Chapter 4

Saturday, April 1, 1893

Malik and Peng were covering the law office during the Saturday morning market. He was reviewing contracts and filings that had been written by Fang Bai, and signing them as he completed reading each one. Fang, a trained Chinese lawyer, was not permitted to serve before the bar because his race prevented him from becoming a U.S. cxitizen. At the law firm, his title was senior law clerk. Consequently, clients were charged less for his work, though one of the attorneys, usually Malik, signed off on it.

The telephone rang at the reception desk, where Peng was seated, and she answered it.

A minute later, she stood in the office door -- as usual, for a Saturday morning, Malik was in Fang Bai’s office on the first floor -- and said, “You are probably not going to like this. Christina needs to speak with you.”

Malik sighed and said, “Connect her.”

Peng disappeared from the door and a moment later the telephone on the desk jangled. Malik plucked the receiver from the hook and brought the mouthpiece closer. “Christina? What do you need?”

“Oh, Emil, it’s a nightmare. One of the eighth grade girls just came home from confession, and she was ... it was ... I just can’t believe this is happening, again.”

“What is happening, Christina? What happened to the girl?”

“It’s the priest, that Father O’Toole. He was the one hearing confessions.”

“O’Toole? But he’s been here for, what? Three years? There’s been no trouble. Why now?”

“If I could explain it, I wouldn’t be calling, now, would I? All I’m saying is that, if word gets out ... I don’t even want to think what people might do.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Where’s Andy?”

“He’s not with you? He’s gone into town. He left hours ago. He should have been there by now.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him. Damn it all. Oh, sorry. Listen, I’ll head out there, now, and try to pick Andy up along the way.”

“He said he was coming straight to your office. He said he needed to see you, first thing, that it was urgent.”

The door bells jangled at that moment.

“Wait. Somebody just came in.”

“I’m sure that’s him. See what he has to say about this. This just goes beyond the pale.” Christina broke the connection.

Malik stood, grabbed his frock coat and duster from the coat stand, and hurried into the outer office, to find Andy standing at the reception desk.

Andy looked up at his brother, and, grinning, said, “April fool!”

(Saturday, April 1, 1893)

Monday, April 17, 1893

“Good morning,” Castillo said. “Did you just get in?”

“Yeah. We came over on the forty-three from Kansas City. In the last ten days, Yan and I have been on the Medicine Bow, the Ogallala, and the Kansas Southern branches.”

“How are they taking it?”

“I won’t say good, but I think, for the most part, people understand what’s happening. And they’re probably better off than ninety percent of folks in this country. We’ve gone out of our way to spell it out for them in the newsletter, over the last year.”

“A five percent wage cut is one thing. Layoffs will be something else.”

“There were a lot of questions about that. I said that it would probably happen when business fell off by more than twenty-five percent, and I told them we’d had a six percent decline by the end of March.

“Oh, here’s something interesting. I had one group, on the Kansas Southern, ask if they could volunteer to be laid off, so they could switch to one of the construction jobs.”

“You reminded them those were subsistence jobs, did you not? No pay, strictly board and found, with company scrip and a meager cash stipend?”

“Yeah, and that anyone between six and sixteen attends school, while those seventeen and up work, if they’re not in school. They were familiar with all that. It’s just that some of them have a few bucks hidden under the mattress and figure they can get by, when things go south, and they’d like to try something different, for a while.”

“Well, more power to them, then. What do you think of that idea, volunteering their position?”

“I think it’s fine, as long as the positions we need get covered.”

Castillo agreed. “Maybe we should mention the idea, without espousing it, in the newsletter.”

“Good idea. It’s an example of men assuming a positive attitude and looking for some advantages in the adversity. I’ll go down to advertising and talk to Ethel Roberts about writing a short piece.”

“Is Missus Roberts going to do it?” Castillo asked, when Malik and Peng joined him at lunch.

“She is. And she had an idea of her own. She thought we might run a contest, with a small cash prize, to encourage people to come up with ideas like that.”

“A cash prize?”

“Actually, we talked about it for a while. I’ve been down there all this time. Here’s what we came up with:

“We run a monthly contest, collect all the ideas that come in, and have the employees vote on them, each month by a different division. The division employees get to vote for three entries. The one with the most votes gets a five dollar prize, second, four dollars, third, three dollars. If there are any the executive committee likes better, they get two dollars.”

Five dollars was almost two days’ pay for a conductor, and nearly three days’ pay for a brakeman.

“Will not the division employees tend to vote for their own entries?”

