HISTORICAL FICTION By Michael G. Malaghan
“We have the owners on the run and your meddling priest goes to a haole church,” said Tsutsumi, throwing back a jigger of whiskey. The no alcohol rule had gone by the wayside as the strike dragged on. The Honolulu union headquarters had been cleaned up for the visiting union leaders, but tobacco smoke still hugged the ceiling like San Francisco fog.
“Meddling priest?” challenged Oki Tama. “The owners did not offer the new bonus program until the Honolulu churches echoed Adams’ sermon. In a few face-saving months from now, we will have our wages adjusted close to what you called for in your editorials.” He paused and then snorted, “On the run? Sugar production rises weekly.”