The Department of Sanitation lured Jack away from the Postal Service. And why not? After only 20 years of service one could retire at half-pay. The postal job was thirty years to pension. Jack could spend his 20 with Sanitation and still get out before a term with the federal government. He had also scored high grades in the test for New York City Conductor/Bus Operator. Away he went to "New York’s Strongest". The police were New York's Finest. The firemen were the second of the Uniformed Forces were "Bravest". Jack wore the nickname Strongest with pride. Vinnie-Goombah, Louie Two-Times and Tony. These were the names one would hear every single day for the next twenty-two years.
The first day came after a sleepless night, spent tossing and turning. The anticipation of working with the filth and refuse generated in New York City, especially in EL Barrio. If Harlem or Bedford-Stuyvesant were the smelly feet, this was the city’s undeodorized armpit. Harlem was bad but this desolated, forgotten jungle was far worse. Here lived mostly Puerto Ricans. Migrated from a country steeped rich in tradition, these slightly misplaced gentry tried valiantly to cope and live in crowded tenements without too much complaint. However the slum-lords never spent enough money to keep the apartments once inhabited by whites, from rot and overcrowding which caused further damage. This in turn caused abandonment by the landlord, then the city takeover. Although there were laws on the books concerning abandonment, the involved owners bypassed the law. The new city owners were no better. Years of neglect, by first the slumlords and now the city.
Just as bacteria seeks and invades an open wound so did heroin seek and invade EL Barrio. Jack many times witnessed the addict self inject the poison. With a strap tied tightly around the biceps, the junkie thinking he was alone and unseen, and probably not caring, would shoot up. Later the comical ritual would begin. Bending at the waist and almost doubling over, but never toppling. Suddenly straightening and looking as if nothing had happened. Jack would always wonder when one would fall but he never saw it happen.. Jack started working for the department in June. He could have been there sooner as all appointees are called by test mark.
He allowed something to psyche him out of his rightful spot. During the physical part of the exam they were paired off. Jack's left wasn't nearly as strong as his right. So he conceded only pressing 60lbs there. However he maxed the right. He broad-jumped two feet beyond the markings on the floor designated as 100%. At home he'd sat up with 70lbs quite often. Across from him a man twice his size failed to sit up with his chosen weight. He knows now had he gone ahead with the 70lbs. he would easily raise up with the weight. Instead he chose to play it safe, thinking about the big man, chose the 50 lbs. weight. He brought it up readily but now for maximum points tried the 70 and all his strength had been used. He still scored high 94.3 but when you're competing with thousands a few points make a huge difference.
His first day on the job set the pace for the rest of his sanitation career. Despite his relative strength, he wasn't really used to picking up the thousands of cans. The cans warrant a problem in general, but the smell and content of some of the cans soon led him to know he had nothing to worry about. That first day the encounter at the Jewish Home for the Elderly will forever be remembered by Jack. The truck, lovingly called "The Yellow Elephant", by most of the men, arrived at the home at shortly after noon. The temperature stood at 90 plus degrees.
Some Jewish food stinks naturally. After standing in the boiling sun since Friday this stuff really smelled. This slop was very heavy and the the danger of dumping it was two-fold. To safely lift the heavy cans, you would have to stand close to that can, yet avoid having the slop splash back at you.For if that funk ever got on you the entire crew would know. And you couldn't ride inside the truck. Everyone would be holding their noses and ridiculing you all day. The double-parked cars presented a major problem with a sanitation crew.
Instead of carrying the cans one by one in and around the cars, the stronger men would simply toss them over the cars. This took both strength and accuracy. The sometimes use of too much strength and not enough accuracy produced strange results. The "hook" that was used to catch the can and hold the can in place, was missed entirely and the can crushed terribly and beyond repair. Some houses with many cans would end up with fewer than they started with. Some lesser tosses resulted in dented automobiles.
