by H. T. Tsiang
There’s no depression—Why?
And the sun
Hurts no one!
When the deal was old,
We were told:
“Prosperity is right around the corner.”
Now the deal is new—
So the guy is telling you.
I have bummed around
The corners of the West.
The corners of the East—
Dirt,
Starvation;
But where is prosperity
To be found?
When the deal was old,
We were told:
“Don’t hurry!
Prosperity will be back right away.”
Now the deal is new—
So the guy is telling you.
I have waited and waited.
How can I be in no hurry—
Since hunger knows no holiday?
When the deal was old,
We were told:
“Everything takes time!”
But I haven’t a nickel,
Not to say a dime.
How can I say “Dandy and fine!”
While in a breadline?
When the deal was old,
We were told:
“Hard times are here,
Because we have no beer.”
Now the deal is new—
So the guy is telling you.
We now have beer,19
But is prosperity here?
When the deal was old,
We were told:
The garbage was full of filth.
But we could still have something
To pick up, and to chew,
In the wind of wintry cold.
Now the deal is new—
So the guy is telling you.
Rotten meat makes chopped meat.
When the chopped meat is rotten,
It makes sausage.
Nothing is left
In the garbage!
When the winter is over—
Here’s the blessing of the Deal New:
Eating the morning dew!
Looking at the mountain view!
Or singing the St. Louis Blues.20
It’s under this system!
It’s under this system!
Mr. System
Beware:
The Hanging
On
Union Square! . . .
ACT III
XXII:
ROARING AND ROARING AS IT WENT BY
“Try my pill—New Deal!
Hello,
Everybody:
How do you feel?”
It was Mr. Nut satirizing.
* * *
—
While Nut was sleeping, he slept as if he were a dead man. The only difference was that a few drops of water dropped from the corner of his mouth occasionally.
Oh, what a sleep!
But as he had paid only a dime, Nut was not able to sleep without being disturbed.
So Nut became wise. He looked around for a seat in the corner of the house or one at the very end of a row.
While Nut was moving, he passed an old woman. The old woman saw Nut coming and she was trembling and almost crying: “Don’t do me anything, Mister,” she moaned, “’cause I didn’t have a ticket. Don’t do me anything, please! Forget it this time! I won’t do it again. Be a good man, God bless you.” Nut was not a watchdog of the movie house. Nut said nothing.
* * *
—
Nut found a seat at the end of a row.
He sat down.
He was immediately aware that he had sat on a briefcase attached to the hand of a person next to him.
The fellow awoke and grumbled to Nut: “What do you want, anyway? Do you want to steal my stuff?”
“Say, I paid my dime and a seat’s coming to me. I am not a Nut anymore. Y’ understand? Your hand and your stuff’s got no business here.”
‘‘I’m sorry. Awfully sorry. The first principle of a salesman is not to get angry. Say, do you want to buy something? Shaving cream. Only a dime. You need a good shave. It pays to be clean. A shave’ll help you make money!”
Nut said nothing.
“I got it—maybe you’re a late riser,” the fellow whispered in the dark.
“Shave in just
Two minutes flat—
Kiss your wife,
Grab your hat.”1
“Wife!” Nut answered.
“Well, here you are, then,” the fellow again whispered.
“You may have your ring,
You may have your flat—
But when she feels your chin,
You won’t get that.”
Nut said nothing.
The salesman turned now to a shabbily-dressed woman dozing in a seat and he uttered:
“A bearded lady
Used a jar:
And now she is
A movie-star.”
There was no response and he turned to Nut again.
“Say, I can give you a bargain.” The fellow pulled Nut’s sleeve.
“Don’t bother me,” Nut said again.
“Say, with the New Deal, prices are going up. My prices are going down. This is your great opportunity, Sir. It happens once in a century. Buy something!”
Nut said nothing.
The fellow pulled Nut’s sleeve again.
Nut said nothing.
Nut could not stand this nuisance; Nut had to move.
* * *
—
He saw a fellow walking away from a seat on the other side of the row. Nut passed by the knees of other roomers and again sat down. And again Nut slept.
No, he couldn’t sleep now.
Because of all the things that had happened to him last night, clubbing, punching, and beating—Nut was full of pain after he had slept for a while.
