The Daily Worker Newspaper, November 14, 1929, Page 4

Published by the Comprodaily Publishing Co., Inc Square, New York City, N. Y. Telephone Stuyves Address and mail all checks to the Daily Worker. 2 Page Four da ex tt Sunday, at 26-2 table: “DAIWOT are, New York, N. Y. The Continuous Working ae Year and Five-Day Week | By SCHLAUER. PART IL. Ire fundamental principle of the transition to the continuous work- ing year in the Soviet Union is set forth in the decree on the matter passed by the Council of People’s Commissars which la; it down that the annual working hours of each worker may not be increased nor the number of annual rest days decreased. The logical consequence of this categorical requirement of the law is that the seven-day week which meant that the worker had his day of rest only after days of work will have to be done away with irrevocably. All plants will work not only on Sundays, but also on holidays (barring the five revolutionary holidays), while the two hour’s reduction on the eve of holidays and rest days will also be done away with. If the seven-day week were retained the number of working hours per annum would be increased by 22 days (reckoning eight days for holidays and fourteen days for the reduced working hours on the eve of holidays and on Saturdays). (In this connection it must be added that these reduced working hours on the eve of holidays were, accord- ing to the law, paid for just as if the worker had continued working.) It was originally proposed to make up for this extra work by pro- viding a corresponding increase in the annual leave. This suggestion, however, was rejected, as it would have made for difficulties in running | industrial enterprises during the summer months and would eventually have resulted in longer factory stoppages during these months. Instead, the line was proposed of reducing the working week, and the five-day week was introduced by law. The number of regular rest days is thus raised to 73 or 72 per year, to which must be added the five revolutionary holidays, whereby we again got the former balance of annual working hours. The five-day week must be regarded as a tremendous forward step and a most effective measure for rationalizing working arrange- ments in production. It hardly needs proving that it is much better for every worker to knock off and rest every fifth day than every seventh even if he has in the latter case a few more but irregular holidays in the year. BETTER WORK—BETTER WAGES. The five-day week also increases the physical working capacity of the worker to a considerable extent. Indeed, it is generally known that labor productivity at the end of the week, on Fridays and Sat- urdays, is considerably less than on the preceding days of the week. And actually, already in a number of plants which have introduced the five-day working week the daily output per worker has gone up five to ten per cent and even more. And as this has brought in its wake a considerable reduction in costs, it has been found possible to raise wages accordingly. By way of exception, the six-day week (the rest day -oming after five days work), i those working three shifts), where the regular repair and overhauling of machinery cannot be effected without a periodical stoppage of the plant in every month. This is essential, since applying the five-day week in their case would mean a considerable reduction (12 days), in the annual number of working days. Now, with regard to the form of organization of factory work, it may be said that the number of workers employed will be increased by 25 per cent (of course, this figure could be reduced by rationaliza- tion measures, and it must be borne in mind that one-fifth of all the workers in any given plant have their rest day on each day of the week). WORKING ARRANGEMENT. In every workshop the workers will be divided into groups of five who will look after not five, but only four, machines or other equipment, Four of them will always be working on the same machine, the fifth man replacing another worker who is having his off-day. When it comes to performing operations responsible for the em- ployment of less than four men and for the other operations left over in any general grouping (if e. g. 23 persons are employed on any operation, for the latter three) special substitute groups will be or- ganized in which each worker will have to perform not one operation, but will have to take his turn in performing several. It will be readily understood that in most cases a somewhat higher piece rate will have to be provided for these substitute groups as well as for those workers who will have to change their machines every day, as they will be working in what will be relatively worse working conditions compared with the others. Matters will be simpler with regard to labor organization in those cases when the plant is arranged on the system of the small “aggregate.” In their case, for every fourth aggregate a full fifth crew of men will have to be made up, the workers of this substitute or “deputy” group working every day on another aggregate of pro- duction unit whose crew happens to be having its off-day. In this case, too, each worker will be performing the same work, the only difference being that each day he will be working on a different ma- chine or in a different corner of the workshop. In this