The Brass Gavel
Chicago, 1947. The rain hadn't stopped for eleven days. Tommy Briggs sat in his office above a beef-packing plant on the Near West Side, watching the water pool in the alley and thinking about whether the gong was real or whether he had finally cracked. Three days ago, a man named O'Malley had come to his door with a proposition: Tommy's gong could settle the dockworkers' strike. All Tommy had...
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