the iron puddler-第14节

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　Pullman　palace　cars。　Here　was　the　whole　bunch　of　them　in　seven　〃specials〃　rolling　right　by　his　front　door。　He　cursed　them　again　and　prayed　that　the　train　might　be　wrecked　and　that　every　one　of　the　blinkety　blinkety　scoundrels　might　be　killed。　If　all　these　idle　plutocrats　could　be　destroyed　in　a　heap　they　would　be　lifted　from　the　backs　of　the　masses；　and　the　masses　would　not　have　to　work　any　more。

Bannerman　was　a　fool；　and　I　could　even　then　see　just　what　made　him　foolish。　He　was　full　of　the　brimstone　of　envy。　The　sight　of　those　well…dressed　travelers　eating　in　the　dining　cars　drove　him　wild。　He　wanted　to　be　in　their　places；　but　he　was　too　lazy　to　work　and　earn　the　money　that　would　put　him　there。　I　knew　that　they　were　not　rich　men；　they　were　school…teachers；　doctors；　butchers　and　bakers；　machinists　and　puddlers。　They　had　saved　their　money　for　a　year　in　order　to　have　the　price　of　this　convention　trip　to　Denver。　Comrade　Bannerman　was　pig…iron；　and　envy　made　him　brittle。　He　should　have　been　melted　down　and　had　the　sulphur　boiled　out　of　him。　Then　he　would　have　been　wrought　iron；　as　were　the　men　he　was　so　envious　of。

He　was　not　envious　of　me；　of　course；　because　he　thought　I　was　a　tramp。　Indeed　he　thought　I　was　as　envious　as　he；　and　so　he　classed　the　two　of　us　as　〃intellectuals。〃　From　this　I　learned　that　〃Intellectuals〃　is　a　name　that　weak　men；　crazed　with　envy；　give　to　themselves。　They　believe　the　successful　men　lack　intellect；　are　all　luck。　This　thought　soothes　their　envy　and　keeps　it　from　driving　them　mad。

I　thanked　Comrade　Bannerman　for　his　pamphlets　and　threw　him　a　few　coins　to　pay　for　the　melons　he　had　given　me。　But　my　peep　into　his　soul　had　taught　me　more　than　his　propaganda　could　teach　me。　Later　I　read　all　the　pamphlets　because　I　had　promised　I　would。　They　told　of　the　labor　movement　and　the　theories　at　work　in　Germany。　One　of　them　was　called　Merrie　England　and　declared　that　England　had　once　been　merry；　but　capitalism　had　crushed　all　joy　and　turned　the　island　into　a　living　hell。　I　remembered　my　mother　in　Wales　rocking　her　baby's　cradle　and　singing　all　day　long　with　a　voice　vibrant　with　joy。　If　capitalism　had　crushed　her　heart　she　hadn't　heard　about　it。

When　the　lodge　excursion　train　had　passed　on　toward　the　convention　city；　I　hopped　a　freight　and　bade　Comrade　Bannerman　goodby。　Had　I　told　him　that　from　my　earnings　I　had　salted　away　enough　money　to　buy　his　little　shack　he　would　have　hated　me　as　he　hated　the　lodge　members　in　the　Pullmans。　I　did　not　hate　those　men。　They　were　doing　me　a　service　by　traveling　across　the　country。　For　they　belonged　to　the　fare…paying　classes；　their　money　kept　the　railroads　going　so　they　could　carry　politicians　and　some　of　us　working　men　free。



CHAPTER　XXII

LOADED　DOWN　WITH　LITERATURE


After　I　had　read　the　various　pamphlets　that　Bannerman　gave　me　I　was　like　the　old　negro　who　went　to　sleep　with　his　mouth　open。　A　white　man　came　along　and　put　a　spoonful　of　quinine　in　his　mouth。　When　the　negro　woke　up　the　bitter　taste　worried　him。　〃What　does　it　mean？〃　he　asked。　The　white　man　told　him　it　meant　that　he　〃had　done　bu'sted　his　gall　bladder　and　didn't　have　long　to　live。〃　A　mighty　bad　taste　was　left　in　my　mouth　by　those　communist　pamphlets。　If　they　were　telling　the　truth　I　realized　that　labor's　gall　bladder　had　done　bu'sted　and　we　didn't　have　long　to　live。　One　book　said　that　British　capitalists　owned　all　the　money　in　the　world　and　that　at　a　given　signal　they　would　draw　the　money　out　of　America　and　the　working　men　here　would　starve　to　death　in　twenty…nine　days。　It　seemed　that　some　crank　had　fasted　that　many　days　in　order　to　get　accurate　statistics　showing　just　how　long　the　working　man　could　hope　to　last　after　England　pushed　the　button　for　the　money　panic。

Another　book　said　that　Wall　Street　now　owned　ninety　per　cent。　of　the　wealth　in　America　and　was　getting　the　other　ten　at　the　rate　of　eight　per　cent。　a　year。　Within　twelve　years　Wall　Street　would　own　everything　in　the　world；　and　mankind　would　be　left　naked　and　starving。

