Stand Upside Down

By Adolphus A Ward

By the mid-1980s Affirmative Action was taking its most harmful blows from the office of the President of the United States. The apparent irony is that the beginning place of Affirmative Action would ultimately lead to its end. Workers in every area of the American workforce quickly picked up the President's mantra to abandon government regulations, enforcement and found personal ways to express their frustration with Affirmative Action.

Calvin Tallman – son of Pearl and grandson of Jacob and Clara Tallman – held a management position in the Personnel Department at AMC's facilities in Kenosha. In addition to performing and supervising personnel activities, Calvin was the company's vanguard in seeking new opportunities for women and minorities while protecting the gains already made. During the course of the story Calvin is able to salvage two black men – keeping them in positions never before held by a person of color, and certainly not a female.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adolphus A Ward
• Release date: Oct 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9780983947714

Adolphus A Ward

AUTHOR PAGE Adolphus left a management position in the auto industry in 1984. After being passed over the second time for a promotion he decided he'd stop waiting for others to give him opportunities – instead he would create them. Near age 50, he decided to do what he really wanted to do for the rest of his life. His five children were adult and on their own – he was divorced. So he turned a property and some investments into cash, stuck the money in CDs and set out to become a professional fiction writer and actor. Already in community theatre since the early 1970s, he set out first to learn fiction writing. He learned to write fiction while working on his first Family Fiction novel, "Harvest The Dust." Since his Harvest publication, Adolphus has published each of the stories in the trilogy as an independent writer. Adolphus has held staff positions in business, industry, government, and education, and holds a MS Degree in education. He is now retired and living in Reseda, California and devotes his time to writing and acting. His first home is Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Trilogy print-books are available at his website: www.adolphusward.net, and various book-fairs.

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STAND UPSIDE DOWN

Published by Adolphus A. Ward at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Adolphus A. Ward

This story was taken from my life and family and those who interacted with us.

Stand Upside Down by Adolphus A. Ward

3rd of a trilogy

Copyright © 2011 by Adolphus A. Ward

ISBN:

978-1-4951-4429-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actural person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order copies of the book, contact: AW IDW Independent Writer [e-mail] www.adolphusward.net.

PREFACE

A presidential executive order had introduced Affirmative Action to the American workplace and challenges to its implementation were in the courts before the ink was dry. The intent of the order was to put African Americans in jobs that historically denied them entry. The order specifically applied to those entities doing business with the federal government. By the mid-1980s Affirmative Action was taking its most harmful blows from the office of the president of the United States. The apparent irony is that the beginning place of Affirmative Action would ultimately lead to its end.

Workers in every area of the American workforce quickly picked up the president's mantra to abandon government regulations, enforcement and found personal ways to express their frustration with Affirmative Action. The setting for this story is the mid-west city of Kenosha, Wisconsin, and the American Motors Corporation (AMC) based there.

Chapter 1 – Trouble

My name is Calvin Tallman. I'm telling this story as I remember hearing and living it.

Footprints were barely detectable in the fresh fallen snow. The soft flakes still fell, only slower, floating like little parachutes, riding the pulsing currents of air until they could find no reason to stay afloat. The blanket of snow dulled the sharp edges of air-ducts and other factory fixtures. The housing for the operating parts of a freight elevator stood on the roof like a little house. It's door opened to a stairway that descended to the sixth floor of the plant. Blades of light cut through cracks at the edges of the door, slicing into the gray-white night. Snowflakes shimmered in their finale as they danced with the light. A shadow inside the door disturbed the light.

Someone opened the door and the light etched the silhouette of a man. He stepped out onto the roof; as he turned to close the door, a crouched figure moved swiftly toward him. The silhouette turned in time to meet the hard shoulder sinking deep into his belly, crushing the breath from his body, leaving him helpless to get it back before there were more figures and more crushing blows and kicks that kept him fighting to catch his breath – to find some relief from the pain and fog of snow.

His hands were tied behind him. He saw the darkness coming but could do nothing to stop the bag before it covered his head. They lifted and set him on the roof's edge. When he could see, he found himself seated and looking down into the deep shadowy white darkness below.

