The Other Side of Midnight by Mike Heffernan Read Free Book Online Page A

they’re holding onto the bumper.
    That’s why I’m dispatching. I’m too old for that kind of stuff. It’s not fit down there—not fit.

Dead Time

    Financial Hardships
    â€œOne thing about being a cabbie is that you don’t have to worry about being fired from a good job.”
    â€“ Alex Reiger (Judd Hirsh), Taxi
    â€œNeither the company nor the union gives a damn about us. As far as they’re concerned, we’re machines—as wretched as the cabs.”
    â€“ Lucky Miller, New York City cab driver, from Studs Terkel, Working
    â€œWe are all born poor.”
    â€“ Rise Mickenber, Taxi Driver Wisdom
    In the public’s mind, the St. John’s taxicab driver personifies both the real and the imagined ills of North America’s oldest city. Whereas their habitat was once defined by the harbour and the railway station, it now encompasses the back lot of the airport, Water Street and Adelaide Street, and dozens of strip malls. These are often lonely and sometimes violent places. The popular image of the St. John’s taxicab driver is blue-collar and itinerant, if not criminal and low-life. But their backgrounds are often working class and lower middle-class. Unlike most major mainland cities where upwards of 50 per cent of taxicab drivers are from predominantly Muslim countries, the St. John’s taxicab industry remains largely ethnically homogenous: students, pensioners and the sons and daughters of taxicab drivers. Many are career drivers; few are women. Some, let go from other work, are too old and under- trained to re-enter the workforce, and they drive a taxicab as a last resort.
    The taxicab industry, once a collection of family-run and neighbourhood stands, at its peak, in the years following the Second World War, counted forty-one taxicab stands operating within the city limits. Twenty-five years later, that number had dropped to thirty. Now there are just seven. What happened in the intervening years? As operating costs soared, older drivers and small fleets left the industry and sold their taxicab licences to larger stand owners. The 1970s also saw the emergence of the “broker,” an independent contractor or middle-man, who had acquired small fleets and then leased cars to individual drivers for an even share of the profits. By the early 1990s, a handful of companies had grown to encompass three quarters of cab licences.
    As in many other municipalities, leasing doomed many vulnerable drivers to a kind of wage slavery. At the end of the day, drivers are paid 50 per cent of whatever has accumulated on the meter, minus gas expenses. This was an obvious attraction to fleet owners and brokers because it ensured daily receipts and removed the spectre of rising gasoline and insurance costs. Individual taxicab owners, generally referred to as “independent operators,” became subject to exorbitant and unregulated weekly stand fees. Although the 1990 Commission of Inquiry into the St. John’s Taxi Industry found that stands were making only a modest return on their investments, the taxicab industry is largely cash-based. The Taxi Bylaw requires daily income sheets to be kept, but those rules are not strictly enforced.
    To maintain a competitive environment while offering the public an adequate level of service, the city has periodically capped the number of available operator licences. Currently, there are 364. Although there is no uniform policy in place to determine the appropriateness of the number—municipal documents indicate one taxicab per 500 residents—it is reviewed by the Taxi Commission annually. Each stand owner must first purchase a stand licence that approves the operation of the stand and sets space requirements for its taxis. While the city has never restricted the number of taxi- cab stands, it has limited the number of parking spaces (referred to in the industry as “slots”) to 402. While this regulation, in