The Daily Worker Newspaper, April 2, 1927, Page 7

“The Beast” His face was moist with a warm perspiration which seemed to disturb him. Drops of sweat kept trickling continuously down his forehead which he wiped away with a soiled handkerchief. There was nothing unusual about his appearance, yet al- most everybody who passed by eyed him curiously. He was a big fellow of reddish complexion. Thick arms, corded by prominent veins dangled from a pair of sleeves attached to a blue jacket, His head, topped by a misshaped felt hat, was pulled tightly down almost covering his bushy eyebrows. He stood silently on a well defined corner of Sth Avenue, gazing diffidently into a restaurant window. His eyes were focused upon an exhibition of food lying behind the blue stained pane. The luscious nutriment, invitingly displayed, aroused in him a strong desire to eat, for he was hungry and with thirty cents in his pocket. Thru the window he saw many small tables covered by white table- cloths and ornamented by brightly colored plates and fantastically labeled wine bottles. Around them Sat grey-faced men leisurely smoking the profits of other men’s toil and stencil eyebrowed women, all engaged in meaningless conversation. For it is in places’ such as these that platitudes are born and imbibed in Bacchanalian rites. Waiters, clad in white aprons, hurried down the aisles. They carried silver trays of food, transmitting a flavored aroma which the hungry one unwillingly inhaled. Each breath aroused in him fresh pangs of hunger which he vainly tried to subdue. One of those smiles that ofttimes serve as an expression of contempt flickered across his face. Only the furtive glances of a policeman directing traffic in the gutter restrained him from crashing his heavy fist thru the window and making off with the enticingly arrayed victuals. ‘ i. It was dawn of a summer day when a slight wind, pregnant with a cool morning dew blowing from the North River, breezed gently into thé open bedroom window of Steve McHugh’s waterfront flat. The room was smal] and it seemed to absorb the incoming moisture as a sponge absorbs water, damp- ing the four plastered walls from ceiling to floor. in a nearby bed, a woman moved restlessly about under a dirty blanket. She raised her head and peered thru the window. Sceing that it was morn- ing, she moved into a sitting position, and began waking a man sleeping beside her. : “Get up, Steve” she drawled. “It’s late.” Receiving no reply, her hands fell upon the heavy form, and began shaking it vio! 5 : “Come on! Time to get up,” she repeated. “AN right, shut up! I heard ye the first time,” replied a thick voice from beneath the covering. And a few seconds later, a stalwart figure, his face swathed in sleep, stood beside the iron bed. He stretched his arms in sideward motion and yawned, McHugh donned a pair of saggy trousers, and walked in his stocking feet to the window. In the distance, he saw the still waters of the North River flowing calmly on. A flotilla of ships floated idly at anchor. Many of them, large and small crafts, all chained to each other and rotting hourly from disuse. There was a strike of longshoreman going on in the harbor, and McHugh watched the tie-up of in- dustry with a vague satisfaction, for he was one of the strikers, He kept peering into the calm of busy street not yet arisen from its slumber, listen- ing occasionally to the rumbling of a train rolling along the West Shore Railroad. His eyes were glued upon a familiar sight, Andrew B. Berry Ship- ping Co., which hung over a nearby pier. His reverie was suddenly broket, “TI suppose you'll be wanting your breakfast sery- ed drawled his wife, entering from the kitchen. “Well, there ain’t nothin’ in the house to eat day.” She stared idly at him as he allowed words to sink into his head, “Pll be gettin’ my strike benefit tomorrow, stop yer yowlin’ or you'll be after wakin’ children.” ; “Strike benefit,” she echoed. “And a Jot o that'll do ye, with me owin’ the butcher as EER 2 8 FF g fi Bie ; gee i j cussing inwardly the perfidy of his time in six F ! it Gils Lat 1m. Tired of the futile gazing into the unfriendly restaurant window, he slumped away walking north, To his left were a chain of stores into which he stopped to gaze. Behind the beaming displays of the Avenue shops he saw in one an assortment of oriental rugs, grotesquely designed and colored, In a jewelry shop, lay behind a well polished panel of glass jewel studded laveliers to rest upon the breasts of modern Aphrodites. Golden bracelets carefully moulded for slender wrists, Sparkling diamond rings rounded for well manicured fingers and glass beads to be hung around powdered necks of perfumed inamoratas. These things slowly unfolded a half forgotten message of slumbering class consciousness. He watched long lines of dazzling colored automobiles roll continuously in and out of his gaze. That, coupled with the exhibit of wealth sickened him. “De silk crowds,” as he termed the never ending procession of tailored puppets on dress parade. “Look at em,” he grumbled, “a pack of weak- kneed parasites that