The Daily Worker Newspaper, November 8, 1934, Page 7

DAILY WORKER, NEW YORK, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1934 CHANGE | ——THE— | WORLD! By MICHAEL GOLD ECENTLY, I spent a week-end in a mining town in the lower anthracite region of Pennsylvania. Such a visit is always interesting to a New Yorker. Too often we forget the look and feel of these one-industry towns that are the core of industrial America. Wall Street isn’t New York, nor is this city where I was born and raised & gilded nest of sin and luxury, as Ku Klux fascists like to preach. New York is a workers’ city, where millions toil every day. It is a slum city of dirty streets and dark tenements. It is a city of hunger; more than a million people are on the relief rolls by now. But despite its proletarian city within a city, New York hasn’t the character of a mining town. There are too many distractions here. A colliery whistle doesn’t serve for the town’s alarm clock, as it did in Pennsylvania. Coal doesn’t crop out of the roads, or loom in great gloomy banks at the end of Main Street. You can't stand on the post office steps and see the strip miners tearing chunks of coal out of the surrounding hills. ‘The waitresses in the restaurants here don’t talk coal with their customers; the men in saloons don’t wear overalls and talk coal; you don’t hear coal, coal, coal, everywhere. Coal haunts the days and nights of these mining towns. Even the smallest kids know all about coal, and that some men are miners, and others are bosses. The ¢lass lines are sharp in these one-industry towns. And everything revolves around man’s necessity for making a living, even at the danger of his life. These small towns never escape the primitive realities. A Dark, Endless Jail WENT down in one of the mimes, The companies arrange these tours for visitors as a means of advertisement. You are taken down some 1,200 feet, and walked through some of the shaft tunnel. You climb into a coal breast, and inspect the manways and chutes. You are shown a petrified tree embedded in the coal face. You wade through pools of water. Damp sweat drops off the walls onto the miner’s cap and overalls you are given to wear. You are in a long dark endless jail, alone with your lamp in a cold, wet tomb. Steel girders have been set on cross-beams to support a roof of rock and coal. And you can see what the pressure has done to that steel; the girders have been crushed together as though they were paper. All this stone is evidently alive and dangerous. The company puts its best foot forward, naturally. It tries to show you a clean, comfortable mine, sanitary as a Child’s restaurant. Even then you must climb on slimy steps cut in coal, in and out like a rat. Nobody can ever make a mine look like a healthy or pretty place. Some of the bourgeois women in our party chattered and tittered hysterically. It was easy to see that they were scared. They had a right to be; a mine is like a wild animal that’s never been successfully tamed; anything can happen. * * . Marked By the Mine WENT to a miner’s wedding that night, at the home of a Slovak comrade. The groom was a strong, boisterous little miner of 62. He had buried three wives. The bride was a big jolly woman of 65. She had buried four husbands, three of them killed by the mine. These Slovak miners, like most European workers, ‘Show a wonder- ful hospitality, When they have anything at all they want to share it with their friends, They love life, because death is always so near. They love to dance, to sing, to shout, to taste iife at its lustiest. There was an enormous bald-headed miner of about 60. There was a Cleft in his skull, as it had been split by an axe. The mine had done that: He roared Slovak and Hungarian ballads all night, songs of loye and death. And the bride came out of the kitchen, and stroked his bald head fondly and kissed it. Then she sang to him some song about an old man who fell in love with a young girl, and everyone rocked with laughter. Then the groom pretended he was jealous and tore the bride away and made her dance with him, while everyone sang and clapped. their hands. The wedding had been going on for three days end nights. To- morrow some of the men would be down in the mines again, so now they were drinking life to the full. “I’m 25 years old tonight,” shouted the groom at me, “and to- morrow I'll be 62. Do you understand, my friend? What the hell!” I told a miner of my trip into the shaft. “Yes, they show you the best,” he said, bitterly. “But they