Mrs. Holloway

We were in a pitched battle.

The garbage men were uniting. The Holland Tunnel was our stakeout. I sat in a New Jersey State Police car watching the garbage trucks flow out of the tunnel into Jersey and to the immense landfill known as 1C. After the truck we followed turned into its entrance off Route 7, the officer I was with pulled it over and issued the driver a summons. We were shutting down interstate commerce, one truck at a time.

This young, red-headed trooper wasn't a big man, but he was tough. The day I spent with him opened my eyes to his world. "You can say anything to me. You can curse me up and down. You can scream and throw a tantrum. But there's one thing you can't do to me. Never, never touch me."

The state had tried to ban out-of-state garbage before, but this is a federal matter as it involves interstate commerce. What was different about today was that New Jersey had passed legislation that created a solid waste management plan for the state. With this plan, we could be shown to be non-discriminatory in our district-wide bans, as garbage from out-of-district couldn't be brought across internal borders. Union County garbage couldn't come to Essex County. And New York State garbage couldn't come in at all.

We had on our side a few stalwart citizens that had the time, the will and the moxy to fight the garbage interests. As you can imagine, this being New Jersey, the mob had more than its share of influence in this lucrative dirty business. Among the citizens was Mrs. Margaret Holloway, of Kearny, one of the denizens upon which this blight was being visited.

She would show up at meeting after meeting at the Meadowlands Commission, state her name and rail against the injustices meted upon her beloved town. She would work herself into quite a temper and the sight of her thus engaged was an inspiration of public participation. Her passionate ramblings would almost always provoke hard-to-hide smiles.

One day, after a commission meeting, I approached her. "Mrs. Holloway," I asked, "Aren't you worried when you confront these men? Don't you feel like you're in danger? Have you ever thought to carry a gun?"

I will never forget her words.

"Dearie," she said, "I don't need a gun. I have a mouth."