Unreinforced masonry? After over 100 years the City Fathers were ‘shocked’ to discover that the old Central Office Building is constructed of ‘unreinforced masonry?’ A fancy word for bricks. Plain old red bricks plastered over sometimes and painted a light tan, like the desert sands. Unsafe now? Lonestar thought of this as he looked around the long abandoned ‘pool room,’ the room that once housed the large Typing Pool. He could see the sky through the large cracks on the high wall near the roof and its long heavy beams of wood. The room long used for storage was empty now. Just some smells left, some unsettling.           

“Birds and small critters get in here” the Dance Master remarked. Because of his experience up North at the State Capital the City asked him to look the building over. Hope is that he could help get State funding to make the structure safe again. He asked Lonestar to come along because of his experience in construction. And better to have company when exploring large abandoned buildings. There were stairs down to passages and rooms one level below ground. Passages led to one room after another. These spaces seemed to be for the maintenance and custodial staff.

Downstairs are shelves and file cabinets, some with files left inside. The largest space had work benches with pieces of pipe and electrical cords. A staff room had a kitchen counter and a space for a refrigerator. All dust and smells. The passage had closets. Some doors were open. A few keys scattered on the floor. One closet door was blocked by a large workbench. Dance Master and Lonestar gave each other a look as they worked to move the bench. The door was locked, They gave each other another more looks as Lonestar tried several of the keys lying on the floor. They opened the door.   

***

Sam’s and my current spell of leisure patrolling the out of the way parts of the County Wilderness Trust sadly came to a close (just for now I hope) when Sheriff called us back to town to appear in his office. No more lions. And I just got Sam trained not to chase the lions. And so again at his office at 900 AM, no waiting. ‘This should keep you busy Frank. What we call here a cold case, you might say a ‘bare bones’ case.” Sheriff was quite tickled with himself when he said “bare bones.” “So go on over and see you pal Ed to start. The other ‘to start’ is this report.” He handed me a folder.

“Would you like a donut Frank? I have a few left.” That’s an Ed sort of greeting. I could see he just about finished his mid morning quart of beer. Next to his desk was an examination table with a full human skeleton laid out, all bones in order. I think. Next to the table on a rack hung an elegant man’s suit. Not a suit you want to wear just now though. Next to it was a small table with a necktie, some jewelry, billfold. In a bag there appeared to be the remains of a shirt, socks, shoes and etc. “Frank, the gentleman is a Mr. Bo Cellar.”

“I know he’s dead. Ed.” “Now Frank, would I repeat an old tired Coroner joke like that?” Ed could not tell me much except that Cellar died apparently of starvation or disease or at the hands of another or by accident. There was not enough tissue to run any tests for diseases. No sign of injury. I thanked Ed. As I left he took the near empty beer bottle over to the snake’s cage and poured a little in the saucer inside. The report the Sheriff gave me had a lot of information.

***

A lot of information on the past that is. First about the building. It is not a typical office building in that it has a large open room, most of the street floor, that for years housed the Typing Pool. There were long rows of desks where women, and an occasional man, worked at typewriters. The Pool took in typing requests from all over the city, both from businesses and government agencies. Work there is described by contemporaries as workers typing as one or more Superintendents, called ‘supers,’ walked back and forth between the rows of desks, notebooks in hand. Messengers constantly came into an adjoining Front Office bringing new or picking up finished typing projects.

 The Front Office had the Director’s Suite, and desks for receptionists, bookkeepers, and cashiers. The Director was our Mr. Cellar. He was until the whole operation shut down about 30 years ago. Advances in technology and changing business procedures and organization made the need for a central typing agency unnecessary. So all at once all employees were ‘set free’ and equipment, desks, typewriters, and all were auctioned. There was no market for the space left so it turned by default into a storage area. As we investigated we learned from former employees and customers that no one remembers seeing Cellar anywhere in town after the shutdown.

The ‘we who investigated’ were, again, Lonestar, Sam, and I. We were able to find former employees, both from among the pool typists and some who worked in the Front Office. People who worked there seemed not to forget much about it. We were of course looking for any information about anyone who might want to harm Mr. Cellar.