case, the question of dividing the number of workers by four disappears entirely. | The number of employes required as technical overseers and in the machinery of management will, generally speaking, remain un- changed. Once in the five-day week every department chief will be represented by his substitute, works foreman; the foreman by his assistants or by one of the older and more experienced workers, and vice-versa. Attention will, of course, have to be given to the matter of seeing that each responsible administfative or technical worker shall furnish the necessary instructions on the day before his off day to the man who is to take his place next day. much as it will have its educational effects, seeing that the persons who will thus have a chance of performing some responsible service on their chief’s off day in each week, will gradually get accustomed to regarding the plant from a broader angle; while those among them who are able to prove their ability as “deputies” on these days can be steadily promoted to higher technical or managerial Posts. This point is of special importance in the case of Soviet Russia, dustry lacks qualified technicians. ‘As the transfer to the continuous working week will naturally | increase proportionately the number of skilled workers required, this has naturally caused difficulties of a practical nature at the outset of the reform. The practical solution of this problem has been found to be along these lines: the workers in Soviet factories are classified into nine skilled categories. This means that the demand for skilled workers inside any given plant is met, and new workers can only be absorbed by bringing in workers of Jess skill or totally unskilled work- ers. EFFECT OF THE WORKING CLASS ON THE MATERIAL PROSPERITY. ‘As conditions are in Soviet industry the introduction of the con- tinuous working year means a considerable improvement in the ma- terial position of the working class. Following are the factors in- volved: (1) Increased physical output capacity following on the shorten- | ing of the working week, and a corresponding increase in the work- | er’s earnings. (2) The mass retraining of the workers and their promotion to higher skilled grades. (3) Huge reduction in unemployment. (4) Increase in real wages owing to the lowering of production costs and gradual corresponding decrease in prices of industria] pro- ducts. (In the control figures for 1929-80 an average increase in real wages by 14 per cent is provided for, ably be outsripped actually.) (To be continued) —— “Labor” Government Incites Chinese in War Threat on USSR Going on, Henderson extended an implied invitation to China to ap- peal to the League of Nations in case Soviet troops “seriously invade Chinese tervitory.” Thus the labor imperialists encouragé the Russian white guardists and Chinese to sharpen their provocative attacks on ” was weak enough, but still|the Soviet frontier and continue qualified by his adding thé/their inhuman tortures of Soviet phrase “undg~ existing circum- citizens imprisoned by thousnads in temnne N Medahiweat== fnt-smneneh amaane : hawaii cee LONDON, Novy. 13.—Arthur Hen- derson, “labor” foreign minister, came out yesterday with a veiled threat of intervention in Manchuria against the Soviet Union. His state- ment that he did not consider in- tervention by Great Britain “advis- allowed in the case of thase plants (chiefly | THE TIDE RUNS LOW | By MYRA PAGE (Continued from Yesterday) Binney Green, slight, fair haired, a girl striker who barely looked her fourteen years in the gingham slip she wore, spoke next. Her thin, childish voice piped across the hall, telling of the exploitation of child laborers in southern cotton mills. She ended with these words, “We mill hands down South bin mindin’ the bosses all our lives, but since each works department engineer by the | This system possesses value in as | where in- | although that figure will prob- | th’ first of Apri we bin lettin’ th’ bosses know the workin’ class posi- tion.” After other talks, on special phases of the tasks facing American labor, we broke up into eighteen industrial conferences. It was in these | conferences, which met for two or more long sessions, that workers of each industry came together and grappled with the specific problems facing them in their industry. And how they grappled! Past exper- jences and methods were ruthlessly analysed, and the future programs of organization work were thrashed out. The most detailed, practical | work of the convention was done in these conferences. For workers in a few industries, as mining, textiles, clothing, auto- mobile, shoes, and marine, where new industrial unions had already been formed and were forging ahead, the discussions centered around building the new unions. In other industries, as those of printing, building and railroad, the central task was that of left wing work within the existing unions. But more of the conferences were faced with the task of organizing in as yet unorganized industries, such as those of steel, rubber, oil and chemical. That evening, the waitress passing out coffee and sandwiches across a quick lunch counter to us, while we grabbed a hasty bite be- tween sessions, asked “What kind of a convention are you having over there, anyway? A union convention? What’s that like—an organiza- tion like what