The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1933-10-27

TT was past midnight. The kerosene
| lamp in the half-Iit shack was
turned out. The meeting was over,
and the farmers, gathered from many
miles around, left one by one.
Outside, near the door, stood q
guard with a shotgun clasped In his
armpit. His watchful eyes glared
through the dark.
1t was in Alabama, not far from
Camp Jill. Not many months gone
since Ralph Gray, Negro share
cropper, was murdered, killed for
joining farmers union. They had
to be careful, always on guard.
The poor farmers and sharecrop-
pers were in deep debt In Alabama.
They were losing their homes and
farms. Each year they shaved in
the fields and each year their debts
were greater. They wanted to fight
for higher prices. The landlords
we're making all the money from
their hard toll. A farmer raised
corn. He was forced to sell II for
Is cents. The bosses were getting as
high as 90 cents for it. That is why,
during the meeting that Just closed,
Farmer Lawson said:
This here unions got to fight SOS
we can get more OF that money for
our corn. If we don't fight, we and
the little ones will plain starye tryin'
to meet the mortgages on our honest"
Farmer Lawson was the last man
to leave the dark shack. He trudged
acros the pasture and joined Russell
James, sharecropper and close
neighbor. They had six miles TO walk
for home.
The dew fell heavy that night;
Lawson's shirt was wet when he got
home. He was tired too, after that
six-mile walk. And after working In
the hot fields since dawn. Too
weary to undress, he dropped on his
bed and his eyes snapped shut. But
Eay<on could not sleep. His mind
was still abuzz with the words he had
heard at the union meeting.
Thoughts pricked him and made him
restless. Sometimes he would move
his lips and words would stumble
from his mouth. He was trying to
remember some of the phrases that
were spoken at the meeting. Then his
mind gripped one phrase and he re-
peated It slowly through his grimly
set lips:
only q strnog union can fight the
landowners"
only a strong union can fssht the
landowners"
FARMER Lawson shifted from side
L to side in his low bed. He slapped
his pillow into a ball, raising his
head higher. Now he got a wider
view of his farm through his window.
The sky was q food OF bright stars.
The crickets in the field rasued on q
single note. The willow tree was
brushed by q clean wind Lawson's
eyes roamed over the small patches
of land. Suddenly his eyes caught
flame flicker in the barn. And then.
like freely, the light quickly snuffed
out. Lawson jerked up on his knees
and reached for his shotgun. As he
bent over, he thought of the union,
of the murdered Raph Gray in Camp
Hill. He stood up, his tall body NOV
ing like a cloud In the room.
The wooden stairs that curved
down to the kitchen, creaked beneath
his heavy shoes. A screen door opened
toward a path that curved downhill
to the red barn. Lawson walked
down, holding his gun with firm
hands, aiming 1t at the barn.
The moon was high and clear
white. A cool wind conbed the corn
Farmer Lawson found the rusty
barndoor lock broken on the ground
The door itself was partly open. With
gun gripped tight, Lawson kicked the
door wide and shouted:
"Out OF there, damn ye, or I
shoot!"
Not sound came out of the dark.
But Lawson knew alright that some
one was in there. He saw, he was