DEATH OF A SHOP
white now. He prided himself on being one of the older mem–
bers of the Communist Party. As the years passed his belief
in the revolution remained unshaken. But deep inside he re–
sented that it came so slowly. The workers became numb and
resigned to the speed-up sy stem.
Max wrote to the Communist newspaper:
Dear Comrade Editor:
It
is just twelve o'clock now. I am too tired to
stand up. My hands tr emble from overstrain. My fel–
iow workers stagger to the sink to wash their hands.
They are so pale. Their cheeks cave in. Now they are
sitting in front of the machines eating their lunches.
They are too tired to eat.
Dear Comrade editor, can such human beings be
respected? Can their wives and children love them?
The
president of our union is still "optimistic" and he does
nothing to improve our lot.
We are organizing a rank and file committee in our
local. \;Ve'll try to voice our grievances in a militant
way. We will rouse the workers to action.
Please print my letter and if necessary please cor–
rect my spelling.
Comradely yours,
Max Silverberg
Organizer, Rank :lnd File Committee
A short time before the Wall Street crash the Pretifit
Company decided to take th e workers into "partnership." The
operators and pressers were told to "chip in" their war time
savings. The Pretifit Company said the plan was to make bosses
of all of them. They would share the profits of the corporation
besides their regular wages.
At first the workers were doubtful about the plan. They
expected a short season. When the bosses threatened to move
their shop to Passaic they brought their meagre savings. Some
pawned their gold watches and the diamond rings they bought
39
