T. Bunn - Winner Take All

“Tell the court about the factory.”

“Mr. Dale, he run himself a tight ship. He was a hard man. He wasn’t out there to make folks happy. And he had himself a temper. Yessir, that man could throw himself a rage. But he was fair. And he treated his people right.”

“Where was the company located?”

“Down in southeast Wilmington, just a few blocks off the river.”

“Was this a nice part of town?”

“ ’Bout as bad as you could get, I suppose. Least it was when he started up. Things is improving a little now.”

“Because of Mr. Steadman’s company?”

“That and some other things.”

“But it is safe to say that when Mr. Steadman began his factory, there was no other industry around him.”

“Wasn’t nothing but ruin and woe down that way. Mr. Dale, he got himself an old school from the city and some money to fix things up. Us early workers used to call it the schoolhouse mill. Some still do, I ’spect. Mr. Dale fixed it up real nice. Took two old falling-down houses and made them his offices. Them places stuck out like new pennies when he was done.”

“The court has heard a lot of criticism from other people about Mr. Steadman. Could you tell us any reason you might know for local officials to speak ill about my client?”

“Objection!” Hamper Caisse could scarcely keep from launching himself around the table. “Your honor, this line of questioning needs to be nipped in the bud. Mr. Glenwood is asking this gentleman to make suppositions about people with whom he has had no contact whatsoever.”

“You started us down this road, Mr. Caisse. I’m going to allow Mr. Glenwood to carry us along a little further. Overruled.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Marcus turned back to the elderly gentleman. “Can you please tell the court-”

“I heard you the first time. And there ain’t more than a thousand reasons I can imagine. My guess is, most of them folks either run companies themselves or have kin that do. And ain’t a one of them that pays their hourly workers a cent more than they have to.”

“Objection! There is no possible way this man could have conducted a proper survey of the local business community.”

“Overruled. Proceed.”

“You say Mr. Steadman overpaid his workers?”

“Nosir. I’m saying he paid a fair wage. ’Bout the time he started up, there was this study they did over to Duke, where Mr. Steadman did his schooling. Said the living wage for a family of four was nine dollars and thirty cents an hour. Less than that, and somebody’s gonna have to work more than fifty hours a week or go without something. So Mr. Steadman set that as his minimum wage. Even the janitors got that.”

“How can you be certain this was an exception to the local rule?”

The man’s shoulders humped in a silent laugh. “On account of how we got almost ten thousand folks ’round there looking for work.”

“Objection, your honor, this is clearly a wild exaggeration, and proves just how lame this man’s testimony is.”

“On the contrary, your honor, I have documents which not only corroborate Mr. Pierce’s assertions, but reveal that they underestimate the number of applicants.” Marcus marched back to his table and accepted the document Steadman had ready for him. “In the first eleven months of operation, the company received eleven thousand, four hundred applications.”

Caisse did not back down. “The witness himself said there was a great deal of poverty and unemployment in the area, your honor.”

Marcus continued to read from the document he had asked Steadman to bring with him that morning. “Over half these applicants, your honor, were gainfully employed at the time of their application.”

The judge repressed a smile. “Lame, did you say, Mr. Caisse?”

“Your honor-”

“Overruled.”

Marcus returned his attention to the witness. “Dale Steadman fired you, did he not?”

“That’s right.”

“For coming to work intoxicated. But later he took you back.”

“That he did. Docked my pay and demoted me, but a year after that he made me foreman.”

“Are there any signs he still promotes these types of changes within his companies?”

“Absolutely. Soon as Mr. Dale got his new position, he started working to make them same things policy right through the whole New Horizons company.”

Hamper flailed in his seat. “Your honor, this is just ridiculous. How on earth could that man possibly be party to confidential corporate policy?”

Marcus asked, “Would you care to respond, Mr. Pierce?”

“Got me a nephew working as assistant manager over to the schoolhouse mill. A son is accountant to the New Horizons Wilmington import warehouse.”

When Hamper had subsided into bitter silence, Marcus continued, “Just one more question, Mr. Pierce. Was there anything else which you can identify that would give the local business community reason to dislike my client?”

“Surely can. Back then, most doctors didn’t want to show their face down that side of town. So Mr. Dale set himself up a company clinic. First factory in Wilmington to do anything of the kind.”

“These medical services were available to all factory employees?”

“Them and their families.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pierce.”

But as Marcus was turning toward Hamper Caisse, the foreman added, “Something you said, sir, it needs correcting. The local business people, they didn’t dislike Mr. Dale.”

“But you just said-”

“They despised him. They spit on the ground where he walked. I seen it happen.”

Marcus found himself gripped by how those sightless eyes held steady upon him. “No further questions, your honor.”

“Mr. Caisse, your witness.”

Hamper Caisse bounded from his chair. “What was Mr. Steadman’s response to this supposed attitude?”

The foreman’s sightless eyes remained fastened upon Dale. “He didn’t say. Not to me. But I suppose he felt pretty much the same way ’bout them.”

“Wouldn’t it be fairer to say that it was Mr. Steadman’s dislike for the local authorities that has colored what you’ve said on the stand? Better still, wouldn’t you say this was in fact your own attitude which you have just described for the court?”

“I don’t know what you’re going on about.”

“No. Of course not.” He rustled the pages on his desk to emphasize the point. “You claimed Mr. Steadman had a temper.”

“ ’Cause he did.”

“So you have seen the defendant in a rage.”

Another silent laugh. “Not more than two, three times a day.”

“Describe what that was like, please.”

“Like a bomb going off.”

“Like a bomb,” Caisse repeated. “What could cause him to react like this?”

“Anybody giving him less than their best, that’s what. He paid top dollar and expected the same in return.”

“Did he ever attack his employees?”

“With words. Never his fists.”

“But you’re saying he berated his workers.”

“He laid into some of them. Yessir.”

“He cursed them.”

“He could use some bad words.”

“He attacked them with his fists.”

“I never said that. And he never did it.”

“Not that you saw, in any case. But such a man, with his violent past and his propensity to fly off in unbridled tantrums, isn’t it safe to say that he could have become physically violent when not in your sight?”

“What you’re claiming just never happened.”

“No further questions.”

The judge turned to the witness. “You may step down.”

“Mr. Dale, he was a good-”

“Please step down, sir.”

Angrily the gentleman rose to his feet, muttering, “This ain’t right.”