The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1926-01-30


that day-no sign from the bosses nor fund
from sympathizers 1t was merely another d.
the dark days of the strike.
'But many of the Russians are getting rest
less" the man whispered. "Ravillof has been
at them, and yesterday their priest told them
to go back. Give 'em hell, Kurelovitch"
Kurelovitch came to the edge of the platform
in hush like that of an operating room, look
ing out over a foam of varied faces. They were
faces that had blown into the golden land on
the twelve winds of the world, though about
nine-tenths of the faces were the broad-boned
earthly beautiful faces of mystic Slavdom
Daylight struggled through large smutty win
dows and busted the heads and shoulders of
the strikers with white, transcendent powder
"A huge oilcloth behind Kurelovitch proclaimed
in big, battering letters, We Average 50
Week and We Are Demanding Is Per G IL;
More. Are You With Us?"
The air frightened as Kurelovitch doomed
there, a sad hero, stopped and gaunt with
many cares. Finger-deep hollOws were in his
cheeks, and with his blazing eyes and strong
mouth he seemed like some ascetic follower Of
the warrior Mohammed. u
Fellow workers
In low, thrilling Polish he began by disposing
of the secular details of the strike, as on every
day. Then something would come over Kurel-
IL,
he were indeed only the voice that this simple
hearted horde had created out of their woe
The soaring phrases would rush from his lips
in Wild stormy music, like the voice of a gale,
as as mystic and powerful.
With both hands holding his breast, as if it
were bursting with passionate vision, Kurelo-
witch lifted his face in one of his superb mo-
ments and famed up like an Isaiah.
"Fellow workers." he chanted, giving the
words a value such as cannot be transmitted
by mere writing Il we can never be beaten tora
we are the workers on whose shoulders rest
the pillars of the world and in whose hands are
the tools by which life is carried on. Life, lib
erty and happiness-let us not rest till we have
gotten these for ourselves and our children's
children! Let us not permit the accidents of
strike to stay us on our journey toward the
beautiful city of freedom, whose grace is one
day to shine on all the world.
1--WE are beginning to starve, some of us, but
let us starve bravely, for we are soldiers in
greater and nobler war than that which is
bleeding Europe. We are soldiers in the class
war which is finally to set mankind free Of all
war and all poverty, all bosses and hate. w PIX
ingmen of the world, unite; we have nothinN to
lose but our chains 1--WE have a world to gain"
KureIovitch ended in a great shout and then
the handclapping and whistles rose to him in
turbulent swirls. He found himself suddenly
weary and limp and melancholy, and his deep
| est wish was to go off somewhere alone to wait
until the hollow places inside were refilled.
But, with the others of the strike committee
he left the platform and fused into the discus
| sions that were raging everywhere. Every
| body tried to come near Kurelovitch to speak
to him. He was common hearth at which
| his people crowded and shouldered for warmth
his starving, wistful people who believed him
when he said they could wipe out the accumu-
lated woe of humanity.
He was treated to long recitals of the work
ings of the proletarian soul in this time of Tant
and panic and anger He heard hundred tales
of temptation, of desperate hunger of out bges
| at the hands Of the gunner. Kurelovitch lis
tened to it all like a grave, kind father confess
| sor, untying many a Gordian knot with his
clear-eyed strength and understanding.