Judge — May 28, 1932 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUDGE “Tough luck, Joe—that means you'll graduate.” Mr. Trevelyan and the Red Flag By MeAlister Coleman “V HAT is she doinz now usked Mr. Trevelyan of his wife. “Suzanne id Mrs Trevelyan, “is still writiny her thesis.” Mr. Trevelyan irred unhappily behind his newspaper. There was silence for awhile and then he sai “I suppose I’m terribly old- ioned and stupid, but I can’t for the life of me, remember what it is she is writing about.” His wife sighed. “Suzanne's thesis is on, ‘The Fune- tion of the Pit Committee in the United Mine Workers of America.’ Now Mr. Trevelyan sighed and went back rather yloomily to his newspaper. Presently he said: “Just what is a Pit Committee?” It was Mrs. Trevelyan’s turn to sigh and she did so, and answered wearil} “I don’t know, exactly. It is one of those things she picked up on her trip. I mean her coal-mine trip. Not the textile mill tour.” said Mr. Trevelyan, “coal- Just then Suzanne came in and, smiling brightly at her parents, went across the room to the piano where she sat down and after thrumming a bit, began to sing in a high, clear voice: “Arise, ye prisoners of starvation, Arise, ye wretched of the earth, For justice thunders condemnation, A better world’s in birth When it was over, Mrs. Trevelyan smiled vaguely at her daughter and sai That was pretty, Suz is the name of that son “MOTHER! Pretty Su laughed a bit wildly. “I would h. say that it was pretty. That is ‘The Internationale,’ it’s our battle hymn.” “It is not,” said Mr. Trevelyan suddenly and unexpectedly. Both women turned to look at him. “It is not what?” asked Su coldly. anne not the ‘Battle Hymn of the "" answered her father. “The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ goes,” and he hummed: “Mine eyes have seen the glory where the grapes of wrath are stored.” “Father,” said Suzanne gently, “you just don't understand. I didn’t ; the ‘Battle Hymn of the Republi I said it was our battle hymn. ‘The Internationale,’ you know. The battle hymn of the pro- letariat. Our battle hymn. Besides you have the words wrong. Besides we have words for that old tune. Words of our own.”” She sang in her high, clear voice: 4 olid us free. Mr. Trevelyan rted to mutier something, but his wife said loudly, “Now that was prett I mean, er, stirring. Where did you pick that up?” “Mother,” said Suzanne patiently, “you and Father are always asking where I ‘pick things up?’ I didn't pick that up. It’s what we sing on the picket line: To keep up the spirit of the coal-diggers, I mean.” “ ‘Coal-Dig "" said Mr. Tre: velyan before his wife could say any “Do you mean coal-miners, “Of cou ingly, “cc You know, the proletariat.” arity, forever, the union sets I-miners. R. TREVELYAN rose. He made a strange noise. He seemed to be choking. He went abruptly from the room. Trevelyan glanced anxiously inne, who was following her exit with a cold, apprais- “You r," said Mrs. Tre- ir is upset. About coal- mines and all. He just had a notice from the company that he is inter- ested in, that on nunt of the last strike of the coal-miners, that i coal-diggers, there won't be any divi- dends and “Never mind, Mother.” Suzanne waved a graceful hand, “I’m id Father is a hopeless entrepreneur. Petty bouryeois, I mean.” And then she turned again to the piano and in her high, clear voice began to sing, “Let cowards hiss and_ traitors sneer, We'll keep the Red Flag flying here «isi Reflection on Perusir the D.A.R. Congress & I were a ventriloquist I'd go to D.A.R. Conventions, Pr and shad) nd then I'd have That elephantine lady A little farther back remark, “I'm just a plain damn fool To travel all those miles to hear These |: chairmen drool.” RET FISHBACK. comicbooks.com ae i; he ere tee