100%: the Story of a Patriot

by Upton Sinclair

  Rosie Stern was her name, and she was a solid little Jewish workinggirl, with bold black eyes, and a mass of shining black hair, andflaming cheeks and a flashing smile. She was dressed as if she knewabout her beauty, and really appreciated it; so Peter wasn'tsurprised when Miriam, introducing her, remarked that Rosie wasn't aRed and didn't like the Reds, but had just come to help her, and tosee what a pacifist meeting was like. Perhaps Peter might help tomake a Red out of her! And Peter was very glad indeed, for he wasnever more bored with the whining of pacifists than now when ourboys were hurling the Germans back from the Marne and writing theirnames upon history's most imperishable pages.

  Rosie was something new and unforeseen, and Peter went right afterher, and presently he realized with delight that she was interestedin him. Peter knew, of course, that he was superior to all thiscrowd, but he wasn't used to having the fact recognized, and asusual when a woman smiled upon him, the pressure of his self-esteemrose beyond the safety point. Rosie was one of those people who takethe world as it is and get some fun out of it, so while the pacifistmeeting went on, Peter sat over in the corner and told her inwhispers his funny adventures with Pericles Priam and in the Templeof Jimjambo. Rosie could hardly repress her laughter, and her blackeyes flashed, and before the evening was over their hands hadtouched several times. Then Peter offered to escort her and Miriam,and needless to say they took Miriam home first. The tenementstreets were deserted at this late hour, so they found a chance forswift embraces, and Peter went home with his feet hardly touchingthe ground.

  Rosie worked in a paper-box factory, and next evening Peter took herout to dinner, and their eager flirtation went on. But Rosie showeda tendency to retreat, and when Peter pressed her, she told him thereason. She had no use for Reds; she was sick of the jargon of theReds, she would never love a Red. Look at Miriam Yankovich--what awreck she had made of her life! She had been a handsome girl, shemight have got a rich husband, but now she had had to be cut topieces! And look at Sadie Todd, slaving herself to death, and AdaRuth with her poems that made you tired. Rosie jeered at them all,and riddled them with the arrows of her wit, and of course Peter inhis heart agreed with everything she said; yet Peter had to pretendto disagree, and that made Rosie cross and spoiled their fun, andthey almost quarreled.

  Under these circumstances, naturally it was hard for Peter not togive some hint of his true feeling. After he had spent all of hismoney on Rosie and a lot of his time and hadn't got anywhere, hedecided to make some concession to her--he told her he would give uptrying to make a Red out of her. Whereupon Rosie made a face at him."Very kind indeed of you, Mr. Gudge! But how about my making a`White' out of you?" And she went on to inform him that she wanteda fellow that could make money and take care of a girl. Peteranswered that he was making money all right. Well, how was he makingmoney, asked Rosie. Peter wouldn't tell, but he was making it, andhe would prove it by taking her to the theater every night.

  So the little duel went on, evening after evening. Peter got moreand more crazy about this black-eyed beauty, and she got more andmore coquettish, and more and more impatient with his radicalleanings. Rosie's father had brought her as a baby from Kisheneff,but she was 100% American all the same, so she told him; those boysin khaki who were over there walloping the Huns were the boys forher, and she was waiting for one of them to come back. What was thematter with Peter that he wasn't doing his part? Was he adraft-dodger? Rosie had never had anything to do with slackers, andwasn't keen for the company of a man who couldn't give an account ofhimself. Only that day she had been reading in the paper about theatrocities committed by the Huns. How could any man with red bloodin his veins sympathize with these pacifists and traitors? And ifPeter didn't sympathize with them, why did he travel round with themand give them his moral support? When Peter made a feeble effort atrepeating some of the pacifists' arguments, Rosie just said, "Oh,fudge! You've got too much sense to talk that kind of stuff to me."And Peter knew, of course, that he _had_ too much sense, and it washard to keep from letting Rosie see it. He had just lost one girlbecause of his Red entanglements. Was it up to him to lose another?

