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Updated: June 1, 2025
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.
Sally gave a quick glance around, and was a trifle upset by seeing Mr. Marrin coming straight toward her. He came with his easy, tripping stride, self-satisfied, red-faced, tastefully dressed, an orchid in his buttonhole. Sally spoke quickly. "I was only looking for Mr. Marrin, and here he is!" As Mr.
Keep free, and then you can help others!" The most interesting caller, however, judged from the standpoint of Joe's life, was Theodore Marrin, Izon's boss, manufacturer of high-class shirtwaists, whose Fifth Avenue store is one of the most luxurious in New York.
And he saw that they were more than frightened they were in an ugly humor, almost ferocious. The article had goaded them into a senseless fury. Marrin spoke more easily. "So that's your friend of labor, that's your Joe Blaine. Well, here is what your Joe Blaine has done for you. You're no good to me without the girls. You're all discharged!" He left them and made madly for the door.
The two hundred, always so subdued, so easily bossed, so obedient and submissive, had risen and gone. Marrin looked apoplectic. He rushed over to where the forty-four men were sitting like frightened animals. He spoke to the one nearest him. "Who was that girl? I've seen her somewhere!" "She?" the man stammered. "That's Joe Blaine's girl." "Joe Blaine!" cried Marrin.
A few days after their arrival the Carlist leader Balmaceda, at the head of his robber cavalry, streamed down from the pine woods of Soria into the southern part of Old Castile, Borrow "was present at all the horrors which ensued the sack of Arrevalo, and the forcible entry into Marrin Munoz and San Cyprian. Antonio became seized with uncontrollable fear and ran away to Madrid.
"Look," said the man, handing Marrin a copy of The Nine-Tenths, "the girls read this this morning. That's why they struck." Marrin seized the paper. He saw the title: FORTY-FIVE TREACHEROUS MEN and he read beneath it: Theodore Marrin, and the forty-four who went back to work for him: Every one of you is a traitor to American citizenship. Let us use blunt words and call a spade a spade.
She's a bit scared, sir, and shakin' in th' hands, and she makes a slip, and th' rifle, he goes off, bang! and th' bullet makes that hole marrin' th' timber above th' windy." Tom arose and pointed out a bullet hole above the window. "Then th' wolf, he goes off too, bein' scared at th' shootin'.
In the battles of the working people a time must come for cruelty, blows, and swift victory. Marrin was an out-and-out enemy to be met and overthrown; he had made traitors of the men; he had annihilated Izon; she would fight him with the women. Nor was this the only reason.
There were few about to notice them, none to stop them. Policemen were in doorways and odd shelters. And so, unimpeded, the crazed mob made its way. In the mean time Marrin had come out in his heavy fur coat and stepped into his closed automobile. It went through the storm, easily gliding, turned up West Tenth Street, and stopped before Joe's windows.
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