The Daily Worker Newspaper, March 28, 1931, Page 4

ake aaa Page Four oy A Sailor’s Story of a Develish Captain and a) he Holy Bed Bug“ Mutiny on the Good Ship “Margaret” By JOHN PETERSON. This is a story of a ship that in 1909 sailed from Iquiqui (Chile) for Europe and “vanished in thin air.” This was not an isolated oc- casion—it usually happened to ships known as “hell-ships” sailed by masters of the type set forth in this story. .In “them days” the conditions for sailors were bad enough to drive a “happy saint” to black despair. As dead amen tell no tales, I may mention a few ships that left port and never re- turned: “Wellgunde,” a German full-rigged ship; “Madelaine,” a French ship; “Dunearn,” a Nor- wegian; “Invermark,” a British barque which the writer left a few days before she sailed from Fre- mantle, W. Australia. The list of such ships is long, long. A good many ships went up in “mysierious fires,” and it always happened “just the day before she was ready to sail.” Here I mention the four- masted barque Marion Frazer, whose captain we picked up and pulled in our boat as he was the first man to leave his ship (a la Nobile). —WRITER. Who do you think was the cap- tain of her? (Chorus) Blow boys, blow: Holy Jock, the Bible puncher, (Chorus) Blow, boys, bully boys, blow (Deep Sea Chanty). “Big- Ca JOCK, like all er was a dark and char He was master of the cld ship Margaret; which hailed from Boston, the “cultural center” that you all know well. Rich be- yond all doubt, he was a terrible miser. The jingle of gold was a sweet music to his ears. The sight of money made him gasp as a glint of greed would come to his eyes that were deep set, rather red in color and shifty. Besides gold, Jock’s only friend Yas his Bible, which was soiled and yey well worn from too much @rd usage. He was a despot; on board his fhip he was the monarch of all he Prveyed. What he said was law, Bad God help the poor wretch who dared to suggest otherwise. The laws made by the sanctimonius cre- atures of the “cultural society” had given him the power which he used fn well-befitting and ruthless man- ner. Nothing could stop Captain Jock from stealing, cheating, robbing and even committing murder, because he had money; therefore he was. well protected. He was not one of those “blocd- thirsty” pirates who in the good old days killed and plundered under the protection of their own courage Bad he been born two hundred years ago, he would not have even dared te dream of going to sea. Though outwardly a bully, he was a despic- able coward. A hypocrite, and as false as Judas, he was no better and ho worse than the other Big-Bugs bbolit ‘whom we hear and read of in their papers. And thus he sailed the Seven Seas and cheated and robbed his sailors bf their pay, and, when need be, he tesorted to premeditated murder. ‘Captain Jock did not look like one of those villainous, cut-throat pirates that come from Hollywood, rather the opposite; he seemed more like a eat Franciscan padre who ad become fat through too little work and too much good wine. With & big, bald head; fat cheeks the tolor cf winter anples; strawberry- ike nose, rather Jarre, unturned and ulbous: thick-l! mouth, that hen grinning rong teeth ellow in color; hg, fat and flappy—all set on avery fhort neck the color of boiled lob- tter, which, in its own turn, termin- }ted upon a ball of fat with two fhort and fat legs—he, the mighty master, suggested a quadruped so fell known for its greed, or a big ug that when squashed would leave bo sad memories, but just a dirty. feddish streak and loathsome odor. Old Jock was greedy. Sitting on e pile of gold, he feared neither od nor the devil. But he also had boss, a dark and sinister power hind him. A small woman, dried out, bent er, with much-wrinkled, waxen from which a high-ridged nose out and then suddenly curved @ ram's horn, and a cruel ith so thin that it looked like Wt, and a long, sharply-upturned hin, upon which she invariably spat en angry and shouting and urging to some more deviltry—she was dark power behind him and she flso came from the same place—the ultural center where the Big-Bugs ‘sed to burn witches and where they btely burned two workers. Maggie. ®.the woman was called by Jock, e from an old, or the so-called lower (although she was old withered) stock, and she be- to half @ dozen patriotic or- paeitons-a0 beginning with ughter” of some sort or other. And such were Maggie and Jock, masters’ and owners of the old skysail-yarder Mar- that safléd the Seven Seas and one dark night joined the long of ships, “that pass in the night.” From Frisco to Hong Kong, from undcn to Sydney—who did not the big Bed-Bug, the hair- and ears outstand- | Whenever his was mentioned ig of “Per- I A big Finn ground his teeth whilst ribly smashed: “The B——.