The Daily Worker Newspaper, December 20, 1930, Page 4

\ _Page coed Dé AIL Y Wi ORKER EW YORK, ATURDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1930 ras “Guns and Marching Men” —A story of Revolting Miners, Scabs, Co. Thugs, and the New Union The following story is based on a play of the same name which has been produced 4y the Workers Labo- ratory Theatre and other organiza- tions. The-play, together with pro- ducing inStructions, y be procured by writing to this organization, whose address is: 131 West Twenty- eighth Street, New York City. * * * By L. A. DeSANTES E cabin door opened. Another shadow fell upon the wall. Its substance, John, nodded a greeting, threw a labor paper upon the table, entered his room, and closed the door. Keppard at the table shrugged his shoulders, gulped his coffee, and took a s hiag suck at his mu tache. -Gret, his daughter, seeing | John, smiled iad sighed. Seated be- side her grandmother, she sewed on| We are prepared. in silenee. Keppara, squat, with brutal coun-} tenance, got to feet and hitched] oe in his pants. One burly fist pounded | ‘The new national miners’ union does not sleep. the table. | And we, have a general staff, Gret, that knows strike strategy, the “More trouble. We ain’t had| T. U. U. L.” enough: yet.” cat Typhi “Now what?" Gret asked. “Them damned organizers is caus- in’ hell again. The strike is spread in’ west an’ there’ll be more blood- shed— Ah, well, the gun-men’ll take care 0’ ’em.” AMU SING PLAY Old demented “Gran’ma” Keppard, excited by his words, »egan to chant Review by V. JEROME Gunss.. >. suns - < - Paint- vet BRILLIANTEN” (Diamonds) — a ++ painted red... red... red blood} “Comedy of Soviet Jewish life, in sua aie blood... . Jim's Cabin| three acts and four scenes, by A. Cabin Creek .*. . guns screeching} Voviorka. Directed by B. Schneider 2... Ohl... Ludlow Had low) Ar ees’ He ALAA ee ee ae +++ woe... woe... Oh. -| Bolbart, scenery by M. Spirin, pre- Be ed by the Artef Players at the ins on ig Ot J, she sank) Princess ‘Theatre, 104 W. 39th St.' ack into her chair. Gret looked at her brother ar most recent’ revelaions of | “There! Now ya started her 2 counter-revolutionary attempts inst the Soviet Union have lent to the selection of A. Veviorka’s te “Brillianten’ for the second bill of the Artef Players this season. Under the title of “137 Children’s was - Sow many ‘time tell) ¥ Wi to stop yer talking blood and guns! We'll be doin’ nothin’ but hearin’ the bloody history of every miners’ strike!” \ “Here, Gran’ma. light. Ah, yer foreve: et yer Kamerny Theater pipe. Here ‘tis, Gran’ma, 1’! cal comedy ai light it f | It is essentially She turndd on her iather— | the hopeless “at-| s on the part to combat the workers’ ‘rev- “Who started this trovble anyway. if not the mine owne robbin ipping farce-comedy hts and moments — ljaughtet towards “T hope you" learned yer an’ll stand by t men time. I’m tired 0’ slavi Ya don’t make enough to keep go’ that we gotia have Coha to board— an’ even that ain’t c..ough to keep us like decent worki.? folk who—” “Damn John, ’n yoa too! That dirty redneck is nore to blame than the whole goddam—” | “Ya don't damn his money, do ya? He keeps us up... an’ what’s more, he's organized the coal diggers an’| is willin’ fer to fight with ‘em fer better workin’ conditions an’ pay. I ain’t ever heard o you fightin’ ’cept fer the company ’n against the men - +. ’n beatin’ little Joey!” Bice * * EPPARD raised his ‘ist to strike, but stopped when Joey, covered with sweat, coal. dust and grease, shambled in. He collided with the squat bulk of his father who was Standing with feet wide apart, glar- ing at him. “Ain’t ya workin’ overtime?” “I coulden see the belt any more. «+. The arch lights blindec me eyes. ... They’re sore—” Joey whimpered in tears: “Tl show ya, ya brat—” |The sledge fist fells Joey to the floor. With her full strength Gret pushes her father aside. “Leaye him be, pop, or I'll quit ya cold. Ya have a business sendin’ him to-a doctor befur he goes blind on ya—” “Mev.ya got the money?” “We'd hev it ... if ya had the guts to’ fight fer it... with th men. . ¥er m@ own father an’ I’m gitten’ to think yer a yeller dog. I este a! ++. I hate ya! Bully! Brute!” Her 92807, ization of victory. In laughing at he comic turns in the play we mock the ludicrous ties of the decayed Nepmen who hope by cringing and awning and cajoling and bribing to ring back the “good old times” of vrivete trading with its cheating and profiteering and, ‘of course, the pro- cting cloak of piety. How like worms they crawl at the feet of the straight- limbed, stalwart workers and peas- ants who build the structure of the new world, who sow the seeds of the new life! The plot sets forth the short-lived career of a self-styled commissar (So- viet official), who plays upon the ig- Imorance and credulity of a border- town population, in order to ply his trade of diamond-smuggling. In the course of his intrigues, he accepts bribes from the Nepmen (private traders), in return for his promise to bring back private trading and the synagogues. The traders come to look on “Comrade” Shinde! as their