The locomotive hissed and groaned as it inched its way forward. A small band of angry workers held its ground against the rumbling giant. A few of the workers shouted themselves hoarse, trying to get the engineer and the railway police to back off. Others hurled rocks at the train,which was attempting to push its way along the railway siding that led to the Nafziger Textiles plant. In the middle of the barricade stood a bewildered Eddie Daoust, a cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger. He hadn't smoked in three years but couldn't resist a quick drag since he had a fierce headache from the diesel fumes and noise.
So begins my short story, King Eddie, a tale that is included in my first volume of short stories, Sunshine at Night. The book was released in 2017 and updated just this fall to include another story (the original book had nine stories and I couldn't live with that).
The image I have included above is from a 1991 photo that was reprinted in my 2008 feature story in the Waterloo Region Record, the newspaper I worked with until 2009. The workers in the photo are striking employees of the Budd Canada plant, which was later known as Kitchener Frame. And yes, it is the same Budd company that also became famous for its rail car division.
The Kitchener plant once employed as many as 3,300 workers by some estimates, as it was a key cog in the North American automotive parts network. The plant was opened as a direct result of the 1965 U.S.-Canada auto pact, which brought untold jobs to Canada.
The plant had a colourful history, with years of unprecedented growth and profits, as well as years marked by wildcat strikes and layoffs. The plant closed for good in 2008.
When its owner, Martinrea International, closed the sprawling operation in late 2008, the head of the union local said something to me that was succinct and quite powerful.
"This time, we won't get back up."
Indeed, it was an awful time in the region, as the automotive parts industry was decimated by the global recession and the freefall of the Detroit Three automakers. Kitchener Frame, in the end, made chassis for GM's line of SUVs, which was well on its way to oblivion.
That photo, to me, is a powerful image that fit the theme of the book Sunshine at Night. These were normal people doing something extraordinary, because they were fighting for what they believed. You don't have to agree with their point of view to admire their courage. The book is very much based on the premise that even the most ordinary life is extraordinary.
But it was the man in the middle, whom I later tracked down, that first inspired the character of Eddie Daoust, along with the man who was the union local president at Kitchener Frame. The man in the photo, John Coleman, had a look of determination in his eyes that made me think there was more to that image that needed to be told. You can even see his cigarette pinched between his fingers in the photo. It was a detail too good not to use in my story.
Truthfully, though, the story was mainly inspired by the head of the plant's union local, who told me, "This time, we won't get back up." He was a tough man, but fair. He often made things difficult for me as a reporter, but he earned my respect nonetheless. He didn't suffer fools gladly and was not afraid to be blunt when he thought the situation called for it.
On the day I was laid off in 2009, I remember talking to him and he grudgingly said I was an okay reporter and did a decent job. It was high praise from him. I never forgot that brief exchange.
I'm not mentioning his name, because he went on to other prominent community positions after his time in the CAW (Unifor now) and I honestly don't know what he'd think of my character, Eddie, and his resemblance to him.
But for our purposes, it was the railway image that sparked the initial seeds of the story, because it motivated me to wonder what it would feel like to be in a position where you had the fate of that many people in your hands with everything on the line. The drama was something that felt real and touching, to me.
Here's the other image that also inspired much of the story.
This photo, above, is from the same story I wrote in 2008, when the old Budd plant closed for good. That story, which was a long feature that ran on the front page, is one of the articles I am most proud of from my time as a reporter.But it was this image of a train being held up on the tracks that also inspired my story King Eddie. I know from my dad's time as a unionized worker at a power plant that these types of stand-offs do happen, but this one just seemed too rich to not mine for a good story. That is why this image ended up inspiring the first scene in my story of workers holding off the charge of a train. I can't imagine what that scene was like in real life, but I enjoyed imagining it in my story.
In my time at the Record, I became more and more involved in labour reporting, which I found fascinating, given the high stakes at play in 2008 and 2009 when the manufacturing sector in the region was being pummelled by the recession. I remember once doing an interview with CBC Radio about one of these situations. It was a fascinating time to watch the human drama unfold and try to do it some justice through the written word. I miss that.
The other union stand-off that inspired my story happened at another plant in Kitchener, Ledco, which was owned by the same family that controlled Canadian Bank Note. Ledco was a small company by the time it came to my attention. The company, which once made components for the famed Canadian supersonic fighter jet, the Avro Arrow, was on life support when we received word that the company was essentially out of money.
Long story short, the owners had pressured the company's unionized workforce to take a 25-per-cent wage deduction and 20-per-cent benefits cut in exchange for keeping their jobs. Many of the unionized workers were already laid off, so it was already a tense situation.
What happened next made national news. The workers showed up to work and were locked out. A notice on the plant's doors said they were all terminated and that the business was closed. That began a tense stand-off where workers barricaded the plant and prevented the company's remaining products to be shipped. Ledco, like Kitchener Frame, was a parts supplier to the automotive industry.
Making matters more complicated, a few workers insisted to me that they had taken a vote of their peers and were prepared to accept the company's terms. That vote was not sanctioned by the union, which essentially meant the workforce was divided.
Then, some workers decided to break into the plant and occupy it. That lasted a few days until a court order declared the occupation illegal and cooler heads prevailed.
One last footnote to the genesis of this story. There was one other plant that closed in my time in the region, which made felt products. I was shocked that such a business event existed in Canada in 2008-09, but it did. There were elements of that company's demise that made it into my story.
The whole point of this is to explain how much a muse the railways are to me in my writing. There is something about the railways and their impact on our country that makes them such a rich image and powerful inspiration to our art.
It's not just me. How much art in Canada in inspired in some way by our railways?
He rolled down the window. He could hear the faint cries of the morning Via Rail train as it approached Louiston. He knew it would whiz through town just like it had done for years.
The story, King Eddie, was the beginning of a prolonged period of inspiration that resulted in the book Sunshine at Night. And it was those two powerful railway photos that kickstarted the story, which ended up being one of the centrepieces of a book.
If you ever wonder why I write about railways the way I do, maybe this will give you some insight into how my mind works. To me, there is an emotional response when I hear a train or see a train. There is something about them that resonates deeply within me. They have always inspired me and they will. continue to do so.





