I have always wished that California would strike off a series of medals
symbolic of some of the Utopian conditions which prevail there. I would
like to suggest a model for one. I was walking once in the vicinity of
the Ferry with a woman who knows the labor movement of California as
well as an outsider may. Suddenly she whispered in my ear, " Oh look!
Isn't he a typical California labor man?"
It was his noon hour and, in his shirt sleeves, he was leaning against
the wall, a pipe in his mouth. He was tall and lean; not an ounce of
superfluous flesh on his splendid frame, but a great deal of muscle that
lay in long, faintly swelling contours against it. He was black haired
and black-mustached; both hair and mustache were lightly touched with
grey. His thicklashed blue eyes sparkled as clear and happy as a
child's. In their expression and, indeed, in the whole relaxed attitude
of his fine, long figure, was an entertained, contented interest, an
amused tolerance of the passing crowd. You will see this type, among
others equally fine, again and again, in the unions of California.
Yes, that spirit of democracy is not only strong but militant.
Militant! I never could make up my mind which made the fightingest
reading in the San Francisco papers, the account of Friday's boxing
contest or of Monday's meeting of the Board of Supervisors.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48