my pop belongs to? He’s a railroad conductor.” “Alike, but different.” And we explained. Meanwhile, she pursued her gum and gazed at us with astonishment in her pale blue eyes. “Well, I must say, I never heard such ideas before.” “Have you got a union here?” we asked. “Naw. What do we need with a union? What cud th’ union do fer us?” “Huh! Got all you want, I suppose. Satisfied, are you? Only nine to thirteen hours a day. And $14 a week. Huh!” ary, my com- panion, grunted in disgust. Mary was a steel worker in a Cleveland plant, had organized a good shbp committee there and they were issuing a shop paper. The bosses were at their wit’s end to get next to her bunch but so far they hadn’t succeeded. Everything was piece work there, and if you went at top speed all you could earn was fifteen a week. Working conditions were rotten. A regular stink hole. Work- ers there didn’t need to be told they needed a union! Mary gazed at this female Henry Dubb who gazed back across the | counter, and drew a long breath. Then she proceeded to do her prole- tarian duty. “Maybe you think this is a free country, too, do you? Well, last week I was arrested for making a speech downtown where we were holding a meeting. How’s that for a free country?” “Arrested! My gawd. Have you been in jail?” But Mary was hastening on to tell why workers need to organize, in order to protect their interests. Another hash slinger came over, | and joined in. “You're right about a union, kid,” this youngster put in, “Condi- tions ain’t what they might be. But how’d we get all the girls to stick together? How do you start a union, anyways?” Mary launched into a detailed explanation, and offered help, while both waitresses chewed on, keeping their eyes glued to her face. Evi- dently they had never come across a girl like her before. A real Bol- shevik. As we were leaving, the second waitress inquired, “Could outsiders visit your convention, maybe?” “Sure,” Mary answered. “And what’s more, no member of the working class is an outsider at this convention. It is for people like | you and me, the exploited and unorganized. Tell me when you're off, | and I’ll come for you.” And we went back to the evening session. | After the session closed, weary miners and their wives trudged with sleeping children in their arms, to the hotel quarters arranged for them, hey were looking forward to catching up a little on the sleep they missed in the night before, in their all-night travels by truck to the convention. But on arriving at their quarters, they found that two of the hotels flatly refused to admit the Negro members of the delega- tion, although the rooms had already been paid for. So, at eleven thirty p. m., the one hundred and fifty of them ,declared a strike on these hotels and set out to find new places to sleep. A few of the white delegates, not finding other accomodations, slept out on park benches rather than use quarters in hotels which refused shelter to their colored fellow workers. At breakfast the next morning, we sat at a table with two oil workers from Indiana. One was an old-timer, who proudly showed us his A. F. of L. card in the boilermakers’ union. “Have you ever been to an A. F. of L. conventon?” he asked me. “Sure, more than one. In fact, I’m still a member of an A. W of L. organization.” “Well, sister, this here is different from any labor convention that T’ve been at. It’s different. I ain’t caught onto it all yet. But every- body seems to mean business.” (Righto, brother. No mere resoluting, word slinging gathering here.) ‘Then, he scratched his head and ae his eyes in an effort to express himself, “it’s a different spirit, Hila” : SUBSCRIPTION RATES: By Mai! (in New York only): $8.00 a year: By Mail (outside of New York): $6.00 a yeari $2.50 three months $2.00 three months $4.50 six moy $3.50 six 1 By Fred Ellis This is how he came to be a delegate to this congress. He worked in one of the biggest oil refineries in the country. For years he had tried to get the A. F. of L. to come down and organize the plant. The men were ready. Well, first it was promises. Then it was excuses. Finally, it came to him that for some reason, the A. F. of L. wasn’t interested in organizing the oil industry. Then about three months ago he had gotten wind of a Trade Union Unity League organizer in Chi- cago, so he decided to go over and see him. ‘They talked things over, and organization work was begun. A meeting of two hundred workers had chosen him and his companion to come here and make plans to organize their plant and oil industry. So here they were. Were the workers in their plant ready for organization—they'd say! Men earning fifty and sixty cen’s an hour, girls getting around thirty, and all sections being speeded up like heil. He felt he hadn’t grasped all the program yet, bus one thing he was sure about—the T. U. U. L. was right in standing for industrial unions, and a fighting policy. He could see now how all these years the craft form of organization had held them back. But, in the next breath he was arguing against his young companion’s statement that the women were being more exploited than the men, although they earned from one-third to one-half less, because, after all, he reasoned, they didn’t have families to support, and what they did was only woman’s work, ‘anyway, no man would do it. “No,” the younger oil worker replied. “No man could do it. It would kill him.” And he explained why and how the women were more exploited. Meanwhile, the older man listened intently. He was an interesting figure: an old time A. F. of L.