had been distributed in the industrial centers, wherever the employers’ associations had been carrying out their “open shop” program.  “You have lost the strike!” it was headed.  “And now what are you going to do about it?” It was what is called an “incendiary” appeal—­it was written by a man into whose soul the iron had entered.  When this edition appeared, twenty thousand copies were sent to the stockyards district; and they were taken out and stowed away in the rear of a little cigar store, and every evening, and on Sundays, the members of the Packingtown locals would get armfuls and distribute them on the streets and in the houses.  The people of Packingtown had lost their strike, if ever a people had, and so they read these papers gladly, and twenty thousand were hardly enough to go round.  Jurgis had resolved not to go near his old home again, but when he heard of this it was too much for him, and every night for a week he would get on the car and ride out to the stockyards, and help to undo his work of the previous year, when he had sent Mike Scully’s ten-pin setter to the city Board of Aldermen.

It was quite marvelous to see what a difference twelve months had made in Packingtown—­the eyes of the people were getting opened!  The Socialists were literally sweeping everything before them that election, and Scully and the Cook County machine were at their wits’ end for an “issue.”  At the very close of the campaign they bethought themselves of the fact that the strike had been broken by Negroes, and so they sent for a South Carolina fire-eater, the “pitchfork senator,” as he was called, a man who took off his coat when he talked to workingmen, and damned and swore like a Hessian.  This meeting they advertised extensively, and the Socialists advertised it too—­with the result that about a thousand of them were on hand that evening.  The “pitchfork senator” stood their fusillade of questions for about an hour, and then went home in disgust, and the balance of the meeting was a strictly party affair.  Jurgis, who had insisted upon coming, had the time of his life that night; he danced about and waved his arms in his excitement—­and at the very climax he broke loose from his friends, and got out into the aisle, and proceeded to make a speech himself!  The senator had been denying that the Democratic party was corrupt; it was always the Republicans who bought the votes, he said—­and here was Jurgis shouting furiously, “It’s a lie!  It’s a lie!” After which he went on to tell them how he knew it—­that he knew it because he had bought them himself!  And he would have told the “pitchfork senator” all his experiences, had not Harry Adams and a friend grabbed him about the neck and shoved him into a seat.

Chapter 31

One of the first things that Jurgis had done after he got a job was to go and see Marija.  She came down into the basement of the house to meet him, and he stood by the door with his hat in his hand, saying, “I’ve got work now, and so you can leave here.”