The Daily Worker Newspaper, September 4, 1926, Page 12

sie oad cant en oa The Factory Incident A Story HITO BARBADU was up early that sunny July morning. And ag he neared the Y——— Electric Co., where he worked, he could see some of his friends, already there, laughing, jok- ing with one another, and in general enjoying the beauty of that July morn- ing. As he came within speaking dis- tance of his fellow-workers they greet- ed him with: “Buenos dias, Chito! Como esta.” “Estoy bien”’—I am well —he answered, and putting his strong arm around Benito’s shoulders he gave him a hug which made Benito wince. Chito took pride in his great strength. Not a bullying pride, but rather the pride of one who knows his’ own strength and uses it as a means of producing material good, and protecting one’s self and one’s friends. Chito, from pure joy of his physica) well-being, stood on his toes and stretched his bronze-brown arms sky- ward, playing each muscle in the sun, which gave him the appearance of a Meunier statue, Chito was proud of his two strong arms, arms which stamped out more manganese bobbins than any other man in the stamping room. Chito’s pride was a just pride ~—Ilt was a craftman’s pride—a crea- tor’s pride. More men had gathered. And, as was usual on those mornings when a number of them were early to work, they took to boxing and wrestling with one another. Chito spotted Tony, an exceptionally well-built young Ital- ian, and asked him if he would wres- tle. Tony accepted and soon the whole gang of men were around them, form- ing a ring, in which the two men, Tony and Chito, wrestled. Now one was on the floor, now the other. “Come on, Chito.” “Hold him, Tony!” “Attaboy, Chito! You've got him.” “Yea!” Chito had shouldered Tony. Chito then helped Tony from the ground and they put their arms around each other’s shoulders and just then the 7:55 bell rang—time to work—and thus they entered the fac- tory, the gang of men following. “Chito,“ having donned his working clothes, walked over to his stamping machine, his lips puckered up whist- ling a Spanish Jove song. He sat down at his machine, waiting for the power to be put on. And 48 he sat thus he could remember how, three years ago in the town of Mayaguez, in Porto Rico, having taken Ampara to the seashore and embracing her now and then with those strong, passion- ate arms of his. B-r-r-r—the power was on and the picture faded slowly from his memory. Time and again during that morning it would bob up, and each time he would have to perk his head down to that manganese-de- vouring monster, the machine. But it was hot, especially in that manganese- laden room. The black dust stuffed up hig nostrils. No wonder, then, that Chito should find himself. nod- ding, and trying to force back those grass-green thoughts which entered his head here in this manganese-black room, It was eleven o’clock, busiest time of the day. The machines were whir- ring and stamping, cutting and grind- ing, a noisome din in an airless hole. Chito was not putting out as much bobbings as usual. Chito’s head felt heavy. Maybe it was the heat, or the exertion in the morning. He shook his head severely and decided to make up his loss, for he was working piece- work. He began pushing more man- ganese toward the mixing knife of the machine; more and yet more, and c-r-r-r-r-r-n-c-ht = b-r-r-r-r-r!—a nausea came over him and like a flash the memory of his right arm embracing Ampara flitted thru his mind, and he fainted. When Chito awoke he found him- self lying on a white cot, his two friends, Benito and Tony standing tight-lipped over him. He felt a hot stinging sensation thru his body. And as if in the distance he saw a woman in white moving. He could not at first mejxe out what was wrong, He felt as if he was being weighted down, his body felt so heavy. And then, no- ticing Benito, he wanted to beckon to him to come over, and it was just then that he became conscious that his right arm was gone. He let out a maddening shriek—a shriek of fear and hatred. It was an animal yell— a death yell—blood-curdling, madden- ing, full of hatred—civilized human A War Cry for Women By ELEN HEACH HAVE read the story of “Peter, How Great, Sublime.” Will you now publish the story of woman’s greatness. Not alone one women, but tens, hundreds of women. I was in a general strike in Belgium some years ago. The gendarmes rode the big Bel- gian horses into their midst, crushing, } killing, oh, so many heroic women. Said one brother, “Look what we do for you.” This man was a union man, he spoke to three of his brothers, big, strong men. “Look at the killer of women, come, brothers, each of us four take the horses by the legs, one man to each leg.” These men sprang to the work. The officers knew what was coming to them and again tried to ride them down, the men. It would not work; burly bodies of Belgian men workers grabbed the horses by the legs and in a second of time over went the horse and the rider together. Then came an army of women, “To the river,” they cried. “To the Skelde,” rounding up the scattering foe, their throats spitting fire as they rushed, the wives of the Belgian strik- ers pushing and prodding on the strikebreakers to the banks of the River Skelde. “Now, in with them,” one screamed. “In with them,” they all “screamed, and as one woman a hun- dred women drove 30 or more strike- breakers into the waters, wading waist deep to keep the enemy’s heads un- der to their last gasp. Then came the song: “Arise ye Workers of Starvation, Arise ye wretched of the Earth Justice thunders Condemnation A