1.

ANNUAL

BURNS
NIGHT

BANQUET
and DANCE

Saturday, January 29th

Fishermen’s Hall
138 Cordova St.

Banquet 6:30 p.m. Dance 9:00 p.m.
Admission $5.00

For tickets phone: 937-3565
or 936-4467

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RAE ELE PIG LRRD LGR ISLES GE IGA IG LIRA PLA ILA FIA

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2679 E. Hastings St:
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Christmas in the Scrap Yar

Continued from-pg. 7

replied. My exultation was a little
more immediate and mundane.

Mario’s face darkened
momentarily as he lapsed into
thought. He started as the whistle
signalled us back to work.

It had begun to snow a little as
we left our appointed places
around the steam pipe and made
our way back up the mud walk to
the press. As we neared the press
shack, I noticed that one of my
gloves, that I had left on the ledge,
had fallen off and lying in the mud
pelow. I walked over to the shack
to get it.

Suddenly I wasn’t walking
anymore. I slid due north for a
yard and then my feet were out
from under me and I was airborn.
It was only for a split second and
then I made contact again,
abruptly, as I slammed one leg into
the steel lip of the press.

Mario was there instantly,
peeling back my coverall leg and

yi
hi
i
B
|
B
:
Bi

Saturday, January 8
8 p.m.

Surrey Centennial
Arts Centre

13750 — 88 Ave.

Tickets $3.00

wrapping a paper towel from his
pocket around the leg. He shouted
for Scottie and asked me
solicitously how I felt while I
assured him that I did this sort of
thing frequently and rarely found it
to be fatal.

Between the two of them they
picked me up and we lurched
drunkenly down the path as I
strove to keep my balance between
Mario, who was slightly taller than
I, and Scottie, who was at least a
foot shorter.

Pete was waiting for us at the
bottom of the walk.

‘*‘What the hell is it now?” he
asked disgustedly. He hadn’t
counted on anything like this.

“He's hurt,’ Scottie replied.
“Get the first aid man.”

The first aid man, as it turned
out, was none other than the
timekeeper whose versatility
extended to a number of assign-
ments around the yard. But his
medicaments were rudimentary:
he looked at the wound briefly,
wrapped it with a fresh dressing
and gave me the name of a doctor
where I was to go. I hobbled back
to the lunchroom to pick up my
gear.

Mario, Scottie and Eric (who
looked even more lugubrious than
usual) were waiting for me as I
came out of the door. As we got
back to the lunchroom, Pete was
waiting too, his bulky frame
blocking the doorway.

“You're a real prize,’’ he began,
summoning his most con-
temptuous tone. “I should have
sent you down the road the first
day. You might as well get what

you can out of that compensation .

case ’cause there’s no way you’re
coming back here. This outfit’s got
no time for passengers — I could go
upto that tin press any time and do
the workof two of you...”

He had only begun, but for
Mario, his last comment was the
final injury. The torrent that had
built up over months and had
reached a crisis point in the last
two weeks finally broke.

“Then you're the only damn
passenger,’’ he shouted at Pete. ‘‘If
you can do the work of two and you
only work for one.”

The flood of words poured as he
blazed with fury. He told a stunned
Pete of bosses like Pete that he had
known in his native Italy; he told
him what he thought of people
whose ignorance was so enormous
that they had given the world
nothing but slurs against others;
he told -him of the rotten,
miserable conditions that we had
suffered with where we worked on
the tin press, conditions that Pete
sought every day to make even
worse; and he told him that he
should have said all of this months
earlier. Several times he had to
resort to Italian to keep the in-
tensity and flow of his oratory but
every moment was magnificent.
For he was doing none of this for
himself; he was redressing what
he thought to be a terrible wrong
inflicted on another.

The silence was thunderous
when he finished. We suppressed a
great urge to applaud, savoring the
moment and watching Pete as his
speechiessness hovered on the
brink of becoming apoplexy.
Suddenly Scottie began to laugh, a
full, hearty laugh. ;

“You had that comin’ for years,
Pete,’’ he told the yard boss bet-

ween gasps. “And no one could .

have done it any better .. .”
That jolted Pete. He was just
about to launch a counterattack
when Scottie stopped him -short,
still laughing. ‘‘Don’t get any ideas
about getting back at him either,”
he warned, “I may just do
something about it — maybe even
shut down this lousy job. And make
sure you pay the lad here for the
afternoon — he’s got it comin’
according to the agreement.”
Defeated, and facing a complete
rout, Pete fled. Mario watched him

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, but exultant in his new confiden'

NEW YEARS EVE
AND DANCE

AT THE

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600 Campbell Ave.
Vancouver, B.C.

ADMISSION $10.00 ea.

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go, amazed at what he had do

Scottie turned to me.
*‘Drop back here after you go
the doctor,’’ he said, smiling.
four of us are gonna go down
drink to celebrate.’ I nodde
gratefully. 3
When we gathered around th
table and the waiter had brought u!
all drinks, Eric was the first to ta
his glass. In an unpreceden'
show of gregariousness, he rai
his arm in a toast and announc
“Pete sure got his comeuppa'
today.”’ We murmured assent.
for the rest of us, Mario
congratulations from all quarte
I got another job down at the un’
hall, Scottie got the bill for all
drinks and Eric . . . well, Eri
just got quietly and delightfull
drunk.
And the scrap yard? It’s gon
now. The city cancelled the leas

DANCE 9-1

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<== 2

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PACIFIC TRIBUNE—DECEMBER 17, 1976—Page 7

xi