The Daily Worker Newspaper, February 7, 1931, Page 4

Page Four Jeweled C rowns and Jeweled Shoes WEST. twenty B. iking blocks to maximum y located od food is half-decayed, rth the low d was hungry. a year ago on e leaking. On is Los An- ted towards r of jeweled i $500 I naively im- agined to be a new idea of super- ady t never occurred to me ately made, high- completely covered to slender heels ts and rhinestones. 9 keep out the water pictured in to- i creations DS , the maga- 2ir € he Los Angeles Daily E ni ture on the right.— hoes are exactly saw at the beginning of i ape” Lz Af our rainy season, and millionaires’ wives and Hollywood stars are buy- ing them. Before half-closed eyes pass as in procession the jeweled crowns of Marie Antoinette, and the jeweled crowns of other monarchs, of the more recent Czarina—crowns proudly worn on heads unthinking of the destinies of their wearers. Jeweled crowns that cost labor unreckoned from the hands of the many un- known—hands that reached out for food and other simple elemental needs—often receiving less. That was before. Now, long after, yet not so long, jeweled shoes for the feet of the favored few. These tread lightly, unthinking of labor unreckoned from hands unknown, hands that reach out for food and other elemental needs, content with little and often getting less. Thoughtless the whim- sical wearers of jeweled shoes tread toward their destinies. my Thrown Out By FREDERICK STROBE! HE was facing the circuit court commissioner. In her arms she held a four weeks’ old baby. On her right stood a woman companion of hers and on her left stood her land- lord. Her landlord, an overfed wo- man miser, demanded the payment of three months’ rent. “How much?” said the commis- sioner. “Hundred and five,” repeats the miser three times. “Five days,” thunders the commis- sioner, “or move out.” “But how can I do that?” she pro- tested. y husband is out of work for the last 13 months.” “Take that up with the Welfare | Department,” snapped back the com- | missioner. | “But they won't help us, because | we were out of Detroit; we have been a couple of months in Chicago by | my husband's brother. The Welfare | Department claims we are not resi- | dents of Detroit although we are De- |troiters—have lived here pretty | nearly all our lives—see?” |“"Well, T'don't know anything about that,” shrieked the commissioner; “next case.” ‘There were hundreds of cases, and he did not want to work overtime. | He disposes of them at a rate of five | cases per minute. Dejected, with tears rolling down | her cheeks and moistening the cold little hands of the baby, she sighed: | “There is something very much wrong with our country, and this can not From the Los Angeles Examiner, 2 Hearst paper, Jan, 11, 1931, HUNGRY THOUGHTS Once upon a time in my pious youth, Nearly every month there came to my home Two missionaries, who told my parents awful Heartrending tales, of famine and starving people in the Eastern countries. And of poor children dy’ g in their mothers arms, By thousands, for want of food and clothes, and 1 Remember on one occasion, I was Fastern friends, that in a momen Asked them to accept my pennies Dearly prized. Lauded my act, and called it nobl so moved to help my t of philanthropy, I from a bright red moneybox I And I remember how each missionary le, and said, “In time to come the bread you've cast upon the waters Now Will come again a thousand-fold.” Each missionary smiled, and pray And then, ed, and went away. I often wonder now, as I stand cold and wet and Nearly dead from hunger, if somewhere in the Near East, two missionaries are telling tales of Endless hunger lines in these United States, and of Women great with child, and homeless too, and of Young girls who barter up their body for a bed, Or maybe some Armenian youth, so moved like me, Renders up his pennies to the priest, who smiles and Kneels and goes away, and smiles again. To eat and drink, and pray for famines far away. For Only through the miseries of the poor can he getfat. Do. As all priests I often wonder too if some Mongolian branch of the Salvation Army, will get their local “Whalen” to organize a game for You and J, and of course, the Army too. nen tn cher Something “af a By PHIL BARD SEE where the Want-Ad section is being cut down to make more room for the Situations Wanted columns, and that the Rooms To | didn't have’ to do m T had been living in the town six | employees’ wives could have babies free, and a ten dollar gold| | piece, a pair of shoes for the infant, photographs. | | derry’s wife had just given birth to | and Jerry, Small Town Worker . Ly JOSEPH VOGEL. “QNLY in this country do you find such things,” said Jer He uch explaining. months, and had heard that the shoe factory maintained a hospital where their a half dozen a girl in the factory hospital. I tried to tell him what the state does for workers and their wives in Rent columns have been enlarged by| the Soviet Union but he shrugged fully half a page, due, no doubt, to| nis shoulders and: said, “All right, T throw the paper aside | put look what my American boss is evictions. to start on my well rehearsed rounds | going for me.” of the employment agencies, to be | met by the same well rehearsed an- swers of, “Sorry, we have nothing open just now, but if you'll call to- morrow......,” this procedure, this mockery of a decaying system has been going on for twelve months in which time unemployment figures have jumped from three million to eight million, football games have been staged for the unemployed—not a nickel of which they have ever | received, the police forces through- out the country have been reenforced —just in case, you know—Fifth Ave- | nue merchants have taken out insur- ance against hunger riots and thru- out the entire crisis a constant bar- rage of capitalist promises, promises of aid to the farmers, promises of food for the starving and work for the unemployed—so, they gave us breadlines. These promises have been met, by an armed demand of the farmers in England, Arkansas, for food, and by @ series of mass un- | employed and hunger demonstrations, staged by pepole who intend en- icying the fruits of the capitalist pro- mises, not by trying to patch up cap- |italism, but by abolishing it. I hope His American boss, before long, did’ a few more things for Jerry. In 1929 the shoe factory was exerting every effort to put across a heavy duty on shoes through the tariff bill; letters | to Congressmen, to bankers, lobbying, in order to cut down competition of the imported shoes from Czecho- slovakia. About seventy per cent of the shoe workers were Czechs. Jerry's explanation of his enthusiasm was simple. “I am living in America now. Here I make my living. the duty will be all right. Let those who live in the old country worry.” . Small town in 1929. Prosperity. Contented workers. Real estate busi- ness rotten, but the factories shared in American prosperity. So did some workers. Jerry had a Ford. A radio. ‘Three kids, including the just-born girl. Jerry wasn’t a fool. He was an ex- pert shoemaker. He had a lot of common horse-sense. If he believed that the American worker is far bet- ter off than the European worker, | he was thinking of conditions in his own town back in the old country, What worker could afford to tics on the prosperity of American workers, ‘a radioin every home,” ete, So when I once said to him, “What about the worker who is worse off than the worker in Europe, who has no job?” he waved his hand, brush- ing my argument aside, and ex- claimed, “Ab, what are you talking about? Yes, maybe a bum here and there who doesn’t want to work hasn't got a job, but . . . well, look at me, look at my friend Joe, look!” Words stuck in his throat. He was happy. in 1929 the New York stock n S crashed. Jerry wasn’t even interested. What of it? He had no ; money in investments, in securities ...:thank God, he made enough to pay on installments for his automo- bile and his radio and new bedroom furniture. The market crashed? Serves the: gamblers right. I told \Jerry about the case of @ man, Mr. ; Cramer, who lived on the next street, Lovabier had been tipped off earlier | in the year on\a stock, had borrowed | money, had made a paper profit of |sixty thousand dollars in three |months. ‘The man Cramer went /nuts. On the strength of his paper | profit he borrowed more and more money and sank it into his stock. | He lost every cent when the market jerashed. “You see Cramer now,” I said. “He’s carrying a dinner pail to | the factory. | “Serves the damn fool right,” said | Jerry. | Jerry knew that the shoe factory |-was. one of the largest in the couns | try, and that the owner was a mile |lonaire. Of course that’s why the {owner could afford to be so good to | His employees. Jerry's reasoning | didn’t go further. If it did, he would | have given more thought to the stock | market crash. . Late eae last long.” Out she went, with her| the apple vendor cursing his coming ccming. And I guessed right, too. at| that the time won’t be far off when : ; Small town in the winter of 1929, 2 i qk | ? mind . friend helping her to carry the baby.