American National Guardsmen at the scene of a riot.
CHAPTER 3 – BACKLASH
07:50 (New York Time)
Sunday, August 17, 1930
Burlington, Vermont
Having just bought the local morning newspaper from a street vendor boy and having returned to his second floor apartment, where he lived with his wife and three young children, Thomas Gardner started going through it without much conviction, looking for any employment add that could give him some new hope in these grim times. As a black man, he had been one of the first employees to have been let go by the construction firm where he had worked for seven years, victim of the quickly sinking economy following that 1929 Wall Street crash. However, his white colleagues had also quickly felt the pinch afterwards and the firm was now all but idle, with building projects drying out or being cancelled for lack of financing. Now, after four months of unemployment, Thomas was getting close to desperation as he was coming to the end of his meager savings. Soon, he would have no money left to buy food for his family or pay his apartment’s rent and would have to depend on charity to survive. Turning quickly the pages of the newspaper to the employment adds section, his eyes stuck at once on an add title typed in big, bold letters.
“Workers needed for large construction project at the Burlington Municipal Airport…’’
Feeling hope coming back to him, Thomas avidly read the add, which said that the project could employ up to 300 construction and general workers. All those interested were asked to show up at the Burlington town hall on Monday morning to register for a job position. Closing his eyes for a moment, Thomas made a silent prayer, wishing that he could obtain a job at that town hall meeting tomorrow. Black people were few in Burlington, counting only a few hundred amidst a town’s population of about 25,000 people. His own parents had fled the oppression and segregation of the South at the turn of the century, establishing themselves in Vermont with the hope of a better life. While racism and segregation were still evident at times and in places, Burlington residents had actually proved to be a lot more tolerant and open-minded than those of Mississippi and life had proved to be decent for the Gardner during the first decades of this century, with then young Thomas even being able to play with young white boys in his neighborhood. Many of those white boys were in fact from families of recently immigrated Irish or French Canadian people. Then, at age 24, Thomas had met and married Josephine, the daughter of one of their black neighbors, and they had three children together. Now, at 32, with his family on the edge of financial demise, this add had come as a last hope for Thomas.
07:23 (New York Time)
Monday, August 18, 1930
Burlington town hall
Thomas had come early to the town hall square, in the hope of being among the first to register for the work project, but many other unemployed men seemed to have had the same idea, so he found himself in line with some 140 people ahead of him, waiting for the doors of the town hall to open at eight. More men quickly added themselves to the line in the following minutes under the watchful eyes of four municipal policemen apparently there to keep order. Three minutes after Thomas’ arrival, a big white man came in and jumped the line ahead of a black man, pushing him out of the way.
“Go away, nigger! Leave the jobs to white men!’’
Normally, local policemen would have turned a blind eye to that. However, to Thomas’ surprise and that of the other black men in the lineup, one of the city policemen immediately reacted and, walking quickly to the newcomer, tapped his shoulder with the tip of his baton.
“Hey, buddy, join the end of the line, like everybody else.’’
The newcomer fixed the policeman as if he had not understood him.
“What do you mean, Officer? He’s just a nigger and…’’
“That man has the same rights as you to the jobs offered this morning, mister. Now, move before I insist with my baton.’’
“The same rights as a white man? Who said that?’’
“The one paying for the project and the Governor, that’s who! Now, move or leave!’’
The bully, grumbling under his breath, reluctantly obeyed and moved down the line by two positions, ending behind another black man. What he didn’t notice was the fact that a man wearing a dark outfit and who was standing some distance from the line, took some notes at that moment on a pocket notepad.
Some frenzy became apparent at the opening of the town hall doors, with those in line starting to push forward at once. That was when the man in a black outfit came to the fore, taking position in front of the start of the line and shouting in a good English tainted with a French accent.
“NO NEED TO PUSH: THERE ARE ENOUGH JOBS FOR EVERYONE HERE. STAY CALM AND FOLLOW THE DIRECTIVES WE WILL GIVE YOU AND YOU WILL BE ABLE TO REGISTER QUICKLY.’’