-, with Bible under his one arm, while with the other hand, in brass knuckles, he struck me when I was handcuffed and ined in the ing. I'll get him yet,” he swore. He never did get him, because Jock winked at the consul, whose extended palm he greased, and the big Fjnn went to jail—pronto. ‘lhe old ship Margaret was ready 1 and ther2 was no crew. AS is money, and it hurt Captain crew. At last he found the . you will like my th a broad grin, at to Idok like a T am sure you she is the best * he adced with snd of = repul- is at. bay. “Oh. “You are Y be ted; flat decent looking continued, we hung back broke, we met sullenly. Beir boarding master, and then we ran into the still blacker looks of his runne: who were also r police—so we had no ice, and on the good ship Mar- garet we signed! 1e next morning, just before we led, Captain Jock ordered a ser- vice to be held on board ship. A make-shift pulpit was erected. When everythink v ready, Jock made his appearance all dressed in black. He came slowly and with great pomp. Both his hands clasped the insep- arable Bible. Holding in check a solemn mien, he slowly ascended the pulpit. An old, battered organ was hurriedly brought from the cabin; Maggie sat down to play. After a slight fuss, in a business-like man- ner she ran ¢her frightfully long | fingers over the keys and finally she | tuned in. She began to play. Sounds | |—sweet and low; harmonious sounds, | | gradually increasing and with a beautiful timbre, spread over the siJent, somber ship as Maggie played and her skinny, clawlike fingers ran over the white keys that seemed to | be grinning—just like Death show- jing her teeth and grimacing at the sky! After the sacred song: “Life in the Darkness,” which is much liked by the sailors, the captain began to | pray in a voice which, too, began ng to his nose which was ter- | so he hunted high and low to} come on,” he pleaded, softly } | ing Against Widespread Unem- ployment and Wage Cuts. | DEMONSTRATION OF MEXICAN WORKERS. ABAUO CON ‘Down witH __DATLY WORKER, NEW YORK, SATURDAY, MARCH 28, 1 931 © black and menacing looks of our | Mexican Workers Demonstrat-| struggle against U. S. capitalism is) mon fight of American and Mexican | their American brothers to unify the | the same as that of the workers in | workers against the conditions of mis- this country, because the reactionary | ery and slavery caused by | Mexican government .is a lackey of | talism and its agents, the Mexican workers realize that their| Wall Street. To strengthen the com- | workers are continually calling upon! capi- Mexican —By PAUL. struggle in both countries, to cateh | | and destroy U. S. capitalism between | the two fires of the revolutionary | American and Mexican workers. among the purple, then blue, and it; seemed as if the very devil had} crawled inside of him and was about. to tear him apart and this was his | | last agonizing effort. He roared: | “Lay aloft, there, you dirty Dutch | b———,, and loose the sails!” | Se aS | At sea. Long watches set and | change with regularity that only a | sailor knows and feels. The dog- watch came and went, midnight | watch, sleepy watch, gravy-eye | watch, broom and bucket watch, sweat and pull watch—all followed | each other. Days went by, weeks | went by; we worked and starved. | “Six days shalt thou labor and do| all that thou are able; on the sev-| |enth day thou shalt holystone the deck and scrape the cable.” | Captain Jock believed in his Bible. | ‘When the wind was dead ahead and | the ship made no progress, he would | get the Holy Book, poring again, for |the hundredth time, over the same soiled and tattered pages, he would read, read and read. The more he read the Bible, the worse he became. Two ae wy peters en | ton and Bridgeport against the incr | looms. Notice the roller skates the keep up with production. Drawn