Fingy Conners & The New Century Page 6

  Good riddance, sneered Jim, as he stood on the rickety Louisiana Street bridge traversing the disgusting Hamburg-Main. He’d had his fill of dead bodies, sexually violated children, hopeless criminals and vast black clouds of biting summer insects in his almost-daily travail of policing the tenements that lined the stagnant deadly aqueduct. All of these horrors, he determined, were somehow directly related to the poisonous fumes exhaled by the thick black liquid that had been at some point in seemingly ancient times navigable fresh water.

  The Hamburg-Main’s undulating vapors were visible to the naked eye rising up in the summer’s heat from the nasty one and a half mile-long gash that had long ceased to be viable as a route of navigation by craft of any sort. The trench had accumulated inestimable tons of garbage, scuttled canalboats and deceased dogs, dead horses that had cruelly expired on the streets in the very throes of their thankless labors, and the putrid human effluence of the city’s toilets. These very same vapors were now claimed to be responsible for the recent wave of smothering deaths among local babies whilst they slept.

  Like a swarm of giant iron arachnids, the earth movers, bulldozers and steam shovels would soon descend on the First Ward from all points south and east in an invasion of military amplitude and fervor in order to do away once and for all with the choleric scourge.

  Jim lingered, lost in recollection on the very spot where his newlywed immigrant parents had first disembarked from their Erie Canal packetboat on their arrival in the city fifty years previous. The darkness had snuck up on him so stealthily that the detective was startled to find himself enveloped in its shroud. He descended the wooden planks of the bridge hastily and headed back down Louisiana Street toward the police station. The night was inky in the absence of any municipal lighting in the area, with only a faint moon filtered by clouds and the intermittent luminous glow of a window lamp lighting his path until he delivered himself to the gloomy arc-lighted yellow illumination of Seneca Street.

  Hannah In The Courtroom

  Late that afternoon when Jim arrived home from work for the day, his niece Molly Nugent was quietly playing Parcheesi with his daughter Nellie in the downstairs parlor as Zeke happily guarded over them. Jim kissed his bride for meeting him at the door with a welcome bottle of beer, cuffed the kids and bent down to greet the excited dog who swiped him a few strong licks on the lips. Then he and Hannah discussed the situation upstairs in the kitchen.

  Even though the girls remained one floor below, Hannah rose from the kitchen table a number of times during their conversation to double-check the closed swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room to make sure that neither Molly nor Nellie had sneaked up behind it to eavesdrop.

  Hannah’s brother David Nugent, Molly’s father, was scheduled to be sentenced to prison the following morning. Molly had been practically living with her cousins during the trial, and was so frightened about what might become of her father that she had erupted in hives, which she had been itching in the night to the point of bloodying herself.

  Hannah refused to attend any of the court proceedings. She was filled with shame for what her brother had wrought and prayed night and day for his suffering victims.

  The previous October, pistols at the ready, David Nugent had led his gang of 16 thugs on a raid, boarding an unloading ship at anchor down at the Minnesota Docks, the whaleback Mather. Silently stealing aboard late in the afternoon, they went from open hold to open hold raining down an estimated two hundred rounds of gunfire upon the concentration of unsuspecting vulnerable men hard at work below. When the captain readied to pull the ship’s whistle to summon help, Nugent leveled his pistol at his head and dared to orphan his children.

  It was an onslaught so outrageous and cruel that even in the city where Canal District atrocities often didn’t make the front page anymore the population was incensed. Even worse that it was all the work of Fingy Conners, who continued to exercise free rein in his terrorizing of the First Ward despite all the transgressions he had regularly committed in the two decades leading up to the Grain Scoopers Strike the previous Spring.