That somehow made the pushing subside and the prospective workers filed in an orderly fashion inside the town hall, where they were directed into a large room routinely used for public assemblies. There, four tables had been set in a line, each with a large cardboard sign displayed behind them at the top of a pole. The signs said respectively ‘CONSTRUCTION WORKERS’, ‘GENERAL LABORERS’, ‘MECHANICAL SPECIALISTS AND DRIVERS OF HEAVY EQUIPMENT’ and ‘OFFICE SUPPORT AND OTHERS’. What attracted the most Thomas’ attention however was the fact that a young black woman sat behind each table, with a young man in dark outfit standing behind, alert and scanning the newcomers. The words ‘private security’ came to mind to Thomas to describe those young men, one of whom was a mulatto. Lining up in front of the table announcing ‘construction workers’, he was soon intrigued by the way things proceeded. First, a candidate would walk forward to the table and answer a number of questions asked by the young black woman, who in turn would type on some kind of machine with a typewriter-like keyboard. Then, the candidate would be asked to stand with his back against a white screen, where a picture of him was apparently taken. Finally, the candidate would be asked to lay his right hand on top of a sort of glass panel. Then came something that excited greatly Thomas: before leaving, those candidates received and signed for twenty dollars in small bills. Briefly stopping the latest candidate to have been processed at the table ahead of him, Thomas asked him a question in a low voice.
“Hey, friend, what is that money they gave you for?’’
“They say that it represents a ten dollar hiring bonus, plus an advance of ten dollars on our first pay.’’
“And how much are they paying to construction workers?’’
“Seventy-five cents per hour.’’ Answered the man before walking out, leaving Thomas more hopeful than ever. Seventy-five cents per hour was actually a very decent hourly wage for the time, a bit more in fact than the usual construction salary. Even if he ended working less than the normal twelve hours per day, six days a week, he would still end up earning more than enough money to be able to decently support his family.
When his turn came to go to the table, Thomas got a nice smile from the black woman sitting behind it.
“Good morning, sir! What is your job training or specialty?’’
“I have fourteen years of experience as a carpenter and bricklayer, miss.’’
“When did you become unemployed, sir?’’
“Four months ago, miss.’’ said Thomas, his hands unconsciously gripping each other due to his nervousness.
“Then, you are in luck, mister: we have many openings still available for carpenters and bricklayers. May I have your full name, date and place of birth?’’
“Certainly, miss! My name is Thomas Gardner, I was born near Jackson, Mississippi, on March 20th of 1898.’’
Thomas also answered numerous other questions about his place of residence, his family situation, his state of general health and his level of education before the young employee looked up at him.
“Mister Gardner, you are now enlisted in a project to enlarge and improve the Burlington Municipal Airport. While much of the work will consist in building long paved runways, a number of new buildings will be built at the airport, while the present buildings will be either refurbished or demolished. So, there will be many months of paid work ahead for you, sir. If you prove to be a good, reliable worker, there will be more work available at subsequent projects. As for the pay, you will get 75 cents per hour and will work forty hour-weeks, with eight hours per day from Monday to Friday. We will provide both breakfast and lunch for free to our employees and will cover any medical costs resulting from work accidents or illness. One last point: this project is officially a desegregated one, something supported by Governor Weeks of Vermont. The project managers and supervisors, as well as the state police, will make sure that no racial harassment or racist acts will be allowed at the work site, so if anything happens, don’t hesitate to lodge an immediate complaint with the site manager. Now, if you could stand with your back against this white screen and stay still for a moment…’’
Thomas did so, time to have his photo taken. However, what happened next baffled him: instead of taking a photographic plate out of the tiny camera facing him, Thomas saw his picture suddenly appeared on some kind of glass surface part of a flat apparatus, where a text also appeared. The young employee then punched a few notes on her keyboard and invited Thomas in putting his right hand flat on top of another glass surface. More keys were punched, making a printed sheet of paper come out of the slot of one of the machines laid on the table before the young woman smiled to Thomas and handed him four five dollar bills.
“Here is an enrolment bonus of ten dollars, plus a pay advance of ten dollars on your first weekly paycheck. If you will now sign this enrolment form, Mister Gardner.’’
“Uh, when do I start work and where do I go, miss?’’ asked Thomas while signing the said form.
“You will start working tomorrow morning, sir. Be back here for 07:30 and buses will carry you to the nearby Burlington Municipal Airport site.’’
“One last question, miss: who is paying for all this? I thought that the municipality was nearly broke.’’
“The Municipality of Burlington, like the State of Vermont, has been able to secure special, very low interest rate loans from a foreign investor, Mister Gardner.’’