After a week of this, Jack, despite being in great shape felt as worn out as an old pair of shoes. His arms and shoulders ached terribly. He could not stand up straight. He sincerely had thought he had ruined his back forever. His back hurt so much he bent at every can regardless of the can' s weight. After about an hour his back began to loosen up and he was ready to go. His back never hurt again.
Jack had a lot of fun working with the department. It was hard but healthy work. It may have been, for short periods of time, the most strenuous job on earth. A sanitation crew would and could move five tons of garbage in about half an hour. The Sanitation Department was aptly named "New York's Strongest".
Many of Jack's crew partners were strong physically not necessarily mentally. Let's go back and reminisce.. George had a habit, a bad habit of picking small items from the garbage. One day he took the time to remove a zipper from a skirt. Despite being thirty-some George still had an acne problem. A pimple on his ample nose he picked after fiddling with the zipper. The resulting large gouge on his nose apparently from touching the zipper and then his nose without washing his hands. What was that flesh eating disease in Africa?
John Runiolo committed a cardinal sin. When reaching for a shovel usually kept in the grill guard in the front of the truck, one truck rolled and crushed his hand while still wrapped around the shovel. That effectively ended his career. Before this a few funny incidents happened to John R..
It was lunchtime and all the sanitation workers were busy eating. John had a large wine-colored birthmark on his face. He wasn't the brightest and as such was the brunt of many jokes. John was a fairly large man himself, but Gene, bald at 19 and a professional arm wrestler, began to tease John. Apparently, John had, while getting out of the truck, touched Gene's leg. This, for Gene was another excuse to tease and ridicule John. Gene said in typical New York style, "John jerked me off in the truck". John, the rest of his face suddenly as red as the birthmark, meekly tried to explain how he had almost fallen as he stepped over Gene. But Gene with the entire crowd's attention couldn't let this one get away. Now he said, "If John had just touched it once, I wouldn't have said a word, but hey among us guys, when you touch it repeatedly, we call that jerking off". Everybody fell out laughing. John charged Gene who merely picked John up off the ground, and like a bar-bell, routinely pressed him skyward. In the weeks that followed John again provided much laughter.
Again he showed his true mentality. Armed with a large hero sandwich, when asked why he still had his work gloves on, he replied, in juvenile innocence, " I hadn't’t washed my hands yet and I didn't want to put my hands on my sandwich and get my sandwich dirty".
Lenny was a gentleman. Good thing too! A really nice guy with a nose as large as his heart. Despite most of the guys having large noses, Lenny's schnozz was quite memorable. How he stood for some of the taunting was beyond belief. All he would do was to step back, smile and take out his forever present comb and run it through his shiny black hair. Sometimes guys would walk up to him holding their nose between their fingers, like a cigar and ask Lenny for a match. He’d only smile.
The department had issued a gas mask looking apparatus called a respirator. Unfortunately for Lenny , his nose could not fit the contraption and he was unable to keep the flying ashes from entering the large proboscis. While emptying the thousands of cans of what the guys termed as residue or fly-ash, Lenny had to settle for an ordinary piece of gauze or use his handkerchief. On windy days, or when Lenny had no handkerchief, they would give him a break, ask him not to dump but instead just stand there nearby and inhale. Lenny would simply smile the smile and take out his comb.
Hollywood, Hollywood. This cat came to Jack's unit after being rejected by his Harlem counterparts. Even in below-freezing temperatures, Hollywood was without a jacket or undershirt and kept his shirt unbuttoned to his navel. Behind the omnipresent sunglasses, was hidden the world of this strange man. In winter, steamy, stinking sweat rose from his ebony body, joining New York's already over polluted sky. He was a good worker, but on days when he had money he had to be watched like a hawk to keep him from sliding into one of the bars and tanking up. If he got hold of a joint or a drink, the Dr. Jeckle, Mr.Hyde personality would emerge. At this point he became very dangerous. With a can under each arm and throwing from all angles, God bless whoever got in his way. Hollywood, Hollywood.
