The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1928-05-19
By STIRLING BOWEN.

4
editorial office of the weekly
newspaper published by the revolu-
tionary organization. The office,
though, was deserted.
The veteran organizer and pam
phleteer, Patrick Mulcahey, had gone
out and left the lights burning.
Above the electric light switch by
the door where Mulcahey went out
was conspicuous hand-lettered pla-
card reading: "DOUSE THE LIGHT
WHEN YOU SAY GOOD NIGHT"
But Mulcahey's mind had been or
other things,
In the typewriter on the battered
desk in the corner, which he had been
using, was the first page of an article
he was writing for the next issue of
the paper. The writing extended
two-thirds of the way down the page
This desk, like the desks of James
McFee, who was the editor, Peter
Lingstrom and Eugene Strauss, was
piled high at the back and Uttered
around the edges with pamphlets and
magazines.
The nickel-plated alarm clock on
the rough pine shelf over McFee's
desk was not going. The clock hands
were pointing to three. But it was
only seven-thirty in the evening
Motor vehicle traffic outside was still
rumbling along heavily with over
time orders. Though it was spring
the windows were closed. 1t was cold
even in the daytime. But the sound
Of the trucks came through. And
down the street a few doors was the
Sixth Avenue az" where the trains
rolled back and forth day and night
Somebody was coming up the stairs.
He stopped outside the door minute
before poking his head in. 1t was a
Western Union messenger boy. This
messenger boy was about 65 years
old and wizened.
Telegram he called question
ingly. His eyes blinked in the glare
from the three unshaded bulbs that
hung on wires at different points
from the low ceiling.
The chairs before the four desks
were empty. Yet each desk had the
appearance of having just been in use.
The room looked as if the staff had
vanished just a moment before and
was only in the next room. The mes
senger looked and looked. But no one
was there. And no one answered. So
after a glance at the unopened tele-
gram, in his hand he pulled his head
out the door again and returned down
the stairs.
Then there were voices down on the
landing. The messenger had met
someone coming in and was deliver
ing the telegram. In a minute two
men began climbing the stairs to the
editorial room door. McFee and
Lingstrom came in, McFee opening
the telegram as he advanced into the
office.
Expecting new secretary tomor-
row." McFee said, reading from the
yellow sheet of paper Then he said
to Lingstrom: ats from Parsons in
Buffalo,"
He stood under the electric light
bulb nearest the door studying the
telegram.
isn't Mulcahey going over to Buff
falo?" Lingstrom asked.
EYES," McFee answered, "this wire
refers to Mulcahey."
Lingstrom looked around the office.
He said: "I thought he was supposed
to be here tonight"
"He was" McFee said. "He said
he'd be-"
McFee walked over to the desk
where Mulcahey had been writing and
said: "He's been here and must have
stepped out for something. Here's the
first page of his article in the ma
chine here"
McFee lifted corner of the type
written sheet and looked down
through the words.
"He must have been in hell of a
hurry WHeH ne WeIJ OulJ AlIlSSCTOul
said. "He left all the lights burning"
"He would" McFee said.
Lingstrom said he supposed Mulca-
hey went out to brighten up his mind
a little" He asked McFee if Mulca-
hey had any money.
McFee said II gave him 500 for
the trip to Buffalo and I suppose he
had little change besides. That
saw-buck l gave him was all we had
here. He said something to me, too
about his kid expecting him and he
might have gone over to his room to
take in some chuck or take the kid out
to eat.'
McFee sat down in front of the
desk where Mulcahey's unfinished ar
ticle was in the machine and swung
around sidewise so as to be able to
hook his arm over the back of the
chair. Lingstrom sat on his own desk
putting his feet on the chair.
81 hope to hell he goes home and