“Oh! That would explain the guy with the French accent.’’
His remark made the employee smile in response.
“That’s alright, sir: I also am a foreigner. I was born in the French Martinique but learned English from a young age before working in New York for a few years. I am in fact an employee of the Lenoir Industries Consortium, based in France. Have a good day, Mister Gardner.’’
“I already am having a good day, miss.’’ replied Thomas before walking out, the precious twenty dollars in one pocket. His next priority now would be to go buy some food, so that he could offer a decent meal tonight to his family. As he stepped outside, there was some kind of raucous inside, with angry shouts and the noise of a brawl. Two of the fit men in dark outfits then walked out, firmly holding in a choke hold the big racist bully that had earlier tried to jump the line ahead of a black man.
“YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE ME A JOB LIKE THIS, NOT WHEN YOU GIVE ALL THOSE JOBS TO DIRTY NIGGERS.’’
“You could have got a job if you would have shut your mouth and tried some tolerance for a change, mister.’’ shot back one of the security men. “Now, leave and don’t try to come back or to enlist at other work sites of our company. If you do, you will be refused at once and turned away.’’
The two security men then let go the bully, pushing him away before going back inside. The bigot gave a hateful look at Thomas as he was starting to walk away and would probably have attacked him if not for the fact that a city policeman was watching him closely from less than ten feet away. Thomas decided to stay in place for the moment and waited until the bully was out of sight, then smiled to the policeman.
“Thank you very much for your vigilance, Officer.’’
“Just doing my duty, sir. Have a good day!’’
“You too, Officer!’’
Only then did Thomas leave the town hall square, taking a street opposite to that taken by the bully.
07:18 (New York Time)
Friday, September 12, 1930
Road to Burlington Municipal Airport
“It looks like it’s going to rain today, Mary. Maybe they will send the workers home earlier. On the other hand, our fields of vegetables can use rain right now.’’
“Well, even if they send the workers home early, I will still need to prepare breakfast and lunch for them, so I will still have a busy day, Sean.’’
The mature couple travelling in their beaten up old Ford pickup truck loaded with sacks of fresh vegetables then fell silent as Sean drove along the dirt road leading to the municipal airport. Sean and Mary Brennan were both of Irish stock and proud of their ancestry. In the case of Sean, his grandfather, Patrick Ó Braonáin, had emigrated to the United States at the height of the Great Famine of 1845-52 in Ireland, leaving the county of Kilkenny to establish himself in Vermont, where he had worked on a farm. Through hard work, Patrick had managed to acquire his own farm, which he had passed to his son Erasmus, who in turn had passed it to Sean at his death. However, no amount of hard work could help much in these present financial hard times, with the prices of agricultural produces going down as part of the Great Depression. Sean and Mary’s farm had been hit hard by those deflated produce prices and they had been growing near desperate, until a number of construction and public works projects had been started some three weeks ago, both across Vermont and in the neighboring states. Those projects, employing thousands of previously unemployed workers, had helped directly many farmers by buying in bulk produces, meat and dairy products and using those supplies to feed for free two meals a day to the workers. All those workers now had money to buy food for their families, something that had also helped indirectly farmers around the state. Such generosity and charity, apart from helping greatly his farm, had also struck deeply Sean’s mind, as it contrasted greatly with the stories of ruthless exploitation of the poor, greed and cruelty by British landlords towards their starving Irish tenants during the Irish Great Famine, during which over a million Irish had starved to death, with some two million more leaving their cherished ancestral home to emigrate to the United States.
Sean was still thinking about those stories from his grandfather about the bad times in Ireland when his pickup truck arrived at the work site of the municipal airport. The policeman guarding the entrance to the work site smiled on recognizing Sean and Mary and waived them in without further ado. Finally, Sean stopped in front of the large trailer housing the kitchen, which itself was connected to a big marquis tent complex where the workers could eat breakfast and lunch. Charles Munroe, the head cook of the kitchen, came out at once with four big men in order to help unload the produces from the pickup truck. Munroe, a jovial and somewhat overweight man in his late forties, greeted Sean with a handshake.
“Nice to see you, Sean. So, let’s bring in all these fresh vegetables, so that they could be weighed and I could pay you for them.’’
“I’m going to get ready at the service counter, Charlie: those workers are soon going to assault it, demanding their breakfast.’’
“That’s fine with me, Mary.’’
