CULTURAL WORKINGS

Welcome to THE CULTURAL WORKER, a blog dedicated to arts of the people ranging from the radical avant garde and free jazz to dissident folk forms and popular arts . The Cultural Worker celebrates revolutionary creativity and features a variety of essays, reviews, fiction, reportage, poetry and musings through the internet pen of this writer, musician and cultural organizer. Scroll straight down and you'll also find an extensive historical Photo Exhibit of cultural workers in action, followed by a series of Radical Arts Links. The features herein will be unabashedly partisan---make no mistake about that. The concept of the cultural worker as a force of fearless creativity, of social change, indeed as an artistic arm of radicalism, has always been left-wing when applied with any degree of honesty at all. No revolutionary act can be truly complete in the absence of art, no progressive campaign can retain its message sans the daring drumbeat of invention, no act of dissent can stand so strong as that which counts the writers, musicians, painters, dancers, actors, photographers, film and performance artists within its ranks. Here's to the history and legacy of cultural work in the throes of the good fight...
john pietaro

Friday, January 21, 2011

FICTION: The Street Has a Thousand Eyes


‘The Street’ Has a Thousand Eyes

--from the contemporary proletarian fiction collection 'NIGHT PEOPLE' AND OTHER TALES OF WORKING NEW YORK--

By John Pietaro

“Hurry up, Becca, hurry up---I am late already!” Mindy said, in a semi-exasperated tone to her 8 year old daughter, whilst leaping through her usual morning acrobatics. The girl silently rolled her eyes upward as she left the breakfast table and then moved into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She’d come to know this ritual that her well-meaning but disorganized mom somehow got them into each morning.

“Beck, wow---do you believe its 8:25 already??”

“Yes, Mom, I told YOU we were running late fifteen minutes ago”, Becca called out from over the bathroom sink, mouth still filled with toothpaste.

“Ah, okay, we’ll just have to get it together”, she said, more to herself, knowing full well that Becca is nauseatingly on time and seems to be helping to run the house almost like one of the hedge fund managers Mindy works for. She was proud of her daughter who, in response to Mindy’s wild sprint through life, remains calm and understated. She even took charge of her own name, by insisting that Mindy and everyone call her simply ‘Becca’ as opposed to the given name Mindy had thought was so profound: TriBeCa, in honor of the cool neighborhood she’d resided in since finishing her MBA. But nothing doing for Becca who reminded her mother that it sounded kind of pompous and at least a little yuppie--when she was just six. Presently Becca was a thoughtful and bright girl, mature well beyond her eight years; she tended to remind Mindy of Natalie Wood’s character in ‘Miracle on 34th Street’. Yeah, a lot people saw her that way and of course all in contrast to her light-hearted, fun-loving mother. As both a parent and stock broker, Mindy was pretty rare in this way.

Mindy leapt into her skirt and shoes, tucking in her blouse with one hand as she brushed her mane of brown curls with the other. Before you know it both had their coats and hats on and were down the elevator and onto West Broadway, heading toward Becca’s elementary school, and in one felt swoop the girl was safely tucked into her classroom. As Mindy breathlessly jumped into a taxi cab, the facade of their building quietly watched the mayhem as her cab morphed into the thick street traffic. And so began another day.

Mindy shot into her office like a bull out of a chute, curly hair and coat-tails askew. “Whoa, there, whoa, lady----no need to rush, the boss is not here yet!, shouted Terrie from her cubicle. “Oh, thank God”, Mindy responded with relief, “I certainly didn’t want to get called on the carpet again---okay just enough time to grab a cup of coffee before I really start the day”, she added with a laugh. Stopping in front of Terrie’s desk, leaning in close, she asked her co-worker about her date the prior night and exchanged water-cooler gab. The bright morning sunlight gleamed off of Terrie’s desk nameplate, shimmering into Mindy’s eyes as she tried to focus; ‘Theresa Gionoffrio’ burnt like a beacon in front of her. “Yeah, maybe we should grab that cup of coffee”, she said.

In the coffee room, as Mindy and Terrie poured too much sugar into their coffees their discussion shifted from the usual fair to a newer employee no one seemed to know much about. “So what’s that new guy’s name again?”, Mindy asked, “Stanton somebody?”.

“It’s Stanton Chambers”, Terrie explained with a questioning look on her face. “Sounds like a made-up name doesn’t it? He should have been an actor instead of a broker. Only, no actor ever avoided everyone’s eyes like this guy. He speaks to no one and ever since Mattingly brought him into the firm his hours have been bizarre and he has rarely been present at any of the regular staff meetings. He’s got no family pictures on his desk, we don’t even know if the guy’s married or has kids or anything. No one has any info on him--he was never properly introduced to the staff. You know I tried to get some of his background through the internet and there’s absolutely NOTHING listed. No mention of his having worked for any other firm before this, here or nationally. You know that’s ridiculous. The boss gets really cloak-and-dagger when he’s around. Have you ever seen him have lunch with anyone? Have you?? I never have!”, Terrie exclaimed in a hoarse stage whisper.

A little overwhelmed from the velocity of her friend’s intensity, Mindy lloked perplexed. “Why, what do you think, he’s some kind of spy? From another stock firm or something?”, Mindy asked.

“No, not another firm, maybe he’s undercover from the SEC, or worse--FBI” said Terrie, as her eyes grew wider. “You know about the probes that have been going on since the crash. And after Madoff we’ve had to document everything, all the “T”s crossed and “I”s dotted”.

“So then what are you worried about”, Mindy asked inquisitively, “We are a clean firm, we have nothing to fear…”

But still there was something about Stanton Chambers. You could have a name like that, couldn’t you? But the lack of information on him and his avoidance of the others stood out rather glaringly. His actual role in the firm remained an enigma. And the man could almost never be found at his desk. She began to wonder if her friend might not be right. Oh, well, too much work to catch up on now; with the opening bell about to sound she re-focused and reached for her computer mouse.

By 5PM Mindy was beat. Scrambling through data bases and reaching out to clients straight through lunch seemed to be the way things would continue to go, she thought, for one of the smaller securities firms on ‘the Street’. Well, Crestfall, Mattingly, wasn’t actually on Wall Street, but with an address close by on Hanover, it was almost just as good. Sort of. “In today’s embattled economic climate, it’s been an uphill battle all the way but we’ll maintain our stride and we’ll continue to thrive”. That’s what Mr. Mattingly regularly said to the staff during meetings and it’s what Mindy needed to feel now. Still fairly new to single parenthood, responsible for so much more than before and absolutely refusing to give up her condo (the one she’d struggled to buy long before her failed marriage to Bruce), she now had growing concerns about her financial stability. Mindy had been with Crestfall Mattingly for five years now and had no plans to go after the big houses, not at this point. It was a comfortable office, she made a pretty nice salary and Terrie, who’d become a close friend during the tumultuous divorce, was always on hand. It was a good feeling and offered her a needed semblance of security. Mindy was just hitting 40 but refused to succumb to depression about that. Hell, if she’d managed to make it through a bitter divorce, 40 was small potatoes. She surely had no room to add more onto her plate, so thoughts of Stanton Chambers and any potential problems at the office would have to wait till tomorrow. With that she zipped up her brief case and shut out the lamp on her desk.

Mindy’s subway ride back to TriBeCa to pick up her daughter from daycare took just a few minutes. Having the daycare center so close to Becca’s school was a great relief, and it had come highly recommended, too. When Becca saw her mom she smiled and ran to grab her coat. As the pair walked home Becca told Mindy all about her day. Mindy, for a few minutes at least, felt a wave of calm come over her as she enjoyed a quiet moment with her little girl. Becca’s vivid description of schoolyard happenings, homework assignments and how much Cathy and Tiffany hated Ms. Bronson all took on a new relevance.

“So Mom, what are we going to do about dinner tonight?”, said the child, passive-aggressively reminding her mother that she’d forgone food shopping the night before. “Ooh, Beckster, why don’t we just go to the corner and get some Chinese---or maybe Italian?”, she said, pretending to seek permission from her daughter. And they both broke into laughter as they walked up the street.

THE NEXT MORNING after spilling coffee on her blouse and nearly setting the toaster on fire trying to make a quick breakfast, Mindy once again whisked her daughter off to school and cut through the morning blur of lower Manhattan. As she angled her way through the thicket and throngs she tried to recall what the sidewalk actually looked like. Another day, another marathon race. Work began uneventful enough and she’d even scored some new leads from the old files. It was going to be a good day.

At lunch time, Mindy grabbed Terrie and the two made their way to the falafel place before it became too crowded. “So, have you thought any more about what we were talking about?”, Terrie asked her friend a little anxiously.

“What, about Mr. Right and you the other night?”

“No, Mindy, about Mr. Wrong---Stanton Chambers. I am telling you, something is up. He called in to speak directly to Mattingly this morning, just before you got in. Mattingly cancelled a teleconference with the coast my department had on the agenda since last week— while he and Chambers were barricaded in the back office. His secretary said he could not be disturbed.” The women sat silently then. It was a long lunch.

Back at the office Mindy found her way over to Chambers’ cubicle, the one at the end of the row, near the window. Of course Chambers was not in; after his meeting with the boss he was once again out of the office. At least she could safely look around now. There were no identifying objects on the desk and the cubicle’s walls only had a calendar hanging up---one of those you get free at the bank--with the nice landscape shots. She noticed that January was still open, but today was February 9. Oh well, Chambers must keep his appointments in his hand-held, that’s all. She turned to the next cubicle to inquire about him but it was empty---the desk bare and even the computer and phone missing. Didn’t Frank used to sit there? She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him. How bizarre these personnel shifts are in an office of only 49 people. Sitting quietly at the following desk was Bill Tyler, a pensive older man who’d been with the firm a long time. His specialty was in building hedge funds and as of late he’d also become a leader in the office for futures investments. A strong, serious finance professional.

“Hi, Bill”, said Mindy in her most refined office tone, “how have you been?” After exchanging the appropriate amount of office banter, Mindy ever so gently brought Chambers’ absence into the conversation:

“So, by the way, uh, what’s up with this guy? We never see him around and he seems to command a lot of attention from the boss” she said, pointing to Stanton’s untouched cubicle. The riveted look on Bill’s face in response to this quickly made her realize that she’d trod rather heavily in her directness, as is too often the case. Oh, damnit big friggin’ mouth Mindy, she thought to herself.

“What do you mean…er, Mindy? Stanton was here earlier today— I think. He’s around a lot but he has a varied kind of schedule…yeah, you know”, stammered Bill as he repeatedly glanced over to the back office. Okay, now Mindy realized that something was definitely going on.

After work and splitting a pot of spaghetti with Becca and Terrie, Mindy sat in the living room with her friend. Over drinks they could safely talk about the mystery of Stanton Chambers. “Alright, Terrie, after my foot-in-mouth conversation with Bill Tyler I thought I’d live a little dangerously and ask a few more sources some questions. I spoke with Eddie in the mail-room, you know he knows everything about everyone, and he doesn’t like Chambers either. Eddie is always flirting with me, so when I asked him if we could speak privately it was no problem. I am still trying to shake him off of my leg now, but I was able to find out that right after New Year’s Day Chambers was hurriedly brought into the firm by old man Mattingly himself. Eddie’s been here for 12 years and he said he’d never known that to happen before---no vetting by the board, no formal introductions, nothing. He was also given a confidential phone line and confidential email address, kind of a ‘batphone’ right to the boss, as Eddie said. And even before he began working here Chambers had several large crates delivered to this office from a company out in Boston”, explained Mindy to her wide-eyed co-worker, “and no one ever saw what was inside them”.

“It gets better, Terrie. I also spoke with Rochelle over on the main reception desk. Look, she’s a great source--she sees everyone come and go, receives all of the courier deliveries and dispatches the messages. She used to date my brother Elliot, so I have a good in with her. Okay, so I say to her, ‘Rochelle I gotta ask you about someone’ and she goes right to work. Rochelle told me that Chambers has his own keys to the front door and was given security clearance to come and go anytime. He is not part of the night staff of brokers, but he has been known to come in at all hours. The security guard downstairs confirmed that he has signed the logbook on about five different occasions well after hours. Rochelle also said that the brass have asked her to put calls out to Chambers at various times of the day, when he would normally be here, but he’s ‘out in the field’, whatever that means. She’s reached him many times while he was out of state, of all things, and he’s told her that he’s on a special assignment. Chambers also had packages delivered to the bosses at odd hours. Rochelle said the packaging appears to be discs of some kind”, she said with a hand rummaging through her thick head of curly hair. “Discs, Terrie, like some kind of secret files”, but the last words were delivered in a loud stage whisper, lest the walls---or Becca---overhear this top secret conversation.

As Terrie sat in silent amazement, Mindy, whose hand was now twirling great sections of her hair, continued on:

“Okay, look, so what could all of this mean? I thought about what you said, that he may be a federal plant, but obviously with all of this connection between the bosses and Chambers, he’s obviously not investigating them”.

Terrie’s hand went to her mouth, leaving just enough room to ask, “Christ, do you think he’s investigating all of-----us??”, as a feeling of nausea swept over her.

“Uuhh, I don’t think so. I have been reading these stories in the paper lately—you know about how the CIA just publicly admitted that they are allowing their agents to moonlight in corporations, especially here in the financial district.

“Yes, yes, that sounded like James Bond stuff to me”, Terrie cut in excitedly. “Do you think Chambers could be, er---licensed to kill??”, she said, eyebrow cocked, attempting levity.

Mindy continued: “Hedge funds have been hiring these guys to serve as human lie detectors, watching for problems in big companies that they are considering moving stocks from. These agents are not making a lot of money doing spy work for the government so they take on these part-time jobs, mostly through this intelligence company in Boston---it specializes in gathering information about corporations through CIA operatives. This stuff is like ‘The Spy Who Came in From the Cold’, I swear. The CIA had to cave in to these agents because they were afraid they’d lose their top intelligence people to the Street, where they could make huge sums of money. So lots of them have been finding their way into offices like ours, investigating potential transactions, deciphering the validity of financial reports and offering expert opinions to the CFOs. It blows my mind that in a time when the world is screaming about terrorist threats and the country is involved in two wars, financial firms get the best of this country’s intelligence operatives!”, Mindy said, a little too loudly for Terrie to feel comfortable.

“Jeeee-sus, Mindy”, Terrie affirmed, “I read some of those reports, too. If this guy is a fed then anything can happen. Mattingly may have hired him but you know that we’ve run into problems in the past and if Chambers sees anything inappropriate going on, isn’t he mandated to investigate it? But the bread is being buttered here, so you got to wonder who he pledges allegiance to. He’s still a career CIA agent, working in this sector to pay off a house or two, right? But who’s he ultimately working for?”, Terrie stated, coming to a conclusion that disturbed her in a way that she’d not quite considered before.

“Yes”, Mindy jumped in, raking fingers through her long locks. “If Wall Street is making use of the intensive training guys like Chambers have received with tax-payer dollars, then it seems like our people who received all of the bail-out money are now getting much more of a holiday bonus: the service of the intelligence agencies, too!”

Terrie shook her head. “So what do we think we’ve got here, Mindy? A mysterious new broker who may be CIA working as a spy-for-hire. This is why he is in all of the closed-door meetings, especially when they are having the conferences for the Archer merger and the South Street Properties buy-out; these have been among the highest targeted prospects for over six months now, so it makes sense that the Master of Disguise would be called in to investigate these. There are hundreds of millions at stake here”, she said, quite satisfied at her own skills of deduction.

“Elementary, my dear Ms. Gionoffrio”, Mindy offered as she poured them both another glass of Pino Noir…

THE RADIO ALARM CLOCK CLICKED ON AT A MUCH TOO LOUD VOLUME. That the dial was set somewhere between a Hip-Hop station and some kind of foreign language broadcast did not help Mindy’s headache one bit. Pulling herself out of bed after a very late-night session of talk and drink (what time was it that Terrie left again??), she looked over at the obnoxious thing and tried to read its blurry numbers while reaching for the OFF button. Becca came in smiling, carrying a cup of coffee. Thinking about the whole Chambers affair again as she showered, Mindy bristled with excitement. Well at least this was a motivational tool.

After ambling through the morning, Mindy got Becca off to school and then found her way to the office. After hanging up her coat, glancing at the headlines of the Journal and looking over her agenda for the day, Mindy got a text from Terrie. It was about Chambers; he’d just come into the office. Mindy gave it a moment and then thought she’d put the whole thing to rest by walking over and seeing the enigma up close. Grabbing her mug off the desk, she rapidly walked down the hall, heading towards the coffee room; to do so she needed to pass the corridor which led to Chambers’ unit. As planned she intercepted him, seemingly by accident.

“Oh, hi Stanton. Haven’t seen you around lately. Where have you been?”

“I have been in and out, moving between here and the office in New Jersey. In fact, I am due back over there soon” he said. But she knew damned well he was not working out in Jersey. Her inquiries there had produced no evidence of Chambers working across the river. “Why do you ask?”. He added, rather firmly. His eyes now looked directly into her own for the first time--and they were of steely gaze. The guy didn’t blink.

She fought against the anger building----he was trying to make her feel dismissed. “Oh, no, just curious. I thought maybe you’d left Crestfall---as mysteriously as you came here”, she said with a chuckle, still locking eyes with the man. Chambers offered a tight, closed-mouth smile which signified an end to the banter, nodded and then turned away to take off his coat. As he did his suit jacket came partially open and Mindy was quite certain she saw the butt of a handgun peek out from under his left arm. Chambers quickly turned to look her full in the face again and asked: “Anything else?”

Mindy now gave the closed mouth smile as she shook her head and moved back toward her own sector of the office. She’d by then forgotten all about the coffee. As she walked by Bill Tyler, sitting two desks over, put his head deeper into his cubicle and appeared busy.

That night Terrie was again at Mindy’s apartment and they began to gather their data on this vexing situation. Reports of the CIA and Wall Street were coming in from sources as diverse as politico and the London Guardian, the Huffington Post and numerous financial journals. It was wild, but yes the news clarified that there were agents in their midst. Politico reported that a big thing with the hedge fund managers who employ these agents is “deception detection” in order to figure out who’s lying to them. And that’s just the start of it.

“Wow, I wonder if our own Napoleon Solo has been teaching Crestfall’s board about interrogation techniques, like these articles say”, Mindy wondered. “Or if he’s been using some of this sci-fi sounding technology….hey, did you read this other article that describes the way they use laser beams to listen in on conversations?? Yeah, they have a hand-held laser that can be aimed at an office window it records the vibrations going on in that room. Then the spy takes it back to HQ and they are able to break down the vibrations and piece together speech pattern and build them into whole conversations. No board meeting can ever really be secure, under these circumstances”.

Terrie sat a little motionless and then explained that her biggest concern was the eventual fallout of this on the staffs of financial institutions. “Remember”, she said, “the ‘deception detection’ and other investigations--as well as spy toys--can be used by the agent to report on investors, corporate transactions and of course……us. We’ll always be looking over our shoulders. While they seek out information about the money-movers outside, they can just as easily, no—more easily—watch we on the inside. When the larger houses use these tactics the smaller firms need to follow suit, to keep up with the competition. Christ I never thought I’d be complaining about working in an electronic sweatshop; I became a broker to better myself, but now if we are being watched the heat is really on. Can this be happening?”

“Shit, yes”, Mindy offered, staring down at the coffee table. “The strange vibe in Chambers’ part of the office is not happenstance. All of the strange comings and goings. Bill Tyler’s fear. And whatever did happen to Frank? If this is true….We have to find out exactly who Chambers is, what Chambers is.”

Terrie did not respond but took a long, deep drag on her cigarette. As she exhaled the smoke plumed up and around the two like a sweeping, grey fog. “I have an idea”, she said.

AS THEY’D PLANNED Terrie drove to Mindy’s building the following evening. It was 6:37 as she sat out front and the late-winter sky was dark and cloudy. No stars, no real moon to speak of either, Terrie thought as she looked up at the blackness through her windshield. It seemed perfectly ominous for this, their foray into the spy racket. The pair planned to park nearby the Crestfall Mattingly brownstone on Sutton Place, the uptown conference room, for just such a top-heavy urgent meeting. This was to include ONLY the board’s most prominent members, and a handful of major investors. If Chambers was a part of this when no one else on staff was invited, his prominence would be clear.

“Damn, where in hell is she?” Terrie thought to herself. “We agreed to meet here at 6:30 so we could get over there before they all arrive for their damned meeting. Oh, Mindy—hurry up”. Terrie stared into her wrist-watch as she heard three quick raps on the passenger window. It was Mindy, smirking oddly while pointing downward to her left. Yes, she has Becca with her.

“Mindy---what, I mean, why…??”

“I am so sorry, Ter, really”, Mindy offered. “But the baby-sitter cancelled at the last minute and there was no one else. You know Becca will be quiet and she’s got her little computer game with her, so she’ll be no trouble”

“I’ll be no trouble, Aunt Terrie”, Becca concurred.

Now with Mindy riding shot-gun and Becca firmly strapped into the back seat, Terrie quickly drove around to the FDR Drive and headed north, working the accelerator pedal for all it was worth and not slowing down until they’d gotten to the upper East Side. Traveling through the streets of this ‘old money’ part of town, winding around the townhouses and exclusive luxury high-rises, the two brokers-turned-detectives saw that for all of their own social climbing, they remained just cogs in the wheel of big business. And small cogs at that.

“Okay, here it is”, Terrie announced at 6:54 as she pulled up to the curb just off of 58th Street. “Crestfall’s off-site conference room and the bachelor pad for the private little liaisons the wives of the board members are not supposed to know about”, she added with a bitter grimace, all the while considering how hard both she and Mindy had to work to break through the barrier that still kept finance capital an old boys’ club. The Street’s upper echelon is careful to let just so many outsiders into their midst.

Now secured in a parking space across the street from the company brownstone, just a little off to the side, the pair had ample opportunity to see the comings and goings without being too obvious. Just then the first limo pulled up right in front of the building. Now even Becca looked upward and all three watched Mr. Mattingly and two officers of the board emerge and walk up into the house. This was followed by a town car which dropped off Mr. Nordstrom and Mr. Devereaux, two of the company’s major investors, as well as another man in business attire.

Jack Iselin, a retired Senator who now stands as a leading board member, arrived next and after his limo pulled out, one more took its place, dropping off several more well-attired men who hurriedly made their way into the house before Mindy or Terrie could identify them. So far, so good---all of the people invited to this meeting were certainly Crestfall Mattingly’s movers and shakers. No question that this meeting was of highest-level importance.

Terrie breathed a sigh of relief when she announced that it was now 7:21 and that there was no sign of Chambers, or whatever his name really was. Perhaps they’d been wrong all along.

“No, wait, Ter. I can’t quite shake this feeling. I don’t think all of the guests have arrived”. Mindy insisted.

And then one last limousine pulled up to the front of the house and sat still for what seemed like an eternity. With its interior light on, they could see the figure of someone speaking on a cell phone behind the smoked glass. Mindy and Terrie crouched down into their seats. Finally the limo door opened and a tall, slim man with an overcoat got out, snapping his phone shut as he stood. He stopped and turned, speaking to several others in the car as they climbed out. It was Chambers and two other men who were strangely similar in general appearance. All three were tall, slender, thirtyish, wearing dark coats, suits and ties and sported short haircuts which framed ultra-serious mugs. The still open limo door threw an amber luminance onto them and it fought with the street lamp’s yellowish glow, tossing shadows this way and that.

For guys who were the main attraction at this top priority meeting, they surely demonstrated no urgency. They quietly made small talk as they stood on the curb, calmly adjusting coats, hats and brief cases. One or two more close mumbles in their huddle and then they disappeared up into the front entrance of the house.

“Secret agents? Spies on loan?”, Terrie asked, raising her shoulders in question.

Mindy paused at length and then said: “It seems that Chambers and company have a power here that is new even in this cut-throat business. Now it’s not just the weight of capital that turns the wheels---but the degree of espionage capital can command”. Becca now looked up from her video game, watching the two women carefully.

Mindy turned toward Terrie, looking at her closely, and added with an ironic exaggeration: “Sshhhh. Listen-- hear that? It’s the sound of the wall between big business and government being torn down all around us”.

Her grin faded as the three sat silently in the night air. The playing field was now becoming permanently altered and its fallout would be felt by their children and the children yet to come. And somehow no one thought to predict its approach.

No comments:

Post a Comment