Big Mike & the Mobs

A cold, persistent rain blew in from the Golden Gate one afternoon last week, and fell impartially on three groups of armed men on San Francisco's battle-scarred Embarcadero. Aboard the passenger ship Aleutian, berthed at Pier 39, were 103 trapped crewmen, members of the A.F.L. maritime unions. Huddled against the pier were 20 pickets from the rival National Union of Marine Cooks and Stewards, abetted by 500 fellow members and allied union men from Harry Bridges' Communist-dominated International Longshoremen's Union. The Bridges gang, riled by the refusal of the Aleutian's owners to sign on members of their union (in defiance of local custom), were ready for a major dockside clash. Armed with clubs, pipes, knives and hammers, Bridges' men waited in tense silence, broken only by the eerie chant of their leaders: "Stay loose, men. I say, stay loose. Don't get tight, men."

What made Bridges' unionists tighten up was a crowd of a thousand angry A.F.L. men marching through the mist toward Pier 39. They were armed with two-by-fours, baseball bats wrapped in newspaper and lengths of chain. As they approached the pier, the shout went up: "Let's push those goddam Commies off the wharf! Let's get our men off the ship!"

Between the warring groups, San Francisco Police Chief Michael ("Big Mike") Gaffey and 170 officers formed a thin line. Police Captain John Engler and Lieut. Les Dolan moved forward to meet the marchers. "Calm down, men," said Engler. "We don't want any trouble here." But A.F.L. men, marching 30 abreast, slogged on, pushing the police before them. Half a dozen marchers tried for a breakthrough. The first man rushed head down through the police line, was caught by a cop's uppercut, sent sprawling to the ground. Four policemen pummeled him with fists and clubs and carried him, bleeding and blaspheming, from the scene. The others were dealt with in the same swift, rough, manner.

The mob stopped in its tracks, and the chief of police asked to see their leaders. Harry Johnson and Vince Malone stepped forward. "Tell your men to go home, boys," said Big Mike in a soft brogue. "If you don't, my men will do it for you." The labor leaders protested: "You let those Commies stay on the dock. You won't let our men off the ship, and you tell us to go home. Whose side are you on, anyway?" Said Big Mike: "I don't want to argue with you. Get your men off the street, and I'll get your boys off the ship."

"The Rest of Us Must Go." That did it. Johnson and Malone got into Gaffey's police car, addressed the crowd over the loudspeaker. Johnson spoke first: "Chief Gaffey has promised to get our men off the Aleutian if we go home. Now we all know we can't fight the San Francisco police." As Malone began to speak, the angry men shouted back defiantly, but they started to break up.

Then Chief Gaffey walked back to Pier 39 and confronted Bridges' armed pickets. "Put those clubs down and let me talk to your leader," he said quietly. Bill Chester, a hulking Negro, came forward. "Bill," said Big Mike, "I want those men to put down their sticks and leave this pier. Do you want to tell them, or shall I have my men do it?"

Chester protested. "Those guys are comin' to get us, and we've got to protect ourselves." Replied Big Mike: "Those men are not coming through our line. Tell your boys to go home." After some hesitation, Chester agreed to talk over the loudspeaker. "Well, men," he said, "the chief wants us to go home. We can leave our pickets, but the rest of us must go."

Half an hour later, the police formed a loose line from the entrance of Pier 39 across the street to where a few of the A.F.L. men were waiting. "All right," boomed Mike Gaffey, "get the men off the ship." The beleaguered crew ran through the line to their comrades. Big Mike and his men had averted what might easily have been the worst waterfront brawl since the bloody '30s.

Over Telegraph Hill, in downtown San Francisco, Christmas shoppers and homing office workers honked angrily in the season's worst jam. They cursed Mike Gaffey and they cursed his men--for not keeping the traffic moving.

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