savior, a hidden Messiah in the guise of a commissar. In the long run “Comrade” Shin- del is unmasked. A local Communist worker brings him to beok, and the spark of the Nepmen goes to ashes. One misses, however, in “Brillian- ten” a clear presentation of contend- ing forces. The Communist, Levine, is not a significant character in the play. He is hardly organic to it. He defeats the impostor by showing him up, but Nepmanism itself is insuf- ficiently exposed. Its defeat is organ- izational but not ideological. The workers should through this. play, which allows the Nepmen to plead their cause, be made to see not only the extinction of the hopes for pri- vate trading but why private trading was liquidated. In the production of “Brillianten” the Artef recaptures much of what was best in their first satiric comedy, “Aristocrats,” likewise direct- ed by Benno Schneider. Particularly striking is the bribing scene with its is were two drumsticks beat the chest of the man who stood a rock—laughing. “It’s.the redneck in ya that’s talk- in’. Eaid yer hands on me fer the first tite, eh? I tell ya, that bastard John that’s been fillin’ ya with crazy ideas of a heaven on earth! “Ya ain’t what yer mother wuz.” ‘ “And ain’t gonna be. My mother. Where-is she now? Who put her grave? Who shamed her? Who le her a stab’s .°*: fer all the rs’ women to spit in her face. »\Who worked her to ope with wrecking Fishwicks and Lewises — b boarders so’s ya @puld fill tte guts with moonshine and in lust.... Who? Who? HO KILLED HER? Who? owners backed by gun-men thugs,’ the militia, injunctions, and the en- tire legalized murdering machine called the profit system.” @ -lHis cold eyes that giittered with a steel hate, now warmed to the thought of workers victorious, “But things have changed since Grandmother's day, Gret. The min- ers have learned their lesson and cleaned house. The new national miner’s union does not sleep — we are prepared — tonight every mining district in America joins the general, strike — and we have a general staff, Gret, that knows strike strategy —, the T. U. U. L.” “But John, Joey said he saw —” i “Yes, we know. . . they’ve rounded ‘road to| up all the professional strike- ON THE “NEPMEN”| preserted by} of the private) It is the] hter that comes with the} stylized movements of flattery and onnivance. We do not feel, however, the general evenness of painstaking direction that was so noticeable in “Aristocrats.” The direction in this play has been centered, it would seem, on the external rather than on the intrinsic expression of char- acter. The ensemble might cultivate a little, more of the silence that i solden. On the whole “Brillianten” be- 1ongs to the best. achievements of the Artef Players and deserves to be seen by the New York workers. MacDonald Drives Owners’ Cart the Coal “Lest We Ferget” By L. BERRY Bring out your jingo-bards, your public crepe, The wreaths and flags with which you yearly drape |The tombs of those you slaughtered! Tears are cheap To you who from their death know how to reap Fresh glory for your blood-soaked State. Those dead Our class supplied en masse. well you’d bred Them! Pawns in the financial game you played, Marshalled to die for profits that you. made On ’change! And _ dead have set No limit on your greed. This talk we get ' Of peace, this fulsome praise and grief of yours But mask your secret plans for fur- ther wars. How +t these mifiors We need no poppies to recall that crime Against our class! the time To call to mind When saintly clerics ‘:lessed the guns that went To belch forth death; for waliaaty they lent Their Prince of Peace to patriots fe, disappearance : pn eee ee el Se ee ee it knocking, the workers.” sa wal and kings! “Lest we forget!” these things Burn vividly within us. freed Be aot aftaid— The war-dogs once too often; now take heed; We are preparing, too! not pass Your threat without our own: “Class AGAINST Class!” (Reprinted from the English “Daily Worker.”) history of every miners’ strike has * expecting eyes. been; much the same. Graft or-| ganization, no preparation. Union- what it means — he thinks its fun.” Or does the lackeys of profiteering mine- love Harry? Is she to tasiier te “Is he her man? soldier's children?” — — him?” “Sometimes,”—her _ self-fear strangling her, “I think I do,” “Does he love you?” “I. , I think he does . . sometimes.” The rumble of the agent aocl’ Tupted them. S81 a muddy streak of light, a mca! The cabin shuddered, throwing them vio- lently from each other, - “The breakers hev stopped. The explosion! What does it mean, John?”, don't know. Orders were tol working ’til one.” “They may have trouble with the was You have We shall “Harry? Ah, he doesn’t realize “Tellme, Gret”—His eyes pierced. She turned her back—"Do you love “Little Brother Goes Soldiering” Review by H. RAYMOND (Member of the March Sixth Un- employed Delegation, Still in Prison.) Ever since the war to make the world safe for democracy ended, and preparations for a new war to make democracy unsafe for the Soviet Union began; ever since the last gun was fired on the western front in Europe and the first new lethal gas