A lot of drinking goes on in the department. One section, 102 used every excuse in the book to chip in for a bottle. Hey, my cat had kittens let's celebrate. Mario is twenty days away from his 20th birthday, let's buy a bottle. Anything. $5 bought a quart or liter of booze. This guy a dollar, this one fifty cents. Sloe Gin (Mr. Boston, Lemon-flavored) was what often did in Jack. On one occasion they had been imbibing since lunch. One particular day the crew consists of McCarthy, Bruer and Jack. It was Friday, payday, Bruer and Jack decided to have liquid lunch. Three hours later they were taking the truck back to the garage. Somehow, they got involved in a slight accident with a car with New Jersey plates. Due to both the late hour and close proximity to the garage they told the driver to follow them to the garage. Normally in an accident involving car or truck the garage supervisor is summoned to the scene.
Upon arrival at the garage, someone perhaps even the garage supervisor, had to kick quickly the Sloe gin bottle that had dropped from either Jack or Bruer's jacket to avoid having the New Jersey driver see it, didn't matter though, he was drunker than both of them put together. When asked which one of them had hit him the drunken victim couldn't tell. Jack never heard anything more about the case.
The department differentiated accidents. They were classified as chargeable and nonchargeable. Jack recalls many. Let's go back and remember some funny ones. The snow plow incident was one of the earlier accidents. Jack was never involved with a personal injury accident so some of these might have a bit of humor. Jack was plowing snow and made a very wide U-turn, suddenly the car at least five feet in front of the truck started moving forward. Jack look for driver and saw none, thought it strange that the car had moved and then remembered that the plow extended beyond the truck by a great a good margin. Undaunted he got down from the truck wrote an imaginary note and placed it under the car's wiperblade. He always been told that during snow periods any cars complaining of being hit by department vehicles were routinely compensated.
Most avenues in New York City are very very wide. Second Avenue was one of those. While driving one day, driving is mostly what Jack did, Jack was driving stop to stop while the two crew members were loading the truck along the right hand side of the Avenue. Suddenly, he heard a crunching sound with glass breaking and the the sound of crying. He at first thought he'd hurt a woman, Jack slid across the seat and beheld an old man seated behind a wheel of a maroon Chevy.
Surprisingly, the old man was not irate but rather compassionate and merely said in thick Italian accent, "38 years no accident". Jack explained and tried to reason that he could not possibly have seen him and that he should have stayed parked the until the truck had passed. He also said that it was about time if he had been driving careless like that. Visibility from the very large truck was very poor. Many of Jack's accidents were caused by just that, poor visibility. Still many others were caused by pure neglect. fortunately none ever caused personal bodily damage.
Years later in a civil court the man approached Jack and asked Jack to say it was his fault and that if he did the man would give for part of the settlement. Jack explained that he was sorry but he or he made his statement to the city's lawyers. One morning, diagonally across from this scene happened another one. They needed to get quickly across before the light changed. Goody held up traffic and Jack started turning shop to the right. The Volkswagen decided to beat us across and was tagged by the right side of truck. Jack was livid, and started to berate the driver in the VW. The guy in the tiny auto got out in sections. First two feet hit the ground joined by two legs. It seemed to take forever. And no wonder, that man was at least 6feet 8 in. tall. Jack quickly ended his tirade.
This job provided Jack with more fun than any job he had ever held before. The job provided a healthy outdoor ambience and all the food one could possibly eat. For awhile many treasures in Jack's house consisted of stuff he'd found along the way. A 25 in. Zenith color TV and numerous items that fitted perfectly in Jack's interior decorating scheme.
Let's talk some more about some of the guys that made this department what it was.
Let's start chronologically in making it easier to remember some of the details. remembering Earl "the Pearl" Bruer.
How can anyone forget, "the world's tallest garbage man" James Bailey. Two memorable things come to mind. Always too cheap to chip in when money was collected for the bottle of liquor. And even more memorable in this next instance. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. let's begin with a story about Jack and we'll approach and and setup the rest of the tale.
