The Daily Worker Newspaper, February 12, 1927, Page 6

At A Traitor’s Grave © ae T was, while traveling by train from Munich to- wards Heidelberg, that I met him. He was a big, stout man of about 40 years, humorous and jovial, smoking one cigar after another; as typical a Ger- man as ever I would find. His official position was that of a town clerk in a small Westphalian hamlet.” He was now on his vacation, enjoying every moment and place. “So you are also going to Heidelberg,” he said, beckoning toward me; “well, you'll have to come with me to the cemetery, to visit the grave of Ebert.” I replied, that I hoped to find more interesting places than a graveyard, but I soon realized that my companion was in earnest, and that his piety was genuine, “I don’t know,” he reflected, “what you people » in America thought of Ebert, but here in Germany you will hardly find a single one who has not a good word for his memory.” This, I already had found to be the truth, when- ever I spoke to big business men, who, though violent in their denunciation against the social- democrats, had yet a word of praise for the dead president. The reason for this is obvious, and shows the true position of the social democratic party of Germany. Ebert, together with his political hench- men, broke the revolution of 1918, and in doing so, restored order, and perpetuated capitalism, private property and wage slavery. That this restoration brought the most painful agony to the Germany economie system, was responsible for the terrible inflation period, (which is even today remembered more dreadfully by the Germans than the 4 year’s war) and, as a consequence of this virtual bank- ruptey, imposed upon the country the Dawes Plan, which actually reduced Germany to an inter-allied colony, all these factors are of little concern., The main thing to the Germany business man is that Ebert proved himself a loyal servant of capitalism, and strangled the workérs’ revolution. Heidelberg was the birthplace of Ebert, and nursed his first. political aspiration; and Heidelberg it was, that claimed his dead body, to place it in its graveyard; possibly the most beautifully laid out cemetery which I had yet seen. It may, however, be deubted, whether Heidel- berg’s claim for the dead man’s body was motivated mainly by piety, and if there were not more ulterior reasons for this. For it can not be denied, not even by a native of that fair city, that the dead presi- dent’s grave is stimulating the tourist trade, and if, per chance, the train, which is carrying the visitor to the famous city on the Neckar, is over-crowded, compelling him to stand up while en route, then it becomes a matter of speculation, whether the acquisition. of Ebert’s earthly remnant was not a good piece of strategy for Heidelberg’s virtuous citizens. To be sure, Heidelberg’s cemetery is re- nowned as being feudal and fashionable, and from the angle of a real estate man such advantages should be paid for in hard cash; yet on the whole prospects are good, and many a piece of money is made by: showing the visitor the place where “the first German president is resting.” On the next morning after my arrival in Heidel- herg, my babbit friend from Westphalia tucked me by my sleeve, told me that he was now going “up there,” and beckoned me to follow. After passing through’some of the most antiquated streets and viewing some very picturesque scenes, we arrived at our destination. Be it said here that, if the promise of “pie in the sky” is somewhat elusive and cannot be defin- itely proven, the gratitude of the capitalist, in rewarding his deceased friends, is nevertheless . tangible. As proof of this, I wish t6 state, that, if the choice for his grave had been left to the living Ebert, he could not have selected a more beautiful spot than the one which was so generously given to him by his eapitalistic friends, “Laying at the top of a hillside, and overlooking the magnificent Neekar valley, amid beautiful flow- ers and shady trees, in a peaceful quietness, having for his tompany feudal lords and dukes, Ebert’s grave will overawe any follower of hero-worship. The immense size of the solid block of marble (about 300 cubic feet) will indicate to any one, without being told, that some renowned hero, king, prince or president,- has been jaid te rest here. A very appropriate inseription, with gold letters, reads: “Das Wohl meines Volkes war mein Ziel.” (The welfare of my people was my aim). This in spite of the fact that Ebert was as vacillating as a Calvin Coolidge. THE CALL By ADOLF WOLFF Hey! you poets, Come down here, I say! Mt. Parnassus’s no place For poets of today. It’s time you clawled. out Of your ivory towers. Time you stopped gathering Moonbeams and flowers. Oh come down to earth! And mix with the mob. There’s waiting for you A he-poet’s job. There’s gold in the ore Of every day life. The gold of true song In labor’s keen strife. And please leave behind Your old golden lyre. A much newer instrument You will require. A bugle, a trumpet, Whose clear blast will call The workers to rally Till all Bastilles fall. He is no true poet . Whose soul is not thrilled . By the war of the classes; Whose heart is not filled With visions of triumph, Of right over wrong, Who doesn’t make this subject The stuff of his song. A imee the A gent By war FITZREYNOLDS Fy an agent of the meek and lowly Nazerene Aimee McPherson is a doubtful success. But as the impressario of a religious circus she has King Ben of the House of David tearing his chin foliage. Aimee uses Jesus asa bear-hunter uses a baited trap. While the sinners or the suckers are getting tickled by the evangelist’s gentle trap Aimee ap- plies pressure to their funny bones as her nimble fingers go through their pockets. Jesus died on a cross between two thieves, a poor man. Yet more thieves have grown fat under his auspices than there are hairs on a mountain goat’s hide. Some of those thieves aré organized into trusts, like the catholics, the methodists and the anglicans, Others are independent, like “Billy” Sunday, King Ben and Aimee. They fight the trusts to bring in the spiritually ill, just as the health quacks attack the “medical trust” to attract the physically crip- pled whose mental garrets are devoid of intellectual furniture. ; The catholie church peddles indulgences, enough splinters