was concocted in the laboratories in America; ever since November 11, 1918, war books—diaries, narratives, dramas, poems, romance and what- nots about the war—have been clut- vering the book stands to such an extent that one would have to be sentenced to soutary confinement tor life in order to read them all. Many of these books that I have read are downright trash, and most of them are sentimental bladerdash written for the sole purpose of rally- ing youth to the banners of capital- ism for the next grand imperialist slaughter Only two of them, “All Quiet on the Western Front,” and this new book, “Little Brother Goes Soldiering,” give us a picture of any- thing resembling the true situation during the war. “Little Brother Goes Soldiering” is a narrative written in diary form. It expresses the reaction of a young English school boy whose mind is saturated with the typical English bourgeois ideology of army life and | war in general. This boy, who hardly cnew what a worker looked like sud- nly finds himself in an English with the pit boy, the slaughterer’s poy and other English working youth. The voluptuous billingsgate of the army camp staggers him at first and | ndéed his reaction to it staggers me. never knew that school boys existed who didp’t know the meaning of the word “whore,” and I am sure the zeneral run of. school boys are not as effiminate as the author of this diary depicts “Little Brother” (who ig really. the author himself), as hav- ing been, In spite of the unmistakably broad treak of lavender which runs through chis book and which is obviously part of “Little Brother's” make-up, this 900k remains, of all the war books : have read, one of the most vivi and truthful descriptions of what men went through in the last im- perialist war, and stands second per- aps only to “All Quiet on the West- ern Front.” Once at the front, Little Brother vegins to see things and write about them in a very illuminating and truthful manner. The mud, the ver- min, the gore, the avalanches of steel, the terror and horror are all brought out sharply before the reader with- out exaggeration, He describes a maghine gun dug- out after shelling: “There are patches of blood here and there all over the place, and bits of head in tin hats, and lumps of red and grey body, with pieces of khaki sticking to them.” aining camp, a buck private, along} “These war pictures sure help recruiting.” Tannu- Tuwa, a Re- publie of the Future By B. ZIRJANOV, Worker Correspondent of Kurgan, U. Ss. S. R. LMOST in the center of the Asi- atic continent, behind the snow- white mountains, is located a small country—the Tannu Tuva people's republic. This republic appeared only after the October revolution, and is still young. Its territory is 150,000 square kilometers. Before the revolution this territory was known as “Urjanka” district and for many ain of A company said, ‘Unfix.’ “Little Brother,” soon becomes dis- ‘Nusioned; the glamor and glory of it all fade like an unsubstantial dream. The officers are no longer such grand fellows, but stupid be- yond compare. Death, sickness, mis- ery and suffering are the only re- wards. He is sick of it all; life has given nothing! He wants to live, to get away from it all. But he does not rebel. He is awakened, but his rision is still dim. The diary infers hat is killed—murdered like millions xf others. were murdered, by the orld’s bankers and _ industrialists sacrificed on the altar of mammon. It would be well if every worker could read this book. Despite “Little Brother's” effeminate and non-pol- itical outlook on life, this book is an oxcellently humsn document and a powerful ’- “‘ctment against imperial- ist war. The parts which deal with And then the general confusion and mixup: “There were 25 of us, with one Lewis gun. He (the officer) had guided us all afternoon with his map out. Neither he nor us knew the way.” And again on the Marne: “The brigadier galloped up to us on a brown horse, and shouted, ‘Fix bay- onets. Jerry is just over the hill. Go at him and he’ll run, simply run. He’s 1 lot more frightened of you than you are of him!’ He wheeled his horse and galloped off ... the cap- the mix-up and general confusion at the front are of special significance so revolutionary workers. It is dur- ing these times of confusion, when the officers are divided against them- selves, and don’t know the way, that the disillusioned troops under good Bolst2vik leadership which does know the way, can be led against heir real enemies and the imperial- ist war turned into a civil war. And this is one of the major tasks of the revolutionary proletariat. years was considered as the property ot two competing countries—Russia and China. The eastern part con- sisted of a prehistoric forest and was populated by fur dealers. The west- ern part consisted of hills and plains. The population consists of the na- tives, Mongolians, Russians and a small amout of Chinese—altogether about 100,000. Before the revolution, Russian and Chinese merchants used to ex- change with the ignorant natives— knives, mirrors and gunpowder for rich fur skins. + aie ATIONAL liberation started