don’t show you the way we must work. Sometimes the coal dust is so thick you can’t see or breathe or think, But you must work in it. That coal breast you saw—did you think we work in such a nice cool place? “That would be a picnic for us. Where we work it is more than a hundred degrees. We sweat as in Turkish baths, and then go out into the chill. And there is gas, and rockfalls, and explosions, All of us have been hurt, and have seen our buddies killed. Look!” He suddenly stripped off his shirt and undershirt and showed me his back. It was like a finely drawn map—tattooed with hundreds of small blue lines and dots. An explosion had drawn this permanent map on him. It had smashed his skull, too, and killed his buddy. Then I looked at the other miners and saw the broken noses, cleft skulls, and tattooed faces where the coal dust had exploded. All were marked by the miné. Some of them wheezed as they talked; miner’s asthma. One tall splendid Hungarian comrade told me that coal dust had settled in his lungs and the doctor feared miner’s tuberculosis might follow. The host of the wedding party was a miner who had just come through an infection he had gotten at work that chilled his blood in some strange way, and made the flesh of his legs peel in great flakes. The wedding party went on, and I enjoyed it with the rest. They laughed and sang and danced, because workers live in a hard school, and if they are cowards, they cannot survive. Capitalism has hardened the workers. When the day of proletarian justice comes, capitalism will be amazed at the fury and courage of its executioners. It has taught them too well. . . ’ “Full of Sugar” ihe WAS John Mitchell day in the coal fields, a holiday commemorat- ing a former president of the United Mine Workers. He was the one who worked with Theodore Roosevelt, and did not believe in strikes. In other words, a social-fascist of 1900. The bosses had such labor leaders, then, too, A big shot from the stae Federation of Labor was due to speak on Main Street in favor of one of the Democratic candidates. Prep- arations were made for an audience of 10,000 miners, but only about 300 showed up. “John L. Lewis is the greatest labor leader in the history of America,” the speaker chanted, “and I may add, in the history of civilization.” Some of the miners grinned. Some walked away. One Welsh miner had had a few drinks. He was on a passing bus, and he leaned out to yell, in a terrific voice at the speaker, “You're full of sugar.” It almost wrecked what was left of the meeting. The miners dislike and mistrust these windy fakers who have sold them out so often—these John L. Lewises and their flunkeys. It is only that a union of any kind is so necessary that keeps the miners in the U. M. W. A. When they can see a way out, they take it. When a reai opposition is finaily formed in Lewis’s union, this gang of oratorical N.R.A. racketeers will vanish like dirty slush in the sun of spring. Some of them may even have to go inside a mine again to work—though one doubts it, after seeing the usual width of the manways. You never find a miner as fat as most of these fakers. . . * Gold in Neck-and-Neck Race with Burck. Gold claims highest percentage (58.8%), but is in danger of being swept aside by Burck. With a quota twice the amount (51,000), the latter has raised aimost as much as Mike. “Change the World,” you'd better speed up! Sunday Night Club .... 1.30 Painters Custum Auto . 30 of MUSIC Business! Business! Business! By CARL SANDS best news of the week in music is contributed not by al new child prodigy, not by a prima} donna conductor at a higher salary (and better press agent) than any yet, and not by the latest victor in! the scramble for the few crumbs| of patronage still remaining for) musi¢al lap-dogs, but by the staid) critic of the New York Times, Mr. | Olin Downes. Listen to this: “Reasons, if not excuses, for con- ditions which have stultified art in late decades are plain all around us. Music is purveyed today, not} as an art, but as a business. The) artists are more or less helpless! in the matter. They must engage} agents . . . an artist’s career is largely a matter of advertising, per- centages, profits. The musical cor- porations fight one another for! right of way through various ter-| ritories, vigorously if not as bru- tally as rival oil companies fought their way years ago. . .” (What? Don’t they do it any longer?) ... “to triumph over or exterminate their rivals. These things are not the doings of individuals.” (Some- body