WE ARE THRILLED TO WELCOME BACK PODCASTER AND AUTHOR, MICHAEL SANCHEZ, WHO IS SHARING A CHAPTER FROM HIS NOVEL 'THE STEVEDORES - What Lies They Tell' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat

CHAPTER 1

Curly Moe was Here

It was the winter of 1960. It was cold and life near the water was unpleasant for the poor soul that had to make a living working in that sort of environment. It was an environment where the frigid water and the cold wind blowing west to east could make anyone change their mind about deciding to work full-time at the local shipyard. The winter made no bones about what it was planning on doing for the season and that was to make life as uncomfortable as possible. However, it didn’t matter for those who waited for the season to begin because they knew then that there was money to be made for the next six months no matter how many hours they had to work. The key was to work as many hours as possible to make enough money to last once the season was over and of course, to spend just as much, so life in Nosemelc, New Jersey was just another day for those who were brave enough to work the long hours at the local shipping terminal, while Local Union 33 looked on to make sure their people have treated with some form of dignity while at the same time rip off their union members as it was told throughout the local drinking taverns. 

It was Friday, November 4, 1960, and it was another winter’s morning. There was nothing special about it, but just another morning when employees of the terminal had to get up early on this day just like every other day to prepare for work as they kissed their wives, children, or significant other goodbyes as they headed off to work. Curly “Moe” Freemen was one of many who worked at the shipyard and was good at what he did, so he enjoyed making a living at his job and looked forward every day to working as many hours as possible to break even as he prepared to begin his six-season at the shipyard. He was young, in his early twenties and was eager to succeed no matter what it took. He had a young child, a baby just a few months old so of course, he wanted to do everything he could to have a good life for his child, which was something he did not have growing up in a rough community. It was 6:45 am just minutes before the horn sounded off letting everyone know that it was time to get to work. You could hear the horn blaring throughout the compound while simultaneously a yellow light would begin blinking on and off letting everyone know that they had to be at their stations before the light went dark. It was a signal that was most dreaded unless it was a red light, then you would know there was danger looming. However, the employees understood the importance of making it on time to avoid management's wrath, but what was more important was earning every cent by being at their stations as was expected by management. Freemen was running late on this day and had barely made it through the door to clock in when he heard a familiar sound. It was the squeaky irritating voice of the general manager who would watch everyone closely finding any and every excuse to fire someone just to make his day.

“So, Mr. Freemen, why are you late?” asked the general manager as he waited for a response. “I’m not late, I still have two minutes to clock in!” said Freemen as he clocked in with his timecard. “I gotcha, I gotcha!” said the general manager with his signature catchphrase, but no one could figure out if the general manager agreed with you when he would use the phrase or prepare to throw you out of the building which he was well known for doing so.

The general manager was a notorious and ruthless character and treated everyone equally whether or not you were a man or woman everyone was treated the same. He ran the business like a mobster. A tyrant who had no bones about getting rid of anyone who got on his nerves or was just in his crosshairs on one of his bad days. Big, John J. Agniszak is his name, a 6’ 4” bully from Trenton, New Jersey with ties from some unsavory characters. He has held his position for the past ten years as the general manager of the shipyard like a gangster with his willingness to do shady things to hold his power either with money, influence, or just fear. He had a ruthless reputation for violence, which was committed from time to time at locations not seen in public but in isolated areas seen by people who remained anonymous but have whispered what they have seen throughout the years.

It was 7:00 a.m. and the horn sounded off like clockwork. Each employee gets directions from their supervisor as they prepare for the day's assignments just like any other day. Some prepare to work at the docks waiting for the fruit, and dry goods to be unloaded in large pallets from the ships that dock for about a week until the loads are completely unloaded from the ship. It was a tough and dangerous job where anything could happen at any given moment either through carelessness or an act of God if there was such a thing. What mattered to upper management was that time was money and everything had to be off the ship and in the warehouse on time as written on the ship’s manifest to earn money as agreed by the contract or be penalized each day if the cargo was not released or cleared by a specific time, which is not in the favor of the shipyard. Losing big money in the thousands is not what Big John Agniszak cared for and therefore, it was not in the favor of the employees to fail in their mission to get the job done or pay the price by losing their jobs even if the union helped to get their jobs back.

