MediaWiki API result

This is the HTML representation of the JSON format. HTML is good for debugging, but is unsuitable for application use.

Specify the format parameter to change the output format. To see the non-HTML representation of the JSON format, set format=json.

See the complete documentation, or the API help for more information.

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"*": "Subscribe to the mediawiki-api-announce mailing list at <https://lists.wikimedia.org/postorius/lists/mediawiki-api-announce.lists.wikimedia.org/> for notice of API deprecations and breaking changes."
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"13685": {
"pageid": 13685,
"ns": 0,
"title": "Real Conversation at Work",
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"*": "''' \"I was there...\" '''\n\n''by Molly Martin''\n\n''Originally published in ''Tradeswomen Magazine'' Vol 3 #4, 1983''\n\nJoe is talking about death. \u201cI don\u2019t know how to say goodbye,\u201d he says. \n\nI look up from the electrical outlet I\u2019m installing, bending a piece of half-inch pipe as he continues. \n\n\u201cSay you have a good friend who\u2019s dying,\u201d he says. \u201cHow so you say goodbye?\u201d\n\nI\u2019m suspicious. These men think that because I\u2019m female I\u2019ll mother them. I\u2019ll listen to their problems. Let them cry on my shoulder. Tell them everything\u2019s alright. I resent the emotional drain on me. What do I get in return? They wouldn\u2019t listen to my problems, and I wouldn\u2019t trust their intuition anyhow. Besides, I wouldn\u2019t risk making myself vulnerable to them. My usual strategy is to remain emotionally distant. Change the subject. Work, the weather, anything but intimate details. But Joe never talks like this. I\u2019m curious. \n\n\u201cDo you have a friend who\u2019s dying?\u201d I wonder.\n\n\u201cNo, no, no,\u201d He lights a cigarette and runs a hand through gray wavy hair. \u201cThat was just an example. It\u2019s hard to say goodbye even when you hate the bastard and never want to see him again. How would you do it?\u201d\n\nI fit the pipe against the wall. Perfect. \u201cI suppose I would just say goodbye. This wall isn\u2019t concrete, this is sheetrock. How am I gonna anchor anything to this? I didn\u2019t bring toggle bolts.\u201d I pound the wall nervously, vigorously listening for studs. \n\n\u201cWell, what do you think happens when you die? Do you believe in an afterlife? I think, when you die, you die. The human body is like a machine. It just wears out and that\u2019s that.\u201d\n\nI find a stud, position the pipe, set my level on it, then screw in a strap which holds it in place. \u201cThat\u2019s an appropriate point of view for a stationary engineer. Just keep throwing WD40 at it until it wears out.\u201d\n\nBut he\u2019s serious. \u201cThat\u2019s another thing I never understood, the Catholic hell. I\u2019ve had a running battle with hell for years. Are you religious?\u201d\n\n\u201cNaw,\u201d I search through my toolbox for channel locks to tighten the compression connectors. \u201cSeems to me just the fact that there are so many religions in the world and most of them claim to be the only true one is an overwhelming contradiction. Besides, if I were to choose a religion, the first question I\u2019d ask is whether it\u2019s sexist. That wouldn\u2019t leave me with a lot of choices.\u201d\n\nThe door opens and the roar of the pump station engulfs the office. Jesus, one of Joe\u2019s corps of engineers steps in, in mock military fashion. He was once a transexual, presenting as female, taking hormones and planning gender reassignment surgery. But, since hospitalization after a bad traffic accident, he\u2019s gone back to being a man. Jesus has shown me pictures of himself as a woman. Beautiful then, he has since become rather paunchy, and I find it difficult to visualize him as female. I can imagine his thick, black, curly hair in a shoulder-length style. I think his movements could be convincingly female. He\u2019s short enough to pass. But how, I wonder, did he manage to conceal his heavy beard and the inevitable five o\u2019clock shadow. \n\nJesus wants to know what kind of pizza we want for lunch. After weeks of pestering, Joe is apparently buying. Jesus hates anchovies, Joe hates onions. I say I want onions and anchovies.