lives on buttermilk and me with the great strength that’s in-me without the price of a lousy meal.” A new born ideology shook his massive frame. * 2 * Guests, carefully attired in the garb of their social rating and carefully slected from’ the society “blue book” gathered in the reception room of Andrew B. Berry’s Fifth Avenue residence to wit- ness the marriage of Senator Bruce Gordon beng tied in holy matrimony this day to Audrey B. Berry the only daughter of the millionaire ship-owner. Waxed figures of men, corpulent with six per- cent interest, and women richly gowned by the skill of other fingers stood with heads bowed, their faces beaming conspicuously in the pride of their “stand- ing”. They were listening to the Right Reverend Gustav Mason, Bishop of Arkansas, read the old Episcopal service with the word “obey” obligingly omitted. The beautiful furnished reception room was trans- formed for this occasion into an indoor garden. The alter was completely covered by white lillies, in- termingled with feathery ferns, and bordered by strips of velvet. The ceiling and walls were bedeck- ed by rosy orchids. On the left, a stairway leading to the blue room was fenced with tall baskets of pink blossoms which blended harmoniously with the scarlet rug. While inside the room stood large urns holding richiy blooming rambler reses, mixed with bunches of -blue larkspurs. 5 SSS THE GOLDEN CLOWN There was a rich man lived in Dober Town, And he was master of a thousand hands, They spun his gold for him, with bloody bands, And those who knew him called him Mister Brown. f : A i ‘ himself on being a good sport, of his passions made profitable plan. was very rich, and very proud, a that he had, ft , i i z & f : t r for the lad, nm unseen crowd, + a i i = F : } | : i cf Es S : the world about me drab, and 1 ;and a Clown upon a hill? Fg . = p ve laughter for a beast to ki}i!” there were who beard, and wondered why. fit He if i 3 = : ; é Ey e ; i 2 ; £ i : é i i i >S aS By ALEX JACKINSON The bride was attired in a wedding gown of D’Angleterre lace, imported from England. It was worn over a pink satin slip. The long‘train of lace hung loosely on the ground, the folds of which were hemmed with cream velvet. Around her neck spark- led a rare necklace of beautifully matehed pearts, a gift from her father. A hugh bouquet of lillies of the valley fastened to her waist by silver threads completed her troussean. As the impressive ceremony ended, an orchestra seated on the balcony began playing Mendelssohn's Wedding March. The newlyweds, followed by their entourage walked arm in arm under a shower of rice and confetti. They were to leave that after- noon for a honeymoon trip to the Orient, Outside people’ were gathered to pay silent homage to Mammon, the great god of money, who will soon bless the less fortunate children of com- merce by a ten percent cut in wages. Long lines of curious waited auxionusly for the much-heralded couple to leave. Down the strect MeHugh came along. Seeing the crowd, he addressing a spectator inquired. “Say, what’s goin’ on here, Jack?” “Oh, nothin’ much. Just a guy gettin’ married to Andrew Berry’s daughter. Must be some big shot, I guess.” “Andrew Berry, did you say! queried McHugh. “I used to work for that louse.—Strikin’ now; the fat sleb tried to cut wages. So his gal’s gettin’ married, eh? Move over, will ye bud, I want to take a good peep at her.” Several minutes later the arched doors swung open and the bride and groom stepped slowly down the steps, followed by flower bedecked bridesmaids who fluttered behind her like so many tinted but- terflies. Cries of admiration and applaase broke out from the envious spectators. As the bride approached her limousine, stepped directly in front of her, ward motion to bow. He head, allowing the corners up into a sardonic sneer. “Hello bright eyes,” he ejaculated. The slender form of the one the remark was alm- ed at, stopped abruptly. Taken completely unawares she retreated and screamed frightenedly. The rugged features of her accoster startled and in turn frigh- tened her. She had never met a type of the McHugh sort before. . “The brute—He—He frightened me,” she panted, clutching her hushand by the arm, who stepped for- ward, and raising a silver handled can held in the palm of his hand, deliberately struck McHugh a glancing blow in the face. “Arre st that beggar, officer,” he commanded to a policeman. MeHugh reddened, Thick blood of a suppressed anger gushed to his face, A natural in- tuition automatically clenched ‘his large fists, “Where do you get that beggar stuff?” he re- trodding aimlessly ventured close and Mcitugh and made an awk- lifted the cap from his of his mouth to screw you're under s ; 7 McHugh cogitated awhile. “I’m not goin’ with you, officer. I haven't done nothin’ and ain’t goin’.” He attempted to walk away, when seeing the varnished night stick raised in the air, his own arm reached out first, which sent the policeman reeling to the ground. A crowd of civilizies quickly gathered to ee TNT ENNIO EE RINE A KNTOIMMES! 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