  For a couple of weeks they sparred and fought. Rosie would let Peterkiss her, and Peter's head would be quite turned with desire. Hedecided that she was the most wonderful girl he had ever known; evenNell Doolin had nothing on her. But then once more she would pinPeter down on this business of his Redness, and would spurn him, andrefuse to see him any more. At last Peter admitted to her that hehad lost his sympathy with the Reds, she had converted him, and hedespised them. So Rosie replied that she was delighted; they wouldgo at once to see Miriam Yankovich, and Peter would tell her, andtry to convert her also. Peter was then in a bad dilemma; he had toinsist that Rosie should keep his conversion a secret. But Rosiebecame indignant, she set her lips and declared that a conversionthat had to be kept secret was no conversion at all, it was simply alow sham, and Peter Gudge was a coward, and she was sick of him! Sopoor Peter went away, heartbroken and bewildered.

  Section 72

  There was only one way out of this plight for Peter, and that wasfor him to tell Rosie the truth. And why should he not do it? He waswild about her, and he knew that she was wild about him, and onlyone thing--his great secret--stood in the way of their perfectbliss. If he told her that great secret, he would be a hero ofheroes in her eyes; he would be more wonderful even than the men whowere driving back the Germans from the Marne and writing their namesupon history's most imperishable pages! So why should he not tell?

  He was in her room one evening, and his arms were about her, and shehad almost but not quite yielded. "Please, please, Peter," shepleaded, "stop being one of those horrid Reds!" And Peter couldstand it no longer. He told her that he really wasn't a Red, but asecret agent employed by the very biggest business men of AmericanCity to keep track of the Reds and bring their activities to naught.And when he told this, Rosie stared at him in consternation. Sherefused to believe him; when he insisted, she laughed at him, andfinally became angry. It was a silly yarn, and did he imagine hecould string her along like that?

  So Peter, irritated, set out to convince her. He told her aboutGuffey and the American City Land & Investment Company; he told herabout McGivney, and how he met McGivney regularly at Room 427 of theAmerican House. He told her about his thirty dollars a week, and howit was soon to be increased to forty, and he would spend it all onher. And perhaps she might pretend to be converted by him, andbecome a Red also, and if she could satisfy McGivney that she wasstraight, he would pay her too, and it would be a lot better thanworking ten and a half hours a day in Isaac & Goldstein's paper boxfactory.

  At last Peter succeeded in convincing the girl. She was subdued andfrightened; she hadn't been prepared for anything like that, shesaid, and would have to have a little time to think it over. Peterthen became worried in turn. He hoped she wouldn't mind, he said,and set to work to explain to her how important his work was, how ithad the sanction of all the very best people in the city--not merelythe great bankers and business men, but mayors and public officialsand newspaper editors and college presidents, and great Park Avenueclergymen like the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge of the Church ofthe Divine Compassion. And Rosie said that was all right, of course,but she was a little scared and would have to think it over. Shebrought the evening to an abrupt end, and Peter went home muchdisconcerted.

  Perhaps an hour later there came a sharp tap on the door of hislodging-house room, and he went to the door, and found himselfconfronted by David Andrews, the lawyer, Donald Gordon, and JohnDurand, the labor giant, president of the Seamen's Union. They nevereven said, "Howdy do," but stalked into the room, and Durand shutthe door behind him, and stood with his back to it, folded his armsand glared at Peter like the stone image of an Aztec chieftain. Sobefore they said a word Peter knew what had happened. He knew thatthe jig was up for good this time; his career as savior of thenation was at an end. And again it was all on account of awoman--all because he hadn't taken Guffey's advice about win
king!

  But all other thoughts were driven from Peter's mind by one emotion,which was terror. His teeth began giving their imitation of an angrywoodchuck, and his knees refused to hold him; he sat down on theedge of the bed, staring from one to another of these three stoneAztec faces. "Well, Gudge," said Andrews, at last, "so you're thespy we've been looking for all this time!"

  Peter remembered Nell's injunction, "Stick it out, Peter! Stick itout!"

  "Wh-wh-what do you mean, Mr. Andrews?"

  "Forget it, Gudge," said Andrews. "We've just been talking withRosie, and Rosie was our spy."

  "She's been lying to you!" Peter cried.

  But Andrews said: "Oh rubbish! We're not that easy! Miriam Yankovichwas listening behind the door, and heard your talk."

