The Washington times., 1937-03-31

Goddess of Liberty behind us
We are steaming through sleet
and rain to the Cuba we once SC
nobly fought to free.
That we are at sea is a sur
prise. For two hours it looked
as if we would gather up ouI
coats and our bags and totteI
down the gang plank. Back to q
family that had been glad to get
us out of the house after the
rush and commotion of our 60
ing. ..
The novelty of a Sit-Down.
Strike has been our unexpected
experience.
The farewell thistle had blown.
Twice had gone round the deck
the loud order: "All ashore that's
going ashore!"
Hundreds of hearty good-hy
kisses had fallen on the cheeks
and ears and mouths OF the
travellers. Hundreds Of hugs and
take cares of yourself, darlings"
had been said.
The Bon Voyageurs," that as
sorted and patient crowd-at
least . ten to one, they outnum-
bered the travellers-were clut-
tered on the deck. At first we
thought the whole mob was sail
ing and trembled for our com.
fort. The ships orchestra had
filed out on deck to make fare
well tunes. First aloha Oe,
then Hail! HALL The Gangs
All Here!" md three times Cali
fornia Here We Come" had
sounded across to Manhattan.
The Bon Voyageurs 4oyally con-
tinued to wave though hands grew
limp. The loving passengers waved
plaintively back.
But nothing happened. The
gangplank stayed where 1t was.
The ship stayed where it was.
Deck hands ready to cast OFF
stood with ropes in hand waiting.
Deck stewards closed off a certain
square surrounding the gangplank,
and stood waiting. Nothing hap
pened.
"It's a sit-down Strike!" No.
we're waiting for a sailor on shore
leave to stop telling his girl
eood-by," answered deck steward.
But it was a strike. A sit-down
strike.
Gradually the conviction grew
among the passengers. We were
in the midst of one of those mod
ern protests of labor so entertain
ing to lead about when happening
in San Francisco, but not so anus
ing to participate in.
For about an hour we continued
to stand on one foot, then an
other - waiting. Nothing hap
pened.
Except for a few deck stewards,
every ships officer and employe
had disappeared. Where they had
gone no one knew. Still we waited.
No smoke came from the big
stacks. The engines that Shou1d
be throbbing were idle.
One o'clock. Time for lunch.
The bugle that announces meals
is the most important feature OF
any ships voyage. But this bugle
was mute. Most of us went dis
consolately back to our state
rooms. And waited.
Rumors, the only sign of ANNA
tion in this idleness, went gallop-
ing around. Four firemen en-
ployed by the company were OBJ
jected to by the other workers.
The four must get off, or the rest
Of the crew would not take the
ship out of port. We wandered
down to the dining room. Dozens
Of people were peering inside the
closed doors. But not waiter was
in sight.
Going away gifts-fruit, candy,
books, flowers, were piled up, un-
delivered, by the purser'S desk.
If we could just get to a piece OF
chocolate or fruit here would be
a little refreshment and diversion.
Still we waited, feeling like THE
Ancient Mariner" as idle as that
painted ship on that painted
ocean.
The bon voyageurs had long
gone home, when at last the notes
of the meal-time bugle sounded
gloriously. We sprang down the
stairs, not waiting for the eleva-
tors. Outside the dining room we
stood waiting again.
At last the doors were opened.
We soon were inside. Engaged in
the chief pleasure of sea-going
travelers-wondering what shall
we have to eat-thiS time"
The strike was amicably over.
Slowly the ship began to move
down the harbor. And the Off
GERS and crew of the Pennsylvania
set to work with a rush to provide
the cheerful vacationing atmoS-
phere of proper cruise.
OF all the passengers on our
cruise, a small, dark woman,
Birdie May Thompson, is the
moSt-shall I say-alert. Birdie
May is about 5 feet tall and 40
years old. But what pep! I counted
il well wisherS waving to her from
the wharf. She shouted to them
over the hubbub of leave-takingS:
Don't you ever forget me-; Say,
you're swell to come down.; "Say,
thank you for this" holding up a
small suitcase. And kept shouting