| into this world, or one may go and?10 o'clock the foreman gave me the| 140 Walk into an employment agen-|>UY 2 ear there? Jerry's mind) 4 vorican-Coolidge economy. Effl- at & ® whe | cy and cut in on the well rehearsed|'@2 in straight grooves. I am|/. ts. More statistics, ‘Talk (BO) ? “Our husbands must get together | visit the auto plants’ employment of-| red and yellow slips and told me to | °Y nibagpst Rane better aff here, 90 are. my fellow. | “ency experts. ag 5 “ Cs | RNG, and do something about it,”’ whis- | fices. There, instead of finding men| see him after new year.” lines: with, “You.go to: helt”, endl kera'. This country ts a goog | Of Unpyy and. Geman jmmmnee | slam the door in the face of a very walking the streets, and not many ew “ “Wik OLD IN eye Peace Premie® MrAcDOnatD EATGLISH HISTORY pered her friend into her ear, they are the ones whose fault it is.” Yes, there is going to be some fight this | winter in Detroit, too. | One may go in this town and hear | McGOVERN JOINS | U (This story was taken down in the Daily office.) | By JAMES LERNER | For 24 hours McGovern had walked | the streets between 240th and 86th streets. He was looking for a job.} if no job came, maybe, anyway, he could find something to eat. During | the nine months that McGovern had been walking the streets he had gone | hungry y a time but never be- fore had happened that he should have to face the night without the prospect of a flop. For the greater part of his 75 years he had toiled for a living. And he couldn't stand starving for more than 24 hours un- less he got some sleep, so he ap- proached what looked like a man on the corner of 86th Street for a nickel or a dime to soothe hunger and sleep- | lessness. The man drew aside his coat and | showed a shiny badge of the New) York Police Department. He lec- tured the aged worker on all the} dreadful things that he could do to| him for begging, But McGovern an- swered, “I don’t care if you arrest me, I'll at least have a place to sleep. My feet are blistered already from walking and my stomach is aching for some food.” The dick told him to go down to the Police Station and maybe he’d ‘get a break.’ McGovern went expecting to get a cell for the night. But he was mis- taken. When the desk-sergeant heard his story he looked bored and answered, gruffly, this is gettin’ to| be a racket with you’se guys. Aw- | right, go downstairs and find yeself a chair. Ill wake ye at four o'clock.” | He found the chair, took off his | shoes and sat down for a night’s “rest.” When he tried to put his shoes on again the next morning it was like trying to put a number 10 glove on a size twelve hand because his feet, released from their straight- jacket, had swelled. But he got them on all right, and went to the wash- “ room. Here he drew his one luxury, a safety razor, from his breast pocket and prepared for another session of street walking and job hunting. At five in the morning McGovern was turned out of the station house. For twenty-nine hours no drop of food had touched his lips, but the well fed policeman did not even think ot offering him any. And it was six more hours before McGovern finally tasted something besides water. He started walking the streets again, all the way to 150th St. in the Bronx. And all the while he was thinking that something was wrong when, he, a worker who had slaved for so many years, was starving to .Geath. He thought of the last job he had as a watchman for the New York World which was taken from him by a pensioned fireman who had some “pull.” As he walked along, he bumped into a meeting of the Unemployed Council at 150th St. and Morris Ave. ‘The Unemployed Council was demon- strating for the right of free speech and unemployed insurance. The streets were packed with sympathetic workers. The police as usual were , doing their stuff, chasing the demon- strators and also McGovern, But he came back, | ‘The speaker had spoken about a! |or ten hour day, Book Reviews LABOR AND LUMBER, by Charlotte Todes. International Publishers, 1931. Sixth book in “Labor and In- dustry Series”. 