In the Vault -- Strike

PAUL:	Wending, winding, tripping my way downwards to the nether 
	reaches of the BCN, to the great archival cavern we know affectionately as 
	“the Vault”, summoned by our commander-in-chief, director of radio, Ish 
	Lundrigan, to hear another moment from this station’s proud past.  How are 
	you, Ish ?

ISH:	Paul.

PAUL:	I confess, Ish, I’m surprised to be down here with you this 
	week.

ISH:	Why’s that?

PAUL:	Well, I know you’ve been pulling all-nighters, eleventh hour 
	collective bargaining and so forth...

ISH:	I don’t think I’ve slept more than four hours since last Saturday.

PAUL:	 I love that whole routine, bargaining down to the last minute, 
	the false bravado, the brinksmanship, and then of course the whole thing 
	gets settled and everyone goes home and racks up a few more grand on the 
	old plastic ...

ISH:	Not this time.  The unions are refusing to budge on any of the major 
	issues on the table: multi-skilling, dress code, urination time limits, 
	provision of urine samples for testing, urine control board, urinary tract 
	hygene council, urination video surveillance--

PAUL:	I, myself, am a little concerned about the negotiating teams 
	fixation on ... matters urinary ... I’m very reluctant to part with a sample ... 

ISH:	We scrapped the coal-fired transmitter over a year ago, and we’ve still 
	got 18 stokers on salary !!  And the stokers are still representing all the other 
	units at the bargaining table !  They’re belligerant dinosaurs; they’re fuuu---

PAUL:	So, Ish, what do you have for us today?

ISH:	They’ve had it too good for too long.  They’ve forgotten what it’s like 
	to walk the line day after day in the cold February gloom; they’ve forgotten 
	the resolve and cunning of the BCN leadership.  They’ve forgotten the 
	lessons of the ‘59 Strike.  Here’s the way Carl Pilgrim saw it go down.  
	Listen up !!

SFX:	TAPE MACHINE ON.

SFX:	CHANTING OF STRIKERS ON THE LINE.

CARL:	Day 28 of this historic strike -- the first ever in the public sector 
	in Newfoundland.  These men with pickets in hand have seen massive gains 
	in wages over the past decade, in some cases reaching as high as one dollar 
	and eighteen cents an hour.  Still they are not satisfied. A foreigner has 
	stirred up the traditionally passive and grateful Newfoundland working 
	man.  The agitator comes not from Communist Russia, but from the soulless 
	coalpits of Wales.  His name, Arthur “Blackie” Thomas, an agent of the 
	International Coal Stokers and Radio Workers of Great Britain.

THOMAS:	(addressing cheering crowd)

CARL:	Whipped into a Bolshevik frenzy by this diabolical 
	mastermind, the befuddled masses begin to dream of atheistic revolution 
	and free love.  Premier Smallwood responds with a firm hand. 

CLIP OF SMALLWOOD.  

PILGRIM:	On Thursday a premeditated assault on the front door of the 
	radio building on Duckworth Street was followed by a rock-throwing 
	incident at the legislature. After consultations with the premier, station 
	director Jabez Lundrigan contracts agents of the Pinkerton Corporation to 
	maintain the sanctity of law & property.  For the Broadcasting Corporation 
	of Newfoundland, I’m Carl Pilgrim, on the front lines of the class war.
	
ISH:	A great reporter -- a pillar of objectivity.

PAUL:	Why wasn’t Carl on strike?  I thought everyone in the building 
	was out in ‘59.

ISH:	When Thomas was sent over from Wales to co-ordinate the Stoker’s 
	strike, Carl saw it for what it was -- an international takeover bid, and he left 
	the union.  A man of principles. It cost him his life.
	
PAUL:	Go on, Ish.

ISH:	Oh yes.  Electrocuted in a terrible microphone accident in Studio O in 
	‘62.  

PAUL:	Back when it had a metal floor.

ISH:	Lips burned right into the mesh.  The technician working with him at 
	the time was a fellow by the name of Barry Bursey -- brought in from the 
	Gander station under union pressure.  They said it was because they needed 
	an enforcer for the BCN Boilermakers back when we had a team in the 
	Senior A.

PAUL:	Right, Moose Bursey-- I remember being at the stadium one 
	night when they were playing the Caps -- he broke someone’s skull -- was it 
	Big Ben Breen?

ISH:	Of course, when Carl went down, I knew the real reason they wanted 
	that great palooka wiring up the mics around here.

PAUL:	Wow.  I’d heard things got heavy in ‘59, but I hadn’t realized...

ISH:	Dark times, Paul -- an atmosphere of suspicion and hatred, created I 
	might add by Blackie Thomas, the most deceitfulpig-headed, bombastic 
	union blowhard I’ve ever had the misfortune to sit across the table from.  
	But we outmanouevred him in ‘59, Paul, and we’ll do it again this time.

PAUL:	How did you outfox Thomas in ‘59?

ISH:	After the third week, when it looked like their side was settling in for 
	a prolonged people’s war, we regrouped;  completely overhauled our 
	strategy; after a lot of discussion, we concluded that we weren’t 
	communicating our terms very clearly.  So we made a new offer:


SFX:	TAPE MACHINE ON.  SCREAMING, PANICKING AND 
RUNNING CROWD; PISTOL SHOTS AND OCCASIONAL MACHINE 
GUN BURSTS.

CARL:	Oh my, another volley is fired, and I can see the besieged 
	Pinkerton men shooting in a desperate attempt to defend themselves from 
	the savage fury of the strikers.  They seem to be directing their fire at a tent 
	where only moments ago wives of the strikers were sheltering the Red 
	provocateurs.  Placards are strewn everywhere.  Oh my, the Pinkerton men 
	try to escape through the crowd in their vehicle... Men throw themselves 
	beneath the wheels to block the brave lawmen’s escape....  Oh the 
	insanity!!!  

SFX:	TAPE OFF.

ISH:	(Laughing to kill himself)

PAUL:	The St. Finnean’s Day massacre.  How awful.

ISH:	Bah!  Massacre...  A few twisted ankles was all it was.  Had orders to 
	fire over their heads.  But it gave the strikers pause, you might say -- 
	brought them to their senses, and back to the table in a more pliable spirit.

PAUL:	Well, let’s hope that both sides are in a pliable spirit at the 
	moment, and any nonsense of this kind can be averted, and that way I’ll be 
	able to see you again next week ... 

ISH:	In the vault!