***

The women typists all had pretty much the same memories. They said some before them had been there for their entire work life. There were strict codes on dress, ‘business attire’ that covered their arms, high necklines, skirt length that went below the knee while sitting. Supers would pinch the women’s legs to be sure they were wearing hose. The few men wore business suits. When the typists finished a job they remained seated until an office ‘runner’ brought them a new job. If it took more than two minutes to start a new job the typists were docked in pay. As a way for ‘hazing’ new typists or disciplining typists who were thought to have a ‘bad attitude’ or ‘belligerent body language’ Supers would delay runners bringing new jobs. The typists were also docked in pay for each piece of paper discarded because of typing errors.

The few men who joined the Pool typically did not last long there. Most had learned typing while in the military and took a job in the Pool after discharge to support school or while deciding what they wanted to do back in civilian life. Some because they liked typing. The Pool contained some ‘man haters’ and Supers would encourage them in making the men’s time miserable as a way to divert anger from themselves. And so most men left. Some men we questioned had the Pool in their nightmares, more nightmares than of their military service, even combat in the Alta “mission” or in the Coffee War. 

At times a typist was called into Mr. Cellar’s office for ‘counselling.’ (Staff called it the ‘Go see Bo.’) We discovered in our questioning that he was finding out who among the pool was most willing to inform on the others or on the Supers. And so to advance to be a Super. When there was an opening there was much drama by management and much hatred and maneuvering among the few who competed for the position. When Cellar announced a new Super it happened that the one who made the most trips to his office got the promotion. When a Super position was filled there was a period of ‘scores’ being settled. This produces another group of suspects, those purged.

***

 “Why would anyone work in such a place” I wondered aloud. “Some folks, like you and I, have more choices” Lonestar answered. To solve this case we have to find out all we can about Cellar. It did not take us long to understand that he did not really have much of a grasp of what it took to run the operation. He was at the mercy of the official, and unofficial, structure in the Pool and the Office. It was an open joke among the staff that his Secretary and the Supers propped him up. Who would benefit from him being locked in a closet?

 Was there some fraud involved? We have to talk to more people and look at any files we can find. The company, actually called The Typing Pool, was owned by a large investment firm, one that bought small companies around the country. The parent company did not care about anything in the companies they owned except the monthly profit and loss statements and when or if the profits turned into losses in a company they closed it all down. The parent companies used an Executive Placement firm to hire Cellar and likely never met him. We briefly talked to his last Secretary and have to interview her in more detail.

The Secretary was the only surviving secretary Cellar had and had only been in the office a few years before the company closed. We did not spend time with her when we first started because of her short time with Cellar. Now we need to be thorough. Her name is Ester Lump and she recently retired from Valley Land. She never met Lonestar when he was there but she knew about him. That is good. She is large but pleasant and did well at Valley Land. She remembered Teddy Floe fondly. Ester has little formal education but a lot of common sense, the type of person that makes organizations work.

We met her for lunch at a booth at Rusti’s. She said ‘Cellar was the type of person that needed help, you want to help. At first anyway. Then you helped and kept things from falling through the cracks only for the good of your coworkers.’ “What changed” we asked. She turned angry. ‘He started making hints to me, you know what I mean. I didn’t mind so much, part of the territory for secretaries. But then he would complain about the women in the typing area, including the Supers. They were all dogs, pigs, a zoo and the like.’ “Did the women know he said those things?” Lonestar asked. “Oh yes, they all knew.”

Ester had no sense that there was anything fraudulent or corrupt going on in the company. The bookkeepers were all ‘church lady’ types (also subjected to Cellar’s comments). “Did Cellar drink on the job, take drugs?” We asked. ‘If he did it was not obvious’ she replied. “Did he spend all his time in his office?” Lonestar asked. ‘He spent most of his time there. He liked sitting at his desk posing under his diplomas and other framed parchments on the wall behind him.’  She thought for a moment and added ‘once in a while he would go down stairs and talk with the maintenance staff. We think they told jokes, We could hear loud laughter.’  

Just as we were starting to thank Ester she said ‘There was something that happened when I first started. I think it is important, but maybe it isn’t. Some of the typists formed a committee and said they wanted to meet with Mr. Cellar. He agreed, looking at me, rolling his eyes. Four of the typists came to the office. One had a Report, nicely typed of course. They said that had been talking to typists and secretaries they knew in other companies in the city. They learned that the other companies were depending less and less on typing.’

‘More they were using the new machines that had been invented to duplicate documents. At least the larger companies were. The smaller companies could not afford the copying machines and wished there was a place where they could take documents to have them copied. The committee of typists made a count of the smaller companies. The said that if our company added ten copy machines, and advertised the service, that we could have this new business. And we would not have to worry about having to hire a skilled typist every time a vacancy occurred.’