  Hannah’s relationship with her younger brother had always been discomposed. Their mother had died. Their father then remarried their mother’s sister. Then he died. Then their aunt-stepmother died. All three died within the space of four years when the children had barely started school. They were then farmed out to relatives in the ward, separately. Though they lived just one block apart, they seldom saw one other. The Sheas, with whom Hannah lived, knew only too well how troubled David Nugent was, and did all they could to keep the siblings from spending too much time together, lest Hannah become tainted. They feared David’s explosive temper, but were troubled even more so by the proposition of what the young wilding’s cunning influence might do to jeopardize his sister’s promising future.

  When David was in his teens and at his most impressionable, he’d attached himself to Fingy Conners, attracted by the wild folk tales told all around the ward about the pugilist saloonkeeper—tales that turned out to be true and more so.

  He began hanging around outside Fingy’s saloon after throwing a rock through his expensive plate glass window, Fingy threatening to rip his arm off but secretly admiring the boy’s moxie. Soon Fingy had David running errands for him. David proved himself reliable and loyal. The willing lackey worked his way under Fingy’s skin and the two came to establish a relationship that was far more like father and son than anything less. Fingy acted as demanding matchmaker between his timid niece Minnie Hayes and the reluctant David Nugent when David was of age. They married, cementing permanently with a family bond the profound loyalty that existed between Fingy Conners and David Nugent. Hannah did not want to attend her brother’s wedding to Fingy’s niece, so troubled was she by David’s relationship with Conners, but such an affront would have electrified the ward and been interpreted as nothing less than a direct insult against both Fingy and her brother. So she went.

  In a sensational trial where spectators had to fight it out among themselves daily to gain a ticket for a prized seat in the courtroom, David Nugent had been found guilty the previous December of the vicious crimes he was charged with. Not even Fingy Conners, with all the police captains, politicians, high-powered attorneys and judges he had tucked in his vest pocket could sway the jury chosen from among the laboring men of the First Ward from its findings.

  ...

  “May I go with you to the court tomorrow, Jim?” Hannah asked her husband.

  Jim was very surprised.

  “Why sure, honey, of course,” he said. “What made you change your mind? I haven’t even heard you so much as speak your brother’s name in a while.”

  Hannah was feeling differently, now that things had come down to a hair’s breadth.

  “It’s possible I may never see David again. I can’t let him go to prison with me not acknowledging him. I feel compelled to be there. Not just for Molly’s sake, but…”

  She stopped mid-sentence.

  “But because he’s your brother, regardless of his deeds,” finished her husband.

  The look on her face said it all.

  “Yes, dear. I’m really frightened for him.”

  The weeks-long trial had provided opportunities for the curious to come have a look for themselves, but the sentencing was different in that it was a one-time event. There was a near-riot among the populace to gain access to the criminal act’s penultimate culmination.

  As family, Hannah was accommodated respectfully. Jim wore his uniform, and the couple entered through the side entrance, which was guarded against the throngs by Headquarters men. Michael Regan was there in the doorway conversing when the couple arrived. They all smiled nervous smiles, the men tipped their hats, and Hannah held her eyes downcast as she entered the courtroom and maneuvered toward the defendant’s table. Hannah sat directly behind her brother where David’s wife Minnie awaited them nervously with a reserved smile. She was glad to see them. The women exchanged a quic
k hug. Minnie sat on Detective Sullivan’s left, Hannah on his right.

  “How are the boys?” asked Hannah. “Will they be here?”

  David and Minnie had three sons older than little Molly.

  “No,” Minnie said. I didn’t want them to see their father like this.”

  Minnie Nugent harbored mixed feelings about her husband’s only living sister never having come to the trial, even though it was Hannah who had taken charge of little Molly so that the Nugents might be together in the courtroom. Minnie knew that the Alderman’s servant girl could have watched over Molly a time or two, freeing Hannah to at least make a representative show of support. David Nugent spoke little to his wife about his troubled past, or about his relationship with his sister for that matter. Minnie’s knowledge of such things were derived almost entirely from the questionable versions offered by her Uncle Fingy rather than from her own spouse.