208 pages. Illus- trated, Price $1.00. Review by VERN SMITH. “Labor and Lumber”, by Charlotte Todes comes at the right time, just when the air is full of a smoke screen thrown out by the big lumber com- panies to hide their preparations for still worse conditions in the lumber camps and saw mills, their campaign for higher tariffs against their com- petitors in Canada as well as in the Soviet Union, and their hopes of a new war during which they can make 64 per cent yearly profit on total in- vestment, as they did in the last war. That smoke screen consists of crazy yarns about “convict labor” and | “forced labor” in the Soviet Union. Labor and lumber answers the charge directly by giving a small sec- tion to describe conditions as actually existing in the U. S. S. R. lumber camps: no unemployment, collective agreement, social insurance, seven- hour day, vocational training, free transportation to and from camps, free tools, work clothes, cultural ad- vantages, etc. and one day off in every five. This “slavery’ about which Mr. Fish gets so excited, can be contrasted with conditions in the U. S. lumber camps, where the eight hour day of 1918-19 has been changed to a nine where practically everybody is unemployed at certain seasons of the year, and in 1929, in July, before it was admitted there was a crisis, 31 percent were perma- nently unemployed. Now it must be about 75 percent. ‘Wages in Western lumber camps for a full week’s work in 1928 ran from $20 to $42 a week (but the $42 was for only oné man in each camp, the “high climber” whose task is such that he can’t live long). In Western saw mills, wages ran in 1928 from $19 to $30 for a full week’s work. In Southern camps and mills, where 100,000 Negroes work, wages were in 1928 from $10 to $14 for a full week of 60 hours in camps, and in saw mills were $15 to $20, Since 1928 they have gone down. On the other hand, in the Soviet Union lumber industry, they are go- ing up 20 to 25 percent a year in the same period. Todes’s book tells how conditions in the migratory workers’ camps have sunk back to and below the 1917 lev- el, except where slightly better condi- tions and disproportionately bigger way out of starvation. He was ready to fight for food and against starva- tion. As he hadn’t had a chance to hear very much, he asked @ “cop,” “What do all those people want?” The cop answered, “Aw, they're only a bunch of reds.” “Aren’t they the Unemployed Council that we've been hearing about?” “Yeah, that’s what they call themselves, but they’re only reds.” “You call everybody who wants to change things for the better, a red. Here I've been voting in this city for the last 52 years and I've never | | | rental charges on the workers prevail. Governmental investigation showed jin 1917 that one half of the camps | had bed bugs, one half had no show- jers, one half had no springs in the} beds, and one half were so insanitary | as to make disease practically certain. Labor and Lumber tells of the ter- | rific strikes lasting from the begin- ging of unionism in the woods in| 1878 when the Knights of Labor came | lin, down through the Shingle Weiv- | lers Union, Timber Workers Union, | and I.W.W. period. Those strikes and | |to some extent those organizations} were mostly smashed by terror. (The | main exception is the 1917 LW.W.) strike). Everett, Centralia, Graybow, Bogulasa—are stories of pitched bat- | tles with rifles, or of massacre of | union organizers by company gunmen. New York shoe workers feel justly grieved when the government orders | a lockout and tries to smash their | | union. But in the Pacific Northwest, | the U. S. government sent Disque, an army colonel and former penitentiary warden, to start a company union, the Loyal Legion of Loggers and Lumbermen, and Gompers ordered the A. F. of L. organization there to} give Colonel Disque full co-operation! | Todes'’s book gives the history of this struggle of the various organiza- tions, and analyses their tactics, good and bad. She ends with a descrip- tion of what a lumber union must be like to win against trustified em- | ployer's and the government. There! {must be industrial organization, like the I,W.W., but it must be central- | ized, and based on the camp and mill | committees. There must be militant | strikes, but the easy surrender of “taking the strike to the job” is no good except in isolated cases. There must be organization of the gypo (contract worker) and home guards (men with families) and of the mill workers—and