The Daily Worker Newspaper, April 16, 1927, Page 9

A kich Man's Help By CLARA LICHT. received a phone call from a friend of mine, one day, asking me to come to see her at once. When I reached her home, I found her crying and looking greatly distressed. She immediately told me the great trouble that befell her. Her husband, a painter, had gotten lead poisoning and his right arm was getting paralysed. The doc- tor assured him that he may be cured providing that he'acts at once. They were penniless, for the wages the husband received were just barely enough to pay for the necessities of life. The wonian gave me several ad- dresses of some men that worked at the same place with her husband and also his boss’ address. IL went first to see Mr. Gross,.the boss. I can hardly decribe the grandeur of-his mansion, When I was ushered into the waiting room, I was bewildered by all the splendor and wealth that the roem con- tained. Mr. Gross entered, looking the part that befitted one so rich and when I told“ him my mission, he said: “Well, why come to me? I am not a doctor.” “I know that*you are not a doctor,” I answered, “but surely there is something you can do,” “I don’t owe him anything. I pay my wages in full on Fridays,” said haughty Mr. Gross. “TI believe you owe him a good deal,” I replied. “A man who works three years for one boss has produced enough for him to make*the boss owe him something.” “I guess you came for a collection,” he finally concluded taking a two dollar bill out of his pocket and handing it to me. I felt so mortified at this that I threw the bill in his face and left. I then went to the address of one of the men who worked together with the sick man. He lived in the poorest section of the Bronx; in a cold, dingy apart- ment house on the third floor to the rear. When I told him the condition of my friend’s hus- band, he sat back with eyes glazed and looking so frightened and shocked that I was sorry I-had come. He finally got out of his daze, put his hand into the inside of his coat pocket and made out a hundred dollar check. “Here, it ig the only savings we have. He will pay it back to me when he gets well.” I declined such a generous offer, but told the man to obtain the co-operation of the other workers in a joint loan. This he did with a will and that same evening he obtained one hundred dollars from four of his fellow workers who advanced this sum in be- half of the thirty men who worked on the job. These workers also decided to contribute a dollar each, weekly, which would make a sum of thirty dollars a week for the sick man and ‘his family until he would be well enough to resume his work. This is merely an example of the thousands of cases that are like this one, and I can see my own life revealed in the life of the unfortunate painter. This proves that workers must organize militant trade unions through which they may fight their everyday battles to better their conditions and that they must organize a strong Communist Party to lead the working class in the struggle to abolish the system which breeds misery described above. THE REBEL He has a craving-taste for foods and friendships, A thirst to dip and drink the circling streams That float across the sky their starry flotsam To shores beyond our dreams. He is responsive to the evening orchards Where Eve’s dark apple hangs enticing down, To mirth of music, grown to melancholy Over wide waters blown. And sometimes he could yield supine surrender Content, like Omar sharing Saki’s smile Where a tree sifts the ail to ardent sunlight And beaded cups beguile. But time evolves a sterner quest to lure him, Snares him and sets him ina stifling street To trample out the wine of his tomorrows With freedom seeking feet. There will his class, though he be not among them, There will hig sons, though he be scarred and, spent, Dance through the-days, drink life and love and laughter, And. . .be well content. —JOE WALLACE. CATCHING THE EYE IN THE ' SUBWAY Seven persons were in a down-town Seventh Ave- nue subway car. Most of them were reading. A few acted as if they were thinking, a big bluff per- haps. Right across from me was a young man, evidently a work stiff with the face of one who had laid on the-broad of his back underneath automobile bodies for a living. The trail _of a thousand wet rags was on his face. It was an oily face and you could not tell by the expression on it whether he was happy or sad, His raiment qualified him to step into any job that called for calloused hands and soiled overalls. He was reading The DAILY WORKER. So was I. Of course this is not such a novel experience that it would be good-for a headline: “Unidentified Per- son Seen Reading DAILY WORKER In Subway.” Nevertheless I rustled out my copy in an effort to attract his attention. Two unidentified persons on the same train read a Communist paper! Here was a story. The unknown was reading the feature page. Sub- way patrons are hungry for columns. Suddenly he dropped’ the paper and rushed for the door. The train had stopped. He made his exit. “A casual reader” I muttered. This was not so good. In thru the door that the unknown reader made his exit thru came another customer. He was not stylishly dressed, but his overcoat cost at least $25 and his hat was all there. He also wore a scarf. He pounced on the DAILY WORKER lying there on the seat like a hawk on a sparrow.’ He glanced at the front page, passed by “Current Events” with- out batting an ‘eye, dodged the editorial page as if his eyes had rested on a running sore and came to a halt on the feature page. He did not seem to be interested, but he was a perservering fellow. He turned to page five and read the advertisements then to page three. He glanced at the top of the page and saw the China- man assailed from the top, from the front and rear by imperialist augurs. The caption was: “Peaceful Penetration” and the Chinaman remarked that he was beginning to feel it himself, ~The reader chuckled, then shook with laughter. He ‘attracted the attention of another passenger who sat along- side of me. The laughing passenger arrived at his stop which was also mine. He left the DAILY WORKER on the seat where he found it. «Like a shark darting for the tempting, fat leg of a éwim- mer, the person who sat by my side grabbed The DAILY WORKER and backed into hjs seat. As I looked back to see what he would do with his find he was laughing like hell at the picture of the Chinaman. Moral: Leave your second hand DAILY WORK- ERS in subway trains. —T. J. O'FLAHERTY. ~ & * NATURE nx MUD VOLCANOES: A “mud voleano” is not really a voleano but as anybody who has been near one will testify, it certainly is mud, Actually it is a fountain of water springing out of the earth, sometimes heated, discharging mud into the air, occasionally. with a rumbling noise, and often form- ing a conspicuous cone many feet in height. They are usually regarded as evidences of oil’ in the region nearby, though -this’ is not thoroughly proved. They are evidences of natural gas how- ever. ed Mud volcanoes occur in the oil regions of Russia, Rumania, India, Venezuela, ete. At Baku they have been known for centuries and are reported tobe as much as 1300 feet high in some. places. There are no natural mud volcanoes in the United States. THE ASTEROIDS: There are eight planets revolving around the sun. Everybody knows that. But it is not so generally known that this figure is correct only if we ignore hundreds of other little ones that ‘qualify for the title of “planet” in every possible way, except that they are so small and pays them any attention. Many of them haye in- dividual names but the whole*bunch are usually referred to as “the asteroids.” More than 1600 of them have already been listed; they average about twenty-five miles in diameter. An auto- mobile could drive completely around such a pea- nut world in about two hours. They are not scattered throughout the solar system but all lie be- tween the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. This, to- gether with the fact that there is an unusually large gap between these two orbits has led to the speculation that there was once a ninth planet with a place in the solar system between Mars and Jupiter; some cataclysm shattered it to pieces, and the asteroids are the pieces. CHEMICAL EXPLOITATION: No, this doesn’t mean exploitation of chemicals by men, but exploitation of men by chemicals. Soon after the close of the war when the allied (and associa- ted) business men and generals were eagerly exchanging experiences with their German brothers, one of the first stories of German efficiency to leak out was the phosphate story. The Germans had discovered that dozing their soldiers with a small amount. of sodium acid phosphate every day had increased their capacity to do physical work by as much as 20 per cent. Were American busi- ness men ‘interested? What a question! A time’ clock with would eject a measured quantity of phosphate into an employe’s open mouth while he punches his card would be a cinch. And then —20 per cent more profits! However, it seems these hopes are to be dis- appointed. The role of phosphorus in the human body is not so well understood that the idea could be discredited off hand. The U. S. Public Health Service however, has recently announced the re- sult of an exhausive invtéstigation on the subject, They report no effect whatever from the phosphate, except that it is a laxative and might help some- what in this way. The dreams of using phosphate to robotize the workers a little further, have thus gone up in smoke. Still, it’s an il] wind—ete. The Health® Service warns that regardless of the test, a large drug concern is preparing to market the chemical unde a fancy name. “At last the real food for the high powered salesmen and captains of industry. Orde now—at your drugstore.” —N. SPARKS. ° SEWER CLEANERS When, like a river god, with recking boots And mud-bespattered coat, he upright rose From some foul hole, I turned and held my nose. Yet in his face is that which quickly loots The mind of scorn, a glance that darkly shoots From beetling brows. He strikes no prudish pose, But looks as one around whom daily flows A stream of slime and filth and rotting fruits. For pay, he delves where other men would die And keeps the sewers open neath the town. « He toils in water and in stinking gloom. Yet now he smiles and gazes at the sky, Then, hitching up his pants, again goes.down And saves the city from contagion’s doom. ; —HENRY REICH. JR. apete