Love for Sale

Each is more than fifty feet in diameter and lined with concrete. They have this enormous machine that backs up into each tunnel in turn and drills the holes for the dynamite, then the men and trucks go in and haul away the debris. These workers, who labor seven days a week with only Christmas Day and the Fourth of July as days off—without pay for those days—are working in really foul air. The atmosphere is dust and carbon monoxide from the trucks. Sometimes the dust creates so much electricity that there are explosions.”
    He paused to look at Mr. Prinney to see what his reaction was. Had this happened to Mary’s husband? Or wasn’t Mary involved at all? Was Mr. Prinney investigating this on behalf of someone Jack didn’t know about?
    But Mr. Prinney didn’t let on to anything. “Go on.“
    “Okey-dokey,“ Jack said. “Next week the tunnels will go through. The workers will start dumping the rocks they’ve removed into the middle of the Colorado River upstream to force the water into the tunnels. The Six Companies are about a year ahead of schedule. Next they can start pouring the concrete for the dam. It’ll be as tall as a sixty-story building.”
    Mr. Prinney merely nodded. “Aside from the work schedule, how do the men live?”
    Jack riffled through his papers. He knew he had the information, but couldn’t remember where it was. Finally he found it. “Originally, there were about two thousand men camping out on the desert, many with their wives and children in makeshift tents. Nothing grows there and it’s fiercely hot. There’s not even any shade.”
    He went on, “It’s worse in the tunnels. Do you know, it’s sometimes 140 degrees in those tunnels and the men who are working them don’t even have an adequate fresh water supply? Some who had vehicles lived in Las Vegas, which I think is about an hour’s drive. But they’re building poky little houses at the site now, a town called Boulder City, and have put the single men, and those without wives or children, in dormitories.”
    He flipped through his notes again. “They’re currently hiring many more thousands of men to do the concrete. It’s like building blocks. So it can cool before the next layer goes on. Otherwise it wouldn’t cool down for nearly twenty years and would probably crack long before that.
    “I’d rather starve than do a job like that,“ he added.
    “So would I. I had no idea about the conditions. They sound downright criminal. I wonder that someone with some compassion isn’t overseeing it,“ Mr. Prinney said, sounding very angry.
    “There’s a huge amount of money involved,“ Jack said. “It’s costing the country over 160 million dollars, and the sooner Mr. Crowe gets it done, the sooner the Six Companies make that money. As soon as it gets working, the government will recover the money by selling the“—he paused to figure out how to pronounce one word—“hydroelectricity, whatever that is, to generate for millions of people in the Southwest.”

Chapter 15

    After Jack had left, Mr. Prinney called the local operator to set up for a long-distance call. So few people in Voorburg made them, that it took quite a long time for the operator to figure out how to put it through. And this was a difficult situation. He knew the operators often listened in on conversations and warned her that what he had to say was confidential.
    He knew the name of the man whose office he needed to call, but had no idea of the city. There had been mention of Las Vegas as the home of some of the workers. There was also a mention of something called Rag Town, which is where the workers lived in tents. Rag Town wouldn’t be listed, because he presumed nobody in a tent had a phone.
    An hour later, the operator called him back. “I managed to get in touch with the government in Washington. I finally found out that I needed the Department of Commerce. I found a secretary there who gave me the number for Mr. Crowe. Do you still want to be put through?“
    “Yes, and I appreciate your good work. Give me the number now, in case I need to call back, if you would.”
    She did so and said, “I’ll let you know when I can put you through.”
    It was a ten-minute wait.
    Mr. Prinney introduced himself to the woman who answered. “I have an important question.“
    “Mr. Crowe isn’t in his office now,“ the woman said. “I’m his secretary,“ and she gave her name.
    “I don’t have to speak directly to him. You may be