A few minutes only were enough to empty Sean’s truck and carry the sacks inside, where Munroe did a quick inventory and calculated their worth before signing for their delivery and paying for them. Sean grinned with satisfaction as he pocketed the dollars given to him by the head cook and signed the receipt for the produces.
“Decidedly, it is a pleasure to do business with this project, Charlie.’’
“Hell, talk about my own pleasure at having a decent paying job here, Sean. Do you know how many people this project is helping out of poverty, both directly and indirectly?’’
“Hundreds, I suppose.’’
“Make it a few thousands, and I am only talking about around Burlington. Apart from the 300 men working directly at this site, you can add farmers like you, who supply the site with food items, plus the store owners in town where the workers are now able to spend money on food, clothing and other items. In turn, that means that these store owners themselves are not facing anymore the prospect of bankruptcy and have started rehiring their old employees, whom they had been obliged to let go at the onset of this Great Depression. I would say that, for each worker on this site, at least five more people are benefiting from this project. And they say that there are now dozens of such projects going on in Vermont and the neighboring states.’’
“Yeah, I heard that Mayor Jackson is quite happy about this project, while the Governor is reaping a lot of kudos as well.’’
“Well, that sure won’t hurt their chances at reelection during the next ballot. I suppose that you will come back this afternoon to pick up Mary, as usual?’’
“You’re right! Will she be finished by four thirty?’’
“Yes! See you this afternoon, Sean!’’
“And have a good day, Charlie!’’
Going back to his pickup truck and sitting behind the wheel, Sean then started his engine and left.
Inside the kitchen trailer, Mary found that the other assistant cook, Helen Fitzpatrick, was already in and was busy starting the gas ovens and stoves.
“Hi, Helen! I will get a big pot of coffee going for our workers.’’
“Hi, Mary! Please do: these guys are fuelled by coffee. And make it strong!’’
“Oh, don’t worry about that: I myself don’t drink dishwater.’’
The next fifteen minutes or so were busy for the two women and Charlie, with the first workers starting to enter the cafeteria tent as Mary manned the hot plates of the service counter. The first one to get to the counter was Thomas Gardner, a polite, hard working black man whom Mary liked as a customer.
“Good morning, Misses Brennan! Could I have two eggs easy over, with some bacon and potatoes?’’
“You sure can, Thomas, and please call me Mary instead of Misses Brennan. I must have told you already at least five times.’’
“Sorry, Misses…uh, Mary. I am accustomed to be polite with ladies.’’
“Nothing wrong with that, Tom, but next time you call me ‘Misses Brennan’, you will get my spatula on the head.’’
“Uh, understood, Mary.’’
“That’s better! Here you go!’’
From there, time flew by as she and Helen served the 300 or so workers, who then ate quickly in order to start working on time at 08:30. They would then return at 12:15 for lunch and return to work for 13:00, finally leaving the work site at five thirty in the afternoon. That work schedule was actually much lighter than what had been common in the recent past, while providing free meals for the workers was certainly a first. When Mary reviewed with Charlie what they had available to them to prepare lunch, she beamed on seeing that they had received a quantity of fresh lamb meat.
“Look at those nice lamb cuts! We have everything here to prepare a good old Irish stew.’’
“Then, be my guest, Mary.’’ Replied the head cook, smiling to her. “I am putting you in charge of that stew.’’
“Oh, thanks Charlie! I promise you that the men will love it.’’
“I’m sure that they will, Mary: you are indeed an excellent cook. You should start your own restaurant one day.’’
“Hum, maybe I should…once we are out of this depression.’’
16:17 (New York Time)
Road between downtown Burlington and the municipal airport
Sean Brennan, who had turned on the road to the airport only three kilometers earlier, was surprised at first to see in the distance a sort of roadblock formed by a number of cars and pickup trucks parked across the road, forming a chicane. There was also a small crowd standing around the roadblock. Sean’s surprise gradually turned into fear as he got closer: all the men appeared to be armed, either with shotguns, rifles, iron bars, baseball bats and picks’ handles. Some of them also wore the long white robes and hoods of the Ku Klux Klan, who were well known for their anti-black violence and depredations in the Southern states. One Klansman armed with a shotgun and standing in the middle of the road then waved him to slow down and stop, something that Sean had but little choice to do right now. Stopping level with the Klansman, who had his hood off at the time, Sean lowered his window to speak with him. He then felt a shock on recognizing the Klansman as being the Chittenden County Sheriff in person! The Sheriff looked briefly in the cab and the back before addressing Sean in a suspicious tone.
