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Show 179 "Not agitators, Karl. Organizers. And if my head gets busted, it'll be for a good cause." Speaking quietly, so the bartender wouldn't hear, Karl asked, "Are you turning into an anarchist?" "They're not the same thing, Karl -- anarchists andunion organizers." Andy leaned forward in his earnestness, his eyes troubled by Karl's question. "Too many people think unions mean anarchy, but they don't. The whole steel industry's got to be unionized, if people like me are ever gonna get decent jobs." Andy toyed with his beer mug, nudging it in circles to spread the wetness beneath it. "I'm ashamed to admit this, but before I met those men, I was planning to change my name. From Andrej Stulak to Andrew Steel." He smiled wryly. "That's Andrew, after Carnegie, and Steel for our noble industry. Thank God I heard those union men talking, or I might have sold my heritage for a mess of -- crap!" "You wouldn't have been the first one," Karl murmured. "Yeah. Well, unions will put an end to all that. When the steel industry gets organized, Slovaks like me will be as good as anyone else in the mills. Look at us, Karl," Andy said suddenly, pointing to the mirror over the bar. "We look like a mural of a workingman and an industrialist." Quinn's Saloon was illuminated by old-fashioned gas lamps. Their soft glow burnished the waves in Andy's blond hair. His rough overcoat, reflected in the glass, had grimed to dingy gray, and had lost a top button. Andy's hands circling the beer mug looked broad, strong, and soiled. |