in the entire Asiatic continent after the revolution. However, only after 1921 was the white army completely driven out, the national minorities estab- lished independently. It was then that Tannu Tuva became a republic. Now there are several large col- lective farms. Work has ben started to rebuild the gold and silver mines which belonged to the rich mer- chants. A number of schools are functioning, co-operatives and mov- ing picture houses have been estab- lished. In many places medical cen- ters are functioning. Besides there now appears one Mongolian news- paper—“Unen”—Truth. The Com- munist Party and the Young Com- munist League are functioning well here. The country is rich with natural resources. There is a large area ot land for agriculture and also many springs and waterfalls, which can be used for industrial purposes. Every- thing shows the bright future ahead. According to plans laid out, an auto- mobile road is going to connect the new republic with other large cities ot Mongolia. Through the River “Enisey” and by other means Si- berian cities will have direct com- munication with world commerce. The land of shepherds and hunt- — ers will be soon changed, by a rev- olutionary transformation, from a backward wilderness into a cultural country of central Asia. “Mother Jones”, Militant Fighter of An Earlier Day Her Lack of Political Understanding, However Lead Her to Serious Mistakes By ANNA ROCHESTER told the men to stay at home with the children for a change and let the women attend to the scabs... The day came and the women came with the mops and brooms and pails; of water.’ Thus Mother Jones during a min- ers’ strike in Pennsylvania, 30 years ago, organized an army of women who turned the tide and won the strike. Every day with babies in one arm and brooms or mops in the other hand, the miners’ wives went to the mines and kept the scabs away. And Mother Jones, already nearly 70 years old, was with them, cheering them on, holding meetings in mining villages, defying the armed ‘sheriffs, rousing the miners to stick it out till the strike was won. She was a good fighter in her day. “You don’t need a vote to raise hell,” she used to say. Afraid of no one, she went where the mine guards told her she could not go. Her specialty was violating labor injunctions. Up lonely creeks during the mine war in West Virginia, a generation ago, she forded the streams before daylight and turned up unexpectedly in some min- ing town where she would hold a meeting to encourage the strikers. Arrested and jailed, she would take up the fight again as soon as she was released. In her autobiography she told the story, spiritedly, but al- ways with a dramatic eye that saw herself as the heroine of the day. In those days she was against Gom- pers and the high-salaried American Federation of Labor misleaders, for the victories gained were so often “destroyed by the treachery of the workers’ own officials,” as she herself wrote. She opposed John Mitchell who sold out the miners and piled up a fortune for himself. She ex- posed Gompers when he “conferred with copper kings and lumber kings and coal kings.” Described Foster as True Leader. William Z. Foster met her ideal of a true labor leader and she described well his spirit in the great steel strike of 1919. Gunmen followed him and his mite in constant danger. Of him and. his co-workers in this strike, she wrote, “Never had a strike been led by more devoted, able, unselfish men. Never a thought for themselves —only for’ the men on strike.” But will’ all her militant spirit, | Mother Jones never really understood the class struggle. She never had a political program. She was guided by emotion, rather than by any reas- oned theory of working class solidar- ity. She boasted that she did not bother with theory and even thuoght the workers could get “justice” from capitalist authorities. She often turned to judges and governors, as if they could help in the workers’ struggle. “Whenever things go wrong,” she wrote, “I. generally head for the na- tional government with my griev- ances. I do not find it hard to get redress.”. Thus she let herself be fooled by smooth words and failed to realize that nothing had been gained except what the militant workers had forced the masters to yield. And so-in later years when her strength Was failing, she forgot the treachery. of officials and let herself be adopted ‘by the American Feder- ation of Labor. She welcomed William Green and others of that organiza- tion when they paid her tribute on her 100th birthday. Her reconcilia- sion with?John D. Rockefeller, whom she had:denounced after the Ludliw massacre, was given much publicity in the papers. When she died, it was the Chicago Federation of Labor that conducted. her funeral. But she was buried beside the five rank-and-file miners who were shot down at the Virden mine in 1898 They gave their lives in the struggle for an 8-hour day in the coal indus- try. And Mother Jones gave the best years of her life in the working class struggle. In spite of her muddled theory and her mistakes, workers will remember Mother Jones for her militant leadership in strikes, her fearless” marching against armed guards, and her tireless enthusiasm in building the workers’ organization. Hunting A Job In Chicago The following story, sent in by an unemployed white collar worker, gives a pretty good picture of the plight of this backward section of © the working class. Also, it reveals the pressing need of their being drawn into the Unemployed Coun- cils, and revolutionary unions.