by a Shelton, Conn., weaver, one of 800 now on strike in Shel- ease in their work from one to two worker now must wear,.in order to with a low whisper that gradually rose higher and higher, boomed louder and louder and crashing into almost a roar—it, too, spread over the ship and penetrated ever as far and as deep as the chain locker. |The Old Man prayed and big drops of perspiration appeared on his bald bead, and slowly the beads rolled down his fat cheeks and dripped on the deck—pat, pat, pat. But, with fervor born through long experience and constant practice, the captain prayed on and on, “Hell's flames and damnation! What's the matter? Heave up that blasted anchor!” roared the preacher ; after the service was over and he| had put away his Bible. As we shipped the bars and started to heave away tramping around the capstan, the captain roared again: “Now, then, let's -have a chanty.” “In Amsterdam there livvved @ maid, and she was mistress of her trade,” a sailor by the name of Vir- tue began in a sickly and plaintive voice. It was the holy man’s favor- ite song, and he felt happy. Pacing the noop, he smoked his pipe of evil- sm¢.ling, cheap tobacco that would make a veteran smoker retch, but only made him spit continually, and yet his face was all in smiles, so well he liked the song. When we came to the chorus, which is rather smutty, he also joined in, and, pull- ing along in his deep basso voice, the Old Man enjoyed it very much. He felt young and gay! But not very long. With the anchor aweigh, and when the tug had already pulled us a good distance—so the blue ocean smiled on our lee, and the green hills with yellow and brown patches began sinking and gradually changing in color to grey, then to grey mist and we were about to cast the last fare- well look at the land going beyond the horizon suddenly an unearthly | When for three weeks the wind had not changed a point, the captain be- ‘gan to rave and he raved so much jand so loud that he frothed at his | mouth. The wind struck back—it began to blow, then stronger and harder; ever louder it howled and roared. The ship was driven off her course. Now he cursed the ship, the sea, the sky, the wind and the man at the wheel. “Keep those tops’ls shivering, you son of a b——,” he roared at the helmsman. When the sailor failed to answer the customary: “Aye, aye, sir!” he came and struck the man a full blow in the face. “J'll show you,” the captain hissed as he drove the Bible right in the face of the sailor. The sailor bled from his nose. Jock picked up the book. He wiped some of the pages. It only made matters worse, the red streak spread, stuck. He swore. He took the book below. (Another Installment of this sea story next Saturday.) NEXT WEEK— “An American Seaman in a Soviet Hospital,” another install- ment of “The Holy Bed-bug,” fl- lustrated by Slevan, Minczich’s long-promised review of what the miners call Tony’s bible, “Labor and Coal” by Anna Rochester; “Reforming a Red Builder” by Benice Michaelson; more Hap Jing- Jes with drawings by Gropper; drawings by Quirt and Lozowick, and other features, Fight lynching. Fight deporta- tion of foreign born. Elect dele- gates to your city conference for yell rent the air and re-echoed protection of foreign boru, / ELSIE--A Story trom Lite By MYRA PAGE. ILSIE has lived most of her brief twenty-four years near the glum, brick mills that crowd Pawtucket’s | narrow streets. From her North-| Slavic forebears who came to this| country around the turn of the cen-| tury Elsie intcrited her fair hair and skin, and her eyes the color of a fresh spring morning. Her strong hands and firm wrists are those of a working woman. Elsie’s people have woven silk and cotton for three generations, so as| she expresses it, “I was born to the| At the spindles and loms| trade.” since thirtoeen, she soon acquired a hardy outlook on existence and a rich vocabulary of American slang which} her parents only partly understood but greatly admired. That Elsie, she was some girl! So the boys thought, too. When not at work, Elsie joined with the others her age in having some fun, meanwhile scheming how to get the clothes she wanted out of her meagre wages. Once in Fall River there had been talk of a union for higher wages, and the youngsters had all been for joining up, until they found