does them and not some- botiy’s pet cat. Come clean, Olin, everybody knows who owns the managers, the publishers, the sym- phony orchestras and opera houses, the radio and phonograph com- panies, the manufacturers of radios and phonographs and the cinema halls and the vaudeville houses and whose advertising keeps some papers going... oh... now we have the villain.) These things, he says, “are the results of modern life.” | If these are the results of mod- ern life, what, I ask you, Mr. Downes, is modern life? “Dog-eat- dog policy, ... the buying up by rival organizations of artists for whom there is no market, in order that the other orgenization shall not have them to sell . . . high crimes against music . . . the pub-/| lic writhes . . . business, business, | business . . . vicious circle . . . the} public is failing to pay.” And then: “What shall be done? It is a ques- tion that this department does not Set itself up to solve.” Mr. Downes, I believe you thought it took a good deal of} courage for you to write your ar- ticle. But whatever courage it took, oozed out of you in that last pathetic confession of weakness and puésillanimous buck-passing. Can it be that you don’t know that your Prime business as a critic is just this—to at least attempt a solu- tion? Or can it be you are so saturated with the decay you com- | plain of that you really don’t be- lieve there can be a solution, or so ignorant as not to know that there actually is one and that thousands and millions of people know it? Or are you afraid for your job? EAE gaa 3 ROM such thoughts as these we hurried down to Carnegie Hall for the concert of the Philhar- monic Orchestra conducted by Hans Lange. The superb orchestra! came on the stage, the competent but not brilliant conductor walked on to subdued lights, and the water music of Haendel began. Music written for a fat German King of England, to be played on a barge on the Thames and procure for the composer, then in disfavor, a royal smile, with, of course, a grant from the royal purse. (Business, business, business!). Then we had Delius’ “Briggs Fair.” It’s the sort of music that is supposed to make you wish you had a country place at Newport with a pleasure-dome on it where beautiful maidens would sing sad songs while they fanned you with purple fans... . Finally, an Elgar symphony. ‘Warmed over Wagner; frumptious pedantry; should have been buried as soon as the still-birth occurred long ago. Before it was half over the conviction that the comrades were lucky not to be there, com- pelled flight—flight to fresh air, to sanity, to the sound of the “Comintern” on a battered piano. + +. Ue JAENDEL wrote fine music. The water music is fine, musicianly writing. But it is not good for to- day.. It is too compliant, too smug. Delius was a sensitive, restless, capable composer of little original- ity who might have written good music if he had stumbled upon some valid reason for writing any at all. But Elgar! Not even the best orchestra in the world can make it sound like anything but trash. It reeks with the stuffines of leisure- class imbecility. Contributions received to the credit of Del in his Socialist competition with Mike Gold, Harry Gannes, the Medical Advisory Board, Ann Barton, Jacob Burck and David Ramsey, in the Daily Worker drive for $60,000, Quota—$500. Y. C. L. Party .. Unit 6 Sec. 1 Received Total to date .. Little Lefty Inthh WORLD | Bolshevo C Flourishing Community| Visited by Foreign Writers By BEN FIELD | THE last days of the Soviet Writers Congress, two former | criminals came to greet the Con- | gress in the name of their Bolshevo | Character, Commune. After the Soviet Writ-| ers Congress, many of the foreign} delegates stay on to visit factories, | farms, schools, and other of the powerhouses whose humming shakes all quarters of our earth today. One of the groups visits the Bol- shevo Commune the colony for the rehabilitation of the criminal. We start out in the forenoon in two busses: Jean Bloch, Andra Maulraux are’ the chief French writers; Plivier and Graf are among the German writers; Jef Last, Dutch poet, who was on the bar- ricades during the brutal police at- tacks in Amsterdam, and a num- ber of Norwegian and Spanish writers. Christopher Ellis, Strachey’s nephew comes along with Tanya| Litvinoff, who has been to the| Congress every day and will act as| interpreter. Tretyakov, author. of | “China Roar’ and “A Chinese | Testament” is our chief Russian | guide. } We meet the director in the Commune park under