-er, skilled mechanic, hard headed and sincere, forced by his determination to serve the working class and by the logic of cir- cumstances into the ranks of the revolutionary union movement, and trying to get his bearings there. New ideas were struggling with the old in his head, end he was sweating with the tremendous effort of thinking it through. As I watched his starched white collar wilt and crumple, I thought of the various others like him who were at this convention, and of the thousands in local unions scattered throughout the country who had sent him here. Rank and file A. F. of L.-ers, thoroughly disgusted with its leadership and enthusiastically entering the left wing movement. Econ- omic and social fo: had swept them free from their old conservative moorings to new revolutionary ones. They were. all set for militant ion. hut the task of acquiring a new labor outlook and understand- ing was almost overwhelming them. A worker can’t discard an old spc. oO: tuvught whieh he aus followed for ten or twenty years and get a new one overnight. He’s got to sweat for it. Well, this con- vention was Surely giving chaps like our mate here a turkish bath, It was on the second day, when the general reports by Foster, Dunne and others came up for discussion that the masses got the best opportunity to tell their story. Over eighty delegates took part in the discussion, and many more wanted the floor, so that Jack Johnstone (who, with shirt sleeves rolled up and collar loosened was wielding the gavel) found himself hard put to it, to be sure that every section of the working class had a chance to have their say. The first to get the floor was a Negrs seaman, from Philadelphia. “Y’ve been fighting the bosses for forty years. For twenty years I fought ’em single-handed. I was like a dog chasing my cail. But,” he added, grinning at our laughter, “I was on my way! Then I joined the union, but the light was dark. Very dark for us colored workers. Today is the brightest day of my life. I saw the beginning of this labor fight. I want to see the end. Yesterday, when I heard what that little girl from Gastonia had to tell, I said to myself, ‘Jim, any man that won’t join the union movement now is a bum.’ I’m going back to my colleagues and tell them that they’ve signed up with the best organization that God lets th’ sun shine upon.” « “I’m a miner’s wife,” a tall, pale woman told us, “and until four months ago I was a steel worker, too. I ain’t used used to speaking in public like this, but I just want to say that we mining people know we've got the toughest fight that the miners ever had in this country, before us. We're going through hell now. Starvation wages, accidents on the increase, and little or no Work. We got to fight the-bosses, and government troops, and the Lewis gang, too. But the miners know how to fight and so do their women. And so do their kids. And you miners,” she said, pointing back to the benches where one hundred and fifty miners and their wives sat—soime of them with crutches nearly, others with the sight of an eye gone, many pitmarKed with pallor and coal dust which hal eaten into the skin; all poorly but neatly dressed, and gazing at the speaker out of lean, determined faces,— “You miners got to not hold your wives back but draw ’em into the struggle more. And you women got to get more active, even than what you are.” Then, turning toward the rest of the delegates, she said, “We mining people want the other workers to know what we’re up against, and what we’re going through and that we’ll never give in. We know we | can cuont on you backing us up, and you can always count on the | miners.” . | from the A. F. of L, union, “The Cigarmakers’ local of Wheeling, West Virginia sent me here as their representative to this convention,” a big-framed, ponderous individual declared, and then he told us of the frightful conditions in the tobacco plants in their district, and how the tobacco workers, men and girls, colored and white, organized themselves and got a charter The international took their dues, but did nothing for them, and when the local union decided to call a strike, for better conditions, the International replied that “the office cannot see its way clear toward allowing the loca! union to go on strike at this time.” “Well, we struck anyway,” the speaker added, “and we’ve found out who tu tien are in the labor movement, and who are our be- trayers. And so my local union sent me to this convention.” (THE END.) Cleveland A Mass Story © OF BREAD Reprinted, by perm! from “The City of Bread” by Alexander Neweroff, published and copyrighted by Doubleday—Doran, New York, (Continued.) TRANSLATED FRO THE RUSSIAN, He sat with Trofim in the narrow station entrance, right near the door. They told each other about their villages, they no longer knew in what direction they lay. Mishka spoke listlessly, and listened re- luctantly. He was tired of thinking about it, tired of repeating the same thing day after day. Before his tight-shut eyes— like a ribbon-unrolling— pass.d Tashkent, the city never-beheld: city of plenty, city of Bread, the smiling city. High hills encircle its black bread, white bread, wheat in grain, wheat in sheaves. : Big grains, not like ours ..