The Daily Worker Newspaper, March 12, 1927, Page 7

inet ADIN ne The Gong Struck Three AVIE was almost eleven years old. He was rather small for his age and lived in a world of adolescent fancy, His region did not extend very far. He liked his father, his mother too, but his father a little more, especially when he unfoiled a cigar and let Davie light it for him. Davie was happy. He read Dickens, rede his bi- cycle, and drew crayon pictures. He was exceedingly glad when busy drawing, then curious ideas would form in his head which he later tried to depict upon paper. Davie aspired to be an artist. His teacher he was also fond of, especially when she showed his creations to other teachers, Suddenly the pillars of his imaginary world col- lapsed and left him groping in the dark ruins of childish impressions. This happened when his father, one of the fourteen striking cloakmakers, was sentenced by Judge Rosalsky to serve from. two and a half to five years in prison. The unheard of cruelty of the sentences evoked strong protests from the entire labor movement. Davie was in the court- reom when his father was found guilty, but did not realize the seriousness of the situation until he reached home. The court room fascinated him greatly. His eyes dilated about the large room, first resting upon the judge and then shifted to other lo- calities. He enjoyed listening to the lawyers plead before the bar. The whole situation pleased him. If only his father weren’t there, he would have been happy. It was_at first difficult for him to grew accus- tomed to the new conditions. Home seemed minus something he couldn’t live without. Whenever the door bell rang, Davie ran to the door, expecting to see his father enter. His disappointment showed it- self in many ways. He no longer had the same -de- sire to play, or draw pictures. Instead he listened tu his mother explain the fundamentals of the class struggle of which his father was another victim. Some things Dave readily understood, on other points he pressed her for more information. She told him of other men who have made sacrifices for the cause, and Davie listened. Soom he was no longer ashamed of having his father in prison. This new found information toppled over his entire social structure. New vistas opened before him. He.beganh dreaming of some day being a great labor leader. Visionary expectations of becoming like Lenin whose picture hung on the wall occupied his attention. It was pleasant day dreaming to him. One of the things that puzzled him was the word “intimidation,” of which his father was accused. He looked it up in the dictionary, “to frighten” was the answer he received. This explanation confused him still more. A precocious intuition informed him that his father was innocent. He felt certain of it, and began hating society for taking away his father. Last week Davie, along with his mother and uncle, payed his father a visit. And today he sat in his classroom trying to concentrate on his lessons. Somehow the drab prison and his father living in it kept circling around in his tiféughts. In his dream version he pieced together the many events differ- ently, sometimes adding things which never oc- curred and at other times he racked his head trying to recall some incident which he had forgotten. - First walked the prison guard. ‘That Davie re- membered, but he couldn’t recall whether he was tall or short, having taken no particular notice of seemed unfriendly and that in his right hand shook a chain of keys. Behind him came Uncle Mednick holding on to his hat as though he were afraid of losing it. His bare head was slightly bowed and his right arm interlocked with that of Davie’s mother, stepping beside him. Davie followed them several paces away. He once more pictured the grey clad guard leading them through a wide corridor lined on both sides by rows of cells. It was the first time that he saw the interior of a prison and the direct contact with a thing that was hitherto something mysterious com- pletely overwhelmed him. Davie felt il at ease and seemed ‘to frighten when his eyes discerned faces behind the bars. He hurriedly shifted his gaze elsewhere and continued walking, feeling as though he were treading upon a forbidden path. Before long he remembered seeing the guide pause in front of a cell and insert one of the keys into a large lock. Davie heard a familiar voice ¢all “Sonia.” It was his mother’s name and he turned around to see her step through the open door. Davie remembered gasping, “Its papa” Then he felt his father’s lips press warmly to his checks. The sight of him, dressed in the regulation prison uni- form horrified him, but only for an instant. He smiled sheepishly and replied, “I’m all right,” in reply to his father’s, “How do you feel, Dave?” The rest ‘of the conversation which he had no inclination to join was carried on in Jewish. He sat ona corner of the cot and listened attentively, sometimes miss- ing words which he later tried to fit into sentences. It was a distressing moment for Davie, one which he was destined to remember. Somehow he was glad when the allotted interview was over, and they once more boarded a train to the city. This wasn’t the first time he thought of it, nor the second, The same episodes returned constantly. Sometimes they crept into his thoughts while he was in the midst of a lesson. At such times he would completely forget what he was doing. Then the teacher would catch his gaze and call him to task for not paying attention. Always ‘the eyes of his classmates would focus upon him like so many