So he had to listen to the music. He had to see the show.
The music was something like this:
‘‘If you want to have your fun,
You can play with your gun!
If you want your heart to spring,
You can pull your string.”
Some fellow was crying “Jesus!”
The picture came to a routine climax: a fellow’s lips connected with those of a girl.
The sound “Jesus!” arose again.
A person dressed like Mr. Wiseguy—he had no beard, though—began to follow the instructions of the romantic music and started showing some action.
The fellow was so near to Nut, Nut noticed what he did.
Another fellow told him: “I am a medical doctor by profession. You should stop this. It is not hygienic.”
Nut began to smell a funny odor.
In the meantime Nut wondered how a medical doctor happened to be in a dime hotel.
Because of the funny smell, Nut moved again.
* * *
—
This time he met the Southern fellow who had taken a penny from him last night.
“You are a liar!” Nut exclaimed. “You said that you would go to a thirty-five cent hotel. How do you come to be here, then?”
“No, I didn’t lie to you. I tried to get a bed. But because of the snow, every hotel was filled up, so I couldn’t find any. I have lots of bread with me; take some.”
Nut accepted the invitation.
While Nut was eating, he said to the Southern fellow: “I heard some big shot talking about going back to the earth and in that way solve the unemployment problem. And now with this New Deal here, food has gone up, so what in hell did you come to the city for?”
“Those big shots are bluffing,” Nut was told. “The rich guys get all the food in the end. We won’t get any, that’s certain. Say, I owe you a penny. Here it is. Thanks.”
* * *
—
Nut hated the money business, so he moved again.
* * *
—
While he was moving, he stepped on the toe of a richly-dressed fellow. The fellow was sour. He was so sour he was yelling: “I’m an ex-millionaire! All my money was wiped out in Wall Street. I’m broke. And goddamn it, I came here. What the hell, you dirty bum, why don’t you keep your eyes open? Wheredya get the nerve to step on a millionaire’s toe?”
“Some day I’ll cut your head off; t’hell with your toe.” Nut said this with a little smile.
This smile he hadn’t had for a long time.
The seat next to the ex-millionaire was full of vomit. It was wet. It was smelling like a millionaire.
Nut moved back.
* * *
—
As Nut was moving back and looking for his old bed or, if possible, to have some better bed—everybody he saw was, with closed eyes, asleep. He could not understand why the show and the mechanical talking of the screen had to be carried on. Was it not enough just to be sleeping on a seat, while the Third Avenue “L” was roaring and roaring as it went by.
XXIII:
HE FELT THAT . . .
“Try my pill—New Deal!
Hello,
Everybody:
How do you feel?”
It was twelve o’clock.
* * *
—
Nut came out of the movie house.
As Nut had slept for a while, and had got some bread from the Southern fellow, he was not sleepy or hungry any more.
Because he was neither sleepy nor hungry and he had nothing to do, the warm sun, shining in the sky, gave him a certain mystical feeling.
As the feeling was mystical, he didn’t know what it was.
* * *
—
He felt that he had lost something. But he didn’t know what he had lost.
He felt that he had gained something. But he didn’t know what he had gained.
He felt that he had been satisfied. But he didn’t know how he had been satisfied.
He felt that he had been disappointed. But he didn’t know what had disappointed him.
He felt that he was full of joy. But he didn’t know what the joy was about.
He felt that he had mental pain. But he didn’t know what this mental pain was.
He felt that he had an agreeable, soothing feeling through his whole body. But he didn’t know what this agreeable, soothing feeling was.
He tried to forget. But this made him remember more.
He tried to remember. But he didn’t know what he should remember.
* * *
—
The feelings he had now didn’t come to him when he was very sleepy.
The feelings he had now didn’t come to him when he was very hungry.
* * *
—
Because he had just got some sleep and he had just had some bread, these feelings came to him.
Because he had had a little sleep and he had had a little bread, he was a little bit nervous and a little bit sentimental.
* * *
—
Because he was a little bit nervous and a little bit sentimental, these mystical feelings came to him more keenly.
Because he was in a very bad shape, he felt that he needed these feelings more.
He decided that he should do something. But he didn’t know what to do.
He decided that he should see somebody. But he didn’t know whom to see.
He decided that he should go somewhere. But he didn’t know where to go.