that United Textile guy had pocketed the dues and disappeared overnight. “To hell with him and the union too,” said Elsie and the others agreed. “No sucker’s gonna live off our, hard- earned dough.” When she was nineteen Elsie mar- ried a young railroad mechanic, by the name of Herbert Jameson. Wait a while, her mother begged her, you're too young to start out, and get saddled with kids and all. Elsie laughed. Too young? Why, hadn't she been earning her way for over six years! Herb had a pretty good job, they'd get along swell. His wife, he told her, wouldn’t have to work in any mill, she could stay home and keep house for him. They would get a Ford and on Sundays go out into the country. This was in 1928, the year of the Passaic strike. Elsie took her first vacation and Herb spent his free hours tinkering with the second-hand Lizzie. All worked as they had planned for a few months. Then Elsie found she | | | | where her husband worked began to go all wrong. “Those damn supers,” he told Elsie, “are turning off every fourth man and making the other three do his job. Gosh, kid, I was one of the last on; it may be my turn next.” By the time Gertie, the little girl, was a year old, Elsie was back at the looms. She paid a neighbor a quarter each morning to look after the child. Herbert’s work was now so irregular that: “Maybe,” he worried, “I'll have to go to Detroit or some other burg to get a regular job.” Rumors about a'twenty per cent wage cut were circulating in Paw- tucket mills when the New Bedford strike broke. Elsie read the news each day in the paper. “Gee, Herb, a good union is what we need.” Try and find one,” he told her,| the A. F. of L. is a lousy bunch.” | “You said it, boy. But this here is sure a swell strike, Guess the reds are mixed up in it or something.” | ‘When the wage cut was reduced by | half and the other Rhode Island com- panies withdrew their plans of a cut, for the first time since that U.T.W. fellow in Fall River had made off with the treasury, Elsie did some real thinking. After the stock market crash Herb | was laid off altogether. So the old Lizzie was packed tight with all the household belongings that they couldn't sell but could crowd in, and the Jameson family set out for Ford's home town. Here Herb found a two- day-a-week job, but Elsie had no luck at all. “There ain’t no mills in this old auto burg,” she complained. After several weeks of vainly trying to stretch two days’ pay to cover a week's needs, and the last of twenty bucks they got for the car was gone, she decided. “I'm going back to Pawtucket where my folks are and find a job there.” “But Elsie,” he protested, “it means our breaking up! You know there’s nothing in my line there.” “Well, we sure can’t go on like this. The kid’s half-starved. Any- ways, it’s just till things pick up.” was going to have a baby and things! Once back in Pawtucket, she final- at the repair shops in Providence ly located a part-time job, weaving They're even using the same pictur et By GARD. narrow fabric. But at eight bucks a | week, and Herb barely matching | even! No more scheming how to get the clothes she wanted for herself and | Gertie. Now it was scheming how to feed them and keep their old clothes looking decent, with pennies enough | to spare for car-fare and stamps for | letters to Herb. The second week the, foreman stopped by her machine and tried to | date her up. Later he gave her to understand it was go out with him or get her time. “The nerve of him,” she told her small daughter that night, “the big | stiff”! “Who mamma”? “Nobody. Never mind.” | The next day Elsie again refused | |a date, and that Saturday she was| paid off. This was just before March 6th, when I first met Elsie at the demonstration in Providence. She was one of ten thousand workers who jammed downtown traffic to demand Jobs or bread. It was a clear crisp day, and she stood close to the speakers, squinting in the sunlight, little Gertie held against one shoulder. As the cops pressed in, and the sound of fire-engines and whistles roared in the distance, I noticed she slipped her worn kid gloves into her coat pocket. “If any of these guys get fresh around here,” she told me, “I want my fists free, and I don’t plan to rip my last pair of mits.” Later she marched with several hundred to the hall and joined