Before the crash, that is-after which he was left with a mere one hundred grand. Unlike Samuel Insull, however, whose fall included disgrace and imprisonment, Easton had slowly but shrewdly built his investment banking firm into the front ranks of international investment speculators. Among his many successes was financing the giant Fisher Body works here, providing thousands of jobs for Clevelanders.
While he no longer controlled Republic Steel, Easton remained on the board of directors. Which meant that the shadow of the Corrigan-McKinney strike fell across this white table on this sunny day.
No less significant was the presence of Frank Darby, who'd been general manager of the May Company since 1905, after making a success of the store's first shoe department. It had been Darby who convinced David May to live up to the company slogan "Watch Us Grow" by constructing a $2.5 million facility. That eight-story structure seemed less imposing today, in 1937, but the May Company, with its many locations nationwide, was flourishing even in this depression.
"I understand things are quiet out at Corrigan-McKinney today," Darby said.
"Knock on wood," Ness said. He had a drink of the cool martini. Sailboats dotted the lake, swaying lazily.
"You were in a difficult position," Darby said. "I for one think you handled yourself well."
"Neither the unions nor Republic had kind words for me in the press," Ness said. "But I can live with that."
Easton smiled thinly. "That's an interesting political view."
Burton laughed shortly. "I'm afraid none of Eliot's views are particularly political."
"Do you agree with his approach?" Easton asked the mayor.
The mayor hesitated, but his answer was what Ness had hoped it would be: "Yes. It's not the city's job to take sides in these matters. My director of public safety has taken steps to preserve the safety of the public-the very definition of his job."
Easton swirled his martini, the olive in which stared up at Easton like a single green-and-red eye. "There are those who think Mr. Ness takes too soft a position where the labor problem is concerned. There are those who feel that strikes are criminal activities and should be handled accordingly."
"Mr. Easton," Ness said softly, but with an edge, "the law of the land backs the rights of these workers to organize, and to go on strike."
"The New Deal," Easton said, with a faint tone of derision. "Unmitigated, unconstitutional horseshit."
"Perhaps," Ness said. "But as of now, collective bargaining is something that Republic Steel and industry in general are going to have to live with. And company goons, hired to beat, maim, and kill strikers, are engaging in some 'unmitigated, unconstitutional horseshit' themselves, wouldn't you say, sir?"
Easton smiled briefly, plucked the olive from the drink and popped it in his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and said, "Mr. Ness, you do have a point. And this 'peace zone' you've established has unquestionably cooled the situation down. It's just that… well. There are those who think a firmer hand would have a longer lasting effect."
Burton winced.
"Mr. Easton," Ness said, "with all due respect, those who were shot down in the Memorial Day Massacre and at Massillon are enjoying the lasting effect of being dead."
Easton's face was a humorless mask. "Mr. Ness, communism is a serious problem. It's not a problem a man in your chair ought to ignore."
Ness sat up straight. "Mr. Easton, the first thing a company like yours does when organized labor rears its head is brand any and all strikes, any and all unions, a communist plot. Next, they fund armed vigilante and citizens' committees as part of 'back-to-work' movements to break strikes."
Easton was frowning; Burton fidgeting; Darby listening.
"I won't be manipulated or intimidated or paid off into using my department as a goon squad for some steel company. Nor will I be shamed by unions into being their bodyguards."
"Eliot," Darby said, gesturing with an open hand, "I sympathize with your views, but the reality is that individuals in this city who have supported Mayor Burton-and have supported you-expect certain considerations."
Burton winced again.
"They won't get them," Ness said flatly. "I'm prepared to turn over the key to my boathouse, and resign from both country clubs where I've been given memberships, and resign from the various associations, and-"
"Eliot," Burton said, putting a hand on Ness's arm. "Please. No one is suggesting anything untoward here."
Easton motioned to a waiter for another martini and said, "Hal is right, Mr. Ness. I'm merely passing certain sentiments along to you.. for your information. For your consideration. Your well-known conscience and integrity I would never compromise. They're your stock-in-trade, after all."
The sarcasm of that, gentle and lingering as the breeze off the lake, was not lost on Ness. But he said nothing. He drank his martini; ordered another.
"I felt you should be aware," Easton said, "that there are those who feel that the strikers are keeping the plant closed via violence and intimidation… and, perhaps, violence in retaliation is the only logical response. For the good of the community."
Clouds were sliding across the sun; the afternoon was suddenly darker, cooler, at least for the moment.
Ness shook his head wearily and said, "Mr. Easton. Sir. Provoking violence-escalating the violence that's already there-will not scare the workers into line. In reality, every beating administered in the name of the company wins converts to unionism. You can get a great education from a nightstick or tear gas."
"Frankly, Mr. Ness," Easton said sadly, "I'm surprised to find you taking the side of the unionists."
"That's just it: I'm not taking their side. Or yours."
"What side are you taking, then?"
"Cleveland's."
Darby smiled tentatively. "Cyril-I don't think that's such a bad side for the Director of Public Safety to take."
Easton toasted Ness with a martini glass. "Match point, Mr. Ness."
"Eliot," Darby said, "speaking for the Chamber of Commerce, we aren't interested in seeing the Department of Public Safety used as a vehicle for 'union-busting.'"
"Nor am I," Easton said, not entirely convincingly.
"But," Darby went on, "we do expect you to pursue criminal labor activity."
Easton nodded vigorously. "There are gangster-dominated unions operating in this city that demand your attention."
"We refer specifically," Darby said, "to the situation as regards the glass workers and carpenters."
Ness shrugged and nodded. "Caldwell and McFate," he said.
James "Big Jim" Caldwell, vice-president of the Carpenters District Council and bargaining agent for the Glass Workers Union, and James "Little Jim" McFate, president of the Builders District Council, held sway over thousands of Cleveland laborers.
"Those two are racketeers, plain and simple," Ness said. "No question of that, gentleman. No argument from me on that point."
"Anyone wishing to build in Cleveland," Darby said, leaning over, speaking in hushed tones, "has to pay tribute to those two racketeers, as you accurately describe them. It's extortion; a protection racket like something out of… out of…"
"Chicago," Ness offered, with a smile.
"Exactly," Darby said.
Easton leaned forward, his eyes tightening. "I'm concerned about these small-time hoodlums for one reason: they are costing our city dearly. We are the sixth largest city in these United States, Mr. Ness
… but we're ranked sixtieth in building starts."
"The word has spread, nationwide," said Darby. "Cleveland is too expensive a place to build-in terms of the blackmail these 'union' representatives will inevitably demand."
Burton lifted an eyebrow and said, "Several major chain stores, in just the last six months, have abandoned plans to build here."