SCENE--Nearly a month later. An I. W. W. local near the waterfront,
showing the interior of a front room on the ground floor, and the
street outside. Moonlight on the narrow street, buildings massed in
black shadow. The interior of the room, which is general assembly room,
office, and reading room, resembles some dingy settlement boys club. A
desk and high stool are in one corner. A table with papers, stacks of
pamphlets, chairs about it, is at center. The whole is decidedly cheap,
banal, commonplace and unmysterious as a room could well be. The
secretary is perched on the stool making entries in a large ledger. An
eye shade casts his face into shadows. Eight or ten men, longshoremen,
iron workers, and the like, are grouped about the table. Two are
playing checkers. One is writing a letter. Most of them are smoking
pipes. A big signboard is on the wall at the rear, "Industrial Workers
of the World--Local No. 57."
YANK--[_Comes down the street outside. He is dressed as in Scene Five.
He moves cautiously, mysteriously. He comes to a point opposite the
door; tiptoes softly up to it, listens, is impressed by the silence
within, knocks carefully, as if he were guessing at the password to
some secret rite. Listens. No answer. Knocks again a bit louder. No
answer. Knocks impatiently, much louder._]
SECRETARY--[_Turning around on his stool._] What the devil is
that--someone knocking? [_Shouts:_] Come in, why don't you? [_All the
men in the room look up. YANK opens the door slowly, gingerly, as if
afraid of an ambush. He looks around for secret doors, mystery, is
taken aback by the commonplaceness of the room and the men in it,
thinks he may have gotten in the wrong place, then sees the signboard
on the wall and is reassured._]
YANK--[_Blurts out._] Hello.
MEN--[_Reservedly._] Hello.
YANK--[_More easily._] I tought I'd bumped into de wrong dump.
SECRETARY--[_Scrutinizing him carefully._] Maybe you have. Are you a
member?
YANK--Naw, not yet. Dat's what I come for--to join.
SECRETARY--That's easy. What's your job--longshore?
YANK--Naw. Fireman--stoker on de liners.
SECRETARY--[_With satisfaction._] Welcome to our city. Glad to know you
people are waking up at last. We haven't got many members in your line.
YANK--Naw. Dey're all dead to de woild.
SECRETARY--Well, you can help to wake 'em. What's your name? I'll make
out your card.
YANK--[_Confused._] Name? Lemme tink.
SECRETARY--[_Sharply._] Don't you know your own name?
YANK--Sure; but I been just Yank for so long--Bob, dat's it--Bob Smith.
SECRETARY--[_Writing._] Robert Smith. [_Fills out the rest of card._]
Here you are. Cost you half a dollar.
YANK--Is dat all--four bits? Dat's easy. [_Gives the SECRETARY the
money._]
SECRETARY--[_Throwing it in drawer._] Thanks. Well, make yourself at
home. No introductions needed. There's literature on the table. Take
some of those pamphlets with you to distribute aboard ship. They may
bring results. Sow the seed, only go about it right. Don't get caught
and fired. We got plenty out of work. What we need is men who can hold
their jobs--and work for us at the same time.
YANK--Sure. [_But he still stands, embarrassed and uneasy._]
SECRETARY--[_Looking at him--curiously._] What did you knock for? Think
we had a coon in uniform to open doors?
YANK--Naw. I tought it was locked--and dat yuh'd wanter give me the
once-over trou a peep-hole or somep'n to see if I was right.
SECRETARY--[_Alert and suspicious but with an easy laugh._] Think we
were running a crap game? That door is never locked. What put that in
your nut?
YANK--[_With a knowing grin, convinced that this is all camouflage, a
part of the secrecy._] Dis burg is full of bulls, ain't it?
SECRETARY--[_Sharply._] What have the cops got to do with us? We're
breaking no laws.
YANK--[_With a knowing wink._] Sure. Youse wouldn't for woilds. Sure.
I'm wise to dat.
SECRETARY--You seem to be wise to a lot of stuff none of us knows about.
YANK--[_With another wink._] Aw, dat's aw right, see. [_Then made a bit
resentful by the suspicious glances from all sides._] Aw, can it! Youse
needn't put me trou de toid degree. Can't youse see I belong? Sure! I'm
reg'lar. I'll stick, get me? I'll shoot de woiks for youse. Dat's why I
wanted to join in.
SECRETARY--[_Breezily, feeling him out._] That's the right spirit. Only
are you sure you understand what you've joined? It's all plain and
above board; still, some guys get a wrong slant on us. [_Sharply._]
What's your notion of the purpose of the I. W. W.?
YANK--Aw, I know all about it.
SECRETARY--[_Sarcastically._] Well, give us some of your valuable
information.
YANK--[_Cunningly._] I know enough not to speak outa my toin. [_Then
resentfully again._] Aw, say! I'm reg'lar. I'm wise to de game. I know
yuh got to watch your step wit a stranger. For all youse know, I might
be a plain-clothes dick, or somep'n, dat's what yuh're tinkin', huh?
Aw, forget it! I belong, see? Ask any guy down to de docks if I don't.
SECRETARY--Who said you didn't?
YANK--After I'm 'nitiated, I'll show yuh.
SECRETARY--[_Astounded._] Initiated? There's no initiation.
YANK--[_Disappointed._] Ain't there no password--no grip nor nothin'?
SECRETARY--What'd you think this is--the Elks--or the Black Hand?
YANK--De Elks, hell! De Black Hand, dey're a lot of yellow backstickin'
Ginees. Naw. Dis is a man's gang, ain't it?
SECRETARY--You said it! That's why we stand on our two feet in the
open. We got no secrets.
YANK--[_Surprised but admiringly._] Yuh mean to say yuh always run wide
open--like dis?