this has never been done yet. ‘ Also, the book answers a question power to collect far above the aver- age rat of profit? How did private companies get four-fifths of the pub- lic timber lands of the U. S.? The answer, given in the first 70 pages of the book is very simple: They statistics, and description of a dozen different ingenious methods of larceny. as now. And done about it.” McGovern moved side it. He recognized some of the speakers in the wagon and hurriedly walked after it. As expected, the wagon stopped in front of the head- quarters of the Unemployed Council. McGovern walked in and joined up. pired, men are waiting for their final | pay. There on the benches one can see them—explaining to each other the trick that had been used by the bosses’ tools. The bunch stood silently for a mo- | ment, and then, as in chorus, they | proclaimed that someone's brain will | be blown out. | meant were the bosses and their And the someone they | “Are you a citizen?” they are in-| tools. quiring. “Yes,” comes the answer from a young, husky fellow in a} green overcoat. “But they have no nore none-vitizens on the payroll at} the Hudson’s—don’t you know that? ‘They all were discharged a long time ago,” his eyes madly piercing the| ones of the bunch of his fellow- workers. And so he went on to tell the trick that was used on him. And @ very dirty one, too. The foreman came along that morning and brought in a new man. “Break him in,” he was told, “he is| going to take care of the Polaks that | were fired for having no papers.” | A moment later a bunch of former employes of the Chrysler Highland Park plant rushed in a hunt for a| job: They had still more grievous | tales to tell. ‘They were working there for years, | Paying up to three dollars and a half on their life insurance every month. Now they were thrown out, the shop closed and the Chrysler Corporation claims to have @ net loss of nine hundred and eighteen thousand dol- lars for the fiscal year. “We must do something and do it quickly. This highway robbery must be stopped,” they all agreed. “Let’s | much surprised young man, CHICAGO WORKERS ART CLUB Along with several fine prints by Lebodinsky, which will appear soon in the Saturday Feature section, came a letter full of news about the ac- tivities of the recently organized workers’ art club of Chicago, the PALM Club. “We are doing a lot of work and are intending to do much more,” he writes. “It seems Chicago must have a club like this and we are deter- mined to do all we can to build it up. Up till now we haye been able to get in some of the organizations, While breaking this new fan in on| go,” commanded one, “we must go |like the Workers’ Theatre Studio, the his job the conversation brought out the fact that this new man had been | hired for 8 cents per hour less than| his own rate, which, with the bonus | system amounts to 15 cents less per| hour to the new man. | “I knew then,” he said, “what was | Wwe UNEMPLOYMEN ON THE MARCH and look up the Communists, they | are the ones that are doing some- thing for the workers,” and so they went. But they still did not know that their wives will have to shed some tears in the court room, while the judge thunders “Next case.” Hungarian Orchestra, a Blue Blouse dramatic studio, a Swedish singing society, the Freiheit singing society, and we also have individual artists of all arts actively engaged in work. “Many entertainments have been supplied both for large and small af- DEMAND ‘hw aia We ISU SF, I 5 %3 sees DON'T $7aRly é t WAR Funk 1B EOR THE TE UNEMPLOYED Place for us, and we are thankful to be here. Jerry’s outlook was typical of many skilled workers at that time. That was in 1928 and 1929. Jerry had never known such good times be- fore. He had never before been made to feel so great an asset to the com- munity. The candidate for alderman paid him a personal visit. The Americanization League taught his| wife English, free of charge. The Chamber of Commerce sent him} booklets regularly, describing his | wonderful little town, its opportuni- ties, his opportunities, quoting statis- fairs. We are now working on the Lenin Memorial, which will have all the stage setting and entertainment supplied by PALM members. “We are also working on the cam- paign bazaar and will decorate the booth with cartoons. A program will also be given by the PALM. A huge exhibit, program and dance will be given by the PALM at the) People’s Auditorium, 