CHANGING THE FACE OF A CITY
ONCE, though, Joe Jackson was forced to remember his earlier life vividly and with an emotion as close to bitterness as one of his easy-going temperament could feel. This was an afternoon in the early fall of 1938 when he happened to run into Bill Connors. Bill had been Joe's helper back in the days when they had been laying wires for a big office building downtown.
Bill said that he was on WPA, too, and when Joe asked him what he was doing Bill said, "Working as an electrician out at the North Beach Airport."
"Did you fellows out there get a cut in salary last month?" Joe asked him.
"Cut!" Bill seemed puzzled. "Naw, we didn't get no cut, did you?"
"Well, as a matter of fact," Joe said, "I didn't get one myself. None of us counselors did. But the teachers on our project got cut. Now they're getting $91.11 a fiscal period or whatever you call it, the same as me. And the girls working in the office, the clerks and typists, they got sure enough cuts. The