The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1934-05-31
Rr HELEN sHERmAN


IT WAS the tail-end OF the sum-
1 mer of 1923. I was returning to
America after several months in
the Soviet Union. and had booked
passage on a small freighter going
to Hamburg.
When 1 arrived at the Leningrad
dock, was astonished to see thou
sands Of people at the pier. Red
flags were waving, band was play
ing the International, small deco
rated boats were cruising around
our ship. A burst of cheers. Some
one was on the boat speaking
through a megaphone. More cheers.
More speeches. A tremendous
ovation, lasting five hours.
At last was permitted to go
aboard. No sooner had I stepped
up on deck than hand touched
my arm, and a uniformed Soviet
official was asking me comteously
but firmly to follow him. We went
down into the boat, to small
state-room. There we were joined
by two others in uniforms, and they
began to question me. Innumer-
able questions of all sorts, which
sooner or later reverted to the same
ones: Have you ever been to Ger
many? DO you speak German7
Have you ever seen any one Of the
passengers before?
My answers to the mild third
degree" satisfied my interlocutors,
and with hsndshakes all around,
and a friendly slap on the back, 1
was permitted to return on deck.
The strains of the International be-
came fainter and fainter, and We
were off.
At dinner in the small dining
room that night, the dozen or so
passengers had their first oppor-
tunity to observe each other. There
we're five or six Germans, two Rus
sian men and Russian woman,
a French girl, Georgian, and my
self, Opposite me sat q big, strap
ping, blond fellow, ruddy, jolly,
wearing a collarless workers shirt,
He laughed easily his blue eyes
twinkling gaily. Every movement
Of his was dynamic, and his pres
ence dominated the entire room. I
understand very little German, but
this mans manner was so engaging
and his good humor so infectious,
that l found myself laughing with
the rest at his remarks.
THE next day l was sitting on deck
1 reading. The Russian woman
sat down next to me, and engaged
me in conversation. She was mid
dle-aged. conventionslly and rather
extensively attired, and had a
bored, weary voice,
80 you've been visiting Moscow?
And you really liked it? How could
you? Why, it's so dirty! Now Ger
many. =. :. IL"
She was married to a German
business man, lived in Hamburg,
and had been visiting relatives in
Russia. But oh, how glad she was
going back-why Moscow's so dirty!
Just then the big German passed,
waving friendly good-morning to
us.
"You see that man?" said the
woman. That's Ernst Thaelmsnn,
leader of the German Communist
Party. Imagine him President Of
Germany, if you please. Why, he's
only an ignorant peasant His
mother has a small green grocer's
shop near our place in Hamburg.
A little shop-a dirty little shop. /.
So you really liked Moscow"
The weary voice had become I'M
bearable. I walked away and leaned
over the rail rejecting f. how
wise the Soviet Union had been to
get rid of this SNUG, weary woman
and all her kind. I visualized the
time when millions Of ignorant
peasants" and workers like Thael-
mann would crush similar soft
white grubs underfoot on their
march to seize power in Ger
One of the Germans who spoke
English came over to talk to me.
Thaelmsnn and the others Joined
us. Stories were related about the
German Communist Party, how