Chapter Eighteen
Gunther Aigner and his brother Augustus took seats on the second row of chairs around the massive boardroom table. The first row seats were reserved— for the owners of the major mines managed by the San Francisco Miners Exchange. Uncle Samuel sat at the head with his pinched face and wooden gavel. Jarrod, Nick, and Heath took three seats at the end. They directly faced the broker.
Lazarus Jones began the meeting, "I want to encourage us to present a unified front. If the owners stay strong, we can break the union. I have a whole shipload of Chinese to take those Irish bastard jobs, which is cheaper for us. We all fire them and replace them in three days. It's obvious what we should do." He narrowed his eyes and made eye contact with all three brothers Barkleys on the front road.
Their eyes flashed back at the same time. Four more owners spoke in support of breaking the union negotiations by bringing in Chinese.
"Yea!"
"I agree"
"Yep, shore nuff"
"I concur"
Voices rose in the room.
Jarrod stood up and walked around the room with his thumbs in his vest. He looked each man straight in the eyes. Most shifted their looks, but several defiantly stared back—-daring Jarrod to go against the opinion in the room.
"Ed? You are Episcopalian, right?"
"Lazarus, you are an elder at your church?"
"Anyone here an atheist? Not a God-fearing man?"
The looks of confusion wafted across the room.
"Do not oppress a foreigner; you yourselves know how it feels to be foreigners because you were foreigners in Egypt."
"The same law applies both to the native-born and to the foreigner residing among you."
"Both of those are from Exodus. Had a long year memorizing scripture as most of your know."
"Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow."
"You are to have the same law for the foreigner and the native-born. I am the LORD your God.' "
"The LORD watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked."
"Do not take advantage of a hired worker who is poor and needy, whether that worker is a fellow Israelite or a foreigner residing in one of your towns."
"The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the LORD your God"
Many of the men started shuffling around and looking down. A few stared at Jarrod with undisguised anger.
"So Barkley, you got religion in prison. Good fer ya. You are a really good preacher-man. Since ya ain't a lawyer anyone," he laughed, and a few brave souls laughed back.
Jarrod smiled at them, then he chuckled. It unnerved them. They looked at each other with confusion.
Jarrod Barkley was different after prison—-he was still mannerly and persuasive—-but more tenacious and relentless than ever. He had a hidden side—-his anger seemed tethered by a thread, and you knew it. But not by his words or expressions. You could see it in his eyes. His muscular yet thinner tanned frame made him even more physically imposing.
They looked over at Nick and Heath, both with stoic faces.
"Gentlemen, I rest my case. Scripture speaks for itself. The Barkley mines will pay a fair wage and safe conditions. Period."
"So you are taking the holier than thou stance?
"No, Lazarus. We aren't. We are just doing the right thing."
"I want to go home and look my family in the face—-I don't want to see the haunted, hungry faces of the Irish or the Chinese shoved in cattle cars being forced to work to eat. I could not live with myself."
"Then how in the hell, Barkley do you propose to end the negotiations with the union?"
"Sitting down and talking. Taking a five percent profit sharing margin and reinvesting in living conditions. Feed their families. Clothe them. Fresh water. Men with a future will fight for it. Fight hard. Work hard. For the future. Not an early death in our mines."
"Five percent? Who can afford that?"
"Pretty talk from a jailbird," a man in the back snarled.
Nick stood up and started walking towards the man. The man got up and walked out quickly. All eyes were on the confrontation. They sighed in relief when Nick sat back down.
A skinny blond man stood up and looked around, "Mr. Barkley, my name is Paul Stevens. My father sent me to this first meeting to represent the Dunston claims. He is of ill health. I agree with you." he stammered.
"Thank you, sir. You represent your family well." Jarrod said appreciatively.
"Well, preacher man, what about the rest of us? You are the richest man at this table. We don't have the capital to waste it willy nilly."
"One box of your fancy cigars could feed a family a year, John. Can you live with that?"
"Yes, I can. I work hard for my money."
"Yeah, from your wife's dowry," Nick popped off.
The crowd laughed.
The arguments continued until supper time. Slowly and surely, Jarrod brought a majority over to the idea of collective negotiations with the union. He consented to bring more Chinese into the less populated towns—-they could at least neighborhoods there, and Barkley Sierra would absorb more Welsh miners, the highest paid of the groups.
He had told Heath and Nick privately, "If we are to take these mines to the next level, we want the Welsh. More money means more skill. I will negotiate with them all day. Let them think of short-term gains. We are in this for the long haul. I am reading everything I can on Portugal and the tungsten."
Lazarus confronted Jarrod as the tense meeting finally broke up.
"Barkley, you better put your bollocks into this—- the way you took down Hannibal Jordan, or I will have them in a vise. I am watching you."
Jarrod turned on his heel and closed the distance between the men. He towered over the portly man and bumped his stomach for a brief moment. He stilled his impulse to throttle the man. He clenched and unclenched his fists.
"Watch away," he whispered. He closed his eyes, relaxed by breathing deep—- turned his back on the man, and went to join his brothers.
"Well, Nick, where are we eating? I have a powerful appetite, and you are paying."
—-&—
The Aigner brothers watched the entire proceeding for hours without a word.
"What do you think, Augustus?"
"I was of a mind to bring in Chinese, but if Barkley is betting on the Welsh, I may put my money and my mine with them."
