Water in the Bilge

There were rumblings of mutiny below decks, and up on the bridge the skipper heard them. Joe Curran, strapping (6 ft. 2) president of the salty, swashbuckling National Maritime Union, wanted to keelhaul a few of the hands who had first boosted him up from the fo'c'sle.

Until he took N.M.U.'s helm nine years ago, tattooed Joe Curran was an ordinary seaman with a more-than-ordinarily militant resentment of slim pay, mealy food and crummy quarters aboard U.S. ships. When disgruntled East Coast sailors cast off from the corrupt and ineffective A. F. of L. International Seamen's Union and went C.I.O., they made big Joe Curran top seadog in their aggressive new union. N.M.U. rank & filers had long had a noticeable list to port: some belonged to dockside cells of the Communist Party. No one lifted an eyebrow when a bunch of Commies marched up the gangplank with big Joe, and took officers' quarters.

Curran held the wheel of the new N.M.U., but the Communists set the course. Far from beefing about it, Joe made noises like a Commie himself. The union prospered, took in 90,000 members. Joe Curran became a national figure who boasted that his union was indifferent to the race, color or political creed of its members.

'Ware Shoals. But all the while N.M.U.'s happy ship was taking water. Last month, at a secret union meeting in New York, Joe Curran hinted darkly that a Communist conspiracy was trying to strike him down.

What made Joe mad was "a refusal on the part of certain officers to carry out directives or recognize the authority of the president." The "certain officers" named by Curran were N.M.U. vice presidents Frederick Myers and Howard McKenzie and the Negro secretary, Ferdinand Smith. All of them were Marxists.

Curran charged that handsome "Blackie" Myers and pals were building a political machine, slandering other N.M.U. officers (including Curran), refusing to report their activities and making individual decisions that did not fit with union policy. He suggested that all three get the hell out of office. N.M.U. members clapped loudly, but took no action beyond urging everybody to save their steam for the shipowners.

Last week Myers, who had shared office with Curran for nine years, announced that he would not run again in next month's N.M.U. elections. Owing to an oversight, said Blackie sleekly, his dues had been paid late and he feared that "this technicality could be used ... to disrupt and harm the union." But Curran, McKenzie and Smith were still on the ticket.

Both big Joe Curran and his disaffected shipmates would probably be reelected. The Communists weren't after the skipper's stripes; they just wanted to wring some of the salt from his socks. Curran would keep the crew if they would show a little more respect for the Old Man. But until the beefs were squared away, N.M.U. would be a loose ship.

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