2457 W. Chicago | Ave., Feb. 28. The John Reed Club | of New York City and New Masses artists will send an exhibit for this | affair. | PALM asks that all proletarian art | organizations and artists affiliate with them. All communications should be addressed to G. Hartow on 1051 N. Francisco, Chicago, Ill. In answer to various inquiries, the address of the John Reed Club is 102 E, 14th St., New York City. Revolu+ tionary writers and artists interested in joining this organization should communicate with its secretary, Louis Lozowick. MEETING OF NEW MASSES READERS In line with self-criticism of the revolutionary press, recently initiated by the meeting called by the Daily Worker, the New Masses is calling a meeting of its friends and readers on Friday, February 13,.at 8:30 p.m., at! the John Reed Club rooms, at 107) West 14th Street (top floor). No admission will be charged, no collec- tions made. We ask workers, stud- ents, intellectuals, all our readers, to join our editors and staff in a frank discussion of our problems. Go over recent issues, make notes on them, or write a brief statement of your opinions, and bring them to the meet- ing of New Masses readers on Fri- day, February 13. ‘The purposes of and philosophy lying back of this meeting is well ‘summed up in “A Statement by the Editors” in the current issue of New Masses, from which we quote a para- graph: “The report. of the American delega- tion to the international conference do it alone. The New not the magazine of a o individuals, but the] streets to walk. Shoe factory the leading industry of the town, about the only place for a foreign-born worker to look for work, Hoover an- nouncements in the newspapers, bold type. Business picking up. A return to normalcy next month. ‘The following month I came across Jerry again. Frightened eyes. Ner- |vous fingers twisting a cigarette. “What's the matter, Jerry, looking for work?” No, Jerry still had his job, Still\on the payroll. But what a helluva pre- dicament he was in. Half the work- ers fired. Factory running half-time. Efficiency experts working overtime. More workers fired. Bulletin an- nouncements: “Due to depression in industry our employees must double their efforts.” Jerry was working like a horse. Anything to hold on to his job. He had become & nervous worker, a worker afraid or his job, afraid of everything, afraid of the chine. Any slip, any trivial mis- take . . .\out on your can. Effi- ciency, doubled efforts, if you want your week's pay. “God damn it,” said Jerry, “my wife . . .” his voice shook. “Wife going to have another baby?” “Next year,” said Jerry. He smiled feebly. “Oh, that’s O. K. Next year; we'll have American prosperity again, eh, Jerry?” “Oh, sure,” said Jerry. He didn’t look straight at me. “The tariff is in force,” I said. “That'll help American industry. Hoover said that, you know.” Jerry spat on the sidewalk, “To hell with Hoover!” His voice was scarcely louder than’ a whisper. “Jerry, maybe your boss’ll invite you over to the house to have steak and mushrooms, eh, Jerry?” . “Don’t be a goddam fool,” said Jerry. § The year 1930, The press screams: “Business Picking Up.” Announce- ment by the U. S. Department of Labor: “Cost of Living Not So High Now.” Announcement by the Amer- ican Federation of Labor: “Increase in Employment!” * -I met Jerry in June. I met a sorry case of a man. A strong man ‘with hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, trembling hands. No cigarette in the fingers now, No half-time work in the factory now. No American pros- perity now. Jerry kicked out on his can. Jerry walking the streets-of = small town looking for work. , I accompanied him to his home Home! Where's your automobile? Where's your radio? Jerry had paid in a few hundred dollars for these American prosperity necessities. Nec- essities and money shot to hell. to where they came from. Jerry took tne into the bedroom and pointed silently. “Jerry, where's the bed, where's the bedroom furniture?” Gone, back to where they came from, Jerry's wife enters the room, Jerry's big-bellied wife, housing another lite tle worker, another little slave, this time an American to-be-born.. Jerry, who'll provide doctors, for thé baby? | Jerry, where's the Chamber of Com- merce, where's the alderman, where sh nition pnts) out cheering : iness picking up.” They're oub fighting the reds, Ma i ie iene a | Jerry's big, starved body 5 emotion. Sounds,