The Badger Riot (40 page)

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.

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.

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.

Tom said he never knew what happened for that cop to be hit so hard in the head. He kept repeating that it could just as easily have been a logger who was down in Grand Falls Hospital right now, there were that many of us clubbed to the ground.

As for me, I never let on to Tom that I had run from the scene because Jennie and I thought I had killed someone. I was purposely vague about what part of the riot I was involved in. We didn't have a lot of time for chit-chat that night. We were pretty busy hiding men in attics, basements, sheds, outhouses, garbage barrels, wherever we could find.

I had to talk to Jennie, but it would have to wait. I needed sleep and headed for home.

Ma was just getting home too. I figured she'd been making a house call, maybe delivering a baby. She was often called upon when the doctor was away, and I'm sure he'd been whisked away by the Company while this was going on.

We went into the house together and took off our boots and coats. “Hard old night, Ma,” I said. “I'm going for a nap. Wake me if anyone comes for me.” I had a feeling that, before the day was over, I'd have my hands full with helping the strikers that had to get out of Badger and away from the roaming police units.

“Yes, my son, I know it must've been a hard night for you.” She put a junk of wood in the stove and moved the kettle over on the part that would get the hottest. “I just came from the priest's residence. He had Rod Anderson there. He got injured in the riot.”

Huh? How could that be? An A.N.D. Company contractor injured? What was he doing at the priest's house? And Rod was a Protestant. How could that be? But my mind was numb with fatigue. I just shook my head and went on to bed.

Deep into sleep, I had a dream. It was born, I suppose, out of exhaustion and trauma. I was walking along by the banks of the
Exploits River. It was summer. The waters flowed swiftly, reflecting the blue sky on its surface but hinting at the darkness beneath. I heard a shout. When I turned I saw cops chasing me. They were shouting, “Get him! He killed one of ours!” In the dream, the riverbank was endless and I ran and ran. I could feel a pain in my side as I gasped for breath. Then I tripped and fell. I could distinctly feel the grass under my cheek and I could see the toes of a pair of old rubber boots close to my face. My eyes followed up the legs and there was Grandfather.

“Oh no,” I yelled. “They're coming, Grandfather! Run, or they'll get you too!” Grandfather and I looked back together but there was no one there.