The Daily Worker Newspaper, July 30, 1927, Page 9

In the Land of the Free Yap ig the land of the free and the home of the brave. The place where John D. made a for- tune out of nothing and where any worker can get a job at decent wages if he isn’t a Communist, or a natural-born loafer. Albert stood on the corner of Washington Street and admitted — or rather his stomach admitted for him—that he was hungry. But what to do about it? There were more men in town than jobs. All the cellars were cleaned out, all the lawns mowed, and all the garbage gathered up. The “loafers” had been busy chopping wood, paint- ing fences, doing odd jobs, until now, apparently, there were no more odd jobs left to do. The stout women proprietor of the 35¢ eating house on Ninth Street had fed him a couple of times—but the last time she had told him not to come back. But Albert had gone back. He would wash dishes, mop floors, peel potatoes—anything—if she would give him a meal. But the stout woman was adamant. She didn’t want any more loafers around. Let him earn a living like she had to. So Albert—along with hun- dreds of others—stood on a street corner and found himself in a position to appreciate what a working stiff of Palestine once said: “The birds of the air have nests, the foxes of the earth have holes, but the son of man hath not where to lay his head.” He sniffed the air hungrily. An appet.sing odor was wafted to his nostrils. The stout woman proprietor was setting what looked to be a steaming meat loaf on a ledge outside a lower window. He felt he never would be able to take his eyes off that meat loaf His knees felt wobbly under him; the saliva trickled in a thin stream down the corner of his mouth. Oh to be biting into that meat loaf, that juicy meat loaf! To be Savoring it, swallowing it! “Hungry, kid?” He turned and saw a man, evidently an unfor- tunate like himself, who had been engaged canvass- ing work or food from door to door. This person was taller than himself, older, and by the placid look of his face, better fed* ; Was he hungry? The nod was hardly needed for answer. Almost as if the meat loaf were a magnet with power to draw them, his eyes swung back to it, his nostrils twitched like those of an animal. “Well, if you wanna eat, do as I Say, see? Go to the back door where the meat is and batter the woman for a hand-out.” “But I’ve been there already and she turned me down.” “Never mind that. I bet we get somethin’ outa her this time. You see if we don’t. If you wanna eat, go ahead.” The woman was angry to see him at the back-door for the second time and told him so in no uncertain language. When he regained the sidewalk and look- ed around for the tall man, that worthy was beck- oning him from a street corner half a block away. Joining him, he was grasped by the arm and led around several blocks before the man stopped and withdrew from under the sheltering folds of his ragged coat the meat loaf! At his astonishment the man laughed. “Swiped it when the old hen was bawlin’ you out in the back,” he explained airily. He broke the meat loaf in two and gave Albert the larger piece. The latter did not know whether he ought to accept food thus stolen, but hunger made short work of scruples. Seizing his piece he devoured it ravenous- ly, to the last crumb, feeling renewed strength and vigor flowing back into his body with every mouth- ful. God it was good! He conld have eaten thrice as much again. His companion clapped him on the shoulder, “That’s the way to hide the goods,” he grinned. “It’d take a stomach-pump to find the evidence now. What’s yuh name, kid?” “Albert.” y “Well, Albert, mine’s Jake. Put ’er there.” one succeeding the other, and he is wanting He should-be about forty; Pathetique It so happened that on a Sunday he walks dully and in a lifeless repetition of steps, into the restaurant, and sits down in uninterested manner .. upon one of the stools at the counter. He is wearing a dark grey jacket that is baggy from overuse, worn trousers and shabby cap. While waiting for the order he carefully looks at his shoes. They are very new and commonplace—a bargain; to feel a certain pride in them, but his expression is only tired and dull. ne | and he already has that stamp of barrenness that you see on blighted trees when there is a cluster of dry leaves patil hanging limply from the trunk. Jake was a jolly rascal. Albert drifted with him to a small park on Jefferson Street where they lay on the grass and sunned themselves. “So the old man kicked the bucket, the bank got the farm, and your maw’s goné to live with an aunt,” he said sympathetically. “It’s a tough time to hunt work in the city, kid; and it ain’t better no- where else, either. Me, I used to carry a hod— when I wasn’t heavin’ a muck-stick—but the buildin’ boom’s all shot to hell and they ain’t no use huntin’ for jobs that don’t exist. We'll take it easy till three-thirty and then beat it over to the Volunteers and git some san’wiches.” “I didn’t know there were places you could eat for nothin’.” “Nothin’ me eye! Them people live offa guys like us. They use us as an excuse to beg the business men for checks, and collect old clo’es and sell ’em. They’re like the Salvation Army, in the second-hand business. Their wagons goes round and picks up the stale box-lunches. Tait’s and Leighton’s have left over from yesterday. We ‘get’ them. For noth- in’? Oh, hell!” When Jake and: Albert -went over to the Volun- teers an hour later, a hundred or two other men were already lined up. Jake cursed because the two sandwiches each received were made of jelly. “They hog the meat ones for themselves,” he complained. “Damn their souls! We'll hit the Mission tonight, kid, and make the price of a meal and bed.” The Mission was the Holy-roller place of worship on Broadway, which opened doors at eight o’clock every evening. It was crowded by men and women and children, unmistakably of the workingclass. A sprinkling of hobo intellectuals was there, not to worship, but