The Hog Farm

8/12/2019 The Hog Farm

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THE HOG FARM

I ran a dirty and dangerous business in a dirty and dangerous part of New York City:

Red Hook, Brooklyn.

In 1990, Lifemagazine named Red Hook one of the worst neighborhoods in the UnitedStates, citing, in part, the neighborhoods claim tofame as the crack cocaine Capital ofAmerica.

I worked there for eleven years operating Hogs: mammoth, garbage-truck sizedchopping machines. The Hogs had massive throats and we fed them with lumps, blob,drools and moonrocks, which are suitcase-sized-and-larger chunks of hard, meltedplastic. Blobs are hacked into one-quarter-inch chips to form grind that can be used to

make other plastic parts. Thats what we sold: grind.

The Hogs were vicious machines, so we sunk them into the concrete floor where theycould do the least damage when they went wild. Some of the lumps had stringers onthem, long ribbons of flexible plastic attached to the moon-rocks like trailing comet tails,that could wrap around a mans leg and yank him into the Hogs throat, grinding himinto chopped meat in seconds flat. It happens in our industry its not just folklore. Asa matter of fact, Hog # 1, in our own factory, was bought used at auction at atremendously reduced rate because it had become a killer whale in its former ownersbankrupt business. A more routine, but potentially equally dangerous, part of feedingthe Hog was if a wrench or large metal bolt was melted into one of the lumps andtossed undetected into the throat by an operator. This was not uncommon, and whenmetal scraps hit the razor-sharp blades of the Hogs spinning chopper they wouldexplode like a hand grenade and the machine would cough up the rejected foreignmaterial, projectile vomit hot shrapnel that ricocheted off the sturdy old foundrys brickwalls at bullet speeds. The operator, of course, was in the greatest danger, but no one inthe factory was safe from these sudden blasts. Men got hit and hurt.

Hog operators usually did not last long on the job. Most became terrified of the beastand quit. Often they never returned from lunch to even collect their pay. I guess theyfelt lucky to be out of there and in one piece. Some got injured and others just couldnt

stand the noise and tedium or the physical strain of lifting the heavy, unwieldy lumpsall day, or all night, long. It was back-breaking labor. Others got fired for being drunkor using drugs to make it through. Some were just too sluggish to keep up with thevoracious appetites of the Hogs.

My office was an unpainted plywood shed that we built in one day, running anextension cord in for a light bulb, electric heater, and fan. I cut a square for a view port


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and screwed a clouded and scratched piece of clear Plexiglas we had scrounged to actas a window of sorts. Glass was not an option, as it was not shrapnel proof. The old RedHook factory itself used to be a cast iron radiator manufacturing plant and foundry,built in the late 1800s. It had a saw tooth roof, allowing daylight to filter through thesooty air inside the Hog Farm. There was no heat when it got cold and damp. It was

Draconian.

One day I was sitting in my box when I was able to distinguish a knock on the plywoodwall above the rumble of the Hogs blades and the drone oftheir three enormous andpotent 150 horsepower GE eclectic motors. We had three monsters running when allthings were working.

Come in.

A hard-looking Hispanic man in his mid-twenties poked his head around the door.

Are you the boss?he asked.

Yeah, you could say that.

Im looking for work. Any openings?

Werenot hiring but leave your name and number on that pad over there. You neverknow in this place.

He looked dejected. All right, he said.

Wait! Can you work nights?

He skidded to a halt.

Sure Mister, anything.

What about tonight?Some guy called in sick before. I just remembered.

Anytime, any day. I need the work.

Whats your name?

Jos.

Jos, see you tonight at 6 sharp.You look strong.

I am.


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Good.

I waited around to see if Jos would show. He was actually 15 minutes early. That wasunusual and a good sign. I took him over to Hog #2 and introduced him to the day-shiftguy. I went over the safety rules and showed him where the kill switchwas. In case theHog grabbed him, he could hit the bulging red eye-like knob, hopefully, in time to shutthe beast down before the unthinkable happened. I gave him a hard hat, safety glasses,steel-toe boots, heavy gloves, and ear plugs, made sure he had no loose clothing on, andtold him to remove any chains or jewelry. I instructed the day guy to get him startedand stay with him for two hours to make sure he could handle it.

