The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1930-12-03
On the Sidewalks of New
York
BY ALLAN JOHNSON.

CHARLES HOFF hunched his shoulders a bit
closer together, when chill breeze played
through his thin oyercoat. He wouldn't mind
his tattered apology for an overcoat he reflected
if only he could get some hot food between his
ribs Well he managed to pick up an old rag
of a coat and maybe now he could scrummage
up meal somewhere. A good meal though,
was hard to get, even with all those damfool
charity organizations and mayors committees
and whatnot
Hoff hadn't had decent meal since the last
layoff, eight months before and he was slowly
starving to death. Garbage cans, soup kitchens,
breadlines and occasional handouts had kept his
lifes spark family glowing, but the mere thought
yesterday, of gulping down some more of the
sop that his handed out on breadlines, made
him nauseous. Hoff decided to walk and try
to forget about food. He would stroll along
Broadway. The lights and the theatres and
crowds would warm him a little bit and make
him forget his hunger and his homelessness and
his hopelessness too.
AS he walked up Broadway, he wondered how
it was possible that eight hundred thousand men
and women could be unemployed in this met
ropolis of the world. 1t seemed that half New
York was on Broadway and the other half in
the brilliantly lighted restaurants on the side
streets that led into it. And yet it was true that
there were eight hundred thousand, and many
with dependents besides, as bad off himself.
Didn't Rybich say so? He would never forget
Rybicki, the overfed pig with face like cop
who was the head of the citys employment
agency.
Rybicki had taken his application after Hoff
had waited in line for five hours. Hoff had
been told by some fellow workers that it was
useless to apply at the city's agency the damn
takers either sent you to vacant lot or gave
you job at fifteen dollars week with boss
who had fired a thrty-dollar week man ito
aid the unemployment situation" and incidental
ly save fifteen dollars by hiring cheaper workers
from the city's agency. Hoff was not the strike
breaking kind, but he applied for job anyway.
Maybe it wasn't true that Rybick was a faker.
Hoff found out soon enough. When Rybicki
asked him where he had worked before. Hoff
answered 'for a shoemaker-Ive worn out two
pairs of shoes looking for job Rybcki glared
at him and tore his application up saying I'VE
don't need any wisecrackers today. There amt
no job for you.' Hoff had protested and plead
ed, saying that he had only been kidding, but
Rybick had walked away. Yes he knew Ry
bicki. For kidding good-naturedly about his
lack of job, he had been treated as if he were
a slave getting fresh to his master. Maybe those
Reds were right Well, he would find out some
time but he wasn't sure yet. And if he ever found
out that those Reds weren't bunch of trouble
makers, he'd fight with 'em until he died. Hoff
was bit cynical He had been member of
an A. F. of L. union for nine years.
BY this time Hoff had reached Forty eighth
st. He stood on the curb for half minute,
| halted by traffic light. The breeze was stiff
fleming a bit and Hoff drew his shoulders in
| again, although IL didn't seem to do any good,
only made his shoulder muscles tired He look
ed down Forty-eghth st, filled with expensive
restaurants. If he could only afford one good
meal II wouldn't be so bad II fellow had
about one good meal week. then the garbage
food you had to eat the rest of the time would
not taste SO bad. There was one swell place in
particular on Forty-eighth st. that he remem-
bered. He had passed it when he first came to
New York and had noticed crowd of kids
food. BY gee, he would take walk there now.
1t would make him feel good just to look good
food close in the face again
Hoff swung into Forty-eighth st. until he
came to the restaurant at number 148. Yep,
hams and fat turkeys. Hoff stood there minute
there was the same chef carving away at juicy
or two, his eyes fixed in a CLASSY stare at the
food which he could almost smell, and perhaps
did He suddenly lurched forward and fell in
dead faint.
When he awoke in Bellevue Hospital, a nurse
showed him two-inch clipping that she had
clipped from the New York Times 1t read:
"A starving man collapsed yesterday in front
of the restaurant at 148 w. 48th st, in the
window of which chef was blsiy carving joints