from the “sacred cross” to stock a lumber- yard, saintly shinbones arid occasionally vials of the “blood of the lamb.” But they do this with pomp and show. The customer gets something for his money. “Billy” Sunday hired his own troupe, his claequers and most of his penitents. Qnt+ #ha eotionee wag unhired. They paid the bills. “Billy” threw a good fit, swatted the devil, drank jug-fulls of water and in general gave a fair return for the admission fee. “Billy” was male and made his main appeal to the female. Aimee is female and her drive is on, _ and for the male, body, soul and wallet. To encourage masculine hopes Aimee had her- self kidnaped, suspected of having an affair with a radio-operator and became a national figure. She employed an army of “skinners” to collect from those who did hot care who fought the devil or ‘how he was fought. She won and so did the devil. He is immortal and should worry. He has a steady job and if he does not get enough publicity to feed his ego he must be an opera star. i Aimee was indicted by a grand jury in Los Angeles for doing something or other to the majesty of the state. She attributed the grand jury’s action te the devil and got so much money out of the population on the strength of the charge that the real estate operators used their influence to have the charges quashed lest all the dough available for the purchase of earthquakes might be diverted into Aimee’s pockets. Having skimmed the eream of Los Angeles Aimee wended her way east wrapped in a fur coat that would make the @mpress of Japan look like. a recruiting agent for the Volunteers of America. She harangued thousands of people in wicked Chi- cago and three hundred of these became converts to the “Four Square Gospel” very likely for a con- sideration of one square meal. The rest of the —2— By FRED HARRIS I gazed at the artificial presumptuousness of ° the whole arrangement, and, in retrospect, reviewed the political career of Ebert and its effect on the country. His very rise to a world figure is definitely eonnected with the revolution of 1918, and its be- trayal; the massacre and persecution of thousands of Spartacists and Communists, the assassination of Karl Liebkneeht and Rosa Luxemburg; the reign of terror of Noske, Ebert’s chief of police; the Weimar constitution and its compromise with eapi- talism. The result of this betrayal of labor is the present misery of Germany. It is an outstanding specter to anyone who visits that country. While the former kaiser lives in luxury and splendor, from two to three millions of German workers are unemployed. One and a half million of them receive a dole of MK. 1.72 a day, (42e) while the other million of workers can not qualify to mieet the necessary conditions upon which relief is paid, thus they are getting no support at all. Those that are working, like the textile workers in Chemnitz, earn a pittance of 50 pfennig an hour. (about 12¢). Due to such starvation wages, and the inability to get work, the increasing number of suicides is alarming. : The weakness of the polities! regime of Ebert and the social democrats gave cause to innumerable political and military intrigues, especially in the south German states,*where the republie has been reduced to impotency. So, for instance, was I told by a Bavarian, in Munich, that the official status of his country is that of a “royal republic.” He was also proud of the faet, that the king had not deserted yet; and “always comes to the city when some fes- tival or royal demonstration requires the presence of a king.” Munich itself, boasts yet of its royal institutions, the various university departments, art ealleries, castles ond clubs still bear the prefix of “Royal.” In Berlin, polticial intrigues were re- sponsible for the defeat of the property expropria- ‘ton measure, which was aimed at the.former rulers, ‘e majority of the social democrats voting for a ‘enerous compromise. r Such political oscillation, could not result. in any- thing but discredit for EWért and his party, and ended in the election of a monarchial field-marshal te the presidency. While sueh thoughts were passing in my mind, I viewed the comedy which was being staged, at the grave of the man most responsible for such con- ditions. Even fate had its little joke, for it se happens that in the rear of the grave, some “christian dignitary” found his resting place. In reverence to his “highness” an enormous statute of the “mother of god” some 15 feet in height, with outspread arms and wings was stationed there, no doubt, to protect the dead man’s soul. Her profile is facing towards Ebert’s grave. Thus he, who, though a yellow socialist, was at. least an atheist, is now in the immediate neighborhood of the most orthodox symbol of the christian church. The farce continued. A group of some 100 peo- ple, a “Gesangverein” from some other town, has now arrived, and is forming a cirele around the grave. Absolute silence. The conductor. gives his directions, and then the singing starts. Hymns in honor of the dead hero. Everybody stands motion- less, hat in hand, in pious reverence. . The show is nearing its end. The singing has stopped. As a final act, the republican patriots march around the grave, no doubt, saying the prayer of capitalism, which is R. I. T. (Rest in peace, for the dead ones~-rent, interest, profit, to the living). audience saw Aimee and perhaps thought she was good. We recollect that Chicago gave a handsome reception to Coue whose formula for all disease was: “Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better.” Coue must have forgotten his own formula. He was better until he got worse and died. Those who patronize Aimee’s show, to get an eye-full could spend their money for a less worthy purpose. But those who contribute with the ex- pectation that Jesus will get a pereentage of it might as well invest it in Florida real estate. ee Construction Gang Short squat men standing in ditches Peeping out at silk-stockinged stenographers Hurrying from work. Work, Ha! : Here’s work! Eight long hours in a filthy stinking hole. Eight long hours of bend, dig, pitch, . Bend, dig, piteh ‘Till your body aches And your tired brain burns in your head Like a shot of home-made beoze © And you laugh——- ; Laugh a long rebellious laugh At silk-stockinged stenographers Hurrying from work : f --MAX GEUTM&N,