The Daily Worker Newspaper, April 30, 1927, Page 6

Cogitation In a Cell {Continued from Page 1) “I was told that this was the right way to ap- proach a boss” observed Finnegan. “Weil, you'll know better before long” retorted Fitzpatrick. “Only for this letter from Dr. McFud- dle, I would have you pitched out on your ear. What the devil kind of animals are they rearing in Ireland these days?” Then Fitzpatrick cooled down somewhat and said: ‘YU place you, provided you are willing to start from the bottom. How would $8 a week suit you for a start? If you stick to it you'll make good al- right.” Finnegan said he’d think it over and made his exit. Hell, he could get almost twice that much rustling freight on the docks. If Finnegan had taken that job in the store per- haps he might not now be looking at a lot of flies creeping ever the bowl in the cell. He might be a floor-walker in the store, a collector of pennies in the church and the proud possessor of a deed to a cottage. But what of it? When he thought of living such a life he almost had a fainting spell. Finnegan did not take the job in the store. He did not want to start at the bottom. He did not even want to start at the top. He did not want to start anywhere. He was not that kind of a person. The very thot of having to take the same car every morning, get up at the same hour, punch the clock and perform the same movements regularly for a lifetfme was enough to drive him crazy. He had imagination, and imagination is not a prerequisite to — in business. So Finnegan thot and thot, furi- ously, In his youth he read in a catholic magazine an attack on socialism made by the pope. Because the pope was against socialism Finnegan became inter- ested. But none of his acquaintances ever heard of this strange doctrine. When Finnegan tried to tell them about it they would not get excited but simply say: “I am afraid that will not come in our time.” But one day Finnegan was walking along the beach ready for anything, even for jumping into the sea, A rather shabbily-dressed person handed him a pamphlet. It was the campaign platform of the socialist party. Finnegan sat down on a bench and devoured it. He was not the same ever since. That leafiet made him what he was today. It gave him a new reason why he should live. Here-he was in the can, thinking over many things, and particularly over the motives that drive people to do certain things. Now, why should one man suffer in order to help millions who may at this moment be quite willing that he should go to the gallows or rot in jail? His soliloquy was disturbed by the rustle of a key in the cell door lock and another prisoner was shoved in. The newcomer was a sallow-faced Pole. “What have they got against you?” asked Finne- gan. Electricity and pPBcraiciry and god! A rather strange com- bination. Even more than strange. Really, what is there in common between electricity and god? Aren’t they entirely two different things? Well, they may seem to be so to the common mortal, but they aren’t. Indeed not! Ask Pro- fessor Pripin of the Columbia University. He knows. And as far as he is concerned, the af- finity between electricity and god is an undeniable fact. In his learned opinion they’re very much re- lated to each other, real “blood relatives,” so to speak. First of all, Professor Pripin claims that to teach the science of electricity properly simply means to teach theology in its “most concrete and intelligible form.” Secondly, “there is just one mystery in the eclec- trical science, says our learned professor, “and that is, where, when and how the tiny electron and its fond partner, the proton, came into existence? The sensible man will say god created them, and god only knows where, when and how.” And last, but by no means the least, “when man discovered the electron he caught the first glimpse of the divine method of creative operations. God employed the heavenly host of electronic workers to build the atom, the molecules and the galaxies of burning stars.” Here you have a “scientific” proof of the com- munity between electricity and god. For our pro- fessor this as clear as day. Of course, it takes a professor to see that much. But to the common mortal, “mystery.” And yet, there is nothing mysterious. “Our estimable professor is simply trying to inject a little of that “magie (or rather electrical) elixir” into % “They say I put child in girl,” he replied, and one could not judge by his looks whether the charge was phony or not, The Pole did not seem to care what Finnegan was in for. He asked no questions. Just looked inte space. It wos now six o'clock in the evening and noises began to increase. Outside a detective squad was going on duty and the lieutenant was lecturing the men, It was hard to catch everything he said, but Fin- negan could gather that he was criticising his staff. There. was considerable cursing and abuse and then silence. . But not for long. It was time for the line-up. The jailer came along with his key and the cell door opened. Finnegan and the Pole walked out. They turned a corner: and found themselves lined up against a wall with figures on it. From 5 foot to 6 foot 2. The prisoners stood up against this wall. In front of them were about twenty grinning policemen in plain clothes, a detective squad. In the middle of this squad stood a lieutenant, the same fellow who was abusing the policemen a few min- utes previously. The lieutenant had a sheet of paper in his hand with the names of prisoners on it and what they were in for. He called them one by one and as they were called they were compelled to stand with their backs against that part of the wall, on which the numbers were inscribed. As each prisoner walked up to his position the lieutenant would ask him for his ngme, -tell him to take off his hat, tell him put it on, then abuse him for putting it on, ask him why he was here and when he answered, the lieuten- ant would say: “shut up or I'll kick you in the helly,” or worse than that. After the lieutenant had satisfied himself that this particular prisoner was played out, he would say to the detectives who stood ‘around: “give this bird a little medicine.” Then the detectives