better World's in Birth.” Womanhood gone astray with re venge? No, no, justice had spoken in their act. Let justice speak in all countries where strikebreakers sup- ported by authorized governments go out to kill men and women and little children workers, * * . ERLE’S another instance of the working woman’s courage. Cour- age in action. It was at a large, en- thusiastic meeting of strikers in Ant- werp. There was a dearth of men workers, union workers ready to serve on committees. In the audience they sat, these brave men, yet afrai® to act together, Their wives were sitting with them. “Come up to the plat- form” cried the chairman of the meet- ing, “more men are needed here with their promise to walk out and stay out till victory is theirs.” Still some of the men hung back. They had fam- ilies of little children and they feared not for themselves, but for their chil- dren. A woman sat in the midst of other women; her husband was at one side of her, He hung back and slowly shook his head at the woman. She sprang to her feet, she cried out aloud, “More men for the strike, more for the committees, more pledges against the common enemy.” Then, turning to her husband, she spoke, pointing her finger to the platform, “Your place is up there.” “Your place is up there.” The husband sprang to his feet went forward. “Don't ally, Wendell,” said Ann Phillips in a message to her hus- band, caught in a riot of “Broadcloth Mob” in the famous Faneuil Hall of Boston, spoke from a sick bed, but her y rang thru the hall as her message was delivered: “Don’t shilly- shally.” A slogan for these United States working women. hatred. And moaning a few times, “ay dios mio, ay dios mio,” he fainted, “You men go down and continue your work.” This from the superin- tendent to Benito and Tony. <A faint, “Yes, sir,” and they left. “Well, what shall we do with him?” This from the nurse to the superintendent. estan sateen Oeategy By MAX GELTMAN “We've sent for some of his family, and an ambulance, They should be here any minute. I'll be too busy downstairs to be bothered, so you can just see that he (pointing to Chito) is taken to the hospital, and if the rela tives start becoming fussy, call up an officer, Good-day.” “Good-day, sir.” On Militarism To A Nine-Inch Gun — Whether your shell hits the target or not, Your cost is five hundred dollars a ‘shot. Your thing of noise and flame and power, We feed you a hundred barrels of flour Hach time your roar. Your flame is fed With twenty thousand loaves of bread. Silence! A million hungry men Seek bread to fill their mouths again. —P. F. McCarthy. You will be given rifles; take them and learn how to use them. Military science is indispensable to proletarians, but not for shooting on their own brothers, or on the work- ers of other countries, ....as you are advised to do by the social traitors. You must learn how to fight against the bourgeoisie of your own country, so as to put an end to exploitation. Poverty and wars, not by pious resolutions, but by overcoming and disarming the bourgeoisie, —Nicolai Lenin. RED PEPPER The upper classes are becoming more snobbish. The woman who raised her eyebrow is now having her face lifted. During the Eucharistic Congress the. Pope» allowed - Chicago catholics a special dispensation from fasting. ‘They met on a Friday. The money the congress will bring the catholic church suggests that the Pope’s representative might become known not as Cardinal Bonzano—but Bonanza. General von Ludendorff is reported to be married again. Militarism always looks for war. The British miners refuse to begin digging until the mine-owners dig down to dig up a raise. —WALT CARMON. THE TINY WORKER A Weekly Edited by Isadore Betz, Los Angeles, Cal. Johnny Red, Assistant. Vol. 1. Saturday, September 4, 1926 No, 15 HIP, HIP, HOO- BI matt G EXTRA! jy We get a few Another little very nice _ little comrade joins us things from Minnie for the first time. Rarasick, district These nice little Pioneer director of things are Los Angeles. Her By MARGARET little Reds are JOHNSON, Ash- fine. Here’s an land, Wis.—Age 10. essay on the “Boy pl ag (I ryan ~ 07 couts, A POEM Tentiore Bete, xe - HORSES! 10, which . makes Roses are red, Shorty Martin asked a boss for aj him editor of this Violets are blue, b. issue of the TINY I am a Bolshevik “Sure,” said the boss, “we'll give} WORKER. so are you!) you a job. Report at 7 in the morn- = ing. You work until 5, The work is SOMETHING hard for a little fellow but it will BOY SCOUTS ELSE Segue aman of you. Your pay will _ By MARGIB be only $3 a week but if you work] The scouts are alate hard you will advance.” help One day in school] ,, Shorty looked at him and said:| the bosses. When teacher said that} “Say, mister, you don’t need a boy.|they go to the God made the grass | YOu need... horses. , . horses!” camp thi to grow. George ren get other children “No, the workers . to join. There they made the Here's another nice thing by clever : ‘oon Ws. ogee working little Rose Horowitz of Rochester, sometimes join the SPECIAL NEXT on WHEK Sing it to the tune of “Barney Goo- — Keep cool with Coolidge of me Beckie Mudman, He’s an A-1 capitalist tool talk to the Boy only 10 years old, He clubs the eects Scouts and show will tell how she} According to his them what their — the Young Pied must give up thelr vg Me page organization is do- loneers. It's fine, ‘o give the grafters a soft ing. ne ert sitet oon the well known open a things too shoppe Isadore Bets, this issue. age 10, te. ~Y : ' . Thia is Saturday—Johnny Red’s Clo iy « are on ‘the wash-line, ~ 4 at