U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [252]
al lit up and ful of navy recruiting posters. A big wooden model of a battleship fil ed up one side of it. There was a crowd standing around and a young girl dressed like a sailor was making a speech about patriotism. The cold rain came on again and the crowd scattered. Joe went down a street and into a ginmil cal ed The Old Farm. He must have looked like somebody the barkeep knew because he said hel o and poured him out a shot of rye.
Joe got to talking with two guys from Chicago who
were drinking whiskey with beer chasers. They said this wartalk was a lot of bushwa propaganda and that if work-ing stiffs stopped working in munition factories making shel s to knock other working stiffs' blocks off with, there wouldn't be no goddam war. Joe said they were goddam right but look at the big money you made. The guys from Chicago said they'd been working in a munitions factory themselves but they were through, goddam it, and that if the working stiffs made a few easy dol ars it meant that the war profiteers were making easy mil ions. They said the Russians had the right idea, make a revolution and shoot the goddam profiteers and that ud happen in this
-170-country if they didn't watch out and a damn good thing too. The barkeep leaned across the bar and said they'd oughtn't to talk thataway, folks ud take 'em for German spies.
"Why, you're a German yourself, George," said one of the guys. The barkeep flushed and said, "Names don't mean nothin' . . . I'm a patriotic American. I vas talking yust for your good. If you vant to land in de hoosgow it's not my funeral." But he set them up to drinks on the house and it seemed to Joe that he agreed with 'em. They drank another round and Joe said it was al true but what the hel could you do about it? The guys said what you could do about it was join the I.W.W. and carry a red card and be a classconscious worker. Joe said that stuff was only for foreigners, but if somebody started a white man's party to fight the profiteers and the goddam bankers he'd be with 'em. The guys from Chicago began to get sore and said the wobblies were just as much white men as he was and that political parties were the bunk and that al southerners were scabs. Joe backed off and was looking at the guys to see which one of 'em he'd hit first when the barkeep stepped around from the end of the bar and came between them. He was fat but he had shoulders and a meanlooking pair of blue eyes.
"Look here, you bums," he said, "you listen to me, sure I'm a Cherman but am I for de Kaiser? No, he's a schweinhunt, I am sokialist unt I live toity years in Union City unt own my home unt pay taxes unt I'm a good
American, but dot don't mean dot I vil foight for
Banker Morgan, not vonce. I know American vorkman
in de sokialist party toity years unt al dey do is foight among each oder. Every sonofabitch denk him better den de next sonofabitch. You loafers geroutahere . . . closin'
time . . . I'm goin' to close up an' go home."
-171-One of the guys from Chicagothe
lee of the recruiting tent. Joe felt lousy. He went down into the subway and waited for the Brooklyn train.
At Mrs. Olsen's everything was dark. Joe rang and in a little while she came down in a padded pink dressing gown and opened the door. She was sore at being waked up and padded pink dressing gown and opened the door. She was sore at being waked up and bawled him out for drinking, but she gave him a flop and next morning lent him fifteen bucks to tide him over til he got work on a Shipping Board boat. Mrs. Olsen looked tired and a lot older, she said she had pains in her back and couldn't get through her work any more. Next morning Joe put up some shelves in the pantry
for her and carried out a lot of litter before he went over to the Shipping Board recruiting office to put his name down for the officer's school. The little kike behind the desk had never been to sea and asked him a lot of dam-fool questions and told him to come around next week to find out what action would be taken on his