* * *
—
His feelings were mysterious.
His thoughts were confused.
His actions were aimless.
* * *
—
Finally, he decided to go to Union Square. For now that the snow had stopped and the sun shone, there must be some persons arguing on the Square. There must be some persons who would tell him where to get a job.
To Union Square Nut walked.
* * *
—
Union Square was west of Third Avenue. Nut didn’t know why he crossed Third Avenue and walked to the place where, two and a half hours ago, a fight against eviction had taken place.
He came to the entrance of the building in which Stubborn lived.
He then realized what all these mysterious feelings were about.
He hurried hack.
As he was passing the shopwindow next door he looked at himself reflected in the window-glass.
He laughed.
He laughed so hard that he himself could hear his laughter.
When the laughter was over he began to feel ashamed of himself.
When he crossed Third Avenue and reached the other sidewalk, he saw his shadow on the pavement. He protested. He had his four reasons as to why he should not retreat.
These four reasons Nut first evolved in his brain; then he wrote them down, in outline, on a bit of paper.
The points he made were logical, reasonable and scientific!
Because they were logical, reasonable and scientific, he had courage.
Because he had courage, he went back towards Third Avenue.
Again he reached the building in which Stubborn lived.
He walked through the hallway.
He went from one step of the stairs to another.
He reached the door of Stubborn’s apartment.
All those four reasons that he had found, gave Nut the courage to come there.
Suddenly, he discovered that he had no reasons at all.
* * *
—
If he had forgot and left his hat here when he had been helping the family to move the furniture back, he would have had a reason.
If he had promised her a book and now was coming to give it to her, he would have had a reason.
If he had borrowed a nickel from her last night in the cafeteria and now was coming to return it, he would have had a reason.
If he had dropped his pencil in the apartment and now was coming to get it, he would have had a reason.
Nut had none of these excuses. Nut had no reason.
* * *
—
Oh yes, Nut had his four reasons!
But could he tell her that he was coming here to show his appreciation of her beauty?
No.
Could he tell her that he was coming here to show his admiration for her bravery?
No.
Could he tell her that he was coming here to show his gratitude for her friendship?
No.
Could he tell her that he was coming here to show his recognition of her comradeship?
No.
* * *
—
He had the guts to hit the police. But not the guts to knock at this door.
He had the nerve to struggle and try to get hold of the pistol of a policeman. But not the nerve to knock at this door.
He had to leave.
And he left.
XXIV:
IT WAS ONLY BECAUSE . . .
‘‘Try my pill—New Deal!
Hello,
Everybody:
How do you feel?”
It was twelve o’clock.
* * *
—
Stubborn was sleeping.
While she was sleeping, she was thinking.
One thing was irritating her.
During the fight against the eviction, she had seen
that college-graduate Mr. Would-Be-Bureaucrat standing across the street, academically watching. That was the way he was taking the advice of his editor-in-chief to have some direct experience of the class struggle and to show solidarity with the working class.
Her feeling was too personal, Stubborn thought. She was finding fault with the college man because he was not helping her family. Yet the matter of Mr. Would-Be-Bureaucrat did not concern her alone. It concerned many, and he had quite a few brothers and sisters.
Many blah-blahed on the platform and rattled and prattled in the paper’s columns. For they knew the best quotations from the radical books and they knew more of grammar and spelling though what they said and wrote was not understood by the workers and sometimes spread poison among them.
Sometimes, these bureaucrats were exposed and kicked out of their positions. But a month or two later, they would again become prominent. For they not only knew how to get to the top and how to keep on the top. They also knew the technique of getting back to the top.
Their best card was, they did not defend Bureaucracy. They themselves pretended they were of the workers. Together with the workers and good leaders, they yelled “Down with Bureaucracy!” And so they got the cheers and the applause of the workers and the confidence of the leaders.
While Stubborn was thinking, she made a decision. From now on she must give some time towards improving herself.
If one does too much self-improvement and no party-work one is not a good communist.
If one does too much routine-work, and doesn’t give time to self-improvement, that helps to create a Bureaucracy—one is not a good communist either!
She had decided. The question was settled.
She could sleep now.
* * *
—
But she had some mystical feeling, too.
As the feeling was mystical, she also didn’t know what it was.