Earlier we mentioned the drinking problem that was rampant in the department. The job paid double time for Sunday work. Except for times when the city was covered with snow Sunday work was voluntary. Jack lived in the suburbs now and had stayed over to work a midnight shift.he elected to go visit old friends and was enticed to have a few. Although he had had quite a few he was in relatively good shape.
Somehow he should have known it just wasn't going to be his day. Somehow he should quit right there. That morning he had traded his .25 caliber pistol for a .38 Cal, Stanley, driving along the FDR Drive, pointed the .38 out of the window and fired into the air the last bullet in the gun.
Jack took the gun, tucked it into his belt and never gave it a second thought. At the end of the day he went downtown to where he used to live. Drinking cautiously, aware of his impending duties with the third shift, he arrived at the job in fairly good shape. As an assigned "garage" Mann he was chosen as the driver. A bit more explanation. In Spanish Harlem the Puerto Rican clubs are filled to capacity with revelers. The clubs operate under a charter issued by the state of New York. These clubs sell a lot of beer and liquor. A lot of bottles and cans are leftover. The sanitation crews would make an appearance at the club to get rid of the cans and bottles and would be compensated with their choice of drink. Needless to say, after 2 or 3 clubs the boys would be starting a small buzz. Jack with a combination of a buzz and the lack of sleep easily gave way when Danny wanted to drive. Somehow Jack should've known better.By now the drinking, the deprivation of sleep and late hour had taken its toll. Jack found himself waking with someone pulling at his steel-toed shoe. Drowsily he fought the liquor that had clouded his brain. In the distance he heard someone telling him that he was wanted up stairs. Pulling himself up he recognized the front of the police precinct. Despite his stupor, he recognized Danny at his feet and felt for the gun which should've been on the floor of the truck. It was missing. No wonder, inside the precinct the detective had the pistol. He held it like so often seen in the movies, with the pencil in the barrel causing the pistol to move in a swirling motion.
Jack wondered how he had gotten to this. Danny said, that the truck had been stolen while the crew was at lunch. Jack then quickly reasoned that the same thief had left this pistol. The third member of the crew, Donald, had in very uncharacteristic manner, gone back to the club. The usually pristine, very Catholic, family man Donald was with a hot Latin mama.
The police detectives were amused, the gun was empty and except for the six cars damaged when the supposedly sober Danny hit them, this was light stuff for them on a Saturday night in East Harlem.
The trip downtown to the Tombs in shackles was even more sobering. In the back of the "Paddy Wagon" Jack and Danny, still in uniform handcuffed together. Along with the prostitutes and transvestites and collection of criminals they rode together. Being in uniform made both guys very sensitive to the stares, both seen and imagined.
In the holding cell, Jack slept on the bare floor. The rigors of the day had truly sapped all of his strength. Figuring that Danny had his back Jack slept unashamed but fitfully. Visions of a career gone south danced an Irish Raindance in his tortured painful head. Seven years down the drain, the suburban home and good paying career job all gone.
It was nearly three hours before they came with "breakfast". Red Kool-aid and a bologna "whopper". Then they moved, by Danny's request, them to a separate cell. They were told a union representative would soon be there for their statements. Danny told Jack how he had left the truck parked in front of the section at lunch time. He related how someone, perhaps a junkie, as junkies were the indigenous majority in East Harlem. Jack silently thought to himself: this lying in sack of doo-doo weed. But if he insists on telling this story then I have to stick with mine. This same perpetrator that stole the department' s truck had to have inadvertently left the the gun on the floor of the truck. Danny never wavered and neither did Jack.
With all the serious stuff that goes on in the metropolis of New York City the police treated this case very lightly. Since Stanley had fired the only bullet that had remained in the gun and since no one was carrying the pistol, despite New York's stringent gun laws, it was only a misdemeanor. However, leaving the scene of an accident was considered more serious. Feeling lucky and at the same time sorry for having to have to give up his gun to the police, he felt probably wrongly that they would use it as a throw down weapon. He the knew the cops really did not do things like that.
