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She came into Brownsville along the river and the road climbed up past the bridges and then she was downtown. It was easy to find parking. The city had once been promising but now it was mostly abandoned, ten-story office buildings and hotels, all empty, brick and stone stained dark by soot.
“I would like to tell you about the best job I ever worked.” “Why do I suspect that it’s Magisterial District Eight?” “Not even close. It was the Sealtest Dairy making ice cream. Sixty-four to sixty-seven, before I became a cop. This big building, it could have been a mill or something, only you would punch in and change into fresh clothes, then walk under a blue light before you were allowed to touch anything. You were never allowed to get dirty. Big buckets of pistachios and fresh fruit, peaches, cherries, anything you could imagine, mixing it up in the machines. You’ve probably never seen
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he told Lee he’d moved to the Valley to bring socialism to the mills, he’d been a steelworker for ten years, lost his job and become a teacher. Graduated from Cornell and became a steelworker. There were lots of us, he’d told her. Reds working right alongside the good old boys. But there had never been any revolution, not anything close, a hundred and fifty thousand people lost their jobs but they had all gone quietly. It was obvious there were people responsible, there were living breathing men who’d made those decisions to put the entire Valley out of work,
