The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1932-08-20
LAST InstalIment)


And then a strange thing hap
pened. Little Pete's face twisted
like a baby's, and great tears rolled
down his pale cheeks. He was cry
ing. He suddenly began to talk,
while sobs, shook his tense, meagre
body.
Il wanna go home, Comrade
Laura! I never wanted to come to
camp! All the Paterson kids are in
the strike, and they need me! I
wanna go home! We gotter win
that strike, Comrade Laura! I'm
here with bunch of sissies who
only play baseball all day! I don't
wanna play baseball; I wanna help
win that strike"
Comrade Laura felt moved by
this revelation Of the loyal heart of
a workers child, She came over to
little Pete and stroked his hair ten
derly. He did not resent it, but put
his face in her lap.
"Comrade Pete" she said, you
are a real Pioneer. But you must
stay here until you are strong and
well, so that when you go back you
will be better fighter in the strike.
1t won't be time wasted, either,
Comrade Pete. You've given an
idea I was looking for. While you
are here, you will organize and lead
our Pioneer camp in the social task
of helping the Paterson strike.
Isn't that a great idea? We can
raise at least hundred dollars
and buy lots of food for the strikers.
Pete looked up at her, his eyes
glowing.
Gan we?" he asked, in a faint,
hopeful voice.
I'm sure of it, Pete said Com
rade Laura. will you let me help
you organize it?"
Why, Of course, Conrade Laura,
he shutters eagerly.
Lets shake hands on ito Com
rade."
He. sprang to his feet, and shook
her hand with all his strength.
Next morning Conrade Laura
announced at breakfast that some
thing unusual would happen at the
campfire that night. Instead of
her usual reading or storytelling,
Comrade Pete would relate his ex-
periences in the Paterson strike.
The Pioneers hadn't even known
that Pete was from Paterson, and
when they heard the news they
cheered and yelled for the strikers.
Pete's face flushed with pride
when he heard them cheering his
people.
He made a wonderful and elo-
quent speech at the campfire. 1t
lasted for almost an hour; this
starved little son of Ukrainian i'm
migrants had natural gift of Ian
guage. He told of the hunger in
Paterson; the wage-cuts, the union
meetings. His father worked by
day; his mother at night in the
textile mills, so that she might care
for her children by day. Still there
was never enough food or shoes.
Pete told Of the fights on the picket
lines, the gas bombs thrown by the
brutal cops and the death of two
strikers.
He showed the Pioneers his
shaved head in the freight, and
told the story of each of the three.
scars, and of the lump that looked
ike an onion. Each scar had been
made by cops club, and the lump
had come from the cruel blackjack
Of uniform murderer.
The Pioneers shuddered, and then
they laughed when Pete told of
how the cops had chased him and
other kids off the picket lines, and
how the kids had called the thugs
such names that all Of them
turned red and blue with rage.
Those cops hate us kids as much
as they hate our fathers" said Pete,
because they know we're not scared
of them They call US lot of
fleas, because we bother them so
much, and bite their hands and
legs when they arrest us. But we
don't care if they calls us fleas, SO
long rs we're helping win the
strike.
He had been arrested seven times.
He had been put in the hospital
twice And he was still game, and
he wanted to go back there and
keen on FIGHTING But Con1r3de