to enjoy the performance. With the pathetic exception of some horny-handed worker’s attempt to look “dressed up”; with the equal ex- ception of some tired-faced woman’s effort to appear fresh in a limp gingham, the congregation was frankly unwashed and unshorn. Up on the platform there was a long row of chairs on which amateur preachers sat—they, too, the better clad than the majority of the congregation, were unmistakably workers—until it was their turn to take the floor and hold forth for the glory of God and the salva- tion of sinners, hallelujah! And there was a band to one side with an assortment of instruments; a piano out of tune; and a choir packed ful! of mis- directed sex energy in the shape of exalted-singing young and old men and women. Here and there among the elect could be noticed keen-looking neatly- garbed.men with a more sophisticated air. These were evidently the mainspring of the Mission, the ones who kept it a “going” coficern. They were the gentlemen who filled the gaps left by the hesi- tations of the amateurs; the ones who rounded out the periods when human endurance was at an end —OSCAR RYAN. —5— A Story By H. G. WEISS with an inspiring call for a hymn “Where he leads me I will follow.” There was no attempt to be coherent. Sermons consisted mainly of ejaculations. Penitents rose here and there and came to Jesus. The air was full of bloodthirsty cries. Oh, the blood of Jesus! You must be washed with blood! Blood must be shed! Behold the blood that washes away the sins of the world! é Broken confessions were made by members of the congregation; sordid, pitiful Some unbelievers laughed immoderately and were led to the exit by a hard-boiled looking gent who sported a big spe- cial officer badge on the lapel of his coat. Albert felt bewildered and disgusted. He could hardly believe he was in a house of prayer. The little Episcopalian church to which he had belonged all his life, had never indulged in such antics, and he had never attended a revival before. One of the neatly garbed men came to where Jake was seated. It was evidently an old game. “Are you saved, brother? How is it with your soul, brother? Have you asked yourself where you are going to spend eternity, brother?” Jake nudged Albert in .the ribs. “Listen to the boob talk, will yuh. Saved? Hell! How is it with our souls? Bunk! Where we gonna spend eternity ? Say, brother, you’d better ask where we’re gonna eat and spend the night!” “The Lord will provide,” said the sleek one unctu- ously. . “Well, he’d better hurry up,” returned Jake, “be- cause me and ma buddy are gittin’ pretty hungry, and sleepin’ on park benches is cold work these nights.” “Ah, thou of little faith. Did he turn the multi- tudes away? No, no, he fed them with loaves and fishes. Give yourself to him. He is food for the body, manna for the soul, a very refgue in time of trouble.” He placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “If you will confess your sins, receive Jesus in your heart, he will not let you want—I tell you he will not let you want.” Suddenly Jake waxed.tearful. “How are we gonna think of salvation when we’re hungry, when we’re homeless! If we only had a little moriey 6”? The sleek one haled Jake to his feet. “Tell it to Jesus, brother,” he exhorted, “Carry it to the Lord in prayer. When has he failed a contrite heart? Hellelujah! Hallelujah!” Thus encouraged, Jake came to Jesus. His was a rambling discezrse broken into by the loud amens and hallelujahs of the faithful. “He wanted to believe—Bless the Lord!—But he was hungry, cold—God bless you, brother!—But Jesus kept calling him to confess his sins—Oh Holy Name!—Would the faithful pray for him, pray for him. 55.2? Several of the brethren—and sistern—we mean sisters—would, and immediately they did. Jake fell on his knees by his chair burying his face in his hands. The choir swept spontaneously into the sing- ing of “Bringing In The Sheaves,” while the sleek one wrestled for the timid, perspiring soul of Albert. After the meeting, Jake with several other newly saved sinners of a roving, careless countenance, was herded behind a big curtain into an adjacent room for the purpose, as various ribald ones informed Albert, of being rolled into heaven. Albert saw nothing of this process; but the terrible shrieks and groans coming from behind that curtain were more reminiscent to his ears of a madhouse than of an entrance way to the courts of paradise. When Jake finally emerged he took Albert severely to task. “What d’yuh think,” he asked aggrievedly, “that I’m gonna do all the work and split half the jack?” He looked at the four bits the sleek one had slipped him. “You’d a made as much yourself if you’d a floped. If you wanna train with me, kid, do as I Say, see?” Albert signified that he saw: “Awright. I’m a good guy for now. Let’s eat.” But providence was to direct otherwise. “That’s ’em! I saw both of ’em with my own eyes. They stole the meat. I saw both of ’em steal it, I tell you.” A thin, vinegarish looking woman pointed them out to the cop and the weight of the law fell on both Jake and Albert in the shape of the policeman’s heavy hands. “All right, me hearties. Easy now, easy, or I'll bat you over the heads with my club.” Albert was almost blubbering. “I never took it, a et, aera “Aw, tell it to the judge.” The patrol clanged up. The peliceman herded them in. At the station they were charged with theft and locked up. Jake took it philosophically. “Cheer up, kid, the worse is yet to come. You'll eat regular anyway—tho I ain’t sayin’ what of.” He laughed and stretched himself on the plank. But Albert stared at the white-washed wall, horror in his eygs. A thief. He was in prison--a thief, Somewhere from another cell came a snatch of song: “. . , breakers of the law, h Highwaymen, yeggs and wobblies, the worse you ever saw... God bless the day they take me away » From the Portland county jai!!” And being only nineteen, and unhardened as vet, he buried his face in his hands and wept.