The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1928-09-29
BY A. B. MAGIL.


By A. B. MAGIL.
BESSIE KATSIKAkIS is 10 years
= old. She is a weaver and has
been working since she was Is.
When the strike started she was
making $3.50 for a 48-hour week
better pay than the average. Her
father, Louis Katsikaris, is also a
weaver, and father and daughter
worked together in the same mill.
Besides Bessie there are six other
children in the Katsikaris family:
three boys and three girls. Baby
is two years old and Korila is four.
The mother is dead.
Bessie was ironing when we en-
tered the gloomy, dilapidated house
in the north end that these children
call home. Her dark thin body
looked tired and wasted as she bent
over the table, but her black eyes
were brilliantly alive in an intense
sharp face and the movements of
her hands were restless and eager.
Poverty stares from the walls of
the Katsikaris home, poverty like
an old fostering sore spreads over
everything. But Bessie is bright
thing in this house. She is sister
and mother and all things to these
six small children.
Bessie talks eagerly of the strike.
Her voice is animated and deter
mined. "I've been arrested five
times and my father SIX" she says
with proud, flashing eyes, "but they
can't scare US.
"Me and my father used to be-
long to the Textile Council. But it
didn't take us long to learn that
they're a bunch of takers and scabs.
Batty and Binns are out only for
themselves and to help the bosses.
They don't care what happens to
he strikers. The T. M. C. really
lights for US and organizes US and
eeps our people together. Why,
he whole of New Bedford isn't
yorth as much as the T. NJ. c."
s4She went on relating incidents of
he strike, but never for a moment
iropping her ironing. Every now
and then a howl went up from one
of the kids who had gotten into
some trouble, and Bessie would run
over and set things right again.
though Baby ard Korila We're bash
III children, they were up to all
sorts of mischief when left alone.
when do you intend going back
% the mill, Bessie?" I asked half
lestingly.
i Again her eyes flashed. mot I'M
til they take away the wage-cut and
rive us our 20 per cent increased"
Md she added: eyes, and not until
hey recognize our union. None of
our people will go back. We would
rather starve."
Her thin, 18-year-old body quiv-
cred and defiance looked out of her
dark eyes. l knew she meant it.
ME were on the point of leaving
~ when she stopped US: "WaitV
he ran into the kitchen and quickly
merged with a bottle and several
mall glasses. She poured out a
'iquid that looked almost like water.
It's taste, however, was decidedly
rmwatery. "This is a Greek drink"
he said, calling it by a name which
I made no attempt to repeat. "My
father made it."
Just then the father came in.
Louis Katsikarie is a Greek worker
+ about 40, with sharp, bony face
md bright, deepset eyes. His body
5 thin and wiry, his gestures have
his daughters sharpness and he
speaks in short, nervous phrases.
Katsikaris looked sharply at four
vear-old Korila. He dug his hand
into his pocket, pulled out penny
md tossed it to the child. A smile
t up his face as the child grabbed
the coin.
He talked readily. 81 don't care
dey arrest me Is times-I go to
icket-line. Every day I get up
clock, go to mills, look around see
70 scab should work. l no 'fraid of
cops. Dey arrest me five times
six corrected his daughter), but
no 'fraid. Batty and Binns-dey