‘The typists had prepared a detailed Report of their finding and handed it to Mr. Cellar. He just stood there with an amused look on his face. The woman who tried to hand him the Report stood there holding it out in front of her. After a long pause he slowly took it. And then asked “is there anything else?” And that was all he said. The women looked at each other, then turned around and walked out the door. This was one of the worst experiences of my life. I started looking for another job. Mr. Cellar said something to the effect of “I just let those dogs waste my time.” He threw the report they gave him into the trash.’

‘I picked the Report up out of the trash in front of him. I said it would be in the file cabinet downstairs. He looked at me with a smirk saying “Suit yourself.”’ We thanked Ester. Lonestar walked her out to her car. We could find no maintenance staff still alive. What next? Ester was not there when the company closed. She said she soon after took the job with Valley Land. That was a few weeks before the end. What happened that last day?

We have to talk to staff who was there during the time. After thirty years the only former members of the typing pool still alive had been then when they were very young and not for many years. They could tell us of the work rules and the like but not too much about the long term culture there. We had talked to them before about the company generally and now wanted to know about the last days. There was nothing to add except for the chaos. The private Company Police came in force and gave everyone five minutes to gather their personal property and leave the building.   

There was no warning. The Company Police began by setting off noise bombs just outside the building. Windows rattled and the room shook. Police screamed in bull horns and entered the main room shoving anyone who hesitated. They carried clubs and cattle prods and riot shields. There was terror and crying and some injury as the staff cleared the building. Some of the older women had to be carried by the younger with help by some of the men. No one we talked to could tell us anything about Mr. Cellar. Not then. A few days later one of the women contacted Lonestar and said she wanted to talk to us alone. 

He name is Nancy. She had formed a friendship with one of the older employees, long since dead. They had remained friends after the company closed. After some years she told Nancy about her experiences during the last day. She had not been in the main room when the Company Police arrived. She was in the hallway that led to the Front Office and that had the stairway to the lower level. As Nancy remembered she said ‘when the commotion started Cellar came running out of his office. His face was flushed red. He was screaming about “the report. And wait, wait. I demand to show you the report.” Two Company Police came after him yelling “where do you think you are going?”’

‘Cellar ran downstairs and the two Company Police went down after him.’ Nancy said she told her she ‘stayed where she was at the dark end of the hall, and crouched down in the corner behind a chair and waited for the noise to stop and the smoke to clear. She could hear some commotion and yelling from downstairs but could not understand what was being said, except she thought she heard the words “report” and “I demand” again. More noises but from all directions. As she waited the noises from everywhere started to subside. After more waiting the two Company Police came back up from downstairs. There were looking back and forth and seemed agitated. They did not notice me.’ 

‘All I could think of is waiting until I could get out of the building. The two Company men were talking excitedly. The only thing I heard was “not a word” and I think “split up.” When the hall was empty I got up and quickly and quietly walked through the smoke down into the Front Office, which was empty, and out to the street. Company Police were standing around as I walked through. No one noticed me thank heavens’ We ask Nancy if her friend ever said anything more about Cellar. Did she wonder what happened to him after he went down stairs?

Nancy said ‘no. I think she was too shocked at the time to think about anything besides getting out unharmed. If she thought about him in the years after she did not say anything to me. She might have thought he got out just like she did.’    

***

Sheriff listened to us as we told all we learned. He agreed that we could only conclude what happened, not definitively prove it. He accepted our final report and conceded that any reasonable reader would agree that we did all we could to solve the case.

***

Several days after we met with Sheriff. Sam and I, and Lonestar, and Dance Master met in a booth at Rusti’s. Rusti joined us. I had beer, Sam has his saucer of same, Lonestar coffee, and Dance Master Valley Red. We chatted about the case including philosophical asides about the ambiguities in human life. How ‘loose ends’ don’t tie up like they do in the detective stories. Dance Master found the Report the Secretaries wrote in the file cabinet downstairs in the Central Office Building. He showed it to us. It is excellent in detail and numerical data and includes a long list of companies in town that might be customers.

Dance Master did some research and learned that several years after the Typist Pool closed, several of the former employees formed a company in a nearby office building. They offered copying machines, and a few typist stations, and had a going concern for about five years until they were bought out by a larger company.

And Rusti asked ‘what did we think of it all?’

END