You know what's gonna happen to you, don't you, nigger? said one of the men. You gonna have yourself a little accident they're gonna find an ink spot down there — a nigger splattered all over that concrete and railroad tracks. A nigger ain't supposed to be in skilled trades. Niggers ain't supposed to be tellin' white men what to do, not here. You don't belong here. Today's your lucky day. You got a choice, nigger. Either you leave here running and never look back, or somebody's gonna have a messy job trying to put your black ass together again.

Calvin, you lying, said Kevin, raising his empty glass for the bartender to do it again.

Just telling you what the grapevine told me. I finished the first of my usual two drinks and waited for Kevin to stop laughing before catching Tina's eye, and nodding for number two. It scared the piss out of him, I said, stirring the slivers of ice at the bottom of my glass while checking the bar for new faces – only one this Friday. Tina's Buffalo Wings must be losing their taste. I'd counted at least three new people at the last happy hour and five the Friday before that, counting just women. Tina brought my fresh drink and began to pour more from the bottle of bourbon. Whoa, Tina, you know my limit.

Always in control. We go way back and I ain't never seen you lose it. Tina blew a kiss; I blew it back with a wink at the satisfying taste of my drink.

How come you don't bring me the bottle? asked Kevin, holding out his near-empty glass.

Cause you don't drink bourbon, and you married.

This niggah's got two women.

That ain't married. It's competition.

Kevin and I had been friends for twenty years or more. I was a few years older, but our professional careers had followed similar routes at about the same time. We had the personality differences often found between friends. I was tall, Kevin not as tall. I was on the lean side, while Kevin had to watch his weight. I seldom raised my voice; Kevin seldom talked in a whisper. I was only mediocre, and that's giving me some, at ball sports; in another time and place, Kevin might have been a professional ball player.

Even in marriage we were opposite: I had failed at the husband stuff, while Kevin was still keeping it together. Both of us had learned many of life's survival skills hustling nickels and dimes for the movie, and learning to fight to keep another boy from taking it. We didn't mind getting in someone's ass, physically when necessary, if the situation called for it. We had learned to use the eloquence of our education and experience, but we kept our street-cavvy and the instinct to survive and grow. Kevin carried his street stuff a little closer to the surface, but one of us always knew what the other meant. No translations were necessary. Though we worked for different companies, the nature of our work was essentially the same. We were salaried employees – managers with supervisory responsibilities. I worked primarily with salaried personnel, while Kevin worked with unions, representing hourly employees.

You know her? Kevin asked, tilting his head toward the new face at the bar; he waited for me to answer before sipping from the drink barely touching his bottom lip. I purposely delayed an answer by sipping from mine. Who? I finally asked, as if I didn't know. Niggah, you know who. Without answering, I stuck my hand in the air, got her eye, and wiggled my fingers. She wiggled back and smiled. Her smile was open and free with just the right amount of reserve. Her large, dark eyes looked even darker against the cream color of her skin. The eyes still carried a hint of innocence, though the thin webs of time and pain had begun to mark their places around them – thirty at least, another five at most. I could tell she was unattached and looking.

Pissed in his pants. Kevin said laughing. Niggah so scared he couldn't do nothing but pee. You gonna have another one? You buying? I asked. I bought last Friday. I looked at Kevin under raised eyebrows and said, I'm always one or two ahead of you. But I'll be damned if you're gonna get me for three or four.

Man, you losing it. Age.

Age?

A.G.E. It makes you forget things. Let me help you out. I asked you for change for a fifty so I could pay for that last round. You can check that with your main woman. Now you know Evelyn wouldn't lie to you. Remember the fifty? I was still looking at Kevin from under raised eyebrows as I asked, What fifty? The fifty I gave you. Hey, Tina! Kevin's yell brought Tina's eyes our way. I waved her off and continued my look as I said, You didn't give me a fifty. I didn't give you a fifty? You got that right. No, said Kevin I'm asking you. And I'm telling you. You didn't give me fifty dollars, I gave you fifty dollars. You gave me fifty dollars? You got it right again. That was another question, said Kevin.

I said, I asked you to change a fifty. Before we left for dinner, you gave me a twenty and a ten. I never saw the other twenty bucks. And that's the way that went. I might be a little slower than you, Kevin, but I do catch up.