  So then Peter knew that the case was hopeless, and there was nothingleft but to ascertain his fate. Had they come just to scold him andappeal to his conscience? Or did they plan to carry him away andstrangle him and torture him to death? The latter was the terrorthat had been haunting Peter from the beginning of his career, andwhen gradually be made out that the three Aztecs did not intendviolence, and that all they hoped for was to get him to admit howmuch he had told to his employers--then there was laughter insidePeter, and he broke down and wept tears of scalding shame, and saidthat it had all been because McCormick had told that cruel lie abouthim and little Jennie Todd. He had resisted the temptation for ayear, but then he had been out of a job, and the Goober DefenseCommittee had refused him any work; he had actually been starving,and so at last he had accepted McGivney's offer to let him knowabout the seditious activities of the extreme Reds. But he had neverreported anybody who hadn't really broken the law, and he had nevertold McGivney anything but the truth.

  Then Andrews proceeded to examine him. Peter denied that he had everreported anything about the Goober case. He denied most strenuouslythat he had ever had anything to do with the McCormick "frame-up."When they tried to pin him down on this case and that, he suddenlysummoned his dignity and declared that Andrews had no right tocross-question him, he was a 100%, red-blooded American patriot, andhad been saving his country and his God from German agents andBolshevik traitors.

  Donald Gordon almost went wild at that. "What you've been doing wasto slip stuff into our pamphlet about conscientious objectors, so asto get us all indicted!"

  "That's a lie!" cried Peter. "I never done nothing of the kind!"

  "You know perfectly well you rubbed out those pencil marks that Idrew through that sentence in the pamphlet."

  "I never done it!" cried Peter, again and again.

  And suddenly big John Durand clenched his hands, and his face becameterrible with his pent-up rage. "You white-livered little sneak!" hehissed. "What we ought to do with you is to pull the lying tongueout of you!" He took a step forward, as if he really meant to do it.

  But David Andrews interfered. He was a lawyer, and knew thedifference between what he could do and what Guffey's men could do."No, no, John," he said, "nothing like that. I guess we've got allwe can get out of this fellow. We'll leave him to his own conscienceand his Jingo God. Come on, Donald." And he took the white-facedQuaker boy with one hand, and the big labor giant with the other,and walked them out of the room, and Peter heard them tramping downthe stairs of his lodging house, and he lay on his bed and buriedhis face in the pillows, and felt utterly wretched, because oncemore he had been made a fool of, and as usual it was a woman thathad done it.

  Section 73

  Peter could see it all very clearly when he came to figure over thething; he could see what a whooping jackass he had been. He mighthave known that it was up to him to be careful, at this time of alltimes, when he was suspected of having rubbed out Donald Gordon'spencil marks. They had picked out a girl whom Peter had never seenbefore, and she had come and posed as Miriam's friend, and hadproceeded to take Peter by the nose and lead him to the edge of theprecipice and shove him over. And now she would be laughing at him,telling all her friends about her triumph, and about Peter's thirtydollars a week that he would never see again.

  Peter spent a good part of the night getting up the story that hewas to tell McGivney next morning. He wouldn't mention Rosie Stern,of course; he would say that the Reds had trailed him to Room 427,and it must be they had a spy in Guffey's office. Peter repeatedthis story quite solemnly, and again realized too late that he hadmade a fool of himself. It wasn't twenty-four hours before every Redin American City knew the true, inside history of the unveiling ofPeter Gudge as a spy of the Traction Trust. The story occupied acouple of pages in that week's issue of the "Clarion," and includedPeter's picture, and an account of the part that Peter had played invarious frame-ups. It was nearly all true, and the fact that it wasguess-work on Donald Gordon's part did not make it any the betterfor Peter. Of course McGivney and Guffey and all his men read thestory, and knew Peter for the whooping jackass that Peter knewhimself.

  "You go and get yourself a job with a pick and shovel," saidMcGivney, and Peter sorrowfully took his departure. He had only afew dollars in his pocket, and these did not last very long, and hehad got down to his last nickel, and was confronting the wolf ofstarvation again, when McGivney came to his lodging house room witha new proposition. There was one job left, and Peter might take itif he thought he could stand the gaff.

