U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [177]
"That's what I'm tryin' to tel ye . . . My sister, she knows al about it, see, on 'account of workin' in this guy's office . . . It's a plot of the big interests, Morgan an'
them, to defeat the workers by sendin' 'em off to the war. Once they get you in the army you can't howl about civic liberty or the Bil of Rights . . . They can shoot you without trial, see?"
"It's an outrage . . . The people of the Northwest won't stand for it," said the man from Minnesota. "Look here, you've been out there more recently than I have. La Fol ette expresses the opinion of people out there, don't he?"
"Sure," said Charley.
"Wel , what the hel ?"
"It's too deep for me," said Charley and started work-ing his way among the closepacked tables to find Doc. Doc was pretty drunk, and Charley was afraid the evening would start running into money, so they said goodby to Mr. Segal who said please to kil a lot of Germans just for him, and they went out and started walking west along Houston Street. There were pushcarts al along the curb with flares that made the packed faces along the sidewalk glow red in the rainy darkness.
They came out at the end of a wide avenue crowded
with people pouring out from a theater. In front of the Cosmopolitan Café a man was speaking on a soapbox. As the people came out of the theater they surged' around him. Doc and Charley edged their way through to see what the trouble was. They could only catch scraps of what the man was shouting in a hoarse barking voice:
-412-"A few days ago I was sittin' in the Cooper Institute listenin' to Eugene Victor Debs, and what was he sayin'?
. . . 'What is this civilization, this democracy that the bosses are asking you workers to give your lives to save, what does it mean to you except wageslavery, what is . . . ?'"
"Hey, shut up, youse . . . If you don't like it go back where you came from," came voices from the crowd.
"Freedom to work so that the bosses can get rich . . . Opportunity to starve to death if you get fired from your job."
Doc and Charley'were shoved from behind. The man
toppled off his box and disappeared. The whole end of the avenue fil ed with a mil ing crowd. Doc was sparring with a big man in overal s. A cop came between them hitting right and left with his bil y. Doc hauled off to slam the cop but Charley caught his arm and pul ed him out of the scrimmage.
"Hey, for crissake, Doc, this ain't the war yet," said Charley. Doc was red in the face. "Ah didn't like that guy's looks," he said.
Behind the cops two policedepartment cars with big
searchlights were charging the crowd. Arms, heads, hats, jostling shoulders, riotsticks rising and fal ing stood out black against the tremendous white of the searchlights. Charley pul ed Doc against the plateglass window of the café.
"Say, Doc, we don't want to get in the can and lose the boat," Charley whispered in his ear. "What's the use?" said Doc. "It'l al go bel yup before we get there."
"Today the voikers run before the cops, but soon it wil be the cops run before the voikers," someone yel ed. Someone else started singing The Marseillaise. Voices joined. Doc and Charley were jammed with their shoul-ders against the plate glass. Behind them the café was ful of faces swimming in blue crinkly tobaccosmoke like fish
-413-in an aquarium. The plate glass suddenly smashed. People in the café were hopping to their feet. "Look out for the Cossacks," a voice yel ed. A cordon of cops was working down the avenue. The
empty pavement behind them widened. The other way
mounted police were coming out of Houston Street. In the open space a patrolwagon parked. Cops were shoving men and women into it.
Doc and Charley ducked past a mounted policeman who was trotting his horse with a great clatter down the inside of the sidewalk, and shot round the corner. The Bowery was empty and dark. They