“Why are you going to the municipal airport? To pick up some nigger working there?’’
“I was just going to pick up my wife, who works at the site’s kitchen.’’
The Sheriff fixed Sean for a moment, then made a waiving gesture.
“Alright, you may pass, but you better have only your wife aboard when you will return.’’
“Understood, sir!’’ replied Sean, wanting to get away from this roadblock as quickly as possible. With the racists on the road stepping to the side to let him pass, Sean drove slowly through the chicane formed by four cars, then accelerated towards the airport. As he did so, he recognized another armed man as being a member of the municipal police. That left a bitter taste in his mouth, with his fear soon turning into anger and disgust. That racist mob reminded him too much of the gangs of enforcers and middlemen used during the 19th Century by British landlords in Ireland to oppress and squeeze their starving Irish tenants.
When Sean arrived at the entrance gate of the work site, he saw that the workers had still not finished their work, while the buses used to transport them home were lined up and parked near the kitchen. Rolling down his window, he spoke urgently to the municipal policeman posted at the gate.
“QUICK, WARN THE SITE MANAGER NOT TO SEND THE WORKERS BY BUS DOWN THAT ROAD: A CROWD OF ABOUT SIXTY ARMED RACISTS HAVE PUT UP A ROADBLOCK SOME TWO MILES BEHIND ME.’’
“What?! Are you sure, Mister Brennan?’’
“Yes I am! They have parked four cars across the road to form a chicane and they are all armed with either shotguns, rifles, crowbars or pick handles. Some also wear KKK robes, including the County Sheriff himself. I also recognized one of your colleagues, Dan Spitzer, as part of the crowd.’’
“Oh my God!’’ said the young policeman, horrified. “Go to the manager’s trailer, near the kitchen: I will join you there.’’
“Understood!’’
Sean then sped towards the kitchen trailer, breaking at the last moment and turning around, to finally stop and park in front of it. Mary, who was waiting outside the kitchen trailer, watched him jump out and run away with utter bewilderment.
“SEAN, WERE ARE YOU GOING?’’
“I WILL EXPLAIN LATER: SOMETHING BAD IS BREWING UP.’’
Climbing the few steps of the manager’s trailer, Sean did not bother to knock on the door before opening it and entering the trailer, surprising the project manager, who was in the process of reading some kind of document.
“Mister Brennan? What…’’
“QUICK, SIR! DELAY THE DEPARTURE BY BUS OF THE WORKERS: A BIG BUNCH OF ARMED RACISTS HAVE PUT UP A ROADBLOCK ACROSS THE ROAD TO DOWNTOWN BURLINGTON.’’
Sean then took a minute telling the shocked manager, who was a Frenchman, about what he had seen, including the presence of the County Sheriff and of at least one municipal policeman as part of the armed crowd. Looking lost at first, the manager then picked up the microphone of the radio linking him with the security guards of the site, who were part of the Air France security branch. He ordered the head of the guards to come to his trailer, then decided to call as well the project manager for the whole state of Vermont, who was collocated with the Governor of Vermont in the town of Montpellier, the state capital. He had time to repeat to him what Sean had told him before the senior security guard entered the trailer at the same time as the municipal policeman who had been guarding the gate of the site.
“Is there a problem, Monsieur Vaillant?’’
“Very much so, Monsieur Julien: Mister Brennan encountered an armed racist mob at a roadblock three kilometers down the road to downtown Burlington. They probably want to stop the buses transporting our workers and then beat the black ones up. I called Monsieur Vernier in Montpellier, but I don’t know frankly what to do next. According to Mister Brennan, there are some police officers that are part of that racist mob.’’
Robert Julien tightened his jaws on hearing that: the degree and extent of racism in the United States that he had seen since his arrival a month ago had angered him to no small degree with its meanness, ignorance and plain stupidity. Unfortunately, being a visiting foreigner here, he didn’t have the legal right to do much about it, except maybe exercise his right to self-defense. An idea then came to his mind.
“We do have one SUPER COLIBRI and two COLIBRI II here at the airfield: we could use them to move at least our black workers by air, so that they are not exposed to these rednecks.’’
George Vaillant nodded hi