Three weeks have gone by since the season started, and Freemen had been working his tail off each day for 12 to 14 hours trying to earn as much as he could. It was not usual for him, but things were occurring inside the warehouse that just didn’t seem right. Several employees were complaining about uncontrollable shakes, tingling in their fingers, and aches and pains that would come and go making life at work and home unbearable, but those same employees would return to work each day because it was the thing to do avoid losing their membership with the union while at the same time hold on to their jobs.

It was quarter to five and things were booming. The ship from South America, a Venezuelan ship, had docked a few days ago. It was the first big ship of the season, and a large volume of pallets was expected to come off the ship’s cargo bay where it stores a huge amount of fruit and other commodities. A gang of five stevedores was eager to get things going because they had to meet a deadline to avoid being penalized. Everything had to be off the ship before 6:00 p.m. so that the cargo could be hauled inside the

building and staged for fumigation. It was a practice used for decades so things would be hectic throughout the working day as everyone would do their part to get the job done. Of course, Freemen was one of those employees trying to get the job done in an orderly fashion. He made sure his work was not scrutinized by doing things properly while hauling pallets from the docks outside and into the cold and dusty building where the temperature would hit twenty degrees or colder during the cold winter months. The wind would be blowing from the northwest from the freezing river, and into the building where eight or more dock doors would be wide open inviting old man winter without a fuss.

The supervisors covering several locations within the building would keep a close eye on the product being hauled in from the docks. Extremely expensive commodities coming from abroad required due care and proper practices in hauling items from a large shipment but there was also a problem with items being stolen from the pallets once damaged which made it easy pickings for those who risked losing their jobs. However, things were running on time and all the pallets were hauled in from the docks promptly, which is what management wanted and would keep Big John from losing his mind and making someone an example.

It was now 5:00 pm, one hour before the alarm sounded, letting everyone know it was time to clear the building. The amber light once again was lit, which was a sign that indeed fumigation would begin soon. The methyl bromide was very toxic and was used to fumigate fruit coming from overseas, which was a procedure, and everyone knew that but what they didn’t know was the long-lasting effect on their bodies. William Fury an up-and-comer with a nasty reputation of his own was notorious for intimidating and harassing his subordinates to hurry it up, no matter the circumstance, and should anything happen to damage the product due to improper procedure or carelessness, he would use his position of authority to fire anyone who would question his methods or just to keep them shut by pushing them out the door before the ink on the paperwork was dry.

Supervisor Fury was not a newbie, to say the least. He already had seven years of prior experience working in this environment from a competitor, so he knew how to play the game. He was used to working long hours and made sure his presence was known. Being intimidated by the union employees who knew how to play the system was not going to be a problem because he was tough as nails and his reputation followed him wherever he went. However, on this day he waited for everyone to leave the facility except for Freemen, who for whatever reason had his eyes on all day long.

It was now 5:35 pm and Freemen was asked by his supervisor to walk into cold box #4. A cold and desolate place that only a few dared to enter. His superior asked him to enter the box to finish work not completed the night before. Chemicals were everywhere. On the floor, on the walls, and in the air. Every breath Freemen took was one more step towards his imminent doom. Supervisor Fury did not dare enter this harmful place because he knew his health would be in danger. What mattered was that the job must be done, even if it meant Freemen’s doom.

Freemen continued to do as he was told until he could no longer withstand inhaling the invisible odor that

slowly was eating the poor soul from the inside out, and eventually succumbed to the fumes. The door was shut behind him either purposely by his supervisor or by accident so Freemen could not escape the deadly toxins but either way it was too late. The alarm had sounded. The red light was flashing as the poisonous toxins were released once more.