“Oh, yeah, we thought of that. First, the entries will not have anything to identify the person who submitted it. At the same time, all the entries from the voting division will be held over for the next month, so they won’t vote on their own ideas.”

“So, twelve dollars a month?”

“Basically, unless we add some that we like.”

Castillo nodded. “It has merit. We should talk about it at the executive committee meeting.”

“Sure.”

(Monday, April 17, 1893)

Thursday, May 18, 1893

Arnie Yeats, shaking his head, said, “It ain’t coming back, is it? I think the country’s really put its foot in it, this time.”

Three days prior, on Monday, May 15, the bottom had dropped out of the stock market. That had triggered a general run on the banks. Just in those few days, scores of banks had failed and another dozen railroads had ceased operations. The executive committee was considering what, if anything, to do next.

Castillo said, “Our order desk is receiving a growing number of cancellations. Accounts receivable has already doubled the number of overdue notices normally sent out. Freight traffic, in ton miles, is down by eleven percent and passenger traffic is down by nine percent, over last year. I expect that to fall off sharply during May. We will likely see twenty-five percent reductions by the end of the month.”

“What does that mean, in terms of our plan?” Pottinger asked.

Dixie Yeats, who had been made the coordinator of the austerity plan implementation said, “According to the Board-approved plane, in thirty days, we need to reduce staff in sales, advertising, receivables, and routing here in Wichita. Terminus exchange yards, unless they can actually justify otherwise, should go from three shifts to two. All branch switchyards should be down to a single shift. We should cancel scheduled route service on Sundays, with an advisory that Thursdays may follow.”

“Rather than Saturday?” Pottinger asked.

“Initially, we want to avoid having two days in a row without service,” Dixie replied.

Then she proceeded. “For displaced employees who want to enter the subsistence program, we will begin with setting up the camps on the Medicine Bow and Ogallala Divisions, to be ready for winter, and proceed south from there. As workers become available, we can also begin mill construction. After the camps are set up and the mills operating, construction can begin on the colleges. After the colleges, then the Ogallala extension, but that’s a couple years off.

“We will immediately activate our contracts with farmers and begin cultivating our own plots. Fortunately, it’s still early enough in the year for most crops.

“Finally, we should reduce wages another five percent on August first, September first, and October first, along with corresponding staff reductions, reassessing our position month-to-month.

“In the meanwhile, Pete, you will implement a reduction in upkeep and maintenance, in keeping with reduced usage, according to the specifications you submitted.

“Emil, on the other hand, will make briefer, but more frequent visits, to the branches and their new facilities.”

Malik said, “Any questions for Dixie?”

(Thursday, May 18, 1993)

Tuesday, June 13, 1893

The quiet tapping brought Malik’s attention to the connecting door to the Board conference room. He called, “Come on in, Raul.”

The door opened and an agitated Castillo walked into Malik’s office.

Watching his friend drop heavily into a guest chair, he said, “Raul, I’ve become accustomed to your grim look, but now you look disturbed, as well. What is it?”

“The San Angelo division. We are being picketed at every staffed depot: San Angelo, Christoval, Sonora, Rock Springs Junction, Valley Siding, and Del Rio. A labor union, apparently, the ‘RAIL Brotherhood,’ the name being an abbreviation of Railroad and Industrial Laborers.”

“Well, it would be Texas. Never heard of the RAIL Brotherhood, though.”

“Nor I. But do you care to guess where their headquarters might be?”

“How would I ... Oh, no. You’ve got to be kidding. Galveston?”

“Galveston. Exactly.”

They were interrupted by a rumbling sound in the wall that adjoined the conference room, followed by a single, muffled ding from a bell.

Castillo, rising from his chair, said, “I asked the kitchen to send up a carafe of coffee.” He went back into the conference room and to the dumb waiter there, retrieving the carafe and two mugs on a tray.

Back in Malik’s office, he set the tray on the desk, filled the mugs, and sat down, once again.

Malik, in the meanwhile, had not been idle. “I called Bill, in Security. He’s sending Frank Tremaine and Moira Daley up here. Did the report say how many pickets?”

“Four each at the San Angelo and Del Rio depots, the others, apparently just two.”

There were footsteps in the hall and the two railroad police officers quickly appeared at Malik’s door, where they paused, and Daley said, “The Captain said you wanted to see us, Mister Malik.”

Malik replied, “Come on in, you two. Let’s sit over at the table.” Malik referenced a round, six-place table in the corner of his office. Both he and Castillo rose and, coffee mugs in hand, followed the two officers. Malik set his mug down, then returned to his desk.

