.”

Mikhail spoke up, “Butt out, Nolan. Not your fight. Tomas’ll handle his own.”

Nolan took off his gray sweater and tossed it to Mikhail. He laughed as he answered Mikhail. “My fight now you big ugly Bohunk. I’ll be goin’ up to Hungry Horse with you and my nephew.”

Mikhail bristled after hearing the words of his close friend. “He ain’t your nephew.”

“Ya, he is. I adopted him. Ya can’t remember shit can ya?” Some of the men laughed. “Now let’s go here, O’Leary. Let’s show the boys what a couple of Micks can do with their dukes.” He shadow boxed a few steps and came within inches of O’Leary’s face. Then he danced backwards as he circled his fists. “Come on, Big Dog, let’s see what ya got.”

O’Leary lumbered toward Nolan and led with some fierce left jabs that Nolan easily dodged. The big man fired a circling right hand that flew just above Nolan’s head. Nolan unleashed five jabs that accurately found the O’Leary’s whiskey-redden face. Blood exploded from the nose of the stunned man. Nolan danced backwards again and bowed to the crowd of men. One of the men yelled, “Kick his ass O’Leary, teach the cocky little prick a lesson.”

Dick O’Leary knew he had to get his opponent on the ground. He charged, missed with a clumsy tackle and skidded face first on the gravel. Again Nolan taunted him and the crowd with his dancing and shadow boxing. Jimmy Nelson lost control and Sunday punched Nolan in the right cheek and knocked him to the ground next to O’Leary. Nolan quickly rolled away from his enraged opponent and sprung back to his feet and danced toward Nelson.

Tomas jumped into the circle and stood in front of Nelson. Before Jimmy Nelson fired a punch, Tomas landed three lightning quick jabs to his chin and forehead, and followed with a strong right hand to his cheek. Nelson went down. Tomas danced back and waited. Nelson waved his hand. He had enough.

Dick O’Leary crouched on one knee and wiped the blood from his nose on his bare arm. “I’ve had enough for now Nolan. We ain’t done. You gotta come back to Butte sometime. We’ll finish it then. I had too much time in the bottle tonight.”

“That’ll be fine Big Dog. I’ll look you up for sure. Anybody else wanta go a couple of rounds?”

The crowd dispersed. Mikhail watched as O’Leary helped Jimmy Nelson stagger through the door. He also watched John Navarro flip his white shirt over his shoulder and saunter back into the building behind the grumbling crowd. It saddened Mikhail to think that he lost such good friends and co-workers. He didn’t tell Tomas, but he knew they’d never return to Butte. His family came first. The doctor bills had to be paid. They’d come back for his daughter and little Anna later. He joined his son and Nolan as they took the long way around to his Chevy. Nolan rehashed the fight with Tomas and praised him for his footwork. “You learn good, Kid. You remind me of myself as a young buck.”

Tomas didn’t respond to Nolan’s comments. It was done. That’s all he cared about. Nolan interrupted his thoughts, “What time we’ll be leavin’?”

Mikhail held the door open and looked at Nolan. “Why you goin’, Nolan?”

“Christ Almighty, somebody gots to take care of a big ugly Bohunk like you. That nose might scare up a bear or two. Maybe one of them grizzly bears might think you’re a mate and mount ya. I’m surprised they even allow your type to work outside of Butte.” He laughed and winked at Tomas.

Mikhail replied, “Eleven on Monday.”

In 1952, more than 57,500 Americans contracted polio. As children got older and played with others, swam in public pools, and went to school, they were exposed to the poliovirus, which then caused paralytic poliomyelitis. The poliovirus lived in water and was transmitted from feces. When it entered the stomach it attacked cells in the central nervous system, which controlled muscle function. Polio paralyzed its victims by killing off the spinal cord’s motor-nerve cells, which control various muscles.

In the cases of respiratory paralysis, the chest loses its muscle action and the patients were in danger of suffocation when they could not get enough air into their lungs.

Five-year old Anna Sednick woke up three weeks earlier with a headache, fever, and a sore throat. She swam the afternoon before at the YMCA pool. After suffering from breathing problems, her mother rushed her to the hospital where the doctor placed her in an iron lung. The iron lung pumped air into lungs through a tracheotomy tube in the windpipe. Mikhail withdrew the remainder of his savings to keep his granddaughter breathing using this machine.

She looked up at him from her machine. The bellows motor pushed air in and out of the tank and made a whooshing sound. Anna timed the whooshing sounds and talked in between the whooshes, and said, “Papa, I’ll miss you. Who’ll read me stories?”

Mikhail leaned over the iron lung and softly looked at her beautiful face. He couldn’t remember ever crying before. The sensation overwhelmed him as he tried to answer her. It didn’t seem real that this mountain of a man who so many feared and respected was reduced to such a state of helplessness. His daughter Katya answered for him, “Mommy’ll read to you while Papa is away. You know some of the words yourself, and you’ll read to Papa when he comes home. OK.”