The　wildest　book　of　all　was　called　Caesar's　Column。　It　was　in　the　form　of　a　novel　and　told　how　the　rich　in　America　worshiped　gold　and　lust　instead　of　God　and　brotherly　love；　and　how　they　drove　their　carriages　over　the　working　man's　children　and　left　them　crushed　and　bleeding　in　the　street。　America　had　ceased　to　be　a　republic　and　was　an　oligarchy　of　wealth　all　owned　by　a　dozen　great　families　while　the　millions　were　starving。　The　end　of　the　book　described　a　great　revolution　in　which　the　people　arose；　led　by　an　Italian　communist　named　Caesar　Spadoni。　The　mob　took　all　the　fine　houses　and　killed　the　rich　people。　Caesar　took　the　bodies　and；　laying　them　in　cement　like　bricks；　he　built　an　enormous　column　of　corpses　in　Union　Square　towering　higher　than　any　building　in　New　York。　He　established　his　headquarters　in　a　Fifth　Avenue　palace　and　was　directing　the　slaughter　of　all　men　who　owned　property；　when　some　of　his　followers　got　jealous　of　his　fine　position　and　killed　him　and　burned　the　house。　By　that　time　everything　in　America　was　destroyed；　and　the　hero　of　the　book；　having　invented　an　air…ship；　flew　away　to　South　Africa　to　escape　the　general　demolition。　This　book　was　being　circulated　by　communists　as　a　true　picture　of　what　the　country　was　coming　to。

These　pamphlets　came　into　my　hands　at　a　time　when　work　was　getting　scarcer　every　day　and　a　million　men　like　myself　were　moving　about　the　country　looking　for　jobs。　Then　for　the　first　time　I　realized　my　need　for　a　broader　education。　If　these　things　were　true；　it　was　my　duty　to　stop　chasing　the　vanishing　job　and　begin　to　organize　the　workers　so　that　they　might　destroy　the　capitalists。　But　how　could　I　know　whether　they　were　true？　I　had　no　knowledge　of　past　history。　And　without　knowing　the　past　how　could　I　judge　the　future？　I　was　like　the　old　man　who　had　never　seen　a　railroad　train。　His　sons　took　him　thirty　miles　over　the　hills　and　brought　him　to　the　depot　where　a　train　was　standing。　The　old　man　looked　things　over　and　saw　that　the　wheels　were　made　of　iron。　〃It　will　never　start；〃　he　said。　He　knew　that　if　his　wagon　had　heavy　iron　wheels；　his　team　could　never　start　it。　But　his　sons　said：　〃It　will　start　all　right。〃　They　had　seen　it　before；　they　knew　its　past　history。　Soon　the　train　started；　gathered　speed　like　a　whirlwind　and　went　roaring　away　down　the　track。　The　old　man　gazed　after　it　and　then；　much　excited；　he　exclaimed。　〃It　will　never　stop！〃

The　wisest　head　is　no　judge　unless　it　has　in　it　the　history　of　past　performances。　I　had　not　studied　much　history　in　my　brief　schooling。　The　mills　called　me　because　they　needed　men。　Good　times　were　there　when　I　arrived；　and　as　for　hard　times；　I　was　sure　they　〃would　never　start。〃　Now　the　hard　times　were　upon　us　and　panic　shook　the　ground　beneath　our　feet。　〃It　will　never　stop；〃　men　cried。　Had　they　studied　the　history　of　such　things　they　would　have　known　that　hard　times　come　and　hard　times　go；　starting　and　stopping　for　definite　reasons；　like　the　railway　train。

I　had　done　the　right　thing　in　quitting　school　and　going　to　the　puddling　furnaces　at　a　time　when　we　needed　iron　more　than　we　needed　education。　The　proverb　says；　〃Strike　while　the　iron　is　hot。〃　The　country　was　building；　and　I　gave　it　iron　to　build　with。　Railroads　were　still　pushing　out　their　mighty　arms　and　stringing　their　iron　rails　across　the　western　wheat　lands。　Bridges　were　crossing　the　Mississippi　and　spanning　the　chasms　in　the　Rocky　Mountains。　Chicago　and　New　York　were　rising　in　new　growth　with　iron　in　their　bones　to　hold　them　high。　My　youth　was　spent　in　giving　to　this　growing　land　the　element　its　body　needed。

Now　that　body　was　sick。　What　was　the　matter　with　it？　Lacking　an　education；　I　was　unprepared　to　say。　When　I　left　school　my　theory　was　that　every　boy　should　learn　a　trade　as　soon　as　possible。　Now　I　saw　that　a　trade　was　not　enough。　A　worker　needs　an　education；　also。　The　trade　comes　first；　perhaps；　but　the　education　ought　to　follow　on　its　heels。

During　the　next　ten　years　of　my　life　I　was　a　worker　and　a　student；　too。　My　motto　was　that　every　one　should　have　at　least　a　high…school　education　and　a　trade。



CHAPTER　XXIII

THE　PUDDLER　HAS　A　VISION


That　caravan　of　railroad　cars　bearing　the　happy　lodge　members　to　their　meeting　in　the　Rockies；　had　started　a　train　of　thought　that　went　winding　through　my　mind　ever　after。　In　fancy　I　saw　the　envious　Bannerman　shaking　his　fist　at　his　thriftier；　happier　brothers。　Should　I　denounce　the　banding　together　of　men　for　the　promotion　of　fun　and　good　fellowship？　Were　these　men　hastening　the　downfall　of　America　as　the　communist　predicted？　Is　not　good　fellowship　a　necessary　feeling　in　the　hearts　of　civilized　men？

Love　of　comrades　had　always　been　a　ruling　passion　with　me。　I　joined　my　union　as　soon　as　I　had　learned　my　trade；　the　Amalgamated　Association　of　Iron；　Steel　and　Tin　Workers　of　North　America。　It　was　a　long　name；　and　we　liked　every　word　in　it。　We　felt　the　glow　of　brotherhood；　and　as　I　said　before；　we　used　to　share　our　jobs　with　the　brother　who　was　out　of　work。　The　union　paid　a　weekly　benefit　to　men　who　had　to　strike　for　better　working　conditions。　At　that　time　there　were　no　death　benefits　nor　any　fund　to　educate　the　children　of　members　killed　in　the　mills。　When　such　a　death　happened；　the　union　appoi