Once the New Polka Kings started gigging, the project became all-consuming for Staashu. It was no surprise to anyone when Sabina finally packed him in. From what I could see, Staashu had been ignoring her for months. If I’m going to be drop-dead honest with you, I don’t think Staash was ever the kind of guy who put a lot of effort into relationships. He seemed surprised Sabina left, but if he was upset about it he didn’t show it.
Sabina and Staashu, they were an unusual couple. Any old fool could see the spark, the magnetism between them, but their relationship was volatile. At their happiest, they were arguing all the time. I never seen anything like it. When The Kings started to take off, though, all Staash wanted to do was rehearse, write, arrange and play. Everything was about the band. I’ll admit I was swept up in it too. I mean we were really starting to cook, and we were fast becoming known as the best party band around. I suppose when the arguments stopped, it was the first sign of trouble.
The break-up hardly phased Staashu, but when Sabina took up with Jerzy Nojinsky, that stopped him in his tracks. Staashu had a hate-on for Jerzy. Me and Staash, we still worked for the Bottle & Can, although you wouldn’t know it with the strike going on so long. Jerzy headed up the local union, see. He was like some kind of workers’ evangelist, by all appearances a real zealot – but appearances can be deceiving.
At the Bottle & Can, everyone swore Jerzy was the real deal. He was super-active in the union, the kind of guy who returned your phone call, and took on your fight, and eventually he was elected president of the local. Employees who found themselves in a heap of trouble had nothing but good things to say about Jerzy Nojinsky. I knew him from the old neighbourhood, though, from back in the day, and I didn’t believe it for a minute. All his life, anything Jerzy touched somehow or other turned to shit.
When the strike started, Jerzy was all over the papers and TV, fighting the good fight, speaking up for the little guy and all that jazz. Both sides dug in their heels though, and by the third week of the strike the story lost its currency. Those workers who still showed up to picket were getting strike pay, but word had it there wasn’t much left in the coffers. We were also hearing rumblings the Bottle & Can were going to pack up Canadian operations completely and retreat to someplace where there weren’t any unions. The whole thing was a mess. By that time though, we were gigging all the time so at least me and Staash, we were putting bread on the table.
Sabina was by Jerzy’s side that morning the cops came for him. They hand-cuffed him in the hallway outside his apartment and led him away to a waiting police car.
Jerzy stood accused of an elaborate scheme. He was creating fake contractors and billing the union local for imaginary jobs, all this over a two year period. The union had a sign-off protocol to prevent any shenanigans. Any expense over $500 had to be signed off by a member of the executive. Once Jerzy got himself elected, he simply signed off the invoices he created. He was draining the union dry.
Jerzy almost didn’t get caught. It turned out an honest math error triggered a tax audit. The auditor smelled something fishy and he was one of those bulldogs who dug and dug and dug. The day after the arrest, the Bottle & Can announced the immediate closure of Canadian operations.
I wanted to go over to Ruby’s Place and get drunk with the guys I used to work with, but instead I was helping the band load up an old school bus with our instruments and amps and clothes and whatnot. Our manager Bananas Foster had booked The New Polka Kings on a whirlwind tour of Northern Ontario. By the time Sabina showed up at the practice space looking for Staashu, we were halfway to Gogama.
The Lazy Allen Stories by Eugene Knapik 