THE PRICE OF NOT KISSING UP

Rosalio "Chalio" Rivera was not a subservient Mexican.  His pride prevented him from sucking up, even to Mr. Whitman, who owned Whitman's Army Store on E. 11th Street, near Market Square.

So, it wasn't big surprise when Chalio got fired from Whitman's about the same time I got fired from the VICC.(a story to come)

Chalio was dating my sister Sandy, as well as other girls including his eventual wife.

It was both annoying and hilarious to ride along with him in his small Japanese truck.  His driving was herky-jerky and he rolled down his window to whistle at EVERY pretty girl he saw on one side of the street, then looked directly away to the other side of the street as if he was actually whistling at someone else.  Chalio did that twenty times a day, cracking himself up every time!

I got a phone call from Chalio asking if I'd found work.

"Not yet!" I answered.

"Well, they need guys to help unload a boat tomorrow at the Port of Brownsville.  They pay $10 per boat.  Are you interested?"

"Sure!"

"Ok, I'll pick you up at 6:00 AM." he told me.

When Chalio arrived the next morning, the cab of the truck was full.  I jumped in the bed of the truck.  Chalio handed me a tortilla with beans.

About ten of us showed up for the job, all Mexican-Americans except for me and two very tall Nigerians.  The ship, named the "Red Diamond," had its belly full of 60 lb boxes of shrimp on ice.  

One person was sent down into the hole of the ship with a crowbar.  His job was to pry a box out of the ice and throw it up through the hole.  

The two Nigerians were placed on deck above the hole to catch the boxes and put them on the conveyor, giving them a push up into the trailer.

Other workers took the boxes at the end of the conveyor stacking them in the trailer all the way to the ceiling. 

I started on the trailer, then made the mistake of asking if I could try it down below.  Someone handed me a crowbar and I jumped into the hole.

The 60 lb boxes were hard frozen.  It took real effort to free them from the ice.  And, some of that ice stayed attached to the box, making them even heavier.

I lasted about an hour and asked if I could go back into the trailer.  Request granted.

Back on deck, I noticed the Nigerians were gone.  I asked Chalio:  "Where'd those guys go?"

"Oh, they went to eat breakfast."

A couple hours later I asked when the big black men were coming back.

"They're eating soup with a fork," I was told.

At the end of the day, we lined up for our pay.  The Nigerians were in line to get theirs, despite only working an hour.

We were handed new crisp bills, a five and two ones.

"I thought we were getting $10?" I asked Chalio.

"Well, the Red Diamond is a smaller ship.  They pay seven," he explained.

I was dropped off at my apartment.  Totally exhausted, I literally fell into bed.

After what seemed like a few minutes, the phone rang.  It was Nena.

"Jim, the Steiners want to take us out for pizza, their treat.  I told them "yes,"  I hope that's ok."

"Oh, damn!"   

I sure didn't feel like it.  Gideon Steiner had a job repairing and installing marine radios.  I did not particularly enjoy the know-it-all's company.  His wife was nice, but on the mousy side.

Today's Version of Gio's Villa

We met at Gio's Villa, Gideon's favorite place, certainly not mine.

We listened to Steiner talk about his job for an hour and then he surprised us, saying he had to split.

Nena and I looked quizzically.  We finished our portion of pizza and walked toward the door only to be met by the cashier.

"Here's your check," she said.

"Gideon didn't pay?" I asked.

"No sir."

I looked at the bill.  Seven dollars and change.  I found the new five and the two ones I'd earned that day.  Nena found the change in her purse.

Within that same week, I found gainful employment at Glen's Supermarket on Boca Chica Blvd. and the north end of Palm Blvd.  

Glen Herman was a staid, conservative, active with the Chamber of Commerce and always wore a bowtie. 

Mr. Herman's frenetic son Elwyn acted as assistant manager, building displays, cashing payroll checks when Mr. Herman wasn't there, almost always singing or humming the song Ricochet Romance:

"I don't want a ricochet romance, I don't want a ricochet love

If you're careless with your kisses, find another turtle dove"

Glen's Supermarket Ad in
Brownsville Herald

Elwyn and his dad frequently clashed, sometimes exchanging angry words in the store.  They were actually polar opposites.

One evening, as Mr. Herman was leaving the store, a shrimper approached him about cashing his large payroll check.  Mr. Herman shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have that much money in our safe," said the elder Herman.

As Elwyn walked in, the shrimper tried again.

"Sure," I heard Elwyn say as he walked upstairs to the safe.  

Walking by my checkout counter, Elwyn whispered:  "He'll spend a lot of that money in our store."

Days later, Mr. Herman approached me:  "Jim, we need to hire another cashier.  Do you have any friends that are looking for a job?"

I thought of Chalio and recommended him to Herman.

The customers seemed to love Chalio, especially the ladies.  He was a cut-up with the gift of flattery.

Mr. Herman was not as impressed.  One day, Mr. Herman approached me with something on his mind.

"Jim, I've always appreciated your work here.  I hope this doesn't come between us, but I no longer have hours available for your friend.  I'm going to have to let him go."

I understood.  There were two other Hispanics who worked at the store, Tony, the meat cutter and Santos, who stocked groceries, but both were from Matamoros and deferential with Santos even doing carpentry work and repairs at Mr. Herman's house after hours.

While Chalio did his job and was well-liked by the customers, he was not a "kiss up."

Over time, Chalio and I lost touch.  I heard he joined the Navy.  I''ve often wondered how that worked out.