The department's guys showed up. They questioned Danny and Jack separately. The same story was told to both inspectors. When someone suggested the pistol had maybe been found while collecting garbage and left in the vehicle by the day crew Jack acquiesced and said that was a distinct possibility. It didn't seem likely that a perpetrator would leave behind something as valuable (in New York especially )as a pistol. Somewhere during the questioning Danny broke down and admitted hitting the rear car really hard while making a turn into a street causing a domino effect. To this day he never admitted to Jack this side of the story. To this day Jack never admitted to him, his side of the story.
Both men were frightened to death but clung steadfastly to their stories. They were released in their own recognizance and with an ACD (Adjournment in Contemplation of Dismissal C.P.L 170.55) This meant no jail time if both men stayed out of trouble for six months. Easy, neither had ever been in trouble before.With the easy part (beating city charges) behind them, they had to worry about what the department had the in-store for them the. This was not going to be easy. The department charged both men with lying. They were suspended for two days, with loss of pay for those two days, and the union recommended using their lawyer. At this point both men will still uncertain whether or not they would be able to keep the jobs. The six months went by without event and with the case being dismissed and nothing on either man's record. They weren't even charged by the city for damage to the cars. Feeling extremely lucky, Jack went on with his career.
The department felt it paid well. Most of the men agreed. John Lindsay, mayor of New York had been more than fair in negotiations with city workers. The police department always wanted to be the top, and in general, were conceded to by other unions. But in 1972 when the sanitation department signed what was known as "the me-too" contract the police started dirty tactics. The contract provided that what ever policemen settled for in a contract, the sanitation workers would get 90 percent of that amount. The cops ranted and raged but it was set in stone.The cops (New York's finest) always kept this attitude. Even fellow cops, such as transit police, housing police and others were disdained by city police. During one of their contract disputes with the city, they erected a huge billboard at a city entrance that depicted a cop holding a young child in his arms and apparently administering CPR, with the caption "don't treat us like garbage". Needless to say it didn't do well with the city employees. Instead of gaining statute for a long while "New York's Finest" simply were not. In the final results, Jack wound up with a $1200 lump sum back pay. Easily enough for a suburban down payment on a neat ten room high ranch.
Thinking back, it should've been, maybe even was, the best of times. Gas sold at 19 cents a gallon. Chickens, 21 cents a pound. Mortgage for the $21,900 home was about $200. Everything seemed great. The full-sized Ford station wagon with a 351 cubic inch engine burned nearly half a tank in each trip. The commute to work was about 45 miles and on good days it took all of an hour. Forget about rain or other inclement weather. The Long Island Expressway, often called world's longest parking lot, provided a lottery of numbers anyone of which would indicate what time you arrived home. It seemed as if Jack naturally drove on those types of days. Once they left New York City at 3:00 and arrived home after 9 p.m.. Another time the CB that Jack had listened to just before leaving saved the guys in the car pool several hours. An eighteen wheeler had spewed its cargo across the entire Expressway. They took another route and lost little time.
There was a time when the word strike did exactly that. It struck fear in the heart of New York City. After only six months on the job, Jack's department decided to go on strike. With his probation. Having six months to go, Jack didn't want to take a chance and and go on strike. A call to the union office so put his mind at ease. When work ended that morning, they all went downtown. John DeLury, president of the sanitation union stood on top of an automobile and told the gathering how much had been done in trying to get a raise. DeLury always considered a power broker, had to swallow his pride when the throng joined in unison and shouted him down. Jack personally had never witnessed such a show. The word strike echoed through City Hall like claps of thunder.The strike lasted for nine days. The garbage generated by the city grew into mounds of fodder for the foot-long rats that inhibit the steaming megapolis. The fact that it was winter helped the city. After the strike was over the workers who normally were paid weekly, really suffered. Everyday produced overtime and workers feasted on the extra money. In Jack's work area however, there was trouble. Here in East Harlem and natives had grown restless. Every night the garbagemen were pummelled with sundry items from the rooftop's. Not even the presence of uniformed police seem to deter them. Actually they were used to throwing garbage anyway. Jack had seen many come downstairs with their garbage in a paper bag and either place it on top of the can or merely throw it where the cans were or were supposed to be a. So they were expert tossers. If rain came the paper bag would break open and allow the vermin even easier access. They were so large that no self respecting alley cat would be seen out after dark.