shady trees. He is a doctor. He is spotlessly dressed in high black boots and linen breeches. A red star shines on his hat. And ringed around us are the members of the Commune ready to help him with answers. Some have their arms flung around the shoulders of their friends. One woman is bouncing a baby on her knee. One youth in| a gym shirt, biceps bronzed, holds) ties but the Civil War, starvation, a picture of Voroshiloff, Budenny, a book. Boys and girls are run- ning with rackets to the tennis field. Maulraux bends forward on the bench and asks questions eagerly. offender is punished by no longer being given permission to visit Moscow, to leave the Commune. If he becomes drunk, he may be fined. If he becomes a constant trouble- maker, he may be expelled from the Commune, Perhaps he will get into trouble outside, perhaps he will behave. “When the person who has gotten into trouble again is of a weak we often overlook his offenses and give him another chance. Our people are energetic men and women with good capaci- German anti-fa. writers, to know how much each worker must pay for food and lodging. The! rent is 20 rubles a month,. food 60} rubles. One of the members of the} Commune, arms folded, grins. that this is so on Lenin's honor. | Art Gallery and Art School _ | We visit the art gallery, A long airy room with all tt walls covered with pictures w: living. | There is a splendid pict of the} hy Conflict Commission trying a Com- munar who has broken one of Bol- shevo’s laws. On the opposite wall A Study in Contrasts | | | | PRISONERS IN THE U. S. A—A group of Negroes on a chain gang in Georgia, “relaxing” after sunup to sundown, with constant tures. (Photo copyrighted by Joh: Nigger.”) and hardship turned them against themselves and the rest of society.” Rebuilding Human Beings The Norwegian writer, whose play, “Atlantic Storm” will be produced a week’s back-breaking toil from | subjection to the most brutal tor- | nL, Spivak, author of “Georgia | and Gorky presenting a former besprizorni (homeless waif) with a} | Labor and Defense medal at the Commune. There are a number of paintings of nude young men with | His hair falls into his unusually; by onc of the Moscow theatres, | fine bodies. Jef Last likes the nudes large eyes. The dreamy look van- ishes, and the man is taut as a fine hairspring waiting for each answer. | No Guards The director gives us the five} principles that are the five great cylinders moving the Commune. There are no guards in this colony| of people who have gotten into trouble, stolen or even murdered in their attempt to steal. The ‘troubled” people come to the Com- mune of their own free will, The members of the Commune enjoy real self-government. Every Com- munar must work. All work is paid for at the same rates as in factories outside the Commune. Then like a brilliant engineer the director takes the cylinders apart and examines them with us, Nobody is forced to join the Com- mune. Its reputation is such that many people who have never gotten into trouble have applied for mem- bership and joined. “Our commission visits a prison. It invites the prisoners with the best qualifications to join us. Fifty of such people have joined us to- day. No one is sentenced to live with us. Our commission con- siders applications, finds out what trouble the applicant got into and what connection he’s had with the| criminal world, We admit people from the ages of 16 to 25. Oh yes, we've had people here who have helped build the Baltic-White Sea Canal. And on our commission we tolerate no outsiders. Our commis- sion consists solely of members of the Commune who have been in trouble themselves formerly.” They Govern Themselves This brings the director to the second principle—“our people gov- ern themselves.” There are num- erous commissions. Some of them are the Conflict Commission, the Character Commission, the Man- agement Commission, etc. There are 100 directors. The head direc- tor tries to refer all questions to the commissions. There is diffi- culty only when the members of the Commune fail to work collec- tively, fail to consider their own interests as a whole, and to strive to better their conditions. But even the commissions are not the last authority. The commis- sions recommend. The Commune as a whole decides. If a Com- munar wants to get married, he must go to the Character Commis- sion. This commission decides whether the man can earn a living, whether he is morally and physi- cally fit to live a married life. If the applicant rejects