  As Hannah and Jim seated themselves, David slouched forward head-down in deep conversation with attorney Hoyt. Fingy Conners flitted from Judge to court officers to friends and allies like a busy bee as Hannah and Jim got situated. David was alerted to the commotion of the arrivals in his periphery and turned around to see his sister sitting behind him. A look of extraordinary tenderness and relief came over his face. His eyes watered.

  “Thank you for comin’, both of yous, and fer takin’ care of our Molly,” he said. Minnie nodded and smiled in accordance.

  David Nugent’s once unshakable display of solid bravado and confidence had on this day disintegrated into a façade thinly masking misgivings and genuine doubts about his ultimate fate.

  In all the years of their acquaintance Fingy had controlled every situation. No man working under Fingy Conners had ever been jailed longer than a day or two for any crime, no matter how egregious, before being sprung. David Nugent was the first ever to actually go to trial, but then again, the sheer ambition, audacity and hubris of his vicious attack could not be expected to result in anything less. Additionally, Fingy Conners’ loss to the scoopers and the union’s allies in the Catholic Church and city government the previous May had cracked the very foundation of Fingy’s power base. No longer did the invincible armor of infallible certitude or fait accompli surround the amply-nourished ego of Fingy Conners.

  David had of late begun experiencing dreadful nightmares about prison; forced labor, poor food, freezing cold prison cells. Worst of all, he began to have night terrors concerning falling victim to thugs who might rape him and indenture him into a living hell of imprisoned subservience over which Fingy held no power nor could provide any protection.

  David had become fearfully aware just how vulnerable he would be without Fingy Conners, for Fingy was newly setting into motion an audacious plan that would wholly transform his family’s life, shock the entire state of New York, and wreak economic devastation upon the city of Buffalo. With David shackled in Auburn Prison, and Fingy and his family beginning a new life as far removed geographically as sentimentally from the old, David feared he would be abandoned and forgotten, left to rot, forever.

  Minnie excused herself to visit the ladies’ facility. Her uncle remained at the front of the courtroom conferring animatedly with the Judge. David first turned and checked to make sure Fingy was out of earshot, then spoke to Hannah and Jim.

  “I don’t know what I’d a-ever done wit’ out the two o’ yous. I know you’ll watch over my Molly if I go to prison, you’ve more than proven that.”

  “David…” Hannah began.

  David continued. “Wait, Hannah. I’m afeared Molly and her mother’ll fall under the wrong influences if I get sent away. Fingy…Fingy ain’t exactly the best idea of what’s a good parent, if you know what I’m gettin’ at. I’m afeared fer Molly. I got my regrets. I don’t want nothin’ to happen to ‘em. Will yous take Molly, if ye can? Please?”

  Jim was surprised at the request, but before he could even think, Hannah replied, “Of course we’ll raise her, Dave, just like our own…because she is. We’re a family, all of us. But what…what about Minnie?”

  Dave looked around again. “You might already realize that Minnie’s a-scared o’ Fingy, Hannah. And I think you know that Molly likes spendin’ as much time with yous as she can, while Minnie busies herself wit’ other things.”

  They waited for Dave to finish his thought.

  What “other things” Hannah wondered silently.

  He didn’t elaborate any further.

  “I wish I hadn’t a-done it Hannah, ya gotta believe me. We was all drinkin’ all the livelong day from one saloon t’ the next. Drinkin’. Carousin’. Talkin’ tough. One-uppin’ each other. Gettin’ pissed mad. And then the devil got in me, and I thought the oremen were doin’ us wrong, disrespectin’ me and Fingy, an’…”

  His agitation was increasing.

  “They was callin’ us a bunch o’ dirty scabs and...”

  “Hey Dave,” interrupted Jim. “Remember me? I was there. I saw what you did. All the people in the yard told me what you and your gang done from the beginning. So stop bullshittin’. Take responsibility.”

  Dave turned once again to gauge Conners’ whereabouts. Seeing that Fingy was still busily engaged, Dave licked his lips nervously, then burst out with an astonishing revelation.

