The Masses Vol. 5, No. 2 (November 1913) - Brown University Library

THENovember, 1913MASSES10 CentsInnocent Girlish Prattle — Ρlus Environment"WHAT! HIM? THE LITTLE — — — — — ! HE'S WORSE'N SHE IS, T H E — — — — ! "

2 THE MASSESContributing EditorsLITERATUREEUGENE WOODJOHN REEDELLIS 0. JONESMAX EASTMANHORATIO WINSLOWMARY HEATON VORSELOUIS UNTERMEYERWILLIAM ENGLISH WALLINGHOWARD BRUBAKERROBERT CARLTON BROWNTHE INTERNATIONALSOCIALIST REVIEWThe FIGHTING MAGAZINE of theworking class is read by wage slavesall over the world.450,000 sold last year.Have you ever thought whywork for wages?The REVIEWtells youyouWhenever the workers are on strike theReview is on the Job. The best writersand the finest pictures make the REVIEWthe greatest working- class magazine.10c. a Copy 3 Months, 25c.$1.00 a YearCHARLESH. KERR & CO.118 W. Kinzie Street, CHICAGO, ILL.COMBINATION OFFERTHE INTERNATIONAL SOCIAL-1ST REVIEW - - - $1.00THE MASSES - - - $1.00$1.50New York Public Library5th Ave. and 42nd St.Calls for THE MASSESJanuary, 1913 to July 78July 1913 to October 128The magazine clerk says; "Young womenelderly men ask for the magazine".andTHEMASSESA FREE MAGAZINETHIS Magazine is Owned andPublished Co-operativelyby Its Editors. It has noDividends to Pay, and nobodyis trying to make Money outof it. A Revolutionary and not aReform Magazine; a Magazinewith a Sense of Humor and no Respectfor the Respectable ; Frank ;Arrogant; Impertinent; searchingfor the True Causes; a Magazinedirected against Rigidity and Dogmawherever it Is found; Printingwhat is too Naked or True for aMoney-making Press ; a Magazinewhose final Policy is to do as itPleases and Conciliate Nobody, noteven its Readers—There is a Fieldfor this Publication in America.Help us to find it.SUBSCRIPTIONYearly, $1.00RATESHalf Yearly, 50 CentsBundle Rates and NewsdealersNot less than 5, at 5 cents apiece non-returnable,at 7 cents returnable.Published Monthly by The Masses Publishing Co., at MGreenwich Avenue. New York City.Entered as second-class mail matter. December 27,1910, at the postoffice of New York City, underthe Act of March 8, 187».ANNA M. SLOAN, TreasurerJOHN REED. Managing EditorBERKELEY G. TOBEY, Business Manager.TOLERANCE vs. PATRIOTISMI JUST can't stand THE MASSES as it iswithout my name being in it. You havesplendidly done the thirteenth labor of Hercules—madea magazine that can be readand looked at and kept, not in a library shelf,but in a coffer with the family heirlooms.I don't say this to induce you to grant mea side niche in this pantheon of yours—Ireally mean it.ARTURO M.GIOVANNITTI.Someone who knows that I am opposedto all forms of insult to America, the Starsand Stripes, and to the Holy Bible, has evidentlysubscribed to your trashy Socialistsheet, THE MASSES, to be sent to my address.No greater insult could be imposedupon a true blue American than to put theirname and address on such literature emanatingfrom the brain of the lowest bred peopleon the face of the earth. STOP sending thisvile sheet to me at once. This is the secondnotice.(THREE CHEERS FOR OLD GLORY!)MRS. J. A.JOHNSTON,48 Wadsworth St. Buffalo, Ν. Y.Contributing EditorsARTJOHN SLOANARTHUR YOUNGALICE BEACH WINTERH. J. TURNERCHARLES A. WINTERMAURICE BECKERGEORGE BELLOWSCORNELIA BARNSSTUART DAVISSocialistsWOMANShouldReadSUFFRAGEAND THE LIQUORS O M EINTERESTS :E X H I B I T SIt dives the evidence on ahotly disputed questionPrice postpaid, $0.04 per copy;$0.35 per dozen; $2.00 perHundred plus expressFor other suffrage pamphlets ofinterest to Socialists Send TwoCent Stamp for Catalognational American «Woman Suffrage « «Association « « « «505 Fifth Ave. New York CityCopyright, 1913, by The Masses Publishing Company, 91 Greenwich Ave., NewYork

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4 THE MASSES.CapitallaborsuccessTHE PIG AND THE HENTHEY BOTH GOT IN ONE PENAND THE HEN SAID SHE WOULDN'T GO OUT;'MISTRESS HEN' SAYS THE PIG'DONT YOU BE QUITE so BIG!AND HE GAVE HER A PUSH WITH HIS SNOUT,.NOW C H I L D R E N - T H I S SIMPLE LESSONTEACHES US THAT THE PIG HAS SUPER­IOR INTELLIGENCE, AND THAT THE -HEN OUGHT TO EDUCATE HERSELF SOTHAT SHE MAY BECOME A PIG.THE PIG TRIES TO SEE HOW MUCH HESEE THE PLUM .C A N THE BOY GET IΤ ?HE CAN, IF HE IS HONESTAND UNSELFISHIsTHE SUN UP ? YES.WHY DOES NOT THE MAN LEAPOUT OF BED? IS IT BE­CAUSE HE IS LAZY ?YES, DOES HIS EM­PLOYER LEAP OUTOF BED ?SURE .CANGET OUT OF THE WORLD. - THE HENFOOLISHLY TRIES TO SEE HOW MUCH SHE,CAN PUT INTO IT. feel SORRY FOR THEPOOR HEN .CapitalismFor SalelaborSEE THE HOUSE. THINK HARD,WORK HARD, FOR YOUR EMPLOYERSAVE AT LEAST 2O DOLLARS ATHE Fruit of HIS TOILTHIS CARTOON TEACHES US to 'Think STRAIGHT'THAT EACH OF US MAY GET A LARGE JUICY —ORANGE, A FAT STOMACH , AND A WONDERFULDIRECTING MIND.WEEK AND YOU CAN BUYTHE HOUSE.BENJ. FRANKLIN SAVEDHIS MONEY - SO CANYou.ArthurYoungcartoonsThe Masses EditorsDrawn by Arthur YoungBRISBAINE'S LECTURES ON POLITICAL SCIENCE FOR "IMPRACTICAL IDEALISTS"