SECRETARY--Exactly.
YANK--Den yuh sure got your noive wit youse!
SECRETARY--[_Sharply._] Just what was it made you want to join us? Come
out with that straight.
YANK--Yuh call me? Well, I got noive, too! Here's my hand. Yuh wanter
blow tings up, don't yuh? Well, dat's me! I belong!
SECRETARY--[_With pretended carelessness._] You mean change the unequal
conditions of society by legitimate direct action--or with dynamite?
YANK--Dynamite! Blow it offen de oith--steel--all de cages--all de
factories, steamers, buildings, jails--de Steel Trust and all dat makes
it go.
SECRETARY--So--that's your idea, eh? And did you have any special job
in that line you wanted to propose to us. [_He makes a sign to the men,
who get up cautiously one by one and group behind YANK._]
YANK--[_Boldly._] Sure, I'll come out wit it. I'll show youse I'm one
of de gang. Dere's dat millionaire guy, Douglas--
SECRETARY--President of the Steel Trust, you mean? Do you want to
assassinate him?
YANK--Naw, dat don't get yuh nothin'. I mean blow up de factory, de
woiks, where he makes de steel. Dat's what I'm after--to blow up de
steel, knock all de steel in de woild up to de moon. Dat'll fix tings!
[_Eagerly, with a touch of bravado._] I'll do it by me lonesome! I'll
show yuh! Tell me where his woiks is, how to git there, all de dope.
Gimme de stuff, de old butter--and watch me do de rest! Watch de smoke
and see it move! I don't give a damn if dey nab me--long as it's done!
I'll soive life for it--and give 'em de laugh! [_Half to himself._] And
I'll write her a letter and tell her de hairy ape done it. Dat'll
square tings.
SECRETARY--[_Stepping away from YANK._] Very interesting. [_He gives a
signal. The men, huskies all, throw themselves on YANK and before he
knows it they have his legs and arms pinioned. But he is too
flabbergasted to make a struggle, anyway. They feel him over for
weapons._]
MAN--No gat, no knife. Shall we give him what's what and put the boots
to him?
SECRETARY--No. He isn't worth the trouble we'd get into. He's too
stupid. [_He comes closer and laughs mockingly in YANK'S face._] Ho-ho!
By God, this is the biggest joke they've put up on us yet. Hey, you
Joke! Who sent you--Burns or Pinkerton? No, by God, you're such a
bonehead I'll bet you're in the Secret Service! Well, you dirty spy,
you rotten agent provocator, you can go back and tell whatever skunk is
paying you blood-money for betraying your brothers that he's wasting
his coin. You couldn't catch a cold. And tell him that all he'll ever
get on us, or ever has got, is just his own sneaking plots that he's
framed up to put us in jail. We are what our manifesto says we are,
neither more or less--and we'll give him a copy of that any time he
calls. And as for you--[_He glares scornfully at YANK, who is sunk in
an oblivious stupor._] Oh, hell, what's the use of talking? You're a
brainless ape.
YANK--[_Aroused by the word to fierce but futile struggles._] What's
dat, yuh Sheeny bum, yuh!
SECRETARY--Throw him out, boys. [_In spite of his struggles, this is
done with gusto and eclat. Propelled by several parting kicks, YANK
lands sprawling in the middle of the narrow cobbled street. With a
growl he starts to get up and storm the closed door, but stops
bewildered by the confusion in his brain, pathetically impotent. He
sits there, brooding, in as near to the attitude of Rodin's "Thinker"
as he can get in his position._]
YANK--[_Bitterly._] So dem boids don't tink I belong, neider. Aw, to
hell wit 'em! Dey're in de wrong pew--de same old bull--soapboxes and
Salvation Army--no guts! Cut out an hour offen de job a day and make me
happy! Gimme a dollar more a day and make me happy! Tree square a day,
and cauliflowers in de front yard--ekal rights--a woman and kids--a
lousey vote--and I'm all fixed for Jesus, huh? Aw, hell! What does dat
get yuh? Dis ting's in your inside, but it ain't your belly. Feedin'
your face--sinkers and coffee--dat don't touch it. It's way down--at de
bottom. Yuh can't grab it, and yuh can't stop it. It moves, and
everyting moves. It stops and de whole woild stops. Dat's me now--I
don't tick, see?--I'm a busted Ingersoll, dat's what. Steel was me, and
I owned de woild. Now I ain't steel, and de woild owns me. Aw, hell! I
can't see--it's all dark, get me? It's all wrong! [_He turns a bitter
mocking face up like an ape gibbering at the moon._] Say, youse up
dere, Man in de Moon, yuh look so wise, gimme de answer, huh? Slip me
de inside dope, de information right from de stable--where do I get off
at, huh?
A POLICEMAN--[_Who has come up the street in time to hear this
last--with grim humor._] You'll get off at the station, you boob, if
you don't get up out of that and keep movin'.
YANK--[_Looking up at him--with a hard, bitter laugh._] Sure! Lock me
up! Put me in a cage! Dat's de on'y answer yuh know. G'wan, lock me up!
POLICEMAN--What you been doin'?
YANK--Enuf to gimme life for! I was born, see? Sure, dat's de charge.
Write it in de blotter. I was born, get me!
POLICEMAN--[_Jocosely._] God pity your old woman! [_Then
matter-of-fact._] But I've no time for kidding. You're soused. I'd run
you in but it's too long a walk to the station. Come on now, get up, or
I'll fan your ears with this club. Beat it now! [_He hauls YANK to his
feet._]
YANK--[_In a vague mocking tone._] Say, where do I go from here?
POLICEMAN--[_Giving him a push--with a grin, indifferently._] Go to
hell.
[_Curtain_]