the iron puddler-第15章

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　my　relatives　was　a　railroad　man；　and　so　to　obtain　the　free　transportation　which　was　every　American's　inalienable　right；　I　had　to　let　the　passenger　trains　go　by　and　take　the　freights。

Once　I　got　ditched　at　a　junction；　and　while　waiting　for　the　next　freight　I　wandered　down　the　track　to　where　I　had　seen　a　small　house　and　a　big　watermelon　patch。　The　man　who　lived　there　was　a　chap　named　Frank　Bannerman。　I　always　remember　him　because　he　was　a　communist；　the　first　one　I　ever　saw；　and　he　filled　my　pockets　with　about　ten　pounds　of　radical　pamphlets　which　I　promised　to　read。　He　made　a　bargain　with　me　that　if　I　would　read　and　digest　the　Red　literature　he　would　give　me　all　the　watermelons　I　could　eat。

〃I'm　a　comrade　already；〃　I　said；　meaning　it　as　a　merry　jest；　that　I　would　be　anything　for　a　watermelon。　But　he　took　it　seriously　and　his　eyes　lit　up　like　any　fanatic's。

〃I　knew　it；〃　he　said。　〃With　a　face　like　yourslook　at　the　brow；　look　at　the　intellect；　the　intellect。〃　I　was　flattered。　〃Come　here；　wife；〃　he　called　through　the　door。　〃Come　here　and　look　at　the　intellect。〃

The　wife；　who　was　a　barefooted；　freckle…faced　woman；　came　out　on　the　porch　and；　smiling　sweetly；　sized　up　my　intellect。　I　made　up　my　mind　that　here　were　the　two　smartest　people　in　America。　For　they　saw　I　was　bulging　with　intellect。　Nobody　else　had　ever　discovered　it；　not　even　I　myself。　I　thought　I　was　a　muscle…bound　iron　puddler；　but　they　pronounced　me　an　intellectual　giant。　It　never　occurred　to　me　that　they　might　have　guessed　wrong；　while　the　wise　old　world　had　guessed　right。　If　the　world　was　in　step；　they　were　out　of　step；　but　I　figured　that　the　world　was　out　of　step　and　they　had　the　right　stride。　I　thought　their　judgment　must　be　better　than　the　judgment　of　the　whole　world　because　their　judgment　pleased　me。　I　later　learned　that　their　judgment　was　just　like　the　judgment　of　all　Reds。　That's　what　makes　'em　Red。

〃Are　there　many　of　us　where　you　come　from？〃　the　man　asked。

〃Many　what？〃　I　asked。

〃Communists；　communists；〃　he　said　excitedly。

I　wanted　to　please　him；　because　we　were　now　cracking　the　melons　and　scooping　out　their　luscious　hearts。　So　I　told　him　how　many　comrades　there　were　in　each　of　the　rolling　mills　where　I　had　worked。　I　had　to　invent　the　statistics　out　of　my　own　head；　but　that　head　was　full　of　intellect；　so　I　jokingly　gave　him　a　fine　array　of　figures。　The　fact　was　that　there　may　have　been　an　addle…pated　Red　among　the　mill　hands　of　that　time；　but　if　there　was　I　had　never　met　him。

The　figures　that　I　furnished　Comrade　Bannerman　surprised　him。　I　counted　the　seeds　in　each　slice　of　watermelon　and　gave　that　as　the　number　of　comrades　in　each　mill。　The　number　was　too　high。　Comrade　Bannerman　knew　how　many　Reds　there　were　in　the　country；　and　it　appeared　that　the　few　mills　I　had　worked　in　contained　practically　the　whole　communist　party。　He　got　rather　excited　and　said　the　numbers　were　growing　faster　than　he　had　imagined。　He　had　figured　that　it　would　take　forty　years　to　bring　about　the　Red　commonwealth；　but　with　the　new　light　I　had　thrown　on　the　subject　he　concluded　that　the　times　were　ripening　faster　than　he　had　dared　to　hope；　and　that　there　was　no　doubt　the　revolution　would　be　upon　us　within　three　years。

The　comrade　told　me　he　was　not　popular　in　the　village　for　two　reasons。　The　capitalistic　storekeepers　called　him　a　dead　beat　and　the　church　people　had　rotten…egged　him　for　a　speech　he　had　made　denouncing　religion。　I　saw　by　his　hands　that　he　didn't　work　much；　and　from　the　hands　of　his　wife　I　learned　who　raised　the　watermelons　he　was　feeding　to　me。　I　remember　wondering　why　he　didn't　pay　his　grocery　bill　with　the　money　he　spent　on　pamphlets　to　stuff　in　the　pockets　of　passers…by。



CHAPTER　XXI

ENVY　IS　THE　SULPHUR　IN　HUMAN　PIG…IRON


While　I　was　feasting　on　the　watermelons　and　feeling　at　peace　with　all　the　world；　a　long　passenger　train　pulled　into　the　junction。　The　train　was　made　up　of　Pullmans　and　each　car　was　covered　with　flags；　streamers　and　lodge　insignia。　On　the　heels　of　this　train　came　another　and　then　another。　These　gay　cars　were　filled　with　members　of　the　Knights　of　Pythias　going　to　their　convention　in　Denver。

At　the　sight　of　these　men　in　their　Pullmans；　my　friend　the　communist　first　turned　pale；　then　green；　then　red。　His　eyes　narrowed　and　blazed　like　those　of　a　madman。　He　stood　up　on　his　porch；　clenched　his　fists　and　launched　into　the　most　violent　fit　of　cursing　I　ever　heard。　The　sight　of　those　holiday…makers　had　turned　him　into　a　demon。　He　thought　they　were　capitalists。　Here　was　the　hated　tribe　of　rich　men；　the　idle　classes；　all　dressed　up　with　flags　flying；　riding　across　the　country　on　a　jamboree。

〃The　blood…sucking　parasites！　The　bleareyed　barnacles！〃　yelled　Comrade　Bannerman。　He　shook　his　fists　at　the　plutocrats　and　cursed　until　he　made　me　sick。　He　was　a　tank…town　nut　who　didn't　like　to　work；　had　built　up　a　theory　that　work　was　a　curse　and　that　the　〃idle　classes〃　had　forced　this　curse　on　the　masses；　of　which　he　was　one。　He　believed　that　all　the　classes　had　to　do　was　to　clip　coupons；　cash　them　and　ride　around　the　country　in　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　mig