the commis- sion’s advice, he can still get mar- ried. The Commune, however, will not help him with a room or with a@ job. It rarely happens that the advice is rejected. It is true that the Commune has watchmen to guard its property. But there are no wardens, no turn- keys and guards, no locks and bolts against the members. It is a rule that everyone be in his room or dormitory at 11 o'clock. If this Tule is disobeyed repeatedly, the whispers: “This is what Judge Only under Communism does re-| makes the human spirit ride higher | 4s. We had no models to go after. building human beings work.” The Red director goes on. “We all work. The average wage is 120 rubles a month. If you are a metal worker, your wage is much higher.” He turns to one of the Commu- nars who bears him out, “Yes, that is so.” “Our earnings last year were 26,000,000 rubles. You must not forget we are a city here. When | We first came here, there were only| building, in front of it a bust of eighteen of us, We had one build- ing. Now there are 9,000 of us. About 500 of us are married. There are 500 children. Only 3,100 of the 9,000 have been in trouble, 300 of them are women. We have best. They haw the spiritual | —proclaiming how beautiful is the! | body, straight as a pine, hard as | @ piston, | |_ There is an art school at the| | Bolshevo. More than 600 people | are doing cultural work. There are theatrical groups, glee clubs, an orchestra of 40 pieces. A movie in | the winter garden, a movie in the summer garden. Illiteracy is com-| | pletely liquidated. The new school | | Djershinsky, the fine strong face | rising like a blade from the granite, is as well equipped as the best American schools, The library has/| | about 25,000 books. There are 140 | wall newspapers, The weekly) | nursery. ommune, Soviet Colony For Rehabilitation of Criminals 6 wants Human Beings Rebuilt = by Education and Active Work the Commune had seven books and five books eagerly the collection Pieces by the ex-besp: of collection is called “Fi Now In anoth Pen”--(a play on being the slang Zhelesnov, one of the of the “troubled” _ peop! For me a door is opened To light, from’ muddy depths. Jail no longer is my lot. In life-giving waters Of labor and study I wash off My stigma of thief. We visit the hospital and“ the blocks of apartn hou Bloch, short, with eagerly from one roor ht es, runs to the other and calls his wifé to look Chesterton, English jour the apartments are much than the famous Vienna apartments. Her paper is London Evening Standard, w! has been riding the fence in fight against Fascism. She f add that here no worker will ev be attacked, with machine gun and bayonet by his government. It -is-late afternoon when the group finally geis to the children’s The children run to the director and hang to his arms like a lot of: swarming little bees, “Uncle, Uncle.” Tretyakov, who looks so cold and scholarly, watches them with a twinkle in his eyes The children are finishing their supper. How they plow into the rice pudding with cream. In an- other room childzen of 6 and 7 | have put aprons on. and are help- ing clean away their dishes. The Playroom is full of carpenter's tools, lumps of clay. A locomotive in the corner. “Formerly and Now” The director walks us to the Lindsey tried in the United States.| value and spur of all real art that | D¥SSes. “Surely, we've had difficul- We were the first of 10 such Co: munes in our country. We still haven't a large enough farm to give us all our products. It is only 120 hectares. Newcomers among have conflicts with the older mem- bers who know how to do things more skillfully, who are used to our life, who have more than they We overcome such difficulties giving newcomers credit, by charg- ing them 45 rubles for food in- stead of 60. We've had lots of drunkenness in the past. We've overcoming that AS. a result, many of our People after three years become members of trade unions, and after a textile factory, a factory for|“Communar” has a circulation of| five years they wipe out the past making tennis rackets, a factory for ice skates, a shoe factory where we turn out 3,000 pairs of shoes a| to the dining room. Here we have| embers who have complete rights. Now let us inspect our city.”| dinner, bread baked in the Com-| And 400 will have them when we Theodore | mune bakery, soft drinks bottled in| Celebrate our ten-year jubilee in a |Plivier, gray-haired, bluff seaman, | the Commune bottling plant. | who has become one of the chief! met Bubrinsky, a poet, member of| 8% members of the Party. day. The director rises. We publish today the third of | several letters with accompany- ing answer in connection with the discussion in this department on Oct. 18 on the question of what is the correct attitude for the working class on intermar-. Questions and Answers 6,000. | The writer’s group ts conducted We} How does Comrade Dunne’s an- swer differ from the comrade who | asked the question concerned. He| stated, “My refusal to marty a Negress is relevant to my refusal to marry a red-headed woman or a 6-foot 2-inch woman.” HEN “THERE! WHAT ARE YOU TRYIN’ Too? riage between Negroes and whites. It seems to me, both answers} We are printing only those (smack of white chauvinism. I await letters taking exception to the | your answer on this question. position of the revolutionary Victor Sholachman. vanguard on this fundamental | ee nee | question, Answer: The attempt by Comiade | . . . | Sholachman to interpret as chau-| Editor, Daily Worker: | Vinistic the quoted sentence from In reference to Thursday’s “Daily” |Comrade Dunne’s Southern speech (Oct. 18th) I would like to contest affords an example of logic reduced the answer given to the question on|to an absurdity. Comrade Sholach- “white chauvinism.” You state in|man takes up a logical proposition part—“Would you want your sister | and pushes it to such an extr2me| to marry a nigger,” is one of the |that he inevitably, although perhaps stock challenges of the lynch rulers | unconsciously, distorts it. He ignores | to white workers fighting for Negro |the fact that the sentence quoted | rights. How does a Communist an- | from Comrade Dunne’s speech was | swer this question? Bill Dunne,|by way of a pointed retort to a/ speaking in the South several years | Chauvinist heckler. The very fact ago, was confronted with this |that the chauvinist thought it neces- | “poser” by a chauvinist in the au-|sary to heckle Comrade Dunne | dience. The revolutionary leader | indicates (and the record proves it) | quickly retorted that he “would that Comrade Dunne was present- sooner have his sister marry a mili- |ing in detail the Communist posi- tant, fighting Negro determined to |tion on the Negro question, of full secure equality, than any yellow-|equality, self determination, etc. bellied white chauvinist,” etc. |Comrade Dunne'’s :etort expressed | Isn’t this a white chauvinist an- | the contempt and hatred of a revo- swer? In other words, Bill Dunne \lutionary for the hide-bound chau- said, “In case the Negro was not a vinist. militant, fighting worker, I would| It is also necessary to point out prefer my sister. marrying the yel-|that the comrade who asked the low-bellied white chauvinist.” To original question did not use the expand Comrade Dunne’s answer, he term “Negress” as Comrade Sho- would rather have his sisier marry |lachman erroneously quotes him. any white man, “good or bad,” in| That term, like “Jewess,” “niggor,” preference to any Negro except a|“kike,” etc. are chauvinist expres- militant, fighting Negro, or if the | sions and rightly objectionable to white worker was eithe:’ militant the revolutionary movement and to and fighting, or even a plain work- | the peoples against whom they are er, he would be preferred to any directed as part of the prejudice- Negro, even a militant, fighting inciting campaign of the Jew- and Negro. | Negro-baiting imperialist bandits. The Innocent Victim! GOIN’ “fo ENICT HONEST WORKERS FROM HOME, ARE YR 7 GEE PAL! \'m Sorey/ 1 MUSTR BEEN for themselves and become full- fledged citizens. We have 250 few months. Also 26 of our people This year at least 16 per cent of our people are leaving us with fine records,” We shake hands. The busses | shoot past. the Commune depart- ment houses, past the firehouses, the new apartment houses. Out of one! window in the sunset a brass in- Strument glows. One of the Com- munars, members of the band, is practicing. We hear the burst of | music long after we ride past the | Commune gates with flowerpots set on the posts. None of the writers says any- thing. During the Congress they had seen how Russian writers can become “engineers of the soul,” to use Stalin’s phrase. Now they have seen how the most backward of the Russian masses can become en- Communism. fie a Contributions received to the credit of David Ramsey in his Socialist competition with Jacob Burck, Mike Gold, Harry Gan- nes, Ann Barton, del and the Medical Advisory Board, in the Daily Worker drive for $60,000. Quota—s250. Total to date - $29.74 us |” Page