son used a crow bar to pry the wood apart and a hammer to remove nails. Usually, their stealth was successful, but sometimes a cop would step out from behind a boxcar and tell them to dump the wood and get lost. If my grandfather had just begun work, he would leave the wood and go. If his dolly was stacked high, he would leave but refuse to give up the timber.

The dicks could be nasty. On one occasion, when Tony peaceably refused to give up his wood, the dick began slapping his club on his palm.

“Oh, no mister, this wood no good,” Tony said. Out of the corner of his mouth, he said to my father, “Stai da dietro, stai da dietro, stay behind me.”

The cop cursed.A plume of steam from his warm breath momentarily obscured his reddish face. He took a menacing step towards Tony.

Smiling, my grandfather pleaded, “Sir, please, I go home now. I leave with wood.” To my father, he whispered, “Stai a dietro!” With his hand, Tony slowly began unwinding a cord that kept the wood in place. The cord had been tightened with a crow bar that was wound round like a propeller.

The dick pounded his club across his hand and told Tony he had ten seconds to disappear.

Finally, my grandfather had undone the cord. He produced the crow bar, and for the first time, looked the dick in the eye, with his own fierce eyes.

“Bastard dago!” said the dick. He threatened to do my grandfather harm if he