would take a few punches at the prisoner remarking: “how do you like that you son of a Mexican half breed?” The Pole got ahead of Finnegan and even Finne- gan had to Jaugh at some of the things the dicks said to him about his amorous affairs. Afterwards in*his celi the Pole said to Finnegan: “They called me a -——---—..” But another prisoner—a pro- fessional pickpocket who was spending the night with the Pole and Finnegan, laughed like hell and chuckled: “They called you nothing. You ought to hear what they called me.” And when he told what they called him the Pole laid down on the bench and went to sleep-—happy. “Finnegan, there is someone to see you,” hollered the night desk sergeant. . Finnegan jumped up and out. His wife was look- ing in thru the gate that led from the stairway into the cellar where he was incarcerated. She had been trying to locate him all day and was sent from one place to another. Nobody seemed to know where he was. Well, she saw him and began to hurl ¢ God this god, moldy from old age and badly smelling of decay. : In the times of yore it was quite a simple matter to uphold the popular belief in the “almighty.” Yes, it was a pretty easy job for the priests. And they didn’t need for it the electron or any other thing of that sort. People believed in god, and in the devil (and everything else related to either or both) firmly, implicitly, unshakably (it seemed), in a most primitive manner. Everything in this world of ours comes either from the divine spirit (god) or the evil spirit (the devil). And the crea- tion of the world was just as primitively explained. God moved his hands to and fro and about, or just said: “There shall be light,” and lo—there was light! In the very same fashion he created the A B : | believes, and seck facts and knowledge, is constantly growing. Slowly, but surely, the ancient biblical tales are losing their influence and their fascina~ tion, as their inconsistencies in the face of hard * By T. J. FLAHERTY a stream of abuse at the desk sergeant. I innegan gave her the silent signal. : “Tam just after running the gauntlet,” Finnegan told his wife. “Say, didn’t those dogs abuse me!” “Not at all,” chimed in the desk sergeant, “they only asked you some questions that were not easy to answer. No matter what you said you were a damn fool. Yet, if you didn’t answer you were a bigger fool.” “But what right have you or anybody else to ask my husband questions?” demanded Mrs. Finnegan. “T would like to seratch your eyes out.” Finnegan was. trying to convince his wife that the desk sergeant was not responsible for his misery; but women and reason are not always synonomous terms. But talk as Mrs. Finnegan did the sergeant had the last. word. “What I'd like to know,” he said, “is why a man like your husband should be here. He doesn’t have to. What is he getting out of it? Now, I am in sympathy with his ideas. I always vote for William Jennings Bryan, when he is running. But a fellow can’t afford to be a damn fool unless he has a private income. Now, leok at me.” . Finnegan and hts wife looked at what was talk- ing and saw a little fellow with a semi-bald head like the shuttle of an, old-fashicned loom. : “When I came to this country,” continued the desk sergeant, “I had a tough time finding a job, but I stuck it out. I took anything I could get. I took a job washing dishes. But I was not satisfied with that. I got a job on the street. cars. I wasn’t satisfied with that. I studied nights and finally landed on the police force. After I pounded the sidewalks for a few years I was given a plain clothes assignment and here I am. Now I am just sbout where I wanted to be. I tell you that a man who doesn’t look out for himself ought to be where you are Mr. Finnegan. I feel sorry for your wife.” And so was Finnegan for that matter, for he was a conscientious husband, but after his wife said good-bye and he returned to his cell, somehow or other the lavatory bowl looked different and the flies that were crawling over it seemed to wear gaudier plumage. Even the snoring of the Pole sounded like the strains of a jazz orchestra to Fin- negan after the Babbitarianisms of the desk ser- geant. Finnegan was in no paradise, but at least he was not satisfied. He shuddered as he thot of living the life of a floor-walker, or being part of a system that depended for protection on uncouth and obscene detectives. This was his compensation for whatever discomfort he suffered. He enjoyed the luxury of hating the plunderers of the workers. A feeling of lanquor superinduced by mental satis- faction crept slowly thru his veins, like the action of the first glass of a generous wine on the blood. He folded his soft hat and laid it down on the bench. He laid his head on his hat, stretched out his limbs alongside the amorous Pole and soon his heavy breathing was mingling harmoniously with the snores of his cell-mate. By 8S. SLOBODSKY facts of everyday life and science are getting more and more evident. And the number of church- goers, of the “obedient sheep,” is gradually de- creasing. + Naturally, the priests are very much alarmed over this fact. From the pulpits and in the press they’re shouting about the “growing unbelief.” Many of them, in order to bring back into the folds of the church their herds, supplement their sermons with movies and other amusements. Not so long ago one sagacious New York priest “sea- soned” his sermons with some classie dances per- formed by barefoot maidens. This “growing unbelief” also causes a good deal of anxiety to the ruling class. And no wonder. Religion has always been one of the most efficient means of preserving obedience in the oppressed toiling masses, their submission to their unenviable lot and their blind hope for better times if not in this life,, then at least in the “hereafter,” It’s therefore necessary to save religion. But how? It,seems that movies and such like amusing supplements to church me don’t serve the purpose quite well. True, churches are, perhaps, filled again, but a good only as spectators and not as reverential god-fear- 7 abet Of course, this doesn’t help. mat- Well, if movies, dances and other attractions don’t i : i : 4 & Zz B F 3