Lifting the telephone receiver to his ear with his articulated hook, he brought the candlestick mouthpiece up with his hand, and tapped the receiver hanger with his middle finger. A second later he said, “Kitchen, please.”

Several seconds after that, he said, “Good morning, this is Emil Malik.”

...?

“Fine, thank you, Rita. And you and your mother?”

...

“Good to hear. Would you be kind enough to send up another carafe of coffee and two more mugs?”

...?

“Yes, good idea.”

...?

“Oh, yes, please do.”

...

“Thank you, Rita.”

Malik returned to the table where the others now sat, saying, “We’ll have more coffee in a minute. She also talked me into a dozen oatmeal crisp cookies.”

Castillo said, “Really? In spite of your spirited resistance?”

Malik looked at the officers and asked, “May I borrow one of your pistols, please? I’ve decided I want Raul’s oatmeal crisps.”

Daley said, “You can have my cookies.”

Malik said, “Oh, good. Then I’ll have nine.”

Castillo said, “Enough comedy, shall we address the topic at hand?”

Daley replied, “The Captain said that topic is the picketing on the San Angelo?”

Malik nodded. “What have you heard from your security people?”

“Twelve pickets, in total, four each at the terminals, two at the station stops. The only identifications we have, so far, are from the terminals, where we have officers on site. Three of the pickets, two in San Angelo and one in Del Rio, have been recognized as local hooligans. The report also says that one man, in each location, is dressed noticeably better than his companions. Four of the stationmasters are certain the picketing men arrived on the northbound, yesterday. The pickets’ signs are professionally printed and have the same message, ‘K and ASR Unfair to Labor.’ When there are people around, they usually chant, ‘Pay cuts unfair.’

“Division Superintendent Watts also asked if she should authorize a special train to carry police officers to the station depots. We’ve yet to respond to that query.”

Malik looked at Castillo, who shrugged. He turned back to the two officers. “What do you think?”

Daley looked toward Tremaine.

Leaning forward, the former Wichita police detective folded his arms on the table, and said, “So far, there have been no noticeable reactions or confrontations. A special train, with its white flags flapping, dropping off one or two officers, might be provocative.”

Daley said, “I agree, but I wonder what will happen if, after a day of picketing, they don’t feel like they’ve had any effect. Might they up the ante after dark?”

“What? Graffiti? Break windows? Arson?” Tremaine asked.

Daley shrugged.

He said, “Okay, I can see that. So, maybe a special train this afternoon?”

Castillo said, “Depending on where our officers are located, we could send specials late in the afternoon from each terminal, and still have them in place at the stations by nightfall.”

Malik asked, “In uniform or plainclothes?”

The dumb waiter announced itself. Castillo said, “I’ll get it.” He rose and walked through the door into the conference room.

Tremaine and Daley looked at one another, and then back at Malik.

Tremaine shrugged. “Keeping in mind that we’re guarding against specific individuals who have intent, and not just run-of-the-mill, opportunistic criminals, if it were me, and I were guarding the depot, at night, I’d rather be in plain, working man’s duds, with my badge on my shirt, and carrying both my revolver and a double-barreled shotgun.”

While they were talking, Castillo had returned with a tray holding two carafes, mugs, cream, sugar, and a dozen oatmeal cookies on a stack of small dishes.

Daley was nodding. “I agree. And, If possible, work in pairs, and notify the local law.”

Tremaine said, “Right.”

Malik looked from one to the other, then said, “Fine. Send that to Emma Watts, as suggestions, not orders. Get it on the wire. You can use my telephone. Oh, and suggest she alert all staff to potential vandalism.”

Tremaine, who had been making notes, rose and walked over to Malik’s desk. He asked the switchboard operator for the security office, and then he dictated the message to a clerk for encoding and transmission via Western Union wires. He asked the clerk to seek McCroskey’s approval, first.

When he returned to the table, he found everyone enjoying the cookies, but none left for him.

Malik said, “What? Oh, I’m sorry. When you walked away from them, like that, I thought you didn’t want any.”

Tremaine sat down, giving Malik a skeptical look.

Daley brought the dish with three cookies from where she had hidden it, resting on her lap, under the table.

Tremaine said, “Et tu, Moira?”

She said, “They made me. They threatened to cancel Meat Loaf Wednesdays.”

“You’re right. No one could have withstood that kind of coercion.”

Malik, chuckling, asked, “Do we know anything about this RAIL Brotherhood? Other than its headquarters is in Galveston?”

“No. And Missus Watts says no one down there has heard of them, either.”