After a while, the second or third day, they pushed all garbage into the the middle of the street and set it on fire. When the firemen came they became the new targets. These people had always said that the city neglected them anyway. This garbage lying around was somehow proving their point. It along with a other things eventually caused the Young Lords, a group of dissidents composed of thieves, thugs, junkies and other malfeasants, to invade and takeover the local church. From here they presented their demands for recognition to the city. During this time Geraldo Rivera, a reporter for a local television station began to establish his name. Being part Puerto Rican his rapport with the church captors produced a natural fit. Promises mostly broken were all that ever came out of this seizure. El Barrio remained the armpit.
Before long there was the gasoline strike. Everybody remembers that. License plate with a last odd number where eligible for gas one-day and even numbers the other. This particular night Jack and his driving buddy, Jimmy Lay arriving too late, because of the winter storm missing Jacks assigned gas night. The next day with snow and ice still on the ground, Jack tried to use his son's Volkswagen. Naturally the Volkswagen used a six volt battery and the station wagon a 12 volt battery. They never made it!
After 18 years Jack decided to begin planning for the future. All the other chances to become supervisor had gone. Now was a time for action. He enrolled in the study course and studied dutifully. He was determined it was going to max and grade out as high as possible. Since the Post Office days migraine headaches had plagued him every other year. With a four-hour exam staring him straight in the face the migraine would strike again. Jack sat been devastated. Time peeled off the clock. He tried to read and reason with the test. The unrelenting pain blocked his thought channels refuse to move. Suddenly the pain subsided and Jack answered the next 51 questions correctly. His final standing made him No. 6 among the many men seeking the same position. The top 31 were called almost immediately. This effectively canceled the old list. One of the guys who had least been talking with Jack now hated him. The guy resented the fact that he could not become an officer now.
With these top of the class officers the department tried a little chicanery. What they did they knew was totally illegal. The closing date for the superintendents' test had come and gone. They almost demanded that Jack's group submit the required entry fee. The next day all the entries were illegally entered past the deadline. Now they wanted to prod these new guys to start studying for the upcoming superintendents' test. Jack without doubt could've easily passed this test too, but his plans to leave after two years would have been extended. He really didn't want this. Even with a half hearted effort he passed with 70. With so much of the department's required stuff in his mind, he could've gone on to higher heights. But retirement looked far brighter.
The officer's clothing store custom fitted the uniforms. The captain bars on Jack's shoulders shone brightly. He looked good! Johnny Fernandez, ex-alcoholic working as a counselor saw Jack at headquarters and remembering him from Fernandez' not so good days, asked Jack where would he like to be assigned. Jack now working in the Bronx, told Johnny he preferred the old district they had come from. Johnny said no problem! However, when the instructors read the assignments out loud, Jack nearly broke out in tears. He'd been assigned to Bronx 12, undoubtedly the worst district in the Bronx. Hurt, Jack decided to make the most of it. When talking to other people he reasoned that if he was going to be tried, he might as well be tried by fire. He was!
After the actual school he was assigned to training in Bronx 6. This district was a well-knit, stick together bunch of the guys. The training here consisted of riding in the car with the more experienced supervisor.
Elementary School Days * No More Gizzards * No, You Didn't * For The First Time
Life In The Garment Center * Jack's Black Queen * Those Were The Days
New York, New York * Dad * Post Office Blues? * DS or BS?
The Hookers of Hunt's Point * SanMan * Amazing