The next morning, I grabbed a coffee off the roach-coach and walked under the loadingdoors. I could immediately sense by the sounds and smell of the factory if all threeHogs were running or not. It sounded good so maybe I could finish my coffee in mybox for a change. Before I swung the makeshift door open that I had rigged up with a

spring closer I looked over to my shoulder to see if the new guy Jos had lasted throughthe night. There he was, stripped down to his sleeveless A-shirt; muscles bulging underdirty, grimy, sweaty skin, and working like a mechanical bull. I raised a brow as theplank slammed shut behind me.

Maybe we got one who will stick around for a while, I hoped.

As it turned out, Jos stuck around for several months. He was the best operatorever. Hog #2 had finally met its match in this sinewy and quiet young man. It wasmetal machine against flesh and bone machine; night after night they called it a draw.

I gave Jos a raise, told him he was doing a fine job, put him on the day shift and movedhim up to Hog #1, the most powerful and hazardous lump-eating monster in the place.

He thanked me and seemed pleased.

Jos, do you have any friends who will work like you?

Friends?Yeah, Ive got lots of friends.

Well if they need work and they are like you, send them over.Okay?

Sure thing boss. And with that he disappeared for the night, walking across the oldweed-covered railroad siding and then up the alley and down the street lined with oldblackened brick factories to wherever he went when he left the job.

The next day Jos was standing in front of my box with a guy whose muscles werebulging tight and easily twice the size of Joses. They were dressed in the same baggyjeans, work boots and skintight white A-shirts; some sort of uniform. His head was


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shaved and his skin had a healthy deep chestnut brown sheen. He had some deep,raised scars on his arms.

Good Morning,Jos. Whos this?

This is Willie, myfriend. You said to bring in friends who wanted to work.

That I did. Okay, Willie. Nice to meet you.Youre hired.Jos will set you up withsafety gear and show you the ropes.

Yes Sir.

Josstart him on the baby, Hog #3. All right?

Sure thing boss.

Thank you Sir. I appreciate the opportunity, Willie said with a wide smile and anoutstretched hand. We shook. His grip was like a bear claw and he ominously held meseconds longer than a normal shake between men. I tilted forward a bit to absorb hisstrength.

This guy is super strong, I thought.

No problem, just listen toJos, hes sort of like the boss out there. Be careful and watchout for metal and stringers. Jos will explain.

Jos and his friends were remarkably polite compared to most of the workers that comeand go. I was curious about them, but had learned not to ask personal questions aboutthe outside lives of the men who were willing to work in a Hog Farm environment. Ifelt fortunate just to have a full shift of sober, reliable and incredibly tough men to workall the machines for the first time ever.

For the next two weeks a pattern developed. As I arrived each morning, Jos wasalready there, waiting for me with a new friend, another quiet man, polite, strong andeager to work. I hired them all without question.

Without any official ceremony Jos became sort of like the plant manager. I was able toget business done in the plywood office while Jos was out on the factory floor with theHogs, filling in, training guys, breaking up fights, and other dirty jobs. Things in Hog-Landhad never been better. I stayed on the phone buying lumps to feed the Hogs,and Jos took care of the farm. It was a beautiful thing: the hum and howl of all threeHogs running non-stop 24/7 under Joses watchful eye, alongside the Atlas power ofhis discreet, hard-working but mysterious buddies, was beginning to sound more and


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more like the cha-ching of a cash register instead of the big pulsing headache that itused to be for me.

God bless Jos and his friends. Thats all I could say. This is the way to run a business!

I used the newly created time in my work day to bring in some authentic carpentersand build a proper little office for me, and a desk for Jos to sit at so that he could fillme in on production matters from time to time.

Jos was characteristically quiet at his office work, but one day as I passed his desk heput his pen down from filling out time-sheets. He spoke up apprehensively and caughtme off guard.

Hey boss can I talk to you?

SureJos, anytime. Whats on your mind?

Boss youve been a good guy to me and all my friends and we all like working hereand these jobs are helping us all out a lot.

Yes Jose, Im very happy too and Ive been meaning to thank you .

Boss I gotta tell you. I mean I need to let you know. I mean its bothering me.

Say it, Man! Whats eating you?

Okay boss, well you know Willie out there, the first guy I brought in?

Of course I do. Yeah, Willie is great. Whats up with him?Is he quitting orsomething?

Shit man, I dont know how to say thisbut he isnt who you think he is. None of usare. Thats what Im trying to say but I cant.Damn!

Jos,try to calm down. Who am I supposed to thinkyou all are? Lets start with that.