"Have you ever heard those verses before?"
"Nah. Did cha think of babcia? Our Polish grandmother? And what we did in Germany in the mines?"
"Yah I did. Would like to read dem myself."
"But Chinese aren't Poles. They are bred idolatrous heathens—-serviles. Poles are just weaker bloodlines that our German blood overcame. Our babushka didn't even admit she was a Pole.
"Ah—-she was a good one. I am leaning with Barkley."
"I concur. The Barkley bloodline seems very strong, and they are the biggest mines outside the Comstock and Nevadas."
"Let's join our Stockton neighbors for a drink."
(A defiant Columbia in an 1871 Thomas Nast cartoon "The Chinese Question", showing protecting a defenseless Chinese man from an angry white lynch mob that has just burned down a colored orphanage. The billboard behind is full of inflammatory anti-Chinese broadsheets.)
—&—
The Aigners caught the Barkleys at the curb, "May we meet up later for a drink?"
"Of course, but why don't you eat supper with us? My brother Nick is paying," Jarrod grinned.
The brothers laughed, "Americans are more like us Germans than we knew. Did you lose a bet, Mr. Barkley?"
"Call me Nick, and no bet. Jarrod just prefers my better judgment and my choice of steak."
—&—
Consuelo sent her maid to inquire about the gentlemen she viewed from her balcony around 9 pm.
They got out of the taxi, laughing and joking. The tallest man was the loudest with an unbuttoned shirt and his tie askew. He was ruggedly handsome and muscular. The other two brothers were about the same height. The blonde brother was extremely sultry looking with a beautiful smile. The black-haired brother turned up and looked into the streetlight.
"Oh my, what a beautiful specimen. He is the thinnest of the three, but his muscles pull on the white shirt as he turns. He was in the hall with the redhead I am sure."
"Mrs. Griffith, the junior houseboy, knew all about them. I shared some coin as you told me."
"The Barkleys. Four brothers and a tall, beautiful blonde sister. All staying here. Very pretty, pert tiny mother with silver hair. One of the richest families in California. Own cattle, mining, freight, and orchards. Very smart family. The oldest is a lawyer, fought the railroad and went to prison for attacking a man who killed his wife—-got out and destroyed the Coastal Western railroad by some kinda stock. Some big man did a set up, and he beat them. Were at mining meetings today. Ladies shopped all day. Two little redheads with them and an Indian couple with a kid. The Indian is a lawyer working here on a case. Have you ever heard such? Let them be liars and redskins be a lawyers? And married to a white lady? The kid looks white too?"
"Anyone married?"
"Nope, but the youngest with wiry hair is with one of the redhead sisters all the time."
"The oldest brother?"
"He didn't say anything about them."
"Their names?"
"Elizabeth and Eleanor Cannon, he thinks. He thinks they are Germans or Swedish or something with an accent. He's never been out of the city till last month and isn't all there. They are sleeping in the sisters' room. He thinks they are friends or poor relations. Their tapestry bags are worn and so are their cloaks."
"Thank you, Penny. As always, you have a way of getting information."
"I would like to know what they drink, eat, buy? Gamble? Religious?"
"Will do."
And she pulled a book to her lap about herbology and potions.
She returned to her mistress in the morning with more information.
"The fancy haberdashery fitted the sisters with gloves yesterday. They delivered them and they were to try on the gloves before signing. They did. The hall maid said there were gloves like she had never seen before—all crocheted and such. She leaned in to look as the clerk snipped some thread and made an adjustment. The redhead watched as she altered them. She allowed my friend to watch and smiled real big. Gave them both a tip. Nice one."
" But here's the rub, the maid looked at her hands—-their hands!"
Consuelo frowned, "Get on with your story Penny."
"Sometimes you annoy me with your blather, but I admit you get information better than anyone I have ever met."
"They can't be friends or real ladies with the Barkleys cuz they gots working girl hands. Calluses and red and nails all cut down. No rich ladies, for sure. Think theys poor relatives? But dem gloves were 'expensive like."
"Well—-hmmm"
As she recalled the scene from the elevator, "Maybe Mrs. Barkely doesn't know her sons are seeing fallen women behind her back. Probably got the sister fooled too. Not a problem for me. As long as they aren't ladies to marry—"
She went to her bureau and took out an ancient twenty-sided stone she pilfered in Silverton. "Very old and magical—-got it from an Indian mystic in London. Works perfectly." the man had told her before he passed out from opium.
She took out her worn numerology card from her mystic in Denver. She rolled the stone upon it.
"That is definitely a good sign. My lucky numbers."
She picked up the crystal ball off of the stand. She rubbed the smooth glass.
"I feel the portends, myself, this time. I may find a Barkley in my arms."
—&—
Augustus Aigner and his brother came down first to breakfast. His diamond tie pin and tailored suit denoted expensive taste in comparison to his married brother's austere but well-made suit countenance.
"The wife and girls are having their tea and breakfast upstairs. I don't like letting them down here in the crowds. Too many men looking Amelie over. I hired a private carriage to take them to the park and dressmaker. The man driving knows my wishes. Too big of a city for my tastes. Feels like Berlin again—- Are we agreed we stand with the Barkleys?"
"Agreed. We put our lots behind Jarrod's negotiation. I shall talk to the men today and offer them our full support."
"We shall stand with the Barkleys."