Kevin dismissed me with a sip from his glass and focused on the new face. Since you don't want to cooperate, I think I'll just walk around to the other side of this bar and get to know that pretty young thing. You better sit your ass down before Shirley comes in here and puts your fucking lights out. You know she don't play that. I had never known Kevin to do anything more than make bold moves toward another woman. He was always flirting. Sometimes it got real close to something happening, but Kevin would always find a way out. Like my ex-wife and me, Kevin and Shirley had their problems. They talked about divorce more than once, but somehow, some way, they got through it.

I hadn't been able to stay in a monogamous relationship since my divorce. The final straw in my marriage had been me going to another woman to satisfy my exploring appetite for sex. Since the divorce, there had been many women. I stayed longer with some than with others – two years seemed to be the best I could do and there were always other women at the same time.

Fast approaching fifty, I now shared my life with two women. Both had lasted for more than my usual two years and no end seemed to be in sight. Having two women at my age made it easier to suppress the urge for having sex with others. I loved each of the women in his life and could not see life without them. I simply ignored the openly negative remarks by friends and relatives.

What are you gonna do about your skilled tradesman?

It took a second or so for Kevin's question to have some meaning inside my thoughts; I was still trying to conceptualize the full impact of what had happened to the man. Can you imagine what must've gone through that man's mind when they hung him by his heels from the roof of that plant? Kevin was about to respond when he saw Shirley and Evelyn come in; he held up his hand as a beacon. Missing or ignoring the intent of my question, he said, How the hell did he get up there in the first place? There ain't no way they could have got me that far without taking me out – by then at least one of them, maybe two, if they were lightweights, would be in the hospital or the morgue.

What you talking about dead people for? Shirley asked, as she kissed me on the cheek and wedged herself between Kevin's legs.

What you kiss him for? Don't be giving my sugar away. I'm your husband. I'm supposed to be first. Shirley moved closer to him as she bluesed the words through a moist kiss. I'm saving the best for you, Kevin Sims. Well, give it here, woman. Not now, fool.

You look good, baby. I whispered the words in her ear as Evelyn let her body sink into mine. She never held back. No matter where we were or who was there, she always gave herself completely, without pretense. Even when teasing with baby talk or touching my lips with scented fingers, she did it with a guarantee of fulfillment.

I don't know about y'all, but I'm hongry. That's more than being hungry. I am ready to eat. Shirley was pulling Kevin from his stool and handing him his coat as she spoke. What you wanna eat? Without hesitation Kevin said, Soul food. I don't need more grease this week, Shirley said, poking her thighs with her thumbs. I've got to lose ten pounds before summer. You don't hear me complaining, said Kevin.

I blew Tina a goodbye kiss and she returned it. Tina said goodbye to the rest but she kept looking at me. Even without her saying so I knew she liked me. My knowing didn't come all at once, it had started years ago, a little bit each time we met – a chance meeting on the street, at a party, a dance, whether alone or with someone, we always had something to say to each another. And that something had always left me feeling good. Though I never thought to pursue it, I knew that there had always been something special between us — something I found only pleasing at first but had gradually begun to treasure.

Chapter 2 – Stopping trouble

I stood on the ground looking up at the spot on the edge of the roof from which a man hung upside down. Plant vehicle traffic moved about the yard carrying auto parts. Stock trucks piloted by people walking, standing, sitting, scurried about like ants. Some brought racks and crates of parts to store, while others took them away to the waiting hands of workers on the assembly lines. Finished cars too moved about en route to a repair area – something not right with the trim, metal, paint or power system. This was American Motors' largest manufacturing plant, producing hundreds of units each day. When a car left this plant, it was complete and ready for shipment to an automobile dealer.

Highway 32 passed directly in front of the plant and continued south across the Illinois state line. I pulled out of the lot and headed south. My destination was Zion, Illinois, about fifteen minutes or so from Kenosha, Wisconsin. I'd had one brief conversation with the foreman, who never opened his door wide enough for me to see any more than a strip of him at a time; narrow strips of a man too full of fear and shame for anyone to see the whole of him. Two days had passed before the grapevine brought word of what had happened.