  “Fingy’s plannin’ on movin’ everything and everybody to Montréal, Jim! You gotta tell the Alderman! He’s takin’ my Minnie and my Molly and the boys, too! Everybody! He wants his revenge on Buffalo and everybody in it and for a thousand miles around. He’s talkin’ right now with some big businessmen, investors and bankers in New York and Pittsburgh and Chicago t’all put up half a million dollars to build a whole lot of grain elevators up there in Montréal, and move the whole business kit and caboodle—t’ fuckin’ Canada! I don’t wanna live in no Canada, Jim! Or lose my girls to that godforsaken place, especially not them French frogs! They ain’t gonna be speakin’ no French, my wife ‘n’ kids, I kin tell yous that much!”

  Jim was stunned.

  The night the strike ended JP had theorized that Fingy was planning as much, but nothing since was heard about it. Now David’s bombshell was heart-stopping.

  “Fingy’s come to figure that the power that the scoopers was able to gather together and bring against him during the strike last May was because how close this city is, everybody tied up the way they are, related to each other, goin’ to church on Sunday, helpin’ each other. Fingy thinks any two or more people who aren’t with him is plottin’ against him. Fingy wants to punish everybody he thinks is after him, which as far as I can figger, is everybody. He don’t trust this place no more. What would somethin’ like that do to this city, Jim?” he asked, his face twisted in fear and uncertainty.

  Even Dave Nugent, most of whose neighbors and relatives made a living from the grain business or on the docks in some form or other, had scant idea of the extent of the damage that would surely result from such a scheme if successfully carried out. William J. Conners was creating a plan to try to steal the entire grain business away from the city—the grain-milling capitol of the world—outright, leaving everyone, especially those in the ward, stranded, without jobs or any hope of getting a job, out of nothing more than sheer greed and revenge.

  “I don’t want Molly growin’ up no Canuck! Or worse, a Frenchie! I want her here wit’ her family. Wit’ you, Hannah, and Jim an’ the kids, you’re her family! Please, take her.”

  Hannah was confused.

  “What would Minnie have to say, Dave?” asked his shocked sister. “She’s Molly’s mother! She’s not going to give her little girl up.”

  “Minnie don’t wanna go noplace neither! She’s never been anywheres away from Buffalo in her whole life. All her friends is here. Yous are here. The girls she went to school with. Everybody. We talked about it. She’s afraid Fingy’ll make her pack up and go wit’ him if I get locked up in a prison. So, I been tryin’ to figure some way to make it so’s Molly has to stay here for some necessary reason, and then
Minnie will have to stay here with her too, to take care of her, o’ course. I got money put away but not enough to support them more ‘n two years or so. Then what? I just haven’t figgered that part out fully yet. I was thinkin’ of payin’ a doctor to say Molly has some medical condition that can only be treated in Buffalo. I don’t know. But if I just know that Molly will be safe with yous, it’ll provide me with some peace of mind.”

  ...

  The judge’s gavel banged. The court was called to order and the stiff sentence read: two years in Auburn Prison. Dave shot to his feet in a panic, attorney Hoyt trying to restrain him. Hannah and Minnie grabbed each other and cried. Fingy leaned over and bellowed loudly to Dave, so all could hear, “Dis ain’t over by no long shot! Hear me, Dave? We’s gonna fight dis. Yous ain’t goin’ t’ no prison, I will promise yous that much, little Davey!”

  Attorney Hoyt had anticipated well and was exquisitely prepared with an interminable list of legal complaints, grievances, protests and a grand show of indignant bellowing outrage, all of which succeeded in getting the sentence reviewed.

  David braved a smile. Minnie hesitated not fully understanding what had transpired. They embraced. Fingy took possession of Minnie’s husband, putting his arm around his shoulder and walking him out to the encouraging instigations of a number of well-wishers on the street. Minnie followed behind like some afterthought.