FLASHES and CLOSEUPS ‘0 Will H. Hays, Hollywood, Cal, and Washington, D. C.: first time in will prove of circle of read« to League’s charge being ed out truth and not poetry, after all! “To the average public, the great motion picture studios are known as modern factories op- erated solely to manufacture en- tertainment. This may be true in times of peace, but in the event of war the film studios can and will prove themselves as one of the most valuable aids to national defense, “Such is the frank statement of director X.” “From. one producing company declares, “enough tech- nicians can be obtained whose value to a nation in time of would be equivalent to the useful- ness of a reg’ of men, or a battalion. W ill use the pres- ent units employed on a recent pic- ture as an illustration, “The picture and its personn~ were whipped into shape by stuc * executives. Such mien can be of big value to the nation in advisory ca= cities, in organization and simi- uge. problems through their vas knowledge of human charact would prove espionage ser in the last Performing in the entert units of the army. “Among our present actors and Studio heads can be found many men who hold reserve commissions in the air corps and other branches of the army. ‘ “Artists designed the sets used in our picture. In war time, there are places for artists in many branches \Of service. “Miniature men made miniature ts from the artists’ drawings. Their duty would be to build mini- ature armed positions and battle fields for study in the war college and other war schools, ‘ | “Other departments of the film indust:y would furnish engineers, carpenters, men of all trades, trans- portation crews—which ‘in itself is one of the biggest problems in time of war. “Propagandists would be obtained from the publicity departments and the millions of feet of film to be used in future military campaigns would demand a corps of expert jeditors and film cutters. Our sound engineers would become one of che most valuable adjuncts. With their amazing equipment they would de= tect the advance of enemy air Squadrons, while sound engineers on the ground would be able to de- termine the exact hidden location of enemy batteries. “Last and most important are the nment |gineers of their own souls under|C@mera crews, for motion pictures jin future conflict not only will be jof inestimable value on the. front but they will be used in training the rookies in all rudiments of war- fare, even to acquainting them with the realistic, horrifying sounds of war.” Rae ape “Three Songs About Lenin” must enjoy a record-breaking stay in New York... . And that’s toa great extent up to you and you and you, 7:00 P.M.-WEAF—Jack, Loretta Clemens, Songs WOR—Sports Resume—Ford Frick WJZ—Amos ’n’ Andy—Sketch WABC—Myrt and Marge—8keteh 1:15-WEAF—Gene and Glenn—Sketch WOR—Comedy; Music WJZ—OConcert Orch. WABC—Just Plain Bill—Sketch 7:30-WEAF—Minstrel Show WOR—Larry Taylor, Tenor WABC—Jack Smith, Songs 1:45-WEAP—Prank Buck's Adventures WOR—Dance Music rd, Songs W. er, Commentator 8:00-WEAF—Vallee’s Varieties WOR—Little Symphony Orch., Philip James, Conductor; Thomas Reich- ner, Piano WJZ—Dramatic Sketch DREAMING / | WABC—Easy Aces—Sketeh Sr | 8:15-WABC—Pray and Braggiott!, Piano 8:30-WJZ—To Be Announced | WABC—Johnson Orch.; Edward Nell, | Baritone; Edwin ©. Hill, Narrato: | The Public Works Program— old L. Ickes, Secretary of the Ine terior | | 9:00-WEAF—Captain Henry's Show Boat WOR—The Witch’s Tale | WJZ—Death Valley Days—Sketch WABC—Gray: Orch.; Annette Hans shaw, Songs; Walter O'Keefe 9:15-WOR—Larry Taylor, Songs 9:30-WOR—Lum and Abner—Sketch ‘WJZ—Robert Childe, PianoM Larry | Larsen, Organ; Mixed Octet; Joam Blaine, Narrator | WABO—Waring Orch. | ,2:48-WOR—Wayne King Orch. | 10:00-WEAF—Whiteman’s Music Hall, with | Yvonne Gall, Gregory Soprano; | Golubeff, Mandolin, and Others | WOR—Al and Lee Reiser, Piano WJZ—Canadian Concert 4 vy wnership — Its Possie bilities and Limitations—H. I. Hai riman, President U. 8. Chambe> of Commerce: Harry W. Laidler. Bx« ecutive Director, League for Indus® trial Democracy | 10:45-WABC—Fats Waller, Songs 3 11:00-WEAF—Berger Orch. WOR—News Bulletins % WJZ—Madriguera Orch. WABC—Family Welfare Speaker. 11:05-WABC—Little Orch. : 11:15-WEAF—Jesse Crawford, Organ WOR—Moonbeams Trio bs 11:30-WEAF—Dance Music (Also on WABO, WJZ, WMCA, WOR, WEVD) | Small business men, home-owns | €fs, professionals, pinched by the economic crisis, are turning to the | Tevolutionary movement for | way out. Ask them for contribu-