pierc- ing searchlights, Davie would feel uneasy for thekr eyes unwillingly betrayed—“Your father’s in prison! Your father’s in prison!” Davie would then lower his eyelids and re-direct his attention to his books. He felt conscious of a something he conldn’t define and it distressed him greatly. Even his dreams were not immune from that odious vision. which was with him constantly. He once dreamt of seeing the judge who sentenced his father dressed like a hangman he read about in a fairy tale. And he, Davie, was the priscn guard who led his father to the scaffold. The faces as- sumed grotesque proportions in his dream. His own body grew to a gigantic size, overtopping both exec- cutioner and prisoner. Davie squirmed deliriously under his bed coverings, and when morning came he pieced together the emotions he experienced during his sleep. The gruesome nightmare haunted him for many days. It was now two-thirty. his seat, waiting anxiously for the remaining half hour to elapse. He had a new drawing he intended to show his teacher. It was a prison s@ene. He wanted to tell her that he was there and the cir- cumstances of his father’s imprisonment. He knew she would understand, and sympathize with him. After that he would once more be out on the street. He wanted to be out of doors, there the freedom was greater. It afforded him an opportunity to es- cape when people molested him, but in the classroom he felt as though he were chained onto the stake of an undesired doom. At times the more mischievous of his playmates would group about him and maliciously imquire, “Where’s yeur father, Dave?” Davie had no an- swer for them. He detected the imnuendo hidden in those remarks. It was maddening to him. His little fists clenched as the stood in the midst of his heartless torme:tors. Defiantly he would reply “none of your business” and walk away. Sometimes he had to engage inxa fist fight before he was freed. Davie glanced at his watch. It was almost time for the gong to ring. It was near the first of the month, and the teacher began to collect report- cards. Names were called, a 1 in response pupils arose and brought’the asked for object to her desk. Davie paid no attention to what was going on. There was something clse, something more im- portant preying on his mind. A stern “David” brought him out of his reverie. It was his teacher calling him. His eyelids lifted. For a few seconds he stared blankly at her before he collected his thoughts. “Bring me your report-card,” she de- manded. Davie withdrew an envelope from one of his books and placed it on her desk. Returning to his seat he again opened his geography book and made an effort to read. Davie shuffled about on” of the failure of the peace conference but By ALEX JACKINSON When the teacher collected all the cards she began scanning them for their signatures. After looking through a number of them, Davie again heard her call his name. He arose. ‘Who signed this report- card,” she asked. Davie blushed slightly, “My mother,” he replied. “Why didn’t your father sign it,” she pressed on. Davie grew embarrassed. The question came like a bolt from the skies. He shuf- fled from foot to foot. “He couldn't,” he finally gasped. “Why couldn’t he?” Davie saw black shadows dance before his eyes. “Te’s not home,” he finally blurted out, not knowing what else to say. He felt conscious that all eyes were trained upon him. It added to his embarrassment. The teacher had read in the papers about his father, but purposely wanted to use him as an ex- ample in a lesson on Americanism, ‘Where is he,” she inquired. Davie was overpowered by confusion He had no answer for her. What could he say be- _fore hostile faces? Besides they wouldn’t understand anyhow. Yet he wanted to rebel against a pressing weight that was tormenting him. Sentences of de fiance formed in his head but remained unuttered He felt as though his mouth was tightly glued to- gether. “Teacher,” cried one of the pupils raiging his hand, “I know where Davie’s father is. He's in prison.” The words “he’s in prison” had a strange echo for Davie. He grew red and angry. What right had they to speak of his father like that, any- how? “T’'ll get him after school,” flashed through his thoughts. There was a hush in the large room. David felt this world roll from under him. Giggles of other pupils added to his discomforture. He was still standing. “Sit down,” she ordered. Then clearing her throat, his terturer continued, “David, your father is in prison because he was not a good citizen. Hon- est people are never put in prison,” she thundered “He was a striker and it served him right. Let this be a lesson to you boys*when you grow up. David resumed his seat, inwardly shaking witk rage. A bitter smile flickered across his lips. . He interrupf#d her by saying, “My father was <¢ worker,” and received a rebuke for his impudence. “He was a Communist,” she flung at him as though that in itself constituted a crime. Davie ae- cepted her challenge. “I’m going to be one too, when I grow up,” he shouted back. It took all his courage to say that, but he was glad he did. Tha‘ compensated him for the humiliation he had to en- dure, “That’s enough from you or I'll call you te the principal.” Color mounted to her face. She war still scolding him when the awaited gong finalls struck three. Davie breathed a sigh of relief ané filed out of the room with the other pupils. When he reached the street he withdrew his drawing and tore it to bits. - “io that Uned for the nations to walk out of, so he could build cruisers instead of arks, é id not see,