They call me the working man

My Grandpa once faced down the Mafia. It was a long time ago in the 50's a time when America was a different place. Cigarette smoke, Elivs, Rock 'n roll, and so forth. Anyhow as I heard the story he was parked somewhere in Brooklyn. And a Woman on the street and a shawl told him 'They don't like it when you park there.' And shortly afterward a man came out walking towards him. I remember hearing that he left after because he had his kids in the car but the story always held an interest to me. An average citizen with nothing to do with Organized Crime suddenly being thrust into its world.

Struggle.

I'm reading a book right now about the Pullman Porters. Pullman Porters were workers on sleeper trains from the late 1860s until 1969. George Pullman the founder of the Pullman company recruited mainly African-Americans for the positions because he believed the mainly white passengers wouldn't notice them and wouldn't see them as someone they would ever see in everyday life. The Porters attended to the passengers every need making beds, running telegrams, helping with luggage etc; Also they relied mainly on tips because of the low wages the Pullman company paid them during the early years of its operation. In the book the author Larry Tye talks about the face the Porters had to put on to deal with the racism and insults and disrespect they put up with on a daily basis. This resonated for me because as a former Deli worker I had to put up the same kind of face. While I was never subjected to the long hours, and blatant racism of the porters dealt with I can attest to the shabby way people can treat you in the service industry. In the deli people think you are a servant an idiot. And you end up having to put up that mask. The mask of servility which the books talks about. The porters dealt with it because they had families to support and they knew it was a lot better then working as sharecroppers or in factories as many in their community did. Also much better then their forefathers who had toiled in the cotton fields as slaves. The Porters would have to 'Tom' it after Uncle Tom the slave in Uncle Tom's cabin. Dealing with people is hard, much less racist assholes. To this Friday I crack open a beer for the Pullman Porter.