+ Here Trofim broke into Mishka’s thoughts, whispering loudly fn his tireless voice: / “How many pounds will you eat?” When we get to Tashkent.” Mishka pondered a while, lifted his heavy lids, said softly: “A lot!” For a long time the woman and the child wept, Mujiks coughed in the darkness. Ders barked ‘beyond the station. ™-ofim Mishka cheered 2nd er2ou--sed one another. ‘They agreed to travel on together. Listening to the barking of the dogs outside, Mishka saw the vast steppe, bare of men, bare of habitation; over the steppe thousands of ravenous dogs raced bare-fanged; they chased a shaggy giant of a dog with a piece of bread between his teeth, and suddenly they were all rolling around together in an immense ball. Beneath the frozen moon, dogs’ hair flew about the lonely steppe. Dogs’ eyes glared in the darkness, dogs’ teeth snapped. They tore each other to pieces; and from somewhere new ones came, racing in a savage pack through the station, jumping over Mishka’s head, flinging him to the ground. They tossed him into the air, threw him down again, seized his cap and his jacket. Mishka tore himself free in mortal dread, opened his eyes, looked around in a daze. Cries, shouting, curses, shrieks— and Trofim gone. They’re bringing up the engine! Groans, shouts, sobs. “Let me through!” ' “Let me op!” “You're crushing me!” “Little father!” “Give him one on the jaw!” Not only to be left behind in the little station on the deserted Kirghiz steppe! Hunger will devour you. Lice will devour you. Misery will devour you. Despair. . . . Bd They cling to the roofs, to the wheels, to the buffers, to the car steps. On the roofs, on the wheels, on the buffers, on the car steps— only to get away from this terrible desert spot. Hanging by their hands, trailing along the ties, clinging to the rear of the train—on'y to get away, to flee from the clutches of threatening famine-death. Over the steppe, beneath the frozen moon, dogs’ hair flies. Dogs’ eyes glare. Dogs’ teeth snap. “For God’s sake!—Mother of God!—Make way!" “In Christ’s name... .!” “Comrades! . . .” Mishka rushed from spot to spot, whirls round and round. You can’t breathe through the dense human wall around the al | The living wall sways back and forth—one is flung back, one thrust aside. You can’t leap this living, milling wall, you can’t wrench yourself free of it. It drags you into its whirlpool, it sucks you down, it seethes around you, strangles you, tramples on you. Mishka rushes to the engine, meets Tréfim coming toward him in his canvas sacking, a little, comical priest ni brief vestments. “Coming?” “Where?” “Come with me!” Mishka was radiant with joy—two is not alone. He clutched Trofim’s sacking, tore along past mujiks and women and railroad cars. They came to the very end of the train—there stood a sollier. They caught sight of him at a safe distance, and darted off in the other direction. “Stop!” shouted Trofim. “We must get on the roof. on our bellies no one will see us...” Mishka mounted on Trofim’s shoulders—the roof was still high above his head. He stretched up so as to get a grip on the hook, slipped and) fell heavily on the ground, striking Trofim’s head with his feet. Trofim was angry, and shouted: “Baba! Now I'll climb on your shoulders.” Mishka had hurt himself badly, but it was no time for tears. Trofim climbed on his shoulders and Trofim slipped too and struck Mishka’s head with his feet. “Come on to another place—we can’t get up here.” “T seraped my hand.” “Bleeding?” 7 “A Tittle.” | “Put sand on it!” When the locomotive whistled, drowning out human voices, Mishka’ and Trofim were lying on the roof of a car, flat on their bellies. With a sigh of relief Trofim whispered, inhaling the dust of the roof: “Are you still alive? Now we're on our way... .” The swift Kirghiz wind tore at Mishka and Trofim trying to sweep them down into the deserted steppe. When they looked at the crouching mujiks and women covering the car roofs, it seemed to them If we lie . that they were floating through the air, above the earth, over the steppe, and no one would ever be able to get at them. No one would ever be able to molest them. Only once Mishka’s heart contracted pain- fully—a mujik opposite him called out: “She’s dead.” There, with her head at Mishka’s feet, lay a woman with wild matted hair, face upward, her dead staring eyes gazing into the dis- tant, alien sky. The sharp blue nose, the rigid gaping mouth, with its yee grinning teeth, threw Mishka into a panic, hammered at his eart. Trofim glanced up indifferently. The mujiks sat with the same indifference, heads bent, immersed in their own affairs. One said: “She'll have to be thrown off. We mustn’t have any unpleasant ness. “How?” asked Mishka. “ “Off the roof.” i Mishka winced. Closing his eyes, he thought of Lopatino, of his mother whom he had left at home. Then his thoughts leapt to Tashkent, but the deaa woman with the grinning teeth shut out his mother and Lopatino and far-off Tashkent that was taking all his strength and that he would never reach. Stealing a fearful glance at the dead woman, Mishka whispered to Trofim: “Who is it?” “A famine woman.” “Will they throw her off?” “Can't do it in the daytime—it would be noticed .. .” (To Be Contiyyed.) i Aa Rae