\n\nJoe hands money to Jesus and hunkers over his desk, lighting another cigarette and puffing intently. \u201cI can\u2019t wait till I can retire from this place. I\u2019ll have twenty years this year.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow old are you?\u201d I push the steel fish tape through the pipe to the junction box at its end. \n\n\u201cFifty-two in August.\u201d\n\nHe looks 65, I think. A handsome man whose skin has aged, whose hands and jowls are puffy from too much drink. I\u2019m certain now that Joe is drunk, and I\u2019m alarmed. His reputation as an alcoholic is well-known, and he makes no secret of it, but I know he\u2019s been sober for a year. And, while he\u2019s made light of it, I know that staying on the wagon must have been really tough.\n\n\u201cWhen in our lives do they let us know what life is about?\u201d he asks the wall thoughtfully. \u201cWhen do we find out what we\u2019re supposed to do with our lives? Here I am over 50 and I still don\u2019t know what I\u2019m doing here. What do you think the point is?\u201d\n\nI hook wires to the end of the fish tape and marvel at being a participant in this conversation. Must I really try to explain the meaning of life to this man? \n\n\u201cWell, I can\u2019t say I know the answer to that. I think we all start off just trying to survive,\u201d I offer.\n \n\u201cYou kids can\u2019t understand,\u201d he puffs. \u201cI can\u2019t explain it to my kids, either. You never consider what it\u2019s like to get old.\u201d\n\nI pull the fish tape back through the pipe, careful not to strip the wires\u2019 plastic insulation. \u201cJoe, you underestimate me. I\u2019m not a kid. At 35, some people might even consider me middle-aged.\u201d\n\nAs I\u2019m hooking up the wires, Jesus signals that the pizza has arrived. We walk through the plant past massive motors and pumps whose function is to supply water to the city of San Francisco. Even with the coffee room door shut, their constant humming provides background noise. Jesus has set the table and pulled up three chairs. \n\n\u201cJust like a Mexican. Where\u2019s my change?\u201d Joe admonishes. Jesus is an American citizen but grew up in Mexico and speaks with a heavy accent. Joe turns to me. \u201cI can say that to him \u2018cause I\u2019m Mexican too.\u201d\n\nI don\u2019t believe him. \u201cWhere\u2019d you get those blue eyes, Joe.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy father was Polish. He went to Mexico to work in the mines, met my mother, and they moved to New York. He was a no-good bastard, but I loved my old man.\u201d \n\nJesus serves the pizza, opens cans of soda. The phone rings and he goes to answer it in the office. \n\n\u201cI really care about people,\u201d Joe chews and ruminates, \u201cbut what do I get. They stick me out here and give me crazies like that faggot spic to work with.\u201d He gestures in Jesus\u2019 direction. \n\nJoe\u2019s display of prejudice surprises me. He is a well-liked boss, and I always thought him equally enthusiastic about his employees. Besides, I know Jesus to be a conscientious worker, and certainly more sensitive than any other man I work with. Having been both a man and a woman in the trades has provided him with a unique perspective. He\u2019s earned my loyalty. \n\nAs I debate how to raise the issue of discrimination, Joe talks on. \u201cI would like to help people, but they would probably tell me to go to hell. What would you say if I tried to help you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have helped me, Joe. You always answer my questions without bullshitting me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s work,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019m not talking about work. I\u2019m talking about life. I could help you. For example, I\u2019d like to tell you to stop wearing men\u2019s clothes.\u201d\n\nI take a bite of pizza and think how best to be diplomatic. \u201cGo to hell, Joe.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou see, that\u2019s what I thought you\u2019d say. There\u2019s something else. How would you feel if I told you I want to kiss you?\u201d\n\nI\u2019m furiously running my hand through my hair, willing myself (unsuccessfully) not to blush, and simultaneously pushing my chair away from him. Where the hell is Jesus? Joe is trying to make himself understood. He waves his hands, shakes his head. \u201cNow don\u2019t get me wrong,\u201d he blunders. \u201cDo you know what I\u2019m trying to say?