In the early morning hours, the manager was waiting to greet his subordinate, who never arrived. He called human resources to see where he could be. No messages, No calls, and no show. Big John may have a temperamental demeanor about him, but he knew who his good workers were and always gave his time to greet them in the early morning hours. Time had gone by and still no response from Freemen. However, supervisor Fury was starting to suspect what he knew all along that Freemen had indeed perished from the harsh fumes, but his superior was not fazed. He was the last one to see Freemen while at work as there was no one else to witness what had occurred to him.

Weeks had gone by, and everyone had forgotten about Freemen. It was business as usual but on this night things would change. Everyone was done for the evening after a day where Freemen’s superior was barking orders as usual just as he did before. Keeping the truth away from those poor souls who walked into cold box #4 to do as they were told. After doing his daily closing routine, he noticed that cold box #4 was unsecured. It was a cold storage facility to store fruit such as apples, pears, oranges, etc. in a controlled environment set at 37 degrees Fahrenheit.

Everyone knew that the box must be secured each night before they left their shift for fumigation, but on this night the door was unsecure. Freemen’s superior hesitantly walked toward the door to see if anyone was still inside and shouted out if anyone responded but there was no answer, so he slowly walked into cold box #4 to make sure it was cleared. As he walked into the room the solid four-inch-thick metal door shut behind him. He was startled by the sudden closing of the large metal door.

“Hey, is anybody out there!” he shouted. But nobody answered.

“Hey, someone open the door, please. I’m in here and I can’t open the door from inside” But nobody answered.

The supervisor was panicking and was not in a position where he was comfortable. Now he understood how his subordinates felt about being in the cold box by themselves. Suddenly he heard a voice that sounded familiar.

“Freemen, is that you?” Shouted out the supervisor from inside the cold storage. “Someone closed the door behind me. I guess they did not realize I was in here,” said the supervisor. “Anyway, when did you come back? I’m so happy to hear from you. Please, open the door!”

The lost soul responded. “So, mister supervisor. How does it feel to be on the other side? Now you will know how it feels to breathe in the poison that you so enjoyed having me suck into my lung’s night after night.

“Please, Freemen. Get me out of here and I will give you anything you want. I will give you a raise. That’s right! You always wanted that.” Said the frightened supervisor.

“No raise will help me now. Now you will know how it feels to have been lied to!” Said the poor soul.

The lights could be heard shutting down from the exterior as the clock was winding down for the release of the deadly toxin about to overcome the entire facility. Freemen’s former superior was frantic and tried everything he could to exit the room but to no avail. The supervisor was shouting, and screaming at the top of his lungs for someone to help but it was too late the clock had wound down and the red warning light could be seen blinking all over the facility while the horn was blaring to warn off anyone close by from the incoming menace and then the fumes were slowly released. The supervisor had met his doom just as his subordinate did some time ago. Freemen could be heard laughing as the trapped supervisor’s voice slowly faded away. Then suddenly Freemen vanished.

The next day business day had started as usual but when the room was checked they found a dead man who was once the ruler of cold box #4. No one cared as the body was taken away, but his soul would forever be trapped in the room that kept terrible secrets that only a few knew. An investigation was conducted which involved the local police, and the coastguard. Everyone was questioned, but there were

more questions than answers and as a result, the case got cold. As for Freemen, no one ever found him but from time to time his shadow could be seen walking the port by those who knew him best.

**********

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Stevedores-What-Lies-They-Tell/dp/B0CPL3MS6T/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3J279XGUHDYNU&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.sCt0pcqyJLpYbjO_K53fxFuObbKKBdkGWYAjKSjWd8Y.nbf9Q6-Z3jYzug4nVAiOtDy7E7QNMuJ2-lLhmSnnDU4&dib_tag=se&keywords=michael+sanchez+the+stevedores&qid=1754491040&sprefix=michael+sanchez+the+stevedores%2Caps%2C85&sr=8-1

COMING SOON: On Friday, 22nd August, author Jane Murray is sharing her Flash Fiction story, 'Their First Home'.