The Daily Worker Newspaper, August 21, 1926, Page 14

i en EE Ashen » Fide, ‘ton. A MARXIAN ANECDOTE. London, June 10, To Dr. L. Kugelmann, Dear Friend: The tardiness of this letter leaves me open to the more or less “well- grounded” suspicion of being a “bad fellow.” As a basis for mitigation, I | merely need to state that it is only a few days that I am “living” in London, In the interval I was at Engels in Manchester. But you and your dear wife know me well enough now to find letter-sinning normal with me. In spite of that, I was with you every day. I count my stay in Hanover among the most beautiful and hap- piest oases in the desert of life. In Hamburg I had no other adven- ture, except, in spite of all precau- tionary measures, to get acquainted with Mr. William Marr, Judging from his personal manner, he is, as chris- tian translator of Lassalle, of course worth much less. Mr. Niemann also played during the few days that I still remained there. But I was much too spoiled by the society in Hanover to want to be present at a theater performance in Fess good company. So Mr, Niemann slipped me by. . * > . oe The passage from Hamburg to Lon- don, discounting somewhat raw weather the first day, was on the whole favorable. A few hours before London a German young lady, who had already struck me with her military bearing, declared that she warsed to leave that same evening from London for Weston-on-the-Sea and did not know how to begin to do it with her voluminous baggage. The case was so much the worse since helping hands are missing in England on the Sab- bath, I had the young lady show me the railroad station to Which she was to go in London. Friends had written same on a card. It was the North- western station, past which I had to As a good knight, I there- fore offered to let the young lady off at the place. Accepted. On closer re- flection, however, it occurred to me that Weston-on-the-Sea is southwest, the station to be passed by me, on the contrary, and the one written down for the young lady northwest. I con- sulted the sea captain. Right. It proved that she was to be deposited in a part of London lying in an en- tirely opposite direction from mine. Still I had been engaged and had to make bonne mine a mauvais jeu. We arrived at 2 in the afternoon, I brought the donna errante to her sta- tion, where I learn that her train doesn’t leave until 8 p. m. So I was in for it and had six hours to kill with mademoiselle by promenading in Hyde Park, stopping in ice shops, etc. It turned out that her name was Elisa- beth yon Puttkammer, niece of Bis- marck, with whom she had just spent a few weeks in Berlin. She had the entire army list with her, since this family provides our “brave army” abundantly with gentlemen of honor and taille, She was a cheerful, edu- cated girl, but aristocratic and black- white up to the tip of her nose. She Was not a little astonished when she learned that she had fallen into “red” hands. I consoled her, however, to the effect that our rendezvous would pass without loss of blood, and saw her depart safe and sound for her destination. Imagine what food this would be for blind or other vulgar democrats, my conspiracy with Bis- marek! Adio, Your Karl Marx, PS fe k (Note—April-May, 1867, Marx trav- eled. to Hamburg for the purpose of handing over the manuscript of “Cap- ital” to his publisher, Meissner, and to visit Dr. Kugelmann in Hanover, A. L.) SEAS ANA NAA AANA RAR ASA) Coming Soon! The Life of Karl Marx Written by Paul Lafargue. An interesting and attractive story. a OL other march on the church, First, you remember, they took away the church’s audience (oh, that was a long time ago); then they went in for ser- mons (almost every scenario has a nice, maudlin commercialized moral somewhere about it), and next they acquired the pipe organ. Now, lo and behold, they have developed a whole chorus of little cherubims and sera- phims—yeah, the picture house has got a choir—and I don’t mean maybe. The new “movie” community choir is one of the best business proposi- tions built upon the efficiency science of group psychology. Singing always did play a large part in keeping people tied up to religion; or, rather, it binds people. more closely to each other and in so doing delivers a whole tied-together group over to whatever cause happens to furnish the song. At present the movie cause is no cause at all except box office receipts. And does the audience sing? At the Oriental the other night they made the chandeliers shake and the windows rattle: the organist had to luck his head and stop playing; he The motion pictures have stolen an- was overwhelmed by a storm of of voices. It makes a fellow feel good, you know, to let out his pent-up emotions that way along with every- body else. It’s the “one big family” feeling that makes you imagine you are “part of the show.” And when one’s diaphram is exercised it affects the rest of the body like a tonic. The box office advantage of this is that, no matter how bad the movie is, singing puts the spectator into such a good mood that he enjoys it anyway, and comes again. The words flashed on the screen for the audience to sing are silly enough to make even a moron blush. One doesn’t begin to glimpse the inanity of our “popular” songs until he sees them in enlarged letters with all their soos and gurgles. There’s “Has She Got Byes?” and “Where Did You Get These Eyes?” and “Pretty Baby” and “Stars Are the Windows of Heaven,” to say nothing about “Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses .. .” The tunes of the pied piper never called forth as many rats as this melody does horses, mly the horses are just the same, ust horses, horses, horses. G. W. H eseepen and Singing | T° Certain Rich Young Man By HENRY GEORGE WEISS That you should, robed in purple, look with scorn Upon the men that labor, pass them by, Deeming yourself a creature better born And heir to all the sunshine In the sky, Is absolutely funny; your old man Wore overalls and sweated for his bread; Grew rich thru HANDS in ways not nice to scan, Which you would fain forget, now he is dead. Which you would fain forget, now he is dead. But we have not forgotten how he rose And lifted you. unto your eminence, Feeding upon our miseries. and woes, And growing wealthier at our ex- pense: O lord it while you may, you snobbish pup; The HANDS can tear you down that raised you up! A WEEK IN CARTOONS _ By M. P. Bales THE AFL. HE PASSAIC STRI<- ERS ARE INGTO SIN STeis ke YORIK FURRIERS STRUC ILLAMGREEN CONSPIRING aGaNnsT NeW ¥ UNION FOR ITS MILITANT” UGGLE AGAINST EMPLOYER'S BN \ “THIS PROGRESSIVE iCKET agra BY TROMHY 1S JUST Tite THING JO CLEANS OP THE RBACTIONAR LEVIS MACHINE; FRENCH COMMUNIST ‘ DePuy , Shy atl STRIPS THE a i MASK F POINCARE SCHEME PAUPERIZE WORKERS AND PEASANTS / oe Real ry elt ‘ a —