Dad Woke Like a Rooster

The day that Jimmy Hoffa came after Dad in May 1946 started like any other day. Mama still slept in their big double bed, as usual. She hated it when Dad woke like a rooster, crowing at dawn, but she just grumbled and went back to sleep.

 "Some day, I swear," she told me, "I'm going to fill a cattle trough with ice water and put it alongside your father while he sleeps." Her laughter sound light and giddy. "We'll see how cheerful he is when he leaps out of bed crowing." 

But she hadn't yet.

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More to come in Marilyn June Coffey's THAT PUNK JIMMY HOFFA.

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In 1956, my father, Tom Coffey, knuckled under Jimmy Hoffa's six-month-long Teamsters strike. He sold his twenty-seven-year-old truck line, Coffey's Transfer Company, rather than sign Hoffa's contract. And he swore he'd get back at THAT PUNK JIMMY HOFFA.