“Are either of you familiar with the Labor Pioneers?”

“Sure,” Tremaine replied. “Out of Kansas City. They were a big thing, a few years ago, but then fell apart with some sort of management scandal.”

Malik was nodding, then said, “I had dealings with the Labor Pioneers, in Arenoso, in the late ‘eighties, when Mister Chen still ran things here. They imported paid thugs from around Galveston, most of them former dockworkers. They were not above maiming and murder.”

“And what?” Daley asked. “You think maybe the Galveston faction’s gone into business for themselves?”

Malik shook his head. “If these RAIL brothers are cut from the same cloth as the men I encountered, I’d reckon that someone else has done the thinking and organizing.”

“Maybe we should send someone out undercover,” Daley suggested.

Malik said, “To both Galveston and San Angelo. I’d like to know how they recruit locally and what their orders are. Also, are there other members or chapters, and who do they recruit, specifically, do they accept coloreds, Chinese, Mexicans, or Indians?”

“Or women?” Daley added.

“Excellent point, Moira. I should have included that.”

(Tuesday, June 13, 1893)

Wednesday, June 14, 1893

As a result of the picketing, San Angelo Division Superintendent Emma Watts had instructed Lieutenant Oskar Fosse to make his reports directly to Wichita at the same time he submitted the reports to her. Thus it was that Fosse’s encoded report from the Christoval depot arrived in Malik’s office just a few minutes later than it was being read by Watts.

Both Frank Tremaine and Moira Daley stood in front of his desk as he read the decoded telegram.

Behind his desk, on a credenza, there was a second candlestick telephone. It connected directly to Raul Castillo’s office, without going through the switchboard. A button on the base caused the other’s telephone to ring. Both men had muffled that bell with a bit of soft cloth, so that it was more of a buzzing sound, distinguishing it from the regular exchange telephone. Malik lifted the receiver and pushed that button, briefly, twice. He already knew Castillo had someone in his office, because the two police officers, following the chain of command, had gone there, first.

He lifted the base with the mouthpiece and said, “Trouble on the San Angelo. Come on over when you’re done.”

...

“Oh, well, bring her along.” He returned the earpiece to its hook, then said to Daley and Tremaine, “Raul will be right over. He’s bringing Dixie Yeats. Shall we see what sort of treats the kitchen has this morning? Go ahead and sit at the table,” he said, as he picked up the telephone on his desk.

Ten minutes later, all five were seated at the round table, with coffee and chocolate chip cookies in front of them.

Malik said, “Moira, tell us what happened.”

Consulting the decoded report, she summarized aloud, “At eight-forty a.m., Central Time, San Angelo’s southbound livestock express discovered a fire, involving two loaded cattle cars. This occurred as the consist (CON-sist means the cars that make up a train) was crossing the South Concho River bridge, just south of Christoval, where the express had picked up those two cars. The conductor immediately signaled the engineer to reverse off the bridge. The crew then used sand and some buckets of water from the river to extinguish the fires. The fires were at the adjoining ends of each car.

“The crew reported the smell of lamp oil and an oily residue on some surfaces of the two cars, nearest the burned sections. No one was seen in the vicinity of the cars before the fire, however, the yard area around the cars had not been under surveillance at that time.

“The two cars were returned to the Christoval yard and the heifers released into holding pens, as they were still in a distressed state. Three Hereford yearling heifers had to be put down, from injuries suffered when all the cattle panicked.”

She looked up. “That’s about it.”

Malik said, “Thanks, Moira. Has Bill seen this?” Captain Bill McCroskey was Superintendent of the K&ASR Security Section.

“Yes, sir.”

He stood up, saying, “OK, let’s get him up here.” He walked to his desk and used the telephone to talk to McCroskey, whose office, along with the rest of the headquarters Security Section staff, was in the basement. Then he called the kitchen and asked for more coffee and cookies.

Returning to his seat he said, “Bill will be right up.”

A few minutes later, McCroskey was explaining his plan to reinforce the San Angelo Division. “Medicine Bow sends an officer to Ogallala. At the same time, Ogallala sends two officers to Kansas Southern. Meanwhile, Kansas Southern sends three officers to San Angelo. In the same manner, Arizona Southern sends one to Fort Birney. Fort Birney sends two to Lamy. Lamy sends three to Tucumcari, and Tucumcari sends four to San Angelo. All transfers happen at the same time or as soon as possible, so San Angelo will have seven more officers by late today and every other branch is only short of officers for twenty-seven hours. At that point, every branch is short one officer, except San Angelo, which is reinforced.”