﻿Compulsory Freedom 
 
“If the women wouldn’t support the men they (the men) would go to work,” she said.  
Hm, I must have been overlooking a bet trying to support myself. Can it be possible? No. no, by the sacred bull, no,— I cannot see now a woman with small pay can support a man when a man with bigger pay can’t support a woman. I think, I think they’re both supporting — supporting a parasite a piece. 
Peace be with you. 

Women, it is said, are more plentiful than men, but even so, I do not believe they are numerous enough to support the “poor undefenseless males” in the style they are accustomed to. I think they both hive their hands full in keeping the home fires burning for Messrs. Doolittle, Hangersohn and Sprinklestock. 

According to Oklahoma Leader:—”When the family wash was hung on an Oklahoma City clothes line the other day, nearly a dozen Pullman towels fluttered in the breeze.” Ah, then they did get something in return for their money. Sounds unbelieveable. 

Plagiarism isn’t as bad as receiving stolen prosperity.— ( Exchange) . 
When I’m dreaming of freedom 
I am dreaming— that’s me— 
But the strongest of shackles 
Are those we can’t see; 
And this load-broken wage slave 
From them would be free— 
I am dreaming of freedom 
I’m dreaming— that’s me. 
 
I am dreaming of freedom. 
And at slavery I rail; 
Not the cheap phoney freedom, 
The yokels would hail — 
For the locks and the keys and 
The dungeons are frail, 
To a man who is dreaming 
Of freedom, in jail. 
 
When I’m dreaming of freedom,’ 
I am “dreaming” is true; 
I am dreaming the dreams that 
My infancy knew; 
And the while I was dreaming 
My bonds stronger grew— 
I am dreaming, and dreaming 
And dreaming—are you? 
 
I am dreaming of freedom; 
(For the centuries stored), . 
Of the strange glowing freedom 
By no one explored ; 
Not the freedom of servelings, 
The standing, or lord— 
I am dreaming of Freedom, 
(Not a “ride” in a Ford). 
 
Organize oh ye workers 
Like your masters, the knaves; 
Put the boss in blue denims 
And hear how he raves, 
‘Bout the “turbul injustice,” 
(Far worse than a grave); 
There’s a law for a freeman! 
Not a “rule” for a slave! 

The solution for ownership is: Work. 
A fair days pay for a fair days work might not be a bad plan to start the bosses with — if we could determine what is a fair days pay and what is a fair days work—and increase their wages as they become proficient. 

Old timers like C. Schwab and E. Gary, and many others, should get at least 40 cents an hours straight time. Men like Rockefeller, and many others should get at least 42½ cents per hour, straight time and time and three quarters for overtime over twelve hours -or eight hours— six hours, or whatever they feel like working,—straight productivity—oh well. 

Some of our most affluent parasites are kicking the hundred percent American, housefly won’t gather honey and put it where it would be easy of access. Yes. 

One Thing I like ‘bout the housefly, as a parasite, it bothers us only during the summer months; whereas the great American Financial Buzzards are with us always, winter and summer. 

“The world war was to end all wars” 
The world war will end all wars. 
The world war continues to end all wars, 
It begins to look bad for war! 

Senators are jumping sideways to get to Europe, breaking their necks to get back, (disguised as carrying news). Presidential booms (fake, phoney and otherwise) keep the people in ferment. If the major parties fail to hear bonk there will be third party. They’ll hear it O.K. Harding released via world court. Johnson, ditto, via “masonic interview.” 

McAdoo expected to spill his any minute. Ford will be saved for an emergency. Lots o’ timber. Couzens, LaFollette. Thank God, we will have a chance to vote for soup lines, injunctions, breadlines, prohibition frame ups, etc. 
Jails are full of men who dared to ask for, a mediocre living in return for labor expended, Mooney, Ford, Suhr, Gaveel, Thompson, and many others, many others. Still the workers spend their time reading “politics,” discussing political machinations, watching the “grooming” of this or that malefactor for the highest office in the land, while these men rest in jail. I’m telling you labor, if once again you desire an allowance of freedom, you must organize in the industries, (within walls and without walls) a one union. We have only one life to live— let it be a merry one. Let us get something out of it while the getting is good. Line up today.— (T-bone Slim). 
1923_86_IW_18081923  
SWEET CHARITY 
 
It may be of interest to the harvest workers to know that the widow McCormick of Cyrus H., the binder inventor, is dead. She left behind her $9,000,000 worth of wealth. And a million dollars of it is going to charity — sweet charity. 
There isn’t a doubt but this money will be put to beautiful use— and there is no doubt but there will be found thousands of paupered farmers who will gladly accept some of it. Thousands of bankrupt farmers will have an opportunity to behold and fondle once’t again their “own” money in the form of charity—sweet charity. But that “little,” taken from them in an inconvenient period (which bankrupted them) cannot in this period of convenience put them back on their feet. Alas! Charity is no substitute for justice. Sweet charity. 
The farmer has always blamed the harvest hand for his troubles, yet both can prove their poverty. Here is a $9,000,000 jack-pot, a sample pot, one of the twenty or thirty such that exist —and one million dollars of it is going to charity. Like throwing a life preserver into a drowned man’s coffin — too late to be of any use. Sweet charity! 

NO EXCEPTIONS TAKEN 
I notice lately that Gary’s latest proclamation regarding the 12-hour day has aroused the whole United Labore Press to action, even including Sam Gompers, and although I have been looking high and low through all the different sheets for some suggestion of a plan to go after Mr. Gary and his 12-hour day, I fail to find one. 
Is it possible that all these “great men” including T-bone Slim, have been so slow and stupid as to let a “common tramp sailor” step in and solve this greatest of all problems? Sh! Here is the secret: Organize the Great Lakes! Break the 12-hour day there and you have played hell with Mr. Gary —(Card X7869). 
 
No one recognizes better than T-bone Slim the insignificant magnitude of the “world’s greatest writer”. And Slim’s claim to greatness rests only on the “much he does with so little.” A man is only great, as a writer, if his readers are great. Never was, is or will be a writer greater than reader. Stuff that in your pipe — and Schmoke! 

Slim, too, has suggested the organizing of lakes as early as one week before opening of navigation. Above writer probably hasn’t read Marine Worker. 
As to Mr. Gary, will say, with many reservations, my knowledge of Gary would not make good literature—as we understand it — hence I have requested Slim to confine himself to “playing hell with other great Americans — Henry for instance. 
But this I know regarding all opportunities to divide ourselves: our press must reflect the views of its readers, not its writers, and then, if it can do a little “shinig” for the whole, its duty is overfulfilled. — (T-Bone Slim.)