  It was the job of state's witness. Peter had been all thru the Redmovement, he knew all these pacifists and Socialists andSyndicalists and I. W. Ws. who were now in jail. In some cases theevidence of the government was far from satisfactory; so Peter mighthave his salary back again, if he were willing to take the witnessstand and tell what he was told to tell, and if he could manage tosit in a courtroom without falling in love with some of the ladyjurors, or some of the lady spies of the defense. These deadlyshafts of sarcasm Peter did not even feel, because he was sofrightened by the proposition which McGivney put up to him. To comeout into the open and face the blinding glare of the Red hate! Toplace himself, the ant, between the smashing fists of the battlinggiants!

  Yes, it might seem dangerous, said McGivney, for a cowardly littlewhelp like himself; but then a good many men had had the nerve to doit, and none of them had died yet. McGivney himself did not pretendto care very much whether Peter did it or not; he put the matter upto him on Guffey's orders. The job was worth forty dollars a week,and he might take it or leave it.

  And there sat Peter, with only a nickel and a couple of pennies inhis pocket, and the rent for his room two weeks over-due, and hislandlady lying in wait in the hallway like an Indian with atomahawk. Peter objected, what about all those bad things in hisearly record, Pericles Priam and the Temple of Jimjambo, which hadruined him as a witness in the Goober case. McGivney answered drylythat he couldn't let himself out with that excuse; he was invited topose as a reformed "wobbly," and the more crimes and rascalities hehad in his record, the more convinced the jury would be that he hadbeen a real "wobbly."

  Peter asked, just when would he be expected to appear? And McGivneyanswered, the very next week. They were trying seventeen of the"wobblies" on a conspiracy charge, and Peter would be expected totake the stand and tell how he had heard them advocate violence, andheard them boast of having set fire to barns and wheat fields, andhow they had put phosphorus bombs into haystacks, and copper nailsinto fruit trees, and spikes into sawmill logs, and emery powderinto engine bearings. Peter needn't worry about what he would haveto say, McGivney would tell him everything, and would see himthoroughly posted, and he would find himself a hero in thenewspapers, which would make clear that he had done everything fromthe very highest possible motives of 100% Americanism, and that nosoldier in the war had been performing a more dangerous service.

  To Peter it seemed they might say that without troubling theirconscience very much. But McGivney went on to declare that heneedn't be afraid; it was no part of Guffey's program to give theReds the satisfaction of putting his star witness out of business.Peter would be kept in a safe place, and would always have abody-guard. Wh
ile he was in the city, giving his testimony, theywould put him up at the Hotel de Soto.

  And that of course settled it. Here was poor Peter, with only anickel and two coppers in his pocket, and before him stood a chariotof fire with magic steeds, and all he had to do was to step in, andbe whirled away to Mount Olympus. Peter stepped in!

  Section 74

  McGivney took him to Guffey's office, and Guffey wasted no time uponpreliminaries, but turned to his desk, and took out a longtypewritten document, a complete account of what the prosecutionmeant to prove against the seventeen I. W. Ws. First, Peter toldwhat he himself had seen and heard--not very much, but a beginning,a hook to hang his story upon. The I. W. W. hall was the meetingplace for the casual and homeless labor of the country, the"bindle-stiffs" who took the hardest of the world's hard knocks, andsometimes returned them. There was no kind of injustice thesefellows hadn't experienced, and now and then they had given blow forblow. Also there were loose talkers among them, who worked off theirfeelings by threats of vengeance upon their enemies. Now and then areal criminal came along, and now and then a paid inciter, a PeterGudge or a Joe Angell. Peter told the worst that he had heard, andall he knew about the arrested men, and Guffey wrote it all down,and then proceeded to build upon it. This fellow Alf Guinness hadhad a row with a farmer in Wheatland County; there had been a barnburned nearby, and Guffey would furnish an automobile and a coupleof detectives to travel with Peter, and they would visit the sceneof that fire and the nearby village, and familiarize themselves withthe locality, and Peter would testify how he had been with Guinnesswhen he and a half dozen of the defendants had set fire to thatbarn.