\u201d\n\n\u201cYeah, I know,\u201d I try to affect calm. \u201cYou\u2019re saying that sometimes our emotions aren\u2019t appropriate to the situation.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, that\u2019s right.\u201d He looks expectant.\n\n\u201cWell, Joe, I would say this is one of these situations where emotions ought to be suppressed.\u201d\n\nJesus returns, Joe is requested to respond to an emergency breakdown. I return to my work, shaken and angry at Joe for verbalizing his feelings. He probably won\u2019t remember this conversation, but I won\u2019t forget it, and our comfortable relationship will change. \n\nAs I pass his desk, I see a note, written apparently to himself. It says, \u201cI don\u2019t know how to say goodbye.\u201d\n\n<hr>\n\n''This is the first of a three-part trilogy. Part two is [[Transgender Story at SF Water|here]], and part three is [[Call Her by Her Name: A Work Story|here]].''\n\n[[category:Labor]] [[category:Water]] [[category:LGBTQI]] [[category:1980s]]"
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"1587": {
"pageid": 1587,
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"title": "Real Drowning off Aquatic Park",
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"*": "''' Historical Essay '''\n\n''by Dr. Weirde ''\n\n[[Image:norbeach$aquatic-park-drawing.jpg]]\n\n'''Aquatic Park''' \n\n''Drawing: Harper's''\n\n'''William Ralston, after his Bank of California closed its doors on \"Black Friday\" in 1875, took his daily swim off the end of Larkin Street in the shadow of the Selby Lead Smelting Works and unexpectedly drowned.'''\n\nSaturday, August 27, 1875, the day after \"Black Friday,\" the fiscal panic that destroyed his Bank of California, [[William Ralston|William C. Ralston]], \"the financial autocrat of the Pacific,\" went for his habitual afternoon swim near Meigg's Wharf -- and never came back. His pale, bloated body was recovered some time later.\n\nRalston's death caused a nationwide sensation. He had been the biggest mover-and-shaker on the West Coast prior to the collapse of his bank. During the Gold Rush, Ralston had skippered a steamship carrying passengers between Panama and San Francisco. By the late 1850's, he had settled down and gone into banking. In 1864, he opened the Bank of California at Battery and Washington Streets. Though an immensely rich and popular figure, he was famous for his modesty: when they tried to name a town after him, he refused, and so they named it for his modesty instead. Hence the Central Valley metropolis of Modesto.\n\nRalston was also legendary for his wildly immodest financial speculation and construction projects. He built an eighty-room mansion in Belmont and staffed it with a whole city of servants; even its stables were built with mahogany and lined with mother-of-pearl. He raised theaters and operas. He built San Francisco's all-time most magnificent architectural landmark, the [[Victorian San Francisco|Palace Hotel]]. And during the epidemic of speculation that fed off San Francisco's 1865-75 silver boom, Ralston managed to buy up most of the Comstock lode, including its epicenter, Virginia City. His bulimic appetite for Comstock-related investments--lumber stocks, stagecoach companies, mills and mines--proved his downfall. When the transcontinental railroad (completed in 1868) failed to bring the economic boom all had expected, and when competitors threatened his silver interests, Ralston's overextended holdings collapsed.\n\nOn Black Friday, 1875, depositors lined up outside his bank; soon the whole area around Sansome and California Streets was swarming with customers hoping to close their accounts. Ralston harangued the crowd to no avail, for the bank was forced to close. The next day, Ralston took his fatal swim.\n\n[[Image:TELHL895.jpg]]\n\n'''View southeast from Black Point (today's Fort Mason) across North Beach when it was heavily industrialized, and Telegraph Hill was still largely unoccupied, c. 1890s.'''\n\n''Photo: Private Collection, San Francisco, CA''\n\n[[Little Italy in Early 20th Century |Prev. Document]] [[Frigging (Mad) in the Rigging |Next Document]]\n\n[[category:North Beach]][[category:shoreline]]\n[[category:1870s]][[category:Gold Rush]]\n[[category:Power and Money]] [[category:Famous characters]] [[category:Fisherman's Wharf]] [[category:Water]]"
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