UsuallyJoss eyes are fixed submissively downward when we speak,but for the firsttime they rose and met mine straight on. I saw the eyes of a fighter.

Willie killed two guys in a bad drug deal.He shot em both in the face. Hes aconvicted murderer, Man! There, now you know.

What?! I asked incredulously.


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Yeahhe killed two drug dealers a long time ago. He was a drug dealer too, in Harlem.Hes been in prison for 20 years.Look at him Boss. Whered you think he got themmuscles?

I figured the best thing at that moment was to just let Jos continue. It was obvious that

the dam had broken and the flood would not stop with my words. Also I was not sure ifI was being threatened. I needed to play it smart until I made sense of this surpriserevelation. My head was into dangerous machines, not people. This was a gamechanger.

And Damon the white hillbilly dude you put on forklift when you saw his NASCARtattoo, he killed a guy during an armed robbery in Atlantic City with a shotgun. Hes akiller, too.

Jos went down the line. All of his so called friends were killers who had served long

hard time in maximum-security prisons.

Oddly, of all things, I wished I had a hot cup of coffee to hold and sip, something towrap my hands around and hold near my face. I didnt trust my own face. Where is theroach-coach when you need one? Maybe the catering trucks horn would blow.

Were all out on parole and stay in a halfway house in Bed-Sty.

So this is where you know all yourfriends from? I get it now.

Yeah, myfriends, thats right. You asked me, boss, and we all need jobs as conditions

of our parole requirements so this place means a lot to us, but I shoulda told yousooner. Im really sorry,Man.

And you,Jos?

Yeah, me too.

You dont have to tell me.

No boss, I got to.

Okay, Im listening.

I grown up in East New York and I was in a gang and did some bad shit, you see, andanother gang was looking for me so I was hiding out in an abandoned building. Thesedudes kept coming to my Moms place looking for me, andbecause of all the threatsthey were making to my Mom, who had a bad heart, she took a heart attack and diedbecause of them thugs threatening her and stuff, you know.


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Im sorry to hear .

Yeah.So I came out of hiding and found the punk leader of that gang and I stabbedhim in the heart. I killed that boy. I was 18, he was 19. I served 12 years for that, Boss.

I could see tears begin to well up. Tears of a heavy burden lifted by confession.

Killers surround me.

Jos, you didnt have to tell me this, you know that? Do the other guys know that youare doing this?

Boss, we talked it over last night at the halfway house and we decided it was for thebest. We was afraid you might find out on your own anyway and this way is better, andwe just wanted to be straight with you cause you been straight with us and stuff.

Joswe can just forget ...

Boss if you want to fire us all you dont have to worry, nobody here is gonna hurt youor nuthin. I promise you. We would never, ever do nuthin .

As far as Im concernedJos, what you told me changes nothing. Everybody just keepscoming to work and we dont ever need to talk about this again.Okay? Is thatunderstood?

No shit boss?

No shitJos!

Over the course of the next year, all the men made parole one by one, leaving this dirtyand dangerous job and part of the city for other places. And after Jos went back to EastNew York, there were no more friends to replace his friends to satiate the incessantappetite of the ravenous Hogs.

I tried replenishing the convicted killers jobs with the same-old run-of-the-mill andunreliable workers I had become so accustomed to scraping off the bottom of the citys

desperate-for-any-job populace. Same as all the years past, they worked for a few daysand then started calling in sick or showing up drunk. They didnt pay attention to metalcontamination in the lumps the way Jos and his friends did, and I found myselfregularly diving for cover from shrapnel. Once again I was on the front line every singleday, and many nights too. I was suddenly tired of the dirt and the danger, both insidethe factory and outside, on the streets of Red Hook.


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I was never again able to get Hogs #1, #2, and #3 running as efficiently and safely asthey did under the careful attention of Jos and his killers. I made a dream team, andnow they were gone. I lost the heart to build a new crew from scratch, and in fact cameto the realization that those men were irreplaceable. Their desire for freedom combinedwith prison discipline had created a rare breed of worker that was tailor-made for my

vision of the perfect Hog Farm plastic recycling company. The big Hogs were uselesswithout the right men to control them, so I sold the Hog Farm a few months later,quickly and to the highest bidder at auction. I was glad to be rid of it.

They might have been killers, but they were my killers, and without them the Hog Farmwould have killed me before too long.

The Hog Farm

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