The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1927-03-26
By ALEX JACKINSON


With the passing years he grew lonelier and suf-
fered more from melanchoa. He would often sink
to an abyss Of despair from where he saw no es-
cape but suicide. To ward off Oppressive attacks
he built world of fantasy in which he secluded
himself more and more. 1t only in his dream
world that he free from torment and weakness
There he let his imagination play tag with reality
One by one his friends terminated their relations
with him. Somehow he glad when they stopped
calling He was tired Of their condolences Sam
was even glad when his wife left him. He had one
refuge where he welcome; Hates an Allen
Street brothel. There he went often in search of
something tangible, but embraced only substitutes
of companionship which neither pleased nor ale
waited his unrest
Sam continued to make his way uptown Through
many strange streets he walked And bodies Of men
and women continued to press about him. He grew
bewidered and self-cOnscious. There were too many
people looking at him. He returned their stares
but more often lowered his eyelids and swore in
wardly. Fleeing ideas pressed against his head.
Faces and buttocks suddenly together and
circled his thoughts in a delirious rhythm Side
walks became like raging seas that rocked people
about. His head swired, his decisions were inter-
rupted by ncoherent soliloquies. He colIided with
someone beg pardon" he whispered family, and
stepped aside There was no escape. He sank into
thought as he Zigzagged through the shuffling
columns of people He muttered profanties some-
times to himself and at other times aiming them at
some passerby who attracted his attention He felt
his ears. His face turned crimson, and the side
that was Scared dark purple. People looked at
him, at his bewidered expression, at his shabby
dress, and smiled. He was apparition, reminding
them Of an unreaty that lived
He turned down side street. only to find there
a repetition of what he wanted to get away from
elsewhere. His fingers slipped to his hip pocket
there he felt heavy weight press down. It was
his service revolver. A vital part of his equipment.
The touch Of it treasured him. He wanted 20 take
audcn bua fc int fha 10
That would have pleased him. He smiled for it was
merely the unwinding of his distorted brain. He
stepped into cigar store emerging several minutes
later with cigarette between his lips.
Near of the city squares, reserves for such
occasions, huge open air meeting was BEING held
Here a large crowd of workers gathered to protest
against American Imperialism. solid mass of
bodies circed steadily about in a continuous chain.
Above the heads projected white banners inscribed
IN red ink Hands Off China" and similar inscrip-
lions.
Into this gathering came SAM attracted By the huge
crowd He knew it was protest meetn.. of some
kind. What it he did not know until he drew
closer. He read whatever placards were within
his range woman handed him leaflet He saw
the headline; Eight against Wall Street Rule"
Sam did not read the contents. His glance shifted
to the bottom which bore the signature of the Com
munist Party. He let the leaflet slip from his
fingers. Reds he whispered to himself That
was sufficient to bring back slumbering memories
of a deep rooted hate.
The contact with people had strange effect upon
him. His attention was still riveted upon the
speaker who several times repeated, Lives must
not be sacrificed again." These words beat steady
tatooes in Sans head He felt himself being pressed
together by other bodies. The contact crowded old
hates and desires Diaboe fancies unfolded
in his head. He bit his lower lip and elhowed his
way to a less crowded spot. Here he paused. He
again heard loud outbuTst of applause. The con-
tnuous ciapping and announcement of the existing
order began to irrtate and in turn get on his
nerves. He was in complete confusion. A cold chill
slowly enveloped him. His thoughts assumed gro
tesque shapes These mental pictures aternated
with reconstructed war scenes. He once more pic
tured himself face to face with the enemy. A new
enemy this time. A deadlier one than he faced
years ago. Forms of dead soldiers presented them
selves with vivid likeness Muffled sounds of ex-
plodng shells echoed in his ears.
Something in his head snapped. He no longer
had control of his faculties. Out of his wild dream
formed curious pictures image followed another
in conglomeration of ideas. a. cold smile settled
across his face. He himself waving his revolver