THE-MASSESVOL. V. NO. II. N O V E M B E R , 1913 ISSUE NUMBER 30Max Eastman, EditorKNOWLEDGEAND REVOLUTIONABrisbane on YoungGAIN Arthur Brisbane devotes the editorial sectionof the Hearst papers to a picture fromTHE MASSES, and a fatherly disquisitionthereon. The picture you will remember. Itis Art Young's big "Capitalism" eating the fruit whicha little workingman has prepared for him. Attentionis called to "that wonderful directing mind" in the portraitof capitalism, and beneath the workingman is thisstatement of fact:"He hands over the fruit of his toil on a silver platter,and then gets about one-eighth of the juice."It is noticeable that Mr. Brisbane did not deny thisstatement of fact. He did not allude to it. He didnot want to."When you think, Mr. Young, think straight," hesaid, and then leaving that task to Mr. Young, he proceededto circumambiate around the subject matterin a very happy way. I followed him and I located inthe course of the peregrination three definite, distinctalthough disconnected ideas which I shall quote. Iquote them because they each exemplify a commonfault in those who reject Socialism without understandingit.Here is the first quotation :"When you think, Mr. Young, think straight.""This is a world of injustice. Not because there arevillians at the top and good, virtuous, moral people atthe bottom, but because this is still a world of ignorance."The little gentleman at the bottom, representinglabor, is only getting an occasional drop, not becausehe is an unselfish creature, BUT BECAUSE HEHASN'T BEEN ABLE TO GET IT."The fault manifest here is intellectual indolence. Youare surprised to hear that Arthur Brisbane is indolent—well, he is, and so are a great many other people whohave what is called an "energetic style."I am telling you one of the secrets of the trade now—that "energetic style" saves them a lot of work. Youknow how it is—if you say a thing with enough emphasisit is not necessary to adduce reasons. A hypnotistdoesn't have to bother with reasons—he just saysso. Likewise a man with an "energetic style."So let's skin this editorial. Let's lay off the styleand examine the meat.We find in that first section that Mr. Brisbane hasnot taken the time or trouble to penetrate his subjectmatter. He has never studied the economics of Socialismat all, and therefore he has no conception of thescience which "Art Young and his friends" are teaching.Max EastmanNeither Art nor any of his friends ever hadthe slightest notion that there are "villains at thetop and good, virtuous, moral people at the bottom"of society. On the contrary, it is the essence of theirtheory to recognize that one and the same motive actuatesall the people in their economic life, namely, thedesire to get a living, and get as good a living as possible.Our troubles arise not out of the sins of "bad men"or the weakness of "good men," but out of an irreconcilableconflict of interests among men who areneither good nor bad, but simply natural in lookingout for their own economic welfare.That is why Art Young called the fat man "Capitalism."Not a Capitalist, not Morgan or Rockefelleror any other "successful individual." Muck rakersand Sunday School teachers and editorial moralistswould put it that way. But Young thought straightenough to put it the other way. And Brisbane didn'tthink straight enough to follow him.Here is the second quotation :"Mr. Young has a scornful arrow pointing at thebadly developed skull of capitalism, with the lines,'That wonderful directing brain.' Young's idea is thatit really is not a wonderful directing brain, just a veryfat, dull brain."But YOUNG DOESN'T EXPLAIN HOW ITHAPPENS THAT THE DULL BRAIN ALWAYSHAS THE FRUIT."It is not romantic or pleasant, but we must tell Mr.Young and his friends that as a matter of fact the manwith the big fat fruit really HAS the wonderful directingbrain."If he didn't have that he wouldn't have the fruit."This idea that people at the top are there becausethey have "brains," is about as unanalytic and feebleand foolish as it is plausible. First, because the qualitiesit takes to make success in business competitionare highly specialized and by no means to be describedin general as "brains." Astuteness, cruelty, daring,practical imagination, pugnacity, energy, self-absorption,"cheek," are among them. But the chief quality ofall those that make success in business is the quality ofbeing completely hypnotized by the idea of success inbusiness, so that it crowds all other ideas out of yourmind. That is not the same thing as having "brains."Therefore, even if opportunity were equal for all,this statement about the people with brains being atthe top would be false.But furthermore, opportunity is not equal for all.And Arthur Brisbane knows this. It doesn't take aneconomist to know it. Anybody can see that with thewhole machinery of production owned by a part ofthe population, and the rest of the population compelledto beg and pay tribute for the privilege of workingthis machinery—no fair contest of brains or abilityexists. It is a handicap event, from start to finish.Vincent Astor is at the top. Where would he be ifhe had started scratch?Yes, Mr. Brisbane knows that only the very rarestability and good luck minus capital (or capitalistic connections)can compete with moderate ability plus capital.He knows that one class of our population entersthe contest with capital, and another class enters without.And hence for another reason it is not the best"brains" that come out at the top.The people who own this country—speaking generally—donot possess "that wonderful directing mind."At least it is not to be found in their own skulls.They get the benefit of it, of course. It is a part oftheir capital. But it is inside of somebody else's head.Arthur Brisbane ought to know this, too, for he isExhibit A in this department himself. He has a wonderfuldirecting mind—no matter what we may thinkof the editorial—he has a wonderful directing mind.But in order to use it he has to hire out to the manat the top—the man who owns the machine. I guesshe knows that opportunity is not equal in this country.Here is the third quotation :"These conditions will not be remedied by anyagency except one, and that is EDUCATION. Thebest thing that ever was written is this: 'YΕ SHALLKNOW THE TRUTH AND THE TRUTH SHALLMAKE YOU FREE.' To be educated is to know thetruth."This appeal to education, appeal to the knowledge oftruth, as the only savior of the world, is always an excellentperoration to an attack upon propaganda thatyou do not consider true. But it comes awkwardly atthe end of this editorial in which the one statement oftruth that was made in that picture has been systematicallydodged—namely, that the worker gets about oneeighthof the juice.That is the truth that Art Young and his friendsare striving to teach to the enslaved workers of thiscountry, and that is the truth that will make themfree. Without that no truth will make them free.Discourse upon the stars and planets, and the Gallicwars, and the Egyptian mummies, and the geologicalfossils of prehistoric beetles forever, and therewithyou may convey a great deal of knowledge, but solong as you continue to dodge around a clear, calmstatement of vital, everyday fact, like this about "thefruit of his toil," you have no right to the word "education"and you have no right to the word "truth."

6 THE MASSES.Drawn by K. R. Chamberlain.'HENRY, HERE'S AN ARTICLE ABOUT A GIRL WHO WENT WRONG—WHY, I THOUGHT THEY PASSED A MINIMUM WAGE LAW, OR SOMETHING, WHICH PREVENTEDSUCH DISTRESSING THINGS."A Dog in The MangerAΤ the approach of the season of chill when everybodywants to get into a nice warm jail for thewinter, it is interesting to note that millionaires havethe right of way.Thomas Mott Osborne, capitalist and philanthropist,entered Auburn Prison September 29th to serve aweek's self-imposed sentence. He entered m a summersuit, got an outfit of nice warm gray flannels, socks,shoes and cap, a shave, hair cut, bread, coffee, bath,potatoes and sweet pickles—all free.Now although he's a philanthropist, Mr. Osbornetakes no note of the fact that he's filching food fromthe mouth of some poor devil who wants to go to jailand can't get in.We're not saying that Mr. Osborne shouldn't be injail.But all up and down the Bowery you can find poorhomeless, restless, roving levils who have a right to Mr.Osborne's sinecure. They're looking for a comfortablejail for the winter; but they can't go to a judge theway he did, and fix it up. The judge would tell themto go out and assault a cop, or get drunk, or snatcha purse, or do some other thing highly disagreeableto a sensitive soul.It is very discouraging that a milionaire can get intojail by divine right while a poor down-and-outer mustpainfully work his way in. It seems to me to beabout the last straw. Society built the jails for thedown-and-outers. This was the one place consecratedto their uses. And now even this is wide open foranybody that has a little money. R. C. B.RoyaltyΤ F all the kings of heathendom and Christendom stillmoreWere spanked across the bottom and let out the kitchendoor,And told to earn their living and a little somethingmore—It wouldn't jar the course of things enough to raisea smile,But it would make me happy and that would be worthwhile.TOD O'SHEEL.ThePassing of The HorseA LETTER in the New York Times tells of astenographer whose eyes gave out and who turnedto the farm for a livelihood."I had $800," he says, "but was possessed of a good,strong wife, who did all the heavy work, such as plowing,planting, splitting wood, etc. A wife is an absolutenecessity—on the farm. I am a Southerner bybirth," he adds, "and am therefore naturally ambitious."Or AnthonyComstockEngland is said to be considering a proposal tooffer America Mrs. Pankhurst in exchange forHarry K. Thaw. It sounds good as it is, but couldn'twe throw in Jerome?Anyway homicide is apparently held in high esteemin England. Tom Mann was sent to jail for urgingsoldiers not to shoot workingmen, and now many ofthe leaders of the Conservative party, including dukes,lords and generals, are openly engaged in arming thepeople of Ulster to resist the enforcement of the HomeRule law. HOWARD BRUBAKER.

I MAKE CHEAP SILK7(The Story of a Fifteen-year-old Weaverin the Patereon Silk Mills, as Told by Her to Inis Weed and Louise Carey.)TERESA led us through a narrow passage wayand into an inviting little garden, containingpatches of vegetables and a grape arbor.There were gates into the neighboring enclosuresand pleasant goings to and fro. Childrenlived in these gardens, too—not on the street. What acontrast to the dreary back yards of so many Americanworkers' houses—wastes of trash and empty cans !One grew quickly aware of a definite contribution fromthese Italians to the civic life of Paterson."It is like Italy !" was our involuntary exclamationas we sat down on the little bench by the grape arbor."Oh, no! It is not so beautiful like Italy," protestedTheresa, shaking her pretty head.We asked for her story. "How long have you livedin America?""I came when I was four, with my mother and mybrother, but I went back when I was eight. I waswith my mother when she went home to die.""Do you like America?""No," thoughtfully, "I do not like this country.My mother did not like this country either." Shepaused broodingly. "She was not brought up to work.She spoke French as well as Italian, and she knewEnglish before she came to America. Her father, mygrandfather, has a silk mill near Naples. My motherwas in school. She was only sixteen when she married.She made a mistake. After she married her life wasvery hard. When we came to America she went towork in the silk mills. She got consumption. Thedoctor said, 'You must not work so hard,' She said'I must work for my children.' She got sick all thetime. Some days the workers would bring her homefainting from the mills. She would tell people, 'Onlyfor my children I would like to die.' All times shehad a fever and some nights she was out of her head.Then she would say, 'I am so tired—I am so tired.'"One day she told father, 'I do not want to die inthis country; I want to go back to Italy to die.' Mymother had saved a little money. She took mybrother and me and went back to her father inCaserta. In a few months my mother died.""What became of you then?""Then my brother and I lived four years with ourgrandfather. I went to school three hours in themorning. I had a governess, too. She taught memusic and embroidery, and would take me out in thehills in the afternoon. It was not like here. Therewas flowers everywhere. Even the poor people hadflowers." Her eyes took on a far-away look. "I tookmy first Communion over there. It was lovely," claspingher hands, "with all the little white dresses andveils and candles and flowers. I still have my medal,"fingering it on the slender chain at her neck."Then when I was twelve, my father came for mylittle brother and me. My grandfather he wanted tokeep us always. But my father said, 'No, they aremine.' He got some law papers, and my grandfatherhad to give us up. Over here I went to school for ayear. I made two grades in one year and I wantedto stay. But my father he kept talking about the daywhen I shall go to work. His wages had been cut alittle at a time, so he received only half so much aswhen he first come. And my stepmother, she said,'Yes, Teresa will soon be able to go to the mills.' Thesummer I was thirteen my father he said, 'Now youmust go,' and he fixed it up at the City Hall. I cried,but I went to work as a winder in Hammil's mill."There this child of thirteen walked back and forthten hours a day, tending fifty-six spools. All Teresaremembers about that place is the ache in her feet,her longing to get out to play, and the crazing monotonyof walking in front of the spindles like a littlebear in a cage. One day she rebelled against thistravesty on childhood and quit.After resting a while Teresa became a ribbonpinner in Bamford's mill, then a ribbon weaver. Shewas so little the bosses had to make a bench for herto stand on so that she could reach over the loom toput in the ends."No, Bamford's is not a good place to work," wasTeresa's reply to our questioning. "It's fierce everyway. The air is bad. The windows are nailed down.The little panes that turn are never opened in winter,'cause the boss he say he is afraid he should catchcold. In summer they are not open unless you ask.The floor is so rough great splinters stick into yourshoes. It is very dirty, too, and other things are somethingfierce. But the girls in Bam ford's other mill inPaterson say they have it worse; they are afraid ofthe rats. In winter they say there is no heat unlesstheir fingers get so stiff they can't work fast. No, Idon't know how it is in Bam ford's Pennsylvania mill."When I started weaving ribbon my father and Mr.Bam ford they made a contract over me for one year.Yes, all the other weavers are young like me andwork on contract."She began work at $3 a week. After a month ofweaving her wage was raised to $3.75, then to $4, andjust about a month before the strike she began toget $6. "Every pay we girls get only half. The millholds back the other half until we've worked a year."And then the fines—for every conceivable offense.When the fines had been deducted from the half pay,there was sometimes only 78 cents a week left ! If achild leaves before the year is up, the mill retains theunpaid half of the wage."Most of the girls go before the year is up," explainedTeresa. "They rather lose the money thanstay and be treated so mean. The bosses they hollerand curse at you so. The superintendent and forelady,they aren't so bad, but they have to holler when thebosses come round."Teresa tended two ribbon looms, a task too heavyfor a strong man. She does not know how much sheweaves. The little clocks that keep the count arelocked up so the workers cannot see. The last dayshe worked on the single loom Teresa overheard theman who read the clocks say "twenty-two yards."That would be 352 yards of ribbon in a day. "I asksometimes, how much I weave? They say, 'What fordo you want to know? That girl over there weavesfaster than you, you damn kid !' "Indeed, Teresa's story was one long record of "speedingup." The child hurried out of bed by lamp lightat half past five on winter mornings. She gulped herbreakfast and arrived at the mill breathless from thehaste born of anxiety lest she should not arrive beforethe door shut. If the children are late at Bamford'sthey are frequently locked out half a day and onewhole day taken off their wages. At noon the littleworkers must rush if they are to have a chance towash their hands and get a drink before being lockedout into the hall where the workers sit on the stairsto eat their lunch, stairs where the water leaks downon rainy days."Bye and bye," added Teresa, "I got so I felt sick.Every week I would have to go home two or threeafternoons. It was such a pain in the pit of mystomach. The doctor said it was because I hurry so."We continued to ply the child with questions—Hadshe had any other illness? "Yes, an accident. I wason the stairs one day eating my lunch. One of thosebig wheels with fire hose around came loose and fellon my head. And I don't know nothing after that forthe whole afternoon. But they tell me I had fits.No, they didn't call in a doctor—not on your life.They had fear of a damage suit. They gave me afree ride home in their automobile that night. Theywould get enlargement of the heart and die if theydid more. My father called the doctor. He said Ishould stay home a while and not go back to the milluntil I felt good again. The top of my head hurt allthe time, but I went back to work after five days.My father he had been on strike nine months and weneeded the money."The father, in the stress of the strike, went to alawyer to see if there was any way to get the child's$70 of back pay which was being held beyond thecontract year on the ground that Teresa, owing toher head, had not worked a full year; but the lawyersaid there was no escape from the contract.In the fourteen weeks since she stopped workingunder this vicious contract she has gained elevenpounds. It is significant when compared with thefact that during her two years in the mills she gainedonly six pounds."I hate to go back to that mill,' said Teresa, aswe talked of her future. "I hate always to be finedand screamed at. Maybe a girl wastes a little silk.If they do not know who did it, they fine everyone ofyouse. Maybe you could not believe it, but they stealour hooks and scissors from us and then we have tobuy them back again for thirty-five cents. Then wemust clean up the mill Saturdays after twelve. No, wedo not get paid for it. They take it out of ourholiday."I want always to go back to Italy, but since thestrike I am more happy here," with an unconsciousgesture toward her heart. "We are all together. Westand solid. My father he says there will always bebosses. I say, 'Yes? Then we shall be the bosses.'"Yes, I am still a Catholic. These days I feeldifferent. You go to confess and the priest he triesto find out all about the strike and he scolds us thatwe belong to the union. I like I. W. W. better thanGod. God, he don't talk for me like I. W. W.""Yes," said Teresa after the strike, "for me it haspaid me. I get 25 per cent. increase in my wages.All of us at Bamford's get a raise, and no morechildren in the mill, so then there will be no morecontract system after we have finished our contractsand got our back pay. Nor do they holler at us so."The labor inspector, he is on the job, too, since thestrike. You should see how he makes Bamford's takea brace. There are guards on the dangerous machinery.There are rattling fire alarms, and there iswhitewash all over the place.""Will this last, do you think?" we asked."I don't know. If it don't, we strike again."

8 THE MASSES.MexicoP E A C E O N E A R T H —Drawn by Richard BattleAncientAndHonorableA L O U D "Amen !"—the pastor thenSurveyed his silent flock,While here and there a worshipperCast sheep's eyes at the clock.A solemn pause (which always awes) ;The deacons four uprose;The congregation sighed and searchedSupinely through its clothes.The people kneeled, the organ pealedA sacred roundelay ;The pastor raised his arms and smiled:"Now, brethren, let us prey !"OffertoryW. P. LAWSON.NEW YORK seems pleased over a Supreme Courtdecision that the beach at low tide belongs tothe state and that the public is entitled to the free useof it. Here is an opportunity for the Socialist songwriter: "All the land will be tide land bye and bye."H. B.Just Suppose, Mr. ConservativeTHAT as often as William Waldorf Astoria tried toland on these fair shores he should be detainedat Ellis Island as an idler and hence as an undesirablecitizen ;That whenever there was a big railroad wreck Mr.Biltmore and Mr. George Ghoul should be haled to apolice station and put through the third degree to findout if they had lived up to all the legal railroad regulations;That a dictagraph should be secretly slipped into Mr.John D. Rockyfeller's sanctum to find out just what hewas talking about ;That whenever Chancellor Night lectured on the "Advantageof Having Billionaires Among Us" indignantcitizens should turn a hose on him ;That any university professor who declared wealthrightfully belonged to the non-producers should losehis job.Can you suppose all those things? If so, you cananderstand how some people feel in these piping timesas often as they pick up a newspaper.Theatrical SeasoningFROM THE NEW YORK BLEAT'S COLUMN OFDRAMATIC "CRITICISM" TUESDAY MORNINGTHERE is no doubt that the "Hit of the Season"is in for a long run judging by the way it wasreceived at the Solid Gold Theater last evening. Afterthe third act, etc., etc., etc."FROM THE SAME COLUMN THREE DAYSLATER"Saturday night will mark the last performance of'The Hit of the Season' as the Solid Gold will bedark next week while undergoing extensive alterations."FROM THE JAY CITY BUGLE—ONE WEEKLATER"Next Wednesday patrons of the Jay City OperaHouse will have the pleasure of seeing the latest greatsuccess from New York. When 'The Hit of the Seasonended its long run in America's largest city therewas some talk of sending the production to London,but Messrs. Smith and Smithstein, the owners, decidedthat the American public was entitled to first sight ofthe original cast in this notable production which, dealingas it does with one of the vital problems of, etc."'HORATIOWINSLOW.

Increased Opportunities ForBabiesSplendid Chances for Those Wishing to LiveΕ have to-day a tremendous number of vacancieswhich are open to any good live baby,and we respectfully suggest to those contemplatingbirth that the right time to be born is NOW.Hundreds of thousands of openings in factoriesmust be filled within the next few years. Dusty air,unprotected machinery and long hours are rapidlycleaning out the present workers, and those bornto-day will have the FIRST CHANCE to replacethem.Our Slums, which flourish in the country as wellas the city, offer any number of delightful darkrooms and seats at bare tables for newcomers. Thereis nothing like living in a Slum.War has been revived on a larger scale than everbefore and improved cannon guarantee plenty ofvacancies in the ranks.Our yearly railroad wrecks need more and moretrainmen and passenger in order to furnish theirsensational features.The demand for White Slaves exceeds the supply.Insane asylums offer gracefully designed paddedcells, artistic iron gratings, and high grade gentlemanlyattendants who are paid twenty dollars amonth.As a result of consumption and the suicide crazeour prisons are emptying every day. This does notcount the vacancies created by the use of the ElectricChair and the Unelastic Rope.Those desiring to be born need have no fear thatthey will not fit in somewhere and they could chooseno better time than now.Send for our free booklet, "The Marring of aHuman Being."Looking Backward And ForwardTHE CAMPAIGN OF 1872Τ ET it be remembered that platforms—not persons—arethe issues in this campaign. Atthe same time we should not forget that Mr. Jones,that miserable poltroon who aspires to the Presidencyon the Wrong Ticket, earned his first suit ofclothes by stealing sheep, and till a very recent datesupplied himself with cigar money by taking it awayfrom children on the road to the baker's,"Lines To APomeranianPuppy Valued At $3,500OFTENas I strain and stew,Digging in these dirty ditches,I have dared to think of you—You and all your riches.Lackeys help you on and off ;And the bed is silk you lie in;You have doctors when you cough,Priests when you are dying.Wrapt in soft and costly furs,All sewed up with careful stitches,You consort with proper cursAnd with perfumed bitches.At your lightest, wheezy barkHaughty women run to feed you—Deaf to all things else, they harkAnd, what's more, they heed you.Guarded from the world, you growYouSleek and snug in pillowed niches;will never have to knowCommon ills or itches.Lord, but things are queer and odd—Queerer still with you to show it;You're a lucky dog, by God—And you do not know it!You don't sweat to struggle free,Work in rags and rotting breeches—Puppy, have a laugh at meDigging in the ditches.FOR the sake of the effect onyouth it is to be regretted thatthe old gent who took his first vacationon his hundredth birthday wasnot a millionaire but a day laborer.One Day of CivilizationShall We Allow Socialism to Destroy ThisSplendid Fabric ?9THE CAMPAIGN OF 1892"This is a battle of ideas—not of personalities.No voter, however, should mark his ballot withoutreflecting on the fact that Mr. Smith, who heads theWrong ticket, was almost tarred and feathered lastJune and at present folks in his home town openlyaccuse him of beating his wife."DIPSOMANIACS, Dentists andCalifornians will be glad toknow that the gold famine is over.Plain people, however, had better getused to the fact that ordinary moneyis, and will continue, darned scarce.THE CAMPAIGN OF 1912"To-day we stand at the parting of the ways.Men count for little in the present struggle. Neverthelessno thinking citizen should gloss over thefact that Mr. Brown, who is running for Presidenton the Wrong Ticket, consumes each week two bottlesof whiskey, four gallons of hard cider, and sevenquarts of cocktails."HORATIO WINSLOW.Income And PoliticsMANY are in favor of giving thejob of reforming the Senate toUncle Samuel White (colored), wholearned how to swing a club befo'the wah, and who ever since has beenlocated in Baltimore reforming mules.

10 THE MASSES.ElectionTodayDrawnby GlintonkampVotingMachines

THEMASSES11Tale AppropriateTo Be Told By An Elderlytleman To His GrandsonGen¬YESTERDAY, William, I brought you with m meto our pastor, where at my wish you signeda solemn pledge never to touch tobacco orliquor in any form. To-day I have taken youout walking with me in order that you might seethe reasonableness of my request.Do you observe that great silent automobile whichis about to pass us? Then look with particular attentionat the old gentleman reclining so comfortablyon the back seat, for that is Wordsworth ErnestSmith—better known as The Faithful Worker.Sixty years ago Wordsworth, then a poor boy likeyourself, had just signed the pledge. His dearfather, however, instead of sending him to schoolwas forced to apprentice him to the machinist's tradeat $2.50 the week.But before Mr. Smith, Senior, left his son he gavehim three gifts: a Bible, a book of temperance songswherewith to cheer his mates at their noonday repasts,and the address of a reliable savings bank.Young Wordsworth Smith was a good boy. Eachweek he put two dollars of his humble wages in thesavings bank, and with the remaining fifty centspaid for his room and board, and bought suchclothes as he needed. It is hardly necessary to tellyou that he dropped a penny into the plate everySunday, and each Christmas sent to his dear mothersome appropriate poem clipped from the pages ofthe weekly paper subscribed for by his landlady.In time as he grew more skilled his salary wasincreased, first to three dollars a week and then tofour; and finally he was making as much as twodollars a day.But Wordsworth was not the sort of young manto squander what he earned. He did not steal intofoul alleys away from decent people, so that hecould puff at cigarettes, nor on Saturday nights didhe allow his stomach to be eaten away by that liquidwith whose name I shall not contaminate your youngears.Instead he spent his leisure hours working overtime,and many and many a week his envelope containedthirteen dollars and seventy-two cents insteadof the customary twelve.To cut a long story short, Wordsworth Smithstayed at his bench day after day and year afteryear. Last week he retired. In addition to amagnificent automobile he owns a splendid oceangoingsteam yacht, a country place next toJohn D. Rockefeller's, a stable of fine horses anda chateau in France. And you seldom pick up aSunday paper without learning that he is engagedto some beautiful comic opera star.You see, William, he has been able to do all thisbecause in spite of his humble position, he workedsteadily and saved his earnings, instead of squanderingthem on tobacco or strong drink.Appropriate response to be made by grandson atconclusion of tale:Yes, yes, dear grandfather, and now let us hastenhome to the sideboard, for I perceive by your tremblingvoice that the effect of the Good Health Tonicwhich you took after dinner is rapidly wearing off.HORATIOWINSLOW.Ρ A T E R S O NRose Pastor StokesOUR folded hands again are at the loom.The airIs ominous with peace.But what we weave you see not through the gloom.'Tis terrible with doom.Beware!You dream that we are weaving what you will?Take care !Our fingers do not cease:We've starved—and lost; but we are weavers still;And Hunger's in the mill ! . . . .And Hunger moves the Shuttle forth and back.Take care !The product grows and grows . . . .A shroud it is; a shroud of ghastly black.We've never let you lack!Beware !The Warp and Woof of Misery and Defeat.Take care!—See how the Shuttle goes !Our bruised hearts with bitter hopes now beat:The Shuttle's sure—and fleet! . . . .Provincial SuffragistsTHE "Barbary Coast," San Francisco's unsavorydive district, faces extinction at the hands of thewomen voters. Evidently these provincial ladies wayout West have been too busy with their housecleaningto read Mrs. Dodge's charge that the suffragists areresponsible for the present vogue of indecency indancing, literature, plays and dress. Η. B."When is a BoycottGEORGE WINTHROP FOLSOM has publicly an¬nounced to the merchants of Lenox, Massachusetts,that he will buy nothing from those who advertiseon billboards. He seems to think that the BerkshireHills are better scenery than Mr. Mennen's faceor a lifelike portrait of a bottle of catsup. But ifMr. Folsom should add that he would buy nothingadvertised in an "unfair" paper would he be a boycotter?Η. B.A Misguided PanicWALL STREET has asked the War Department tofortify Governor's Island and put a regimentthere to protect the financial district from the mobin case of riot. Judging from the present shortageof lambs, what Wall Street needs is not to keep thepeople out, but bring them in. Η. B.Judge and be Unjudged"You would be better off if you were dead," saidone of our County Judges recently in sentencinga thief.Do you appreciate the full, rich sleekness and hypocrisyof that? The dull, fat Pharisee sits upon thebench and passes sentence upon those who come beforehim. This one displeases him—"My good fellow, youwere better off dead." Coarse, brutal, cynical, incisive—inshort, judicial.The thief didn't protest. He hung his head andwhimpered something about fourteen dollars the policehad stolen when they searched him.I was interested in the matter and took the troubleto look into it. It seems that a judge may say whathe pleases to a prisoner before him. Most of them do.The man has no redress—unless when he comes out hewants to take a pot shot at the judge."You're a fine-looking bunch to be educating Americanworkmen," said Judge Mansfield of McKeesportto six organizers last month. One of them was awoman. These judges are a fine-looking bunch to begiven the power of God-damning their fellow men withimpunity. JAMES HENLE.A WEARY burden ponderously borne,An interval of pain, that seems eternity,A wee dependent wailing thing forlorn,A woman prone.Oh God! Is this maternity? G. H. SMITH.

12S T R E E TDrawn by Maurice BeckerThe UncurbedTHE MASSES, Nov., 1913.

P E D L A R S"Curb"

14Drawn by Maurice BeckerNatural Selection Run RiotShocking Sight Encountered by Our Leading Eugenist on BroadwayFree Speech on TrialOn October fourth, Frederick Sumner Boyd, who was indicted during the Patersonstrike for advocating sabotage, was sentenced to serve from one to seven years in TrentonPrison, and to pay a fine of five hundred dollars. The court which convicted Boyd hadalready sentenced Alexander Scott, an editor, to fifteen years, because he dared to criticizethe Paterson police for clubbing men and women on strike. Five other I, W. W. organizersare awaiting trial for exercising their Constitutional rights of free assembly andfree speech. They are : William D. Haywood, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, Carlo Tresca,Patrick L. Quinlan and Adolph Lessig.As Boyd is the first labor organizer to be convicted of advocating sabotage, it is vitallyimportant for all labor organizations that his case be taken through the courts. As thisnumber goes to press, there is not enough money collected to permit Boyd to appeal hiscase. Are the workers going to let Boyd go to jail like Ben Legere and his comrades inLittle Falls, or will they free him as they freed Ettor and Giovannitti in Lawrence?Money is needed, and it must come from the workers. Upon Boyd's acquittal or convictiondepends the acquittal or conviction of every future strike-leader. YOU ARE ONTRIAL. Send all contributions for the Boyd Defense Fund to Miss Jessie Ashley, 27Cedar Street, New York City.WTophet TattlingsARMER !Hot enough for you?No white Christmas this year.Β. B. Beelzebub, our well known weatherprophet, says we needn't look for a cold winter.George W. Satan, the genial proprietor of Dew DropInn, says he has some red hot stuff for the live ones.Reverend Scroochem, who for the last forty yearshas been preaching hell sermons to the little ones,arrived late last night. "Well done, thou good andfaithful servant," snickered the Head Stoker whenhe saw the Reverend's condition this morning.Mr. Kipling's Tomlinson tried yesterday for the fifthtime to register, pleading that since his fourth attempthe had been going the limit as a New York Policemanand had earned his admission. He was very properlyturned down. According to latest advices from aboveevery New York cop is eight shades whiter than thedriven snow. Ring the seventh bell upstairs, Tommy.Old Doc Dives says he is going to organize an OldSettlers' Association. Great stuff, Doc. But don't letenthusiasm for the past keep you from entending thehot hand to the shrinking newcomer. Boost our EightyBillion Club.Some little winter resort we are—huh?No rain.Wow! HORATIO WINSLOW.

THEMASSES15Fuss, Feathers AndPhilosophyDANIEL CARSON GOODMAN'S "Hagar Revelly"furnishes the first two ingredients, Walter Lipp¬mann's "A Preface to Politics" the third. Taken togetherthey present a remarkable contrast. To beginwith they have much in common. Both of them havereceived almost unanimous approbation, both are publishedby Mitchell Kennerley, both are attempts toexpress the insurgent and blundering spirit of the age,and both (it seems unnecessary to add) are writtenby young men. Lippmann's volume is a collection ofeight very serious essays; Goodman's is a "veristic"novel which one may, no doubt, take seriously. Andyet Lippmann's facts are not alone more vivid but farmore entertaining reading than Goodman's fiction. Thechapters on "The Taboo" and "The Making of Creeds"in particular reveal as clear and alert a mind as onemay find in this broad (in a geographical sense) land.Quite apart from the very important matter of thevolume, Lippmann's keen and incisive manner is somethingto relish and remember. In the chapter on"Routineer and Inventor" he says, "I am tempted toput in the same class those radicals who wish simplyto substitute some other kind of machine for the onewe have. Their perceptions are more critical than theordinary conservatives. They do see that humanityis badly squeezed in the existing mould. They haveenough imagination to conceive a different one. Butthey have an infinite faith in moulds." It is a finelytemperedmind that makes such chapters as those onThe Chicago Vice Report ("Well-Meaning but Unmeaning,"Lippmann calls it) an impressive and staggeringcriticism. In fact, it is this edged questioningand an insistence on a new and more personal adjustmentthat makes the book something more than asplendid revolutionary document. Passionate unrestand vigorous hatred are not enough, he urges; theyare futile without a sympathetic grasp of human desiresand needs, irrespective of economics or ethics. Itis a gradual but complete education that is most necessary."If men remain slaves either to ideas or toother men, it will be because they do not know theyare slaves," concludes Lippmann. "Their intention isto be free. Their desire is for a full and expressivelife and they do not relish a lop-sided and lamedhumanity. For the age is rich with varied and generouspassions."Mr. Goodman, on the other hand, is mostly concernedwith one passion. And, because of this, his book hasbeen given all sorts of free advertising by membersof White Slave committees, hysterical reviewers, IdaTarbell and Anthony Comstock. The last namedguardian of the public virtue had Mr. Kennedy arrestedfor sending Goodman's book through the mail,charging it was "lewd, lascivious, indecent and filthy."Ida Tarbell, on the contrary, wrote, "You have foundout a secret more difficult than why girls go wrong,and that is why thousands upon thousands of girls goright in spite of hardship and work." The first ofthese two contrary opinions is nothing but piousblatherskite; the second is even more pious piffle.There is absolutely nothing in the volume that givesthe reader a reason for why girls go either right orwrong, any more than there is anything but the mostjournalistic realization of life in any of its prolixpages. Hagar is by no means a new or arrestingtype—she is the weak, semi-pathetic woman who hasnothing to give the world but her sex, and so driftsalong from one tawdry love affair to another—butshe has been portrayed ever so much more faithfullyand with ten times more art by half a dozen men.It is difficult to get very excited about so poor acopy of better work—the book reads like a dull andunskilful boiling down of Sudermann's "Song ofSongs," Flaubert's' "Madame Bovary" and Dreiser's"Jennie Gerhardt." All of which explains why it hasbeen hailed with such rubber stamp enthusiasms. Itseemed "grim" to the reviewers, therefore it carried"the robe of Turgenev" ; it was "frank and realistic,"therefore the author was "an American Zola"—and soon ! The whole trouble is that Mr. Goodman seemsto have started out with an idea, run foul of a lot ofliterature and finally lost both the idea and himselfin his struggles to get free. At the end one gets thedisappointing impression that Mr. Goodman has verylittle to say and that "Hagar Revelly" says it verybadly. Louis UNTERMEYER.Drawn by K. R. ChamberlainAdulterated StoriesFor quite a while the fiction of some magazines hasslopped over into the advertising; but now storiesare started next to Pianola pages, and before long wemay expect to see the notice, "Continued in the readingsection."One author says : "Just imagine, when I had atlast found my great masterpiece in print on the pagefollowing one consecrated to thermos bottles, I readwith interest until I came to the last words on thepage, which were : 'His every look was pregnant witha message. At last he raised his hand and cried . . .'On eagerly turning the page I read: 'Uneeda Biscuit!'"How long will it be before stories are written withpage "leave-offs" designed to carry weight with theannouncement over leaf? For instance, the last wordsof a story on page 692 could be: "The Ramourswere childless . . ." and page 693 could follow-up advantageouslywith "Have you a little fairy in yourhome?"Little exception could be taken to this welding offact and fiction. It would make the advertisementsand stories more consecutive and readable. The authora model fora pennyhimself, at two or three cents a word, could think upgood things like this :Page 249. "Ah, yes, the echo of her crazed cry floatsback to my ears; it floats ..." Page 250. "Whatfloats? Ivory Soap."Neater still, the pictures with the advertisements(which, by the way, the magazine gets for nothing)could serve the double purpose of illustrating the storyas well as the more important matter accompanyingit. There are possibilities all along the line.ROBERT C. BROWN.

16THE STORY OF MICHAEL SHEAWHEN Lester Robinson, the cub reporter,dropped in on his friend, Mrs. Phelan, toget a story he found the gas had beenlighted in her sitting room back of her pawnshop.Mrs. Phelan was saying good-bye to aMr. and Mrs. Shea. The man's black eyes had pupilsof extraordinary size, which, with the peculiar blacknessof his hair, gave him a wild look that contrastedoddly with the prosperous air which shone from himand his wife; it fought with the slightly querulousexpression and jangled with the subject under discussion."Well," said Mrs. Shea, "you comin', Michael? Youknow what'll happen to dinner, Mrs. Phelan, if I ain'tthere. He can't eat things the girl fries.""She's got you spoiled, Michael," Mrs. Phelan chidedaffectionately.After the buzz of leave-taking no one spoke. Shebroke the silence with :"Seems queer to me somtimes to think of Michaellivin' quiet and happy. Seems queer to me to think o'Black Michael Shea goin' 'round hitched to a cookstovean' thinkin' o' whether this otta be flavored alittle more or otta be served hotter. You know, Mr.Rob'ns'n, the Irish is the woist cooks in the woild bynature, but they've got imagination, so you can learn'em to cook. But when you show me an Irishmanwho's fussy about his food, I'll show you an Irishmanwho's fell. Real Irishmen are too full o' fightor love or politics or sport—too full o' feelin' to knowwhat they're eatin' so there's a big dish of it. They'reby nature romantic an' they show it by the way theycrack each others' heads open for no reason but theywant a scrap. That's what I call idealism, when aman wants to fight for somethin' so bad he'll fight fornothin'. Michael Shea wouldn't fight for nothin' buthis own comfort now. He'd lick a man who steppedon his toe, becuz his toe wuz hoit an' not Becuz 'twasstepped on—an' when a man changes from one to th'other he's gone an awful long way."I've known Michael a long time an' it's becuz o'him that I ain't got no faith in youth no more'n Ihave in looks. I see you now, Mr. Rob'ns'n, chasin''round after stories; reachin' out here an' there, an'tryin' to understand folks which is the beginnin' of allthere is to livin' in the woild. An' before I'd knowedMichael I'd said, 'There's a gen'rous boy; the heart inhim beats lively, an' he uses the eyes in his head tosee. Mebbe he'll write somethin' I c'n read sometime.'"I can't read nuthin' they write about this burg, Mr.Rob'ns'n, 'xcept what's in the papers, becuz the thingsthe' write ain't no more Noo York'n a Sunday Schoolpicnic's a strike. So I mighta thought you was goin'to learn something, but now I know most likely it'sjuss becuz you're young that makes you stare at thisbig, old whoilpool like you was hypnotized I'd asworn to Gawd Michael Shea woulda lasted till theend, instead he's tied to a chain o' stew pans an' that'sa sad end f'r any brave man."Listen now an' I'll tell yah a story o' Michael Shea."I'd known Michael Shea a while an' liked him,though 'twas like havin' a torpedah eatin' out o' yourhand to have Michael around. In the depths he was,down in the black pit, an' next he'd be walkin' fromstar to star. An' becuz o' the two was how he took toKitty Delorme, which wasn't her name."She was a pretty thing with a loose mouth to heran' big, blue eyes—the kind fellahs think is innercentan' that ladies know ain't. Michael was bordin' withMary Heaton Vorsethe Mehans—the boardin' house where oie Mehan waslettin' his wife slave f'r him an' crushin' her life outaher, breakin' her heart sneerin' at her. Mehan swelled'round grand in his boardin' house, screwin' rent outathem he could bully an' usin' the money for himselfan' never forgivin' her for supportin' him. He was kep'if ever a man was, an' somethin' better in him mustamade him sick at himself so he took it out on hiswife and his step-daughter, who was a sweet slip of agoil with not a woid to say for herself, an' who setback an' watched her Ma bein' torchared without sayin'nothin' fear o' makin' things woise, an' in betweentimes holdin' her Ma to her soft, comforting heart."When Michael brought Kitty to the boardin' house:"'Who is she?' says Ole Mehan, swaggerin' an'clawin' his mustache fierce." 'None o' your business,' says Michael, 'but I'll tellyah who she's goin' to be, an' that's Mis' MichaelShea,' an' he pats the shoulder o' Kitty, who looked upto him half scared. I guess it was the foist time inher life Kitty ever hoid an altar mentioned." 'Gawd !' Phelan says to me. 'Call him off, Lily.That ain't no goil f'r him to marry. She's told him astory about bein' desoited that wouldn't sting a wiseyear-old child. W'y, she's learned her piece right outena mellerdrammer an' Michael thinks she's an ill-treatedangel'"Well, there wasn't much I could say to Michael.Someway I loved him f'r believin' in her. After she'dbe'n fed an' had a bunch o' clo'es bought her an'warmed herself in the love o' him, she begun to feelkinder stiff-jointed in the part Michael'd cast her for.A reel woman with a heart woulda tried anyhow, butshe was jest natchral slack. I ain't blamin' her.She hadn't never loved Michael. He'd just come alonglike other men had come along, an' after the lovehad gone outa her to one o' her own kind. Anyhowshe'd gone that way too young, an' there wasn't nothin'to save her. She missed the easy life an' excitement."We seen it comin'. We trembled for what'd happen.We seen her sneakin' out, meetin' this an' thato' the ole crowd. I seen her takin' stiff drinks behin'Michael's back. She loved to feel—Kitty did—an' she'dbe'n through so much it tuk somethin' to make her.So she tuk to playin' with life an' death behin' theback o' Black Michael Shea. An' all the time he wasbowin' before her's though she was the queen o' heaven."Folks begun talkin' f'r they seen her with the fellawho used her so. He come hangin' 'round now shewas married decent. But Michael Shea never seennothin'."One day he come in here, an' if ever I see hell fireI seen it in Michael Shea's eyes." "Here,' sez he, shovin' all his stuff over the counter.'give me what you can.'"Though I knew what was up—'Wat's eatin' you?'I asked." 'There's one man too many alive on this earth—an' I'm goin' to put that straight.'" 'Speak out—tell w'at's happened an' w'at money youneed,' I sez." 'Kitty's gone,' he tells me, an' his teeth grittedhorrible. 'The man that kicked her out an' desoitedher's come back. They got scared o' me an' they'vegone—her an' he—an' I'll foller 'em to the end o' theearth an' I'll kill him with me own han's before hereyes. Now you know what's happened—an' noww'at'll you give?'"I tried to stop him :"'Leave be,' I sez. "Tain't worth your w'ileswingin' f'r her—'tain't her you're in love with,Michael Shea!'" 'Who is it ?' he asks fierce."'Keep your shoit on,' I tells him. 'W'en I tell youit's yourself; your ideels are w'at you're cryin' over—an' our ideels is made up of one-tenth Wat we is an'nine-tenths wanta be, an' then the virtues toined insideout so'sta fit a woman—the Kitty Shea you're crazyover's named Michael.'"He didn't answer, but stood waitin' f'r me to comeover on his stuff. You've hoid about folks bein' possessed?Well, that was w'at Michael Shea was. Ihadn't otta a give nothin'. He was goin' out to murder.F'r his own sake—I hadn't otta a give him nothin', buthe stood there waitin' an' I handed him I dunno howmuch more'n his stuff was woith, an' he stuck it inhis pocket an' lit out."Friends writ 'em Michael was on their trail, an'they kep' amovin' an' Michael movin' fast after them.As long as the power was on him he seemed to knowthe way to 'em; as long as he was possessed he doneto others w'at he done to me. If he got bust he'dget money somehow jest by askin' f'r it. He'd tell hisstory straight an' whoever he asked done as he said."Men in gamblin' houses went down in their pants'pockets f'r him; once 'twas the president of a bank." I otta hand yah over to the sheriff,' he sez, 'buthere's good luck to yah.'"Michael told me an' Phelan that, settin' in this veryroom, when countin' up w'at he owed. He didn't seemto see nothin' queer in it, which is to have faith inw'at you're doin'. Michael had the faith that movesmountains. He was possessed, an' no one could stan'in his way."The day he come back he come in, an' right offwhen I seen him I seen there was more wrong thanwhen he started." 'Oh, Michael,' I bawls out, never thinkin' how fierceI sounded, 'didn't yah get him?'" I got him,' sez Michael, "all right.'" 'Oh, Michael,' I sez, 'you never killed him !'"Michael laughed an' my hair riz to hear him :" 'Gee !' sez he. 'Wimmin's bloodthoisty,' he sez.'Look at yah with Salome eyes in yah head the size'v saucers. You'd dance,' sez he, 'with his head ona platter, an' him nothin' to yah.'"'Then yah didn't kill him?' I asks, kinda disappointedin my heart. 'Twas very like ladies who wasfrien's o' Michael's, though our common sense loinedus better. Well, Mr. Rob'ns'n, when I asks that"I found 'em,' sez he, Out to Cheyenne. I went tothe. hotel they was at an' knocked at the door. 'Comein,' sez they, an' I went inside an' locked the door.Gawd I was glad ! I seen 'em shrivel up before me ;I seen him get grey an' sick. It was sweeter'n Ithought. I stood an' watched 'em an' none of ushadn't nothin' to say—me, becuz I was enjoyin' myself,an' them f'r fear o' me. I was a fool—I stood thereproud like a turkey gobbler to see the fear in 'em. Italked like a fool—for when I got good an' ready—good an' ready, an' no one had stirred han' or foot:" 'Yah seem to know w'at I come f'h, Mis' Shea,'sez I."'Mrs. Phelan paused, her eyes on the blue flamesflickering over the fire :"Mr. Rob'ns'n," she went on, "Michael Shea put hishead in his hands an' groaned:"'My Gawd! My Gawd! Kitty Shea made a

THE MASSES.17InvestigationThe Struggle for Industrial LibertypettyreformDrawn by ArthurYoungAt the Edge of the Cratersquawk between a pig an' a rabbit ! She made a noiselike a scared pig—an' then I seen her! I seen herlike she was—shaller an' scared—shaller an' cheap—dirt like the man she was with. If she was bad I'dfeel diff'runt.'" 'You're hard to please,' sez I, tryin' to choke offhis agony, but he didn' hear me even." 'Badness has guts/ he sez. 'Wat did I want killin'the shiv'rin lover o' that scared fool? There wasn'tnothin' there to kill—nor nothin' to hoit. Gawd !Gawd ! Gawd !' he sez, an' he raised his fists an' shook'em above his head in his torment. 'All I loved in thewoild, ain't, an' never has been, an' never will be—an' there's a woman named Kitty Shea, named w'at mywoman was named, an' with her looks an' the body o'her walkin' 'round the earth. When I seen her Iwanted to kill her so there wouldn't be no woman bythat name—not for murder, but like you'd step on abug. I was afraid—afraid I'd kill a woman—an' withhim pleadin' an' her squawkin'—I left them. An' bynight an' day I can't have peace or rest to think thatthere's one with no heart or soul in her, walkin' on topo' the earth with the body of Kitty Shea.'" 'Stop yah bellerin',' sez I to him, for I seen somethin'had to be done. 'I'm tired o' the noise yah makebecuz yah found a woman wasn't woith chokin' a manfor, an' the man too rotten to be choked by an honestman's hand. Yah otta be thankin' Gawd that yahfound it out before the murder instead o' after whenyou was on yah way to the chair. I'm taken up withreal sufferin',' sez I. 'Pore Mis' Mehan's dyin' an'Mehan's not makin' her last days sweet. Go on an'settle him like yah know how, Michael Shea.'"Which he done, an' Mis' Mehan passed easier becuzo' him."A few days later an' back he comes.'"How's Mamie,' I ast, 'sence her mother's dead?Is she bearin' up?'" 'Gran',' sez Michael. 'She's glad her mother's dead,an' at rest—she's glad.' It made him shiver, for itshowed him what that pore child had been through.I guess she'd lived with a heart that trembled nightan' day for her pore, suff'rin' mother." 'An' you, Michael Shea,' sez I. 'You're a fine man,ain't yah? Your misrubbul, puny heart's boist insideyah, becuz yah made up a woman an' she toinedout someone else. Yah think yah got the dimon' beltfor suff'rin', don't yah? An' that little goil you seen,every day's been crucified to the cross an' ain't openedher head. Bullieve me—she's some class !'"He set there thinkin' an' thinkin', an' he got upsudden an' went away without sayin' a woid."I never seen him again until the day they wasmarried." I come in to see you foist,' he sez, 'bein' 'twas youwho sent me to Mame.' He looked at her, an' it wasone o' them looks that makes yah see why marriage'sa sacrament. ' 'Twas livin' in the house with her mademe think all wimmin was like her—it was soakin' ofthe goodness of her give me ideels,' he sez."An' mabbe 'twas, though I'd a swore he'd scarcelyknown pore little Mamie was in the house. But shewasn't no pore Mamie in his eyes. When I had achanct to talk to her on the side I sez, quiet:" 'Yah know what yah are, don't yah ? You're theheart o' life f'r him.'" I know it,' sez she, soft an' quiet." 'He's been sore hoit,' sez I." 'He'll never be hoit again,' sez she. 'I'll stan' betweenall hoits an' him.'" 'He thinks you're the queen o' heaven an' there'sstars in your crown.'" 'I'll keep 'em bright,' sez she. She looked like she'djust hoid Gawd speaking." 'Yah both come outa hell to heaven—God blessyah,' I sez. 'Love an' comfort her forever, Michael,'I sez."Mrs. Phelan laughed, and her laughter didn't ringmirthfully in the ears of Lester Robinson."I talked that day like a priest, an' all the time Iwas an old fool. It's not the sight o' sin makes myheart toin to water, nor the suff'rin' or injustice o'this woild spoils my trust in life, but it's w'at the softplaces can do to a man and woman. When them theretwo went outa here, him with his black, wild headtoined t'ward her tender, an' her with the looks of aMadonna listenin' to angel voices, my heart beat. Ithought I'd seen somethin' woith livin' for, that'd lastmore'n a second—I reely bullieved it. You know me—I got a hard head. That's how 'tis that there's somethings hoits me becuz they're so beautiful—men an'goils when they love each other ; little kids an' theway their mothers look at 'em. The more you know,the more such things hoit. They hoit becuz you knowthey won't last no more'n sunrise. But this fooled me."Now lissun to the end—listen to w'at they done withlife that Gawd had give 'em over—for they was bornagain."She went home an' made him a set o' habitswoise'n drink. He couldn't stir han' or foot withouther. Gawd ! Mamie—she filled his stommick so fullthat he couldn't dream o' love no more, an' she ustabe somethin' to dream over, for she'd come from hellto heaven in a night. She thought so much about thecreature comforts o' Michael Shea that he nor she don'think o' no other thing."Michael Shea an' Mamie stink o' comfort like allNoo York does. They don't love each other no more,for they don't love nothin'. Folks bear sorrahs fine,but I ain't seen the man or woman w'at can stan' mucho' comfort an' happiness."Mrs. Phelan brooded a while, her eyes wanderingover the crowded walls, over the jetsam of years thathad accumulated in the back-water of a pawnshop."They're jest so-so," she pronounced. "Jest likethey're so-so, an' all them blood an' tears an' all thatsuff'rin' all wasted. Poil Essenheimer says that whatI mind is 'em growin' up, an' everythin's gottagrow up."Mrs. Phelan rested her head, crowned with its palegold "cwaffer" on her large hand, and her elbow onher knee."Sunrise can't last, I know, but I thought to see oneday that would stay fine till noon," she said.

18 THE MASSESFreedom for Men !Drawn by H. S. TurnerWHO GAVE YOU THAT BLACK EYE?WHO GIVES ME ANYTHING? I HAD TO FIGHT FOR IT.TO KIPLINGVILE singer of the bloody deeds of empire,And of the bravery that exploits the poor,Exalter of subservience to masters,Bard of the race that bound and robbed the Boer—Τ DON'T believe woman's urge toward political emancipationhad its origin in women. I think men areat the base of the movement—weakened men whoare struggling to strengthen themselves.Women universally never wanted equal suffrage, orthey'd have it today. Women have always had whatthey wanted and will continue to have, because historyand observation prove that they are the Stronger Sex.The Vampire is a woman, and the Sphinx; the moona lady, ships and locomotives feminine; why, the wholeEarth and all Nature we call Mother. The devil is aman, and in thinking of things given masculine attributesabout the only other one that comes to mind isthe Goat.Nearly every enduring story or drama relates howa woman made or ruined a man's life, or how a mothersaved her boy.Women have always been stronger in sympathy, endurance,sentiment, martyrdom and sheer courage.The women have it. From the beginning, in theirstrength they seized the privilege to coddle and spoilman. They've picked him up and carried him eversince; they've borne him, loved, and fought for him.Now men are coming along, raising their heads andvoices and shouting, "We won't be your little boys.We won't be spoiled anymore. We won't accept thedouble standard you have given us. We're going toshare this thing, and you women have got to take thevote. We won't allow ourselves to be weakened anymore. We won't be your little boys. We won't holdthe purse. We won't accept all this sacrifice and suffering.We're going to make you take the vote andaccept motherhood pensions. We're going to grow asstrong as you."I am a feminist. I believe in women. I know peopleare right when they say mother-love is the greatestthing in the world.I have a mother, the same as any other man, andshe tries to spoil me ; I have a wife, the same as everyother man's (in that she, is far above the average),and she does spoil me; I have a daughter two yearsold, and this mother and wife are already conspiringto teach the baby girl to spoil me when she's oldenough. They're going to make me a powerful puppetin petty matters. They'll have me carve the roast, andaccept the biggest helpings of everything without return.I don't want to be spoiled. I know it's only aweak creature's plea, but I earnestly desire to accepthalf the burden. A great many men fell the same asI do, and it's that feeling which is responsible for thewave of Suffrage (long may she wave!).Votes for women and freedom for men !We note your metaphors that shine and glisten,But, underneath your sounding verse, we seeThe exploitation and the wide corruption,The lying, and the vice, and misery.WelfareWorkYour people lay upon the backs of others—The bullet, and the prison, and the rod,Wherewith ye scourge the races that subserve you,And then blaspheme by blaming it on God.Harry Kemp.SCHMIDT, the priest, assassin and counterfeiter,whose homicide industry was blasted in its infancy,seems to have had a comprehensive plan forending the lives of cripples, paralytics and sufferersfrom incurable ailments."Any man," he says, "is foolish who wishes to liveout his life on earth. I meant to benefit those I killed."Sort of welfare work, apparently, beneficent in purposebut not democratic in administration. Η. B.

