The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1926-06-11


l-owned state of Massachusetts,
for us he took us on his farm, al
though he had no need of our assist
ance. He kept us there two weeks.
shall always treasure the memory OF
that American family-the first Ameril
cans who treated us as human, despite
the fact that we came from the land of
Dante and Garibaldi.
GPACE limitations do not permit me
~ to trace in detail our subsequent
wanderings in search of someone who
would give us bread and water in re-
turn for our labor. From town to
town, village to village, farm to farm,
we went. We knocked at factory
doors and were sent away Moth
ing doing Nothing doing" We
were literally without a penny be-
tween the two of us, with hunger
gnawing at our insides. We were
lucky when we found an abandoned
stable where we could pass the night
in an effort to sleep. One morning
we were fortunate. In South Glaston-
bury a countryman from Piedmont
treated us to breakfast. Need l tell
how grateful we were to him? But
then we had to keep going in the dis
heartening search. About three in
the afternoon we arrived in Middle
town, Connecticut, tired, bruised, hun
CRY, and dripping from three hours
walk in a rain.
OF the first person that we met we
~ inquired for some North-Italian
(my illustrious companion was ex-
cessively partial to his own section of
italy, and were directed to nearby
house. We knocked and were re-
ceived by two Sicilian women, mother
and daughter. We asked to be per-
mitted to dry our clothes at the stove,
and this they did most readily, despite
the fact that they were Southerners
And while we sat there getting dried
we asked about the chances for OBJ
tanning work in that vicinity. They
told US there was not a stitch to be
had, and advised trying in Springfield
where there are three brick furnaces.
Observing the pallor of our faces
and the visible trembling Of our bod
les, the good women inquired whether
we were hungry. We confessed that
we had not eaten since six in the
morning. Whereupon the younger of
them handed us short loaf of bread
and long knife.
Il can give you nothing else" she
said, and her eyes filled with honest
tears. Il have five children and my
old mother to feed My husband works
on the railroad and earns no more
than $1.35 day, and to make things
worse, have been sick for a long
time.'
While I cut the bread, she rum
mayed round the house in a desperate
search and finally discovered several
apples, which she insisted upon our
eating. Refreshed, we set out in the
direction of the furnaces.
what can that be over there where
the chimney ISL" asked my companion.
1T rs the brick factory, no doubt
Let us go and ask for job"
"Oh, it is much too late now" be
demurred.
well, then, let us go to the home of
the owner" was my suggestion.
mo, no, let's go on elsewhere.
Work of that kind would kill you
You're not built that way" he coun-
tered.
TT became evident enough that in the
L long period of fruitless searching
for work the fellow had lost his taste
for labor. It is a state of mind that is
not at all unusual. In the repeated
impact Of disappointment and insult,
hunger and deprivation, the unem-
ployed victim develops a certain in
difference to his own fate. A terrible
state of mind it is and one that makes
vagabonds forever of the weaker in
dividuals among the unfortunates.
As l stood there trying to swing
him back to a healthy view Of our
predicament thought of the house
we had left little while ago. l
thought with pang of their slim
evening meal, made simmer because
Of the bread we had devoured. The
thought Of my own troubles blotted
them out for while The memory of
the last night, the cold sleepless night,
made me tremble. / took a look at
myself; was almost in rags.
Another night coming on.
CONTINUED tomorrow.)