Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 8, 2025
"What!" cried Marrin, the vein on his forehead swelling. "You come in here " "To tell the girls to strike," Sally spoke louder. "For you've made the men traitors and you've blacklisted Izon." Marrin sensed the danger in the shop's quiet. "For God's sake," he cried, "lower your voice speak to me tell me in private " "I am," shrieked Sally. "I'm telling you I want the girls to strike!" He turned.
Thus Joe came to know Jacob Izon and Salvatore Giotto and Nathan Latsky. He was greatly interested in Izon, the facts of whose life he soon came to know. Izon was a designer, working at Marrin's, the shirtwaist manufacturer; he made thirty dollars a week, had a wife and two children, and was studying engineering in a night school.
Then softly the door opened, and a hoarse voice said: "Joe? You there?" Sally and Joe turned around. It was Izon, dark, handsome, fiery, muffled up to his neck, his hat drawn low on his face, and the thin snow scattering from his shoulders and sleeves. "Yes, I'm here," Joe said in a low voice. "What is it?" Izon came over. "Joe!" his voice was passionate "there's trouble brewing at Marrin's."
Joe had provided camp-stools, and the room was soon packed with sitting and standing men, circles of shadowy beings, carelessly clothed, with rough black cheeks and dark eyes a bunch of jabbering aliens, excited, unfriendly, curious, absorbed in their problem an ill-kempt lot and quite unlovely. At the center stove, a little way off from its red heart, sat Joe and Sally and Izon.
"Not for me, though," cried Izon. "I'll get something else." "Are you sure of that?" asked Joe. "Why not?" "Are you sure," Joe went on, "that you won't be blacklisted?" Izon stared at him. "Well I suppose I will." "You'll have to leave the city, Jacob." "I can't. I'm right in my course of engineering. I can't go." "Well, we'll see!" Joe's voice softened. "Now you go home and rest.
And so it went, sharp, incisive, plain-spoken words that were hot brands and burned. "Mr. Blaine?" "Yes." "I'm Mrs. Izon." Joe wheeled about and seized her hand. "Tell me to do something for you! You and your brave husband!" Mrs. Izon spoke quietly: "I came here because Jacob is so worried. He is afraid you will harm yourself for us." Joe laughed softly. "Tell him not to worry any longer.
As morning after morning the men assembled in the dark meeting-room behind a saloon, and sat about in their overcoats complaining and whining, quoting their wives and relatives, more and more they grew disconsolate and discouraged. There were murmurs of rebellion, words of antagonism. Finally on the fifth morning a messenger arrived with a letter. Izon took it. "It's from Marrin," he murmured.
The men quickly put their work away, got their hats and coats, and followed Izon. When they reached the street a strange spectacle on flashing, brilliant Fifth Avenue Izon suggested that they go down to Tenth Street, for they stood about like a lot of lost sheep. "No," cried one of the men, "we've had enough of Tenth Street. There's a hall we can use right over on Eighteenth Street. Come on."
Lights were still burning in the office, and when they entered they found the District Committee sitting about the red stove, still working out the morrow's plans. Giotto was there, Sally Heffer, and Jacob Izon, and others, tired, pale, and huddled, but still toiling wearily with one another. As Joe and Myra came in they looked up, and Sally rose.
Next morning, when Theodore Marrin made the rounds of the vast loft where two hundred girls and forty-five men were busily working the machines racing the air pulsing with noise Jacob Izon arose, trembling, and confronted him. "Well, Jacob!" "I want to tell you something." "Go ahead." "The men have asked me to ask you not to have us make the cloaks." Marrin's red face seemed to grow redder.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking