"Mi padre ha muerto." I spoke in Spanish.
My Spanish wasn't very good but it was their language and I continued in it. "But I, his son, am here and hope to continue in his good work.
It is indeed too bad that my father is not here to express his appreciation to all you good workers himself for everything you have done to make this company a success.
I hope it is enough for you to know that just before he passed away, he authorized a five-per-cent increase in wages for every one of you who work in the plant." Jake grabbed my arm frantically. I shook his hand off and continued. "It is my earnest wish that I continue to have the same willing support that you gave to my father.
I trust you will be patient with me for I have much to learn.
Many thanks and may you all go with God."
I started down the steps and Jake came after me.
The workers made a path as I walked through.
They were silent for the most part; occasionally, one would touch me reassuringly as I passed by. Twice I saw tears in someone's eyes.
At least my father didn't go uncried for.
Even if they were tears in the eyes of someone who didn't know him.
I came out of the factory into the daylight and blinked my eyes.
The sun was still in the sky.
I had almost forgotten it was there, it seemed so long ago.
The big Pierce-Arrow was right in front of the door, with Nevada at the wheel.
I started across toward it. Jake's hand on my arm stopped me.
I turned toward him.
His voice was half whining. "What did you have to go and do that for, Jonas? You don't know them bastards like I do.
Give 'em an inch, they'll want your arm.
Your father was always after me to keep the pay scale down."
I stared at him coldly.
Some people didn't learn fast enough.
"Did you hear what I said in there, Jake?"
"I heard what you said, Jonas. That's what I'm talking about. I- "
I cut him off. "I don't think you did, Jake," I said softly. "My first words were
'Mi padre ha muerto.' My father is dead."
"Yes, but- "
"That means exactly what it says, Jake.
He's dead.
But I'm not. I'm here and the only thing you better remember is that I'm exactly like him in just one way. I’ll take no crap from anyone who works for me, and anyone who doesn't like what I do can get the hell out!"
Jake learned fast.
He was at the car door, holding it open for me.
"I didn't mean anything, Jonas. I only- "
There was no use explaining to him that if you pay more, you get more.
Ford had proved that when he gave his workers raises the year before. He more than tripled production.
I got into the car and looked back at the factory.
The black, sticky tar on the roof caught my eye.
I remembered it from the plane.
"Jake," I said. "See that roof?"
He turned toward it and peered at it. His voice was puzzled.
"Yes, sir?"
Suddenly I was very tired. I leaned back against the cushions and closed my eyes.
"Paint it white," I said.
5.
I DOZED AS THE BIG PIERCE ATE UP THE TWENTY MILES between my father's new house and the factory.
Every once in a while, I would open my eyes and catch a glimpse of Nevada watching me in the rear-view mirror, then my eyes would close again as if weighted down by lead.
I hate my father and I hate my mother and if I had had sisters and brothers, I would hate them, too.
No, I didn't hate my father.
Not any more.
He was dead. You don't hate the dead. You only remember them.