The producers news. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1918-1937, 1934-09-27
BY MERIDEL LIE SEUR

women dying oDScurely, poor and
poverty marked lives, but now from
city to city runs this violence, into
the open, and colossal happening
stand bare before our eyes, the
street churning suddenly upon the
pivot of mad violence, whole men
suddenly spouting blood and run
ming like living sleeves. another
holding a dangling arm shot square
ly off, a tall youngster, running,
tripping over his intestines. and
one block away, in the burning
sun, gay women shopping and
window dresser trying to decide
whe her to put green or red wolfe
on mannikin.
In these terrible happenings you
cannot be neutral now. No one can
be neutral in the face of bullets.
The next day, with sweat break
ing out on my body, l walked past
the three guards at the door. They
said, "Let the women in. We need
women." And l knew it was no
joke.
At first l could not see into the
dark building. l felt many meH
coming and going, cars driving
through. I had an awful impulse
to go into he office which I passed
and offer to do some special work.
I saw a sign which said "Get your
button" I saw they all had but
tons with the date and the num-
ber of the union local. I didn't
ge a button. I wanted to be ano-
nymous.
There seemed to be a current,
running down the wooden stairs,
towards the front of the building,
into the street, that was massed
with people, and back again. ]
followed the current up the old
stairs packed closely with hot men
and women. AS l was going up
I could look down and see the
lower floor, the cars drawing ur
to await picket call, the hospital
roped off on one side.
Upstairs men sat bolt upright in
chairs asleep, their bodies flung
in attitudes Of peculiar violence OF
fatigue. A woman nursed her baby
Two young girls slept together or
a cot, dressed in overalls. The
voice of the loudspeaker filled the
room. The immense heat pressed
down from the flat ceiling. I stood
up against the wall for an hour
No one paid any attention to me
The commissary was in back anC
the women came out sometimes anC
sat down, tanning themselves with
their aprons and listening to the
news over the loudspeaker. A hug
man seemed hung on a tiny fold
ing chair. Occasionally some one
tiptoed over and brushed the flies
off his face. His great head fel
over and the sweat poured regu
larly from his forehead like ;
spring. I wondered why they tool
such care of him. They all looked
at him tenderly as he slept.
learned later he was a leader OF
the picket line and had the scalpi
Of more cops to his name than am
other.
Three windows thanked the front
Il walked over to the windows. 4
red-faced woman with a button sd!
ing unemployed Council" wa
looking out. 1 looked out with her
A thick. crowd stood in the heat
below listening to the strike bulle
tin. We could look right into tn,
windows of the smart club across
the street. We could see peopl
peering out of the windows hal
hidden.
: l kept feeling they would put mi
out. No one paid any attention
The woman said without looking a
me, nodding to the palatial house
cit sure is good to see the enem!
plain like that" eyes," said.
saw that the club was SURROUNDED
by a steel picket fence higher thai
a man. "They know what they
put that there fence there for
She said. eyes," I said. SWELL
she said, give got to get back t,
the kitchen. Is it ever hot?" TIL
: thermometer said ninety-nine. Tn
sweat ran off US, burning our skin
"The boys'll be coming in," sh
said, "for their noon feed" Sh
, had a SCARED face. "Boy, will
be a madhouse?" "Do you nee'
any help?" asked eagrely. "Boy,
she said "some of us have beer
, pouring coffee since two o'clocl
this morning, steady, without nj
let-up." She started to go Sh
i didn't seem to see me. watches
, her go. felt rebuffed, hurt. The
I saw instantlv she didn't see m
because she saw only what she
was doing. ran after her.
: III.
l found the kitchen organized
r like a factory. Nobody asks my
name. / am given large butche
apron. I realize I have never be
fore worked anonymously. At firs
I feel strange and then I feel gooC
| The forewoman sets me to wash
ing tin cups, There are not emu
: cups. We have to wash fast an
| rinse them and set them up quickl
for buttermilk and coffee as tn
line thickens and the men wait.
little shortish man who is a pre-
fessional dishwasher is supervis
ing. I felt / won't be able to was