the Unemployed Council. When her hus- band heard of her activities in the union and Party he wrote her not to get his name mixed up in those reds’ doings. “Very well,” said Elsie, “then I'll take back my own name, for I'll sure not quit fighting. Just imagine, to be so ‘dumb as not to see what's got to be done today. Well, see you to- night at ‘the meeting of Royal Weavers.” : THE MODERN CHURCH By J. L. (An Unemployed Worker of Florida) I was tired, footsore and weary, I longed for a place to rest; Someone said, “If you'll go to Jesus, Your sick-sin Soul will be blest”; I went to church that same evening, But failed to find Jesus there, Instead I found a cruel judge, Who had sent six men to the chair. I also found a lawyer, Who, for the love of gold, Had put a widow's only son In a prison, gray and cold. And above me sat a sheriff, Who, just the other day, Had drawn his gun on his fellow man And taken his life away. And over here a landlord, | They Can't: Deport | hands chained I | the train around midnight and aboard | Who, because she could not pay, Had thrown a woman out of doors, Only yesterday. And right up in front a banker, Who'd stolen the peoples funds, Said, “Amen” when the preached, Prayed, “Thy holy will be done.” so 8 6 ‘The pastor looks us over, And then selects his texts, He reads it in a deep bass voice, And listen what came next: “Servants, obey your masters, And do your duty well, And be content with your wages, If you would escape Hell. Always pray for your bosses, Even tho’ they may oppress, Submit to their demands meekly, And by and by you shall be blest.” I left the church in sorrow, T'd failed to find solace there Where are the empty stomachs fed, \vhere, oh brother, oh where? Commimism French Worker, Recently Deported From the U.S., Sends Message to-American Workers By LEON MABIL (This worker was recent!) for his Comm! deported ist beliefs and 2c- tivities in the working class‘ move- | pHSoner: ment here—EDITOR.) « * * i the American bosses succeeded in} deporting me back to France. On| the night of February 2nd, I was| taken away from the Malone County’ Jail by the immigration authorities | and rushed into a train bound for! New York City. The whole night I was watched as a dangerous criminal—of course for the capitalist c! fuses to starve in silence is more dan- | gerous than a gangster or racketeer, | who after all can even be found in| the United States Capitol or City| Hall of New York City. Feet and| was rushed from} the steamer “De Grasse,” just a few| minutes before sailing time. Even on} board I was locked up in the cabin| until three miles at sea. I did not| have a chance to give a last look at| | that stature—oh, irony!—of Liberty! | I expected to be picked up by the French authorities La Havre, but due| to the past work of the I. L. D. and Secour Rouge (French Red Aid), 1) was released after a series of ques-| tions. | 2 want to express my deep appre- ciation of the defense and relief work done on my case, rather my cases. My condition in jail was much re- a worker who re-| 3 by books, papers and money, g regularly by the I. L.D. Without Stich reii#f the conditions of class war Would be a worse hell than ‘it 18. ‘AS soviY as I arrived in France, I | AFTER nearly eight months in jail,was* takett*care of by the Secours ‘Rouge Eiternational. The solidarity ‘of-the international working class is not an empty word, but a reality. Now Tam back in France and glad to"Be back in the ranks of the revo~ hifionary thovement. Hére, “as in “free America” the bdtitgeoié democracy dropped its ‘tha8k aiitdo in the open what a few urs agd were doing in secret. The jatis aré‘ packed with revolutionary sailors; ‘soldiers, and workers. ~Phe *Arnerican bosses succeeded in~ deporting a communist worker, but they will not and can not de- § ~port Communism from the United States. ~The Communist Party of the A. is there to stay and conduct -a fight to the finish, until the overthrow of this darn system of exploitation based upon the de- {mocracy' of the clubs, jails, depor- Goris, ana electric chair. "F¥om "this side of the ocean I call to the working masses of both sides ‘the “Atlantit to free the hundreds of U.S. political prisoners who, as our comradesof ‘the Imperial Valley and the--south are slowly murdered in their bastiles. Long live