19Drawn by Glenn ColemanTHE EARLY MORNING CALLWhythe Boyd Case is ImportantTHE Law is governed by precedents. In order tohold to some consistent line of proceeding, amidstthe deluge of hasty and conflicting legislation enactedevery year by our legislatures, the courts model theirdecisions on those of preceding judges. That is whyprecedents are so important. The Boyd case will establisha precedent—a precedent vitally important forthe whole future of labor. The workers alone canacquit Boyd. If Boyd is convicted, all future strikeleadersare convicted. All manufacturers are watchingthe Boyd case, to see if Labor will stand by its leaders.Read "Free Speech on Trial," on page 14.Why We Are a SocialistMOST New York apartment-houses barring chil¬dren, the New York School Board has finallyforbidden teachers to become mothers, or vice-versa.Pretty soon it will be perfectly safe to pass thatMotherhood Pension Law.PhilosophyI'M glad that meat and things have soaredSo high the've left us blinking:It helps—this extra rise in board—High living brings plain thinking.

20THE WORLD-WIDE BATTLE LINEWilliam English WallingThe birth-strike AgainCLARA ZETKIN, editor of the German party'spaper for women Die Gleichheit, has now madeit clear that she does not oppose the restriction ofbirths when it is done on private grounds, but onlywhen it is done for alleged public reasons—such aslimiting the supply of future soldiers or workingmen.Kautsky, however, attributes even these privategrounds to poverty and other capitalistic conditions,thus implying that there will be little if any restrictionof births under Socialism.Kautsky also argues that if the restriction of birthsgoes very far it will even harm Socialism rather thanhelp it. The quality of mothers and children might beimproved, but to Socialism (according to Kautsky) thequantity of workers is more important than quality:"An improvement of quality at the expense of quantitywould be more harmful than the contrary tendency."Kautsky's fear is lest "backward groups of workerstake the place of the superior." Examples would doubtlessbe if the children of the Poles or Chinese tookthe places that might have been filled by the childrenof Germans or Americans. This is also the view ofRoosevelt, of Sidney Webb, and of many AmericanSocialists.South American Socialistsvs. The United StatesTHE Socialist party and labor unions of this coun¬try, while opposing intervention in Mexico—along with Mr. Bryan, and millions of other citizens—have done little to prevent war, and almost nothing tohelp the struggling peons.It is not surprising then, that the leaders of the newmovement of the Argentine Socialist to call a SouthAmerican Socialist congress, chiefly to protect SouthAmerican countries from the United States, say nothingabout inviting our Socialists.The German Party Mack mePrimarily ParliamentaryTHE German Socialist party, in voting down theresolution of Rosa Luxemburg by nearly three toone, shows that its work is primarily, though not exclusively,,centered on the floor of the Reichstag. Theresolution read:"In order to keep awake militant energy and idealismamong the organized, and to carry along the unorganizedin critical moments and win them permanentlyfor the political and labor union organizations, ourtactics must consciously put the center of the strugglein the action of the masses."It is encouraging to know that in spite of the partymachine, nearly 30 per cent. of the delegates at therecent congress supported this resolution. It mightserve as a rallying cry for the revolutionary Socialistsand labor unionists of all the world.Progressing BackwardIF wages advanced faster than prices—and sufficientlyfaster to diminish the sum total of profits—we wouldbe on the road to Socialism. If the contrary happenswe are going away from Socialism.Using this test, the New Age in an open letter tothe recent British Trade Union Congress, shows thatthe British workers are still progressing backwards.The letter quotes official statistics for the very districtsfrom which the Labor party leaders come, proving anincrease of wages from 1905 to 1912 of from 2 to 5 1/2per cent.—a mere fraction of the increased cost ofliving. The letter—which has attracted considerableattention—continues :"Whilst Mr. Philip Snow den has been busy pamphleteeringand lecturing on woman's suffrage or nationalfinance, the cost of living in his own constituencyhas advanced 16 per cent. Whilst Mr. MacDonald hasbeen on a royal commission in India, the cost of livingin Leicester has advanced 13 per cent. Whilst Mr.Keir Hardie has been gallivanting over Europe andAmerica, talking old-fashioned and extremely ignorantState Socialism, his Merthyr constituents have been'had' by an increased 11 per cent."imperfections and deficiencies, put an end to a decadeof weakness and cowardice in the party."The second Milan strike, though disapproved by theFederation of Labor, was finally participated in bypractically the whole labor union movement of Milanand several other cities. Rome and Milan, as theNeue Zeit correspondent remarks, loyally followed thesyndicalist leadership. The left wing of the partyalso, we are informed, "sees in the syndicalists menwho are often Comrades, who are only separated fromthe party by an excess of revolutionary idealism."Avanti declared that "the sympathetic general strike,from the Socialist standpoint, is the noblest and deepestexpression of the developed and emancipated consciousnessof the working class."At one stage of the strike Avanti was neutral betweenthe Confederation and the Syndicalists, but eventhen it announced itself ready actively to participateif the general strike should come to take on "an outrightrevolutionary and political character"—thus recognizingthe revolutionary as being necessarily political inthe larger sense.THEImperialistic Socialismattitude of the organs of British middle classSocialism towards foreign affairs is distinctly imperialistic.The New Age—syndicalistic in trend—endorsedRoosevelt's praise of the British despotism inEgypt, and "Veritas," its foreign editor, continues inthis strain from week to week. Now the organ ofSydney Webb, Bernard Shaw and State Socialism takesthe side of Huerta in Mexico against President Wilson.Of Huerta the New Statesman says :"While he is in charge of affairs all hints of interventionfrom the United States have an air of unwarrantedprovocation. Beyond the burning of a fewhaciendas in the south and the closing down of acouple of mines in the north, there has been little interferencewith commerce or foreign capital."Huerta is a "capable" and "honest" old soldier,Carranza a mere brigand, while Wilson's fight for constitutionalgovernment is "dollar diplomacy."THE official weekly of the German party prints thefollowing description of the party machine, by awell-known Berlin Socialist :"The official machine not only administers, it governs.It reaches decisions over the heads of themasses, and for the masses. It more and more cutsthe masses out, as if its motto were: I am the organization.. . ."The interests of the masses require perpetual innovation.The interests of the bureaucracy requirestagnation, stable, self-dependent 'order.' ..."The writer demands as a remedy for this undemocraticform of organization, the use of the referendum,as in this and other countries.TheGeneral Strike in ItalyHE following comments of Mussolini, editor of theAvanti, are interesting:"Through its colonial venture (Tripoli) Italy hascome into a revolutionary situation. If the Socialistparty does not wish to commit suicide it must boldlyface this new and disturbing situation. The Socialistsof all Italy saw this when they assented enthusiasticallyto the Milan movement, which in spite of unavoidablePolitics Makes Strange BedfellowsWE find the following in the "Official National Bul¬letin of the Socialist Party" :"We serve notice on the petty officials of West Virginiathat the national organization of the Socialistparty will protect its representatives. Let them alsoremember that we are working with the Governor ofWest Virginia to maintain the right of free speech andfree assemblage."The Governor referred to is Hatfield, who broke upthe Socialist presses, held their editors in jail withouttrial, and has refused all indemnity for this criminaloutrage.

THE MASSES.21Drawn by Maurice BeckerW I T H O U T W O R D S

22 THE MASSES.JOHN Α. RYAN, D.D.,andMORRIS HILLQUITFight outthe Question of Socialismineverybody'sMR. HILLQUIT says: "The press, the school and thechurch have failed to achieve anything worth while towardremedying social evils"DR. RYAN retorts: "Let Mr. Hillquit eliminate fromsocial progress the contributions of these three agencies, and thentell us what remains."Here you have two eminent authorities in a mightyvigorous combat on the most agitating problem of the day—SOCIALISM ! This unique two-handed discussion gives youboth sides of the question.Mr. Hillquit claims that Socialism means industrialsalvation. Dr. Ryan says it would mean industrial despotism.Which one proves his case for you ?Get Everybody's Magazine to-day15 Cents All News-standsTHERIDGWAY COMPANYNew York

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THEMASSES.Drawn by Stuart Davis.SURE OF A W I D E B E R T H N O WA recent decision of the Supreme Court opens the waterways of the United States to "jim-crow" discrimination on steam-boats.