Chuck Cannon 1927-2016

img_9430Chuck and I bonded on a walk of the Fort Point Gang along San Francisco’s waterfront. The Gang was remembering dead communists and labor leaders whose names are inscribed on wooden benches at Fort Point, and also observing May Day, the workers’ holiday commemorating the birth of the eight-hour-day. We fell into an easy pace and Chuck told me he was a retired piledriver and carpenter. I learned that Chuck was a long-time member of the Piledrivers Union Local 34. I’m a retired electrician and so we talked about construction work. Chuck was the only black person in the group of old Reds. He, along with many in the Gang, had been a member of the Communist Party USA. Along with most of his comrades, Chuck left the party, but the FBI kept on surveilling him for years.

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Some of the Gang on the commemorative benches at Fort Point

It was my first walk with the Gang. I’d been angling for an invitation to join and was delighted to be invited by a friend I’d known in the labor movement. It had really been started as a walking group, a way to get some exercise, by the seaman Bill Bailey and some of his pals. Since sometime in the 70s, the group had been meeting every Thursday near the St. Francis Yacht Club and walking to Fort Point and back, a distance of about four miles. Afterward we would adjourn for lunch at the Seal Rock Inn near Land’s End.

Chuck Cannon grew up in a small all-black community, Lake Como, in Fort Worth, Texas, and some years ago he started a blog about his hometown. By his account it was a wonderful childhood in a place where everybody knew everybody, although racism loomed large. He told me about hunting rabbits and squirrels and recalled vivid memories of the Texas prairie. He named the blog “ Warm Prairie Wind.”

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Chuck and Yvonne

In 2010, soon after we met, Chuck fell from a ladder while working on his house, breaking his right leg when it got stuck between the rungs. He was 82 then and never fully recovered. Over the years Chuck had remodeled the family’s 1910 Craftsman-style home, upgrading bathrooms, kitchen, bedrooms, building a basement garage and driveway and adding a deck off the kitchen. He was a handy guy with a full shop in the basement. And he didn’t let his poorly healed leg stop him. He rebuilt the deck, rigging it so he didn’t have to get on a ladder to do the work.

But by the time I came along, he and everyone else were too old and slow to make the whole walk with the Gang. By the time he died, at the end of 2016, he had not been walking far but, at 89, he kept walking. His wife of 64 years, Yvonne, a remarkable poet, would always be with him on the walks and I feel so lucky to have become friends with her as well. Yvonne became my writing teacher when I joined her group at a local senior center. Yvonne and Chuck raised three daughters together and found acceptance as a bi-racial couple in their Inner Richmond District neighborhood.

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Lunch at the Seal Rock Inn

The deaths of the members of the Fort Point Gang mark the end of an era. The old commies represent a generation of people who sacrificed much in the service of justice and equality. They inspire me to fight the good fight.

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Song: Sister in the Brotherhood

Along with my musical wife, Holly, I wrote a song. It will be included in an upcoming performance piece about women and work by Director Pat Wynne for our Rockin’ Solidarity Labor Chorus.

Sister in the Brotherhood

When I was a girl my mother said to me

When you’re grown what do you want to be

For choices I had only three

Teacher nurse or secretary

 

Typing and shorthand had paid mom’s rent

So I learned secretarial skills

I didn’t really get what that meant

Till I had to pay my bills

 

They made me wear pumps and pantyhose

To apply as a Kelly Girl clerk

I still only made minimum wage

Filing faster only got me more work

 

Chorus

I wanna be in the Brotherhood

Where I can build something and the pay is good

I’ll have a trade and I’ll have it made

 

I answered an ad for cocktail waitress

But they were hiring topless dancers

When the man who was hiring looked at my chest

He said you’ve got the answers

 

No experience necessary

You did not earn a thing

They said you could make 50 bucks a night

From tips stuffed in your g-string

 

I applied for a job in the construction trades

They said can you type, I said yes

I learned never to give that answer again

Cause you just get stuck behind a desk

Chorus

(Spoken)

I was too fat to be a stewardess

Too angry to be a waitress

Too allergic for hairdressing

Too messy for housecleaning

Hated kids too much to be a teacher

Typed too slow to be a secretary

Wasn’t into helping people

As a therapist or a nurse

Not social enough for social work

What could I do!

 

I finally got into the Brotherhood

Where I can build something and the pay is good

I’ve got a trade and I’ve got it made

 

Now in the morning I hop out of bed

Pull on my Carhartts and boots

Just stick that hard hat on my head

Forget the business suits

 

No more pushing papers around

And not creating a thing

Now I can proudly say I built that

When I look at a building

 

I finally got into the Brotherhood

But when I had to pay my dues

I wrote my check to the Sisterhood

And my check was never refused

 

(Spoken)

The International Sisterhood of Electrical Workers

Has a nice ring to it