—Ed. . 8 By THE JOBLESS MAN “Do you know what is going to happen in Chicago?” asked a meek looking young man. We were stand- ing pressed together in a dim office hallway in an old building. “No,” I said, “what?” “There is going to be a strike,” he answered, “and then the —- —— will give us jobs.” “How long you been outa work?” asked another man. “Since January ‘cept for two weeks I worked on a farm,” he replied. “Ge you're lucky, I been out since last November.” We had plenty of time for conver- sation while waiting an interview for a job that had been advertised that day. There were many men in front of us and quite a few in back. The air was heavy with close breathing and I had a kink in my back. I had been standing on one foot for an hour. I wanted to smoke. I took out a package of fresh cigarettes. “Gimme one,” asked my neighbor, “I’m all out.” “It's cheaper to smake a pipe when you're poor,” added another fellow, a shiney faced young man who used strong language. He was very cynical, “I ‘hear this outfit pays all of twenty-two dollars a week, and they ‘want you to work seven days, too, the dirty ——- ——.” “Better than doing nothing for seven days a week,” I said. Ever so often the old: elevator wheezed up and a few newcomers got-out. They all looked as if they expected to see a crowd. Most of them hung around except a few who left immediately. I guess they couldn't stand the competition. ‘There was a comedian in the bunch in the inner office. At every fresh elevator load he would stick out his pale face and ask if they had made out applications. A few gullible ones would answer, “no.” “We are all out now,” he would answer, “but we have seht for some more.” “But give me your name,” he said to a little fellow with dark questing The little fellow answered dutifully in a faint foreign accent. “John Gulpski.” “Age,” asked the comedian. ‘ “Twenty-five,” said Mr. Gulpsk!. Here the crowd tittered. It was funny and pathetic. The men were like a bunch of schoolfellows baiting a néwcomer. “Married?” queried the funny man. “Yes,” whispered Mr. Gulpski. “Why,” asked the comedian, “but never mind I will see you in a mom- ent.” The little chap settled back on his heels, His mouth was like a baby’s, helpless and quivering. Waiting in Line During ‘one of the outbursts of laughter, a big burley man with a cigar stuck in his mouth came out of the office and elbowing his way couch the crowd, disappeared down the stairs. eyes and a weak wavering mouth.) and squat and very shabby. He had lost hi syouth a long time ago. He had on a dirty straw hat and a thin knitted tie was knotted about his neck. It looked very old. To pass the time I tried to picture him tying it day in and day out. Tossing it off on his dingy dresser at night, poor tired man; ‘and tying it on again in the morning. He seemed to be badly in need of a job. He stood apart and when the man with the cigar returned he took a meek step toward him and mut- tered a few unintelligible words. “What do you want to talk to me for,” roared the burly man, “I don’t know you.” He pushed his way into the office and a moment later an- other man came out and told the little mani with the worn tie to beat it. He went silently down the stairs. This demonstration of power had a sobering effect on the men. the comedian didn’t laugh. I that the little fellow could have known that we were all on his side. Labor -against capital. “It's lucky I’m married,” said my confidante to me, “otherwise I'd be in the poor house, My wife's workin’” “Gee,” said the shiny faced young man, “If I had a wife that was work- ing I wouldn’t look at all.” come out-and go his way. We tried to waylay him and question him about the works. All we could get from any years not to have to look fc chimed in another, “and Place to sleep and eat.” At a little blond came out of The men. all admired her inch the one. that was married. The man who was. in favor of jail decided to} stay out of it for a while anyway. It was past twelve o'clock. We had begun to give up hope. I thought of the coffee and doughnuts that I would have at, Thompson's. quarter to.one I had reached the wicket. There were only six men in front of me. I was pretty tired. Then the man who had chased away the offender came out and said they did not need any more men. As we were leaving the burly man with the cigar came out, but was called back in again by name. He was catching a train for New York and the girl gave him some checks. As I closed the door behind me I noticed his name lettered on it. After his name( in capitals was lettered his position. He was vice president, 1931 CALENDAR FREE!) Quotations from Marx, Lenin, ete., in the first annual Daily Calendar for 1931. Free months: »