the C. P. U. S. As! =. Pong liye the International Workers Sottdarity,"and the World Revolution! Public Feeding Station in thesCommunist City of Ivy-on-the- Seine, France. (Read story by ployed are taken care of in this lief in a Communist-run Town.” Unemploymen By LEON MABILE Ivy-on-the-Seine, February 24th (By Mail) ‘HE workers of this city elected a Communist administration from, mayor down. ~In the year that com- munist workers have controlled the city administration, many changes for | the benefit of the toiling population have been made. Ivy-on-the-Seine is a city of ap- proximately 50,000 people, mainly in- dustrial workers. At the present time close to 500 are unemployed and 1,500 work part time. The unemployed workers, organized in their unemployed council, have their headquarters in the city hall, just next door to Comrade Marane, mayor of the city. About two months ago the city opened a public food de- pot and restaurant, which is not giv- ing charity but what the workers have the right to demand. For instance, the unemployed have two meals a day that they eat in the restaurant; or, if they have families they receive provisions to take home. They re- ceive one portion for each member of the family and workers’ children re- ceive one free meal a day in school. To show you that the unemployed do not have to line up two hours for a bowl of dish water, I will give you the menu of today. For lunch: mashed potatoes, roast leg of lamb. For supper, vegetable soup with bread, stewed carrots. The food is well prepared by the unemployed themselves and the por- tions are big enough for a man. The unemployed also receive seven and a half franes a day. The municipality A Lesson In=Economics By C. N. ‘ (A True Story From Buffalo.) While talking about charity, My next door neighbor said to me: “The Rockefellers are all right-- A million dollars! That is quite A lot of money, don’t you see, To give away for charity.” “Yes, I see,” said I, a “noble deed,” and quite compliantly agreed. ‘Twas better that I acquiesced— You see, my neighbor was my guest. But, then I told him what I saw In the papers, two, three days ago: One evening, so the story ran, A thug held up a workingman; And robbed him of his weekly pay, In sort of a matter of fact way; a French worker of how unem- red town; “Unemployment Re- ene wanted to give twenty francs, but | the prefect of the police representing the national government refused to allew it. At the same time the mayor is demanding unemployment insur- ance equal to wages, We havea law which states that any. unemployed worker of this city cam. not .be, evicted for non-payment of, xént, and the law is strictly en- forced. Pe We have~shower baths, barber Of course; comrades, these condi- tions ‘ exikt’'Snly in the Communist cotitrolled tities of St. Denis, Ivy, Vit- ry,’ Villejuif;'Alfortville, In the cities controlled by the bourgeoisie or so- ciatist nvayors, nothing is done for the- unemployed. (Also in “socialist” controlled “Reading, Pa. and Mil- watikee—Evitor.) Now dé°Hot think our Communist cities are free from, persecution, on ‘the vontrary. “For instance, out here in Ivy-on-the-Seine, since we have @ Communist mayor, the reactionary’ national government “gave” us the Guakdes Mobiles (state militia) today; the day before February 25 Géiidiistration, these birds are ninig up and down the streets. ever" arréstéd our mayor this mi ing.in ther,city hall and tom they_will try to stop us from get to-eity hel:--But they will not fue: ceed. v I Who wak*just deported from your “free America” can tell you that the unemployed in this Communist con- trolled city are much better off than in your “prosperous” cities where you. have {fo line up for hours to get a pint | of hot watér, “Have pity’on me,” the man cried; “"Ewas alt-E had, and I have tried Se-herd te-earn and save, because My.. children need some winter) Slothes** | The, house is,cold, my wife is ill, 4 Suyi"how=%o you feel this wintry) chill”, "The-thug began to sob, “Oh, shucks You'll break my heart; take svetwo bneks; T'mvas good-as John D, any day,” The bandit. said and went his way! THE Vctimistood there stupified— ButJater,.as he homewards hied, He.saw it.in the proper light, Auld tried“By golly, he's all right.’ (Lwonder_if_my guest, at that, Did sce what 1 was driving at?)