Bellagrand: A Novel by Paullina Simons Read Free Book Online Page B

There seems to be a revolution every year.”
    They stopped speaking. Angela stormed out, and Gina didn’t go with her the next morning. In a crowd of women, Angela went by herself to confront Lester Evans.
    It couldn’t have gone less well. The manager fired Angela then and there. He told her that if she ever harassed him in front of his mill again, he’d have her arrested and thrown in jail. Through a megaphone he informed the fifty women shouting behind her that unless they showed up for work the following morning, they would also be fired. “And Miss LoPizo, please tell Miss Attaviano,” he added, “that unless she shows up for work, she too will be fired with all the rest.”
    “She’s a married woman, now, Mr. Evans,” shouted Angela. “She doesn’t answer to you or to me. She answers to her husband. And he works for Bill Haywood.”
    “Then too bad for her being associated with all those filthy Wobblies,” said Evans. “Too bad for all of you. Now get away from my factory.”
     
    Gina was outraged. “I didn’t go with you and that’s how you punish me?” she said to Angela. “By making me lose my job? I’m going to work. I don’t know how you’re planning to pay your rent, but in this house we work for a living.”
    “Gina, this isn’t punishment. It’s war. We have to fight.”
    “I can’t and I won’t.”
    “You can either stand with your family and your women and your fellow workers fighting for your wages, or you can break the line, but then no one in this town will ever speak to you again. Because we don’t talk to scabs,” Angela said. “Not even family scabs. Tell her, Arturo.”
    “We don’t talk to scabs,” said Arturo.
    “Get out of my house,” said Gina. “Where is Harry?”
    “Striking!”
    “How can he strike? He doesn’t work at the mills!”
    “Organizing the strikers then,” Arturo said. “Going door to door with Joe. Wiring telegrams to Big Bill telling him he’s urgently needed in Lawrence. Calling Mother Jones. Calling Emma Goldman. Your husband,” he went on with pomposity, “is fighting for our side. Like you should be doing.”
    “I thought I told you to get out of my house, Arturo.”
    “Gina, this strike is for you, too. The full-time wages of mill employees are inadequate for a family.”
    Gina pointedly said nothing. Angela cleared her throat. “Actually, Arturo,” she said, “Gina makes quite a decent wage working in the mending room.” She averted her eyes. “Yes, a generous wage for skilled labor. But even you, Gia, are now making less because they cut your salary.”
    “They didn’t cut my salary. They cut my hours.”
    “You were working too much.”
    “Who decides this—you? I needed the money,” Gina said. “I didn’t want to work less, and I don’t want what’s not due me. I’m a grown-up.” She felt weak, she needed to lie down. “I’m responsible for my own choices. I want to work.”
    “The IWW will fully support your efforts for larger pay and fewer hours.”
    “Arturo, I thought I told you to leave!”
    “If he goes, I go,” said Angela.
    Folding her arms, Gina stared them both down.
    “Wait till Mimoo hears about this!”
    “You don’t want to know what Mimoo thinks about this, Angie,” said Gina.
    “I can’t wait to ask her. She always supports me.”
    “Not in folly.”
    “This isn’t folly!”
    “Well, too bad she can’t hear about it because, oh, that’s right—she’s still at work.”
    “Wait till Salvo hears.”
    “He’s also working. And staying far away.”
    “Sometimes,” Arturo said, “you’ve got to not work to fight for what is right.”
    “Get out!”
    “Let’s go, Arturo,” said Angela. “I know where we’re not wanted.”
     
    That night Harry told Gina what happened when he spoke with Mother Jones. Harry and Joe made a personal plea to the woman to join the coming strike, but she, despite being co-president and co-founder of the IWW with Big Bill, refused to stand