“Good God, Dad! I thought we were economizing!”
“Well, Eli pointed out that he had blessed that first well on the Paradise tract, and that was why we had got all the oil. You can see, it would ’a been sort of blasphemy if I’d denied it.”
“But Dad, you know you don’t believe in Eli Watkins’ bunk!”
“I know, but that fellow has got a tremendous following, and we might need him some day, you can’t be sure. If there should come a close election, here or at Paradise, we might get our money back many times by getting Eli to endorse our ticket.”
XII
Bunny thought this over, and then summoned his nerve, and went back to his father. “Look here, Dad! If you’ve got five hundred for a joke with Eli Watkins, I want five hundred for something serious.”
Dad looked alarmed right away. He should not have told Bunny about that money! “What is it, son?”
“I’ve been to see Mr. Irving, Dad, and he’s in trouble, he can’t get a teaching job anywhere. They’ve got him blacklisted. You see, he has to mention that he’s been teaching at Southern Pacific the last two years, and the people write to enquire about him, and he’s convinced that somebody in the university is telling them he’s a red.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Dad. “But that’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is, Dad! I was the one that dragged him out and made him talk to me. I thought I could keep it to myself, but they had someone spying on us.”
“Well, son, is he trying to borrow money from you?”
“No, I offered him a little, but he wouldn’t take it. But I know he needs it, and I’ve been talking about it with Harry Seager, and with Peter Nagle—they know some of the labor men in the city, and they think there is a possibility of starting a labor college here. We all agree that Mr. Irving is the ideal man to run it.”
“A labor college?” said Dad. “That’s a new one on me.”
“It’s to educate the young workers.”
“But why can’t they go to the regular schools, that are free?”
“They don’t teach them anything about labor. At least they don’t teach them anything that’s true. So the labor men are founding places where bright young fellows can be fitted to take their part in the labor struggle.”
Dad thought it over. “You mean, son, it’s a place where a bunch of you reds teach Socialism and such stuff.”
“No, that’s not fair, Dad; we don’t propose to teach any doctrines. We want to teach the open mind—that has always been Mr. Irving’s idea. He wants the labor men to think for themselves.”
But that kind of talk didn’t fool Dad for a moment. “They’ll all turn into reds before they get through,” he said. “And see here, son—I don’t mind your giving five hundred to Mr. Irving, but it’s going to be kind of tough on me if I’m to spend my life earning money, and then you spend it teaching young people that I haven’t got any right to it!”
And Bunny laughed—that was the best way to take it. But he thought it over—more and more as the years passed—and he realized how that shrewd old man looked into the future and read life!
XIII
The Monastery
I
Bunny was studying and thinking, trying to make up his mind about the problem of capital versus labor. It had become clear to him that the present system could not go on forever—the resources and wealth of the country thrown into an arena, to be scrambled for and carried off by the greediest. And when you asked, who was to change the system, there was only one possible answer—the great mass of the workers, who did not have the psychology of gamblers, but had learned that wealth is produced by toil. In the very nature of their position, the workers could only prevail by combining; and so, whether they would or not, they had to develop solidarity, an ideal of brotherhood and cooperation.
Such was the fundamental faith of all “radicals,” and Bunny accepted the doctrine joyfully, as a way of escape from the tangle of commercialism and war. Labor was to organize, and take over industry, and rebuild it upon a basis of service. The formula was simple, and worthy of all trust; but alas, Bunny was being forced to admit that the reality was complicated. The makers of the new society were not able to agree upon plans for the structure, nor how to get the old one out of the way. They were split into a number of factions, and spent a good part of their energies quarreling among themselves. Bunny would have thought that here in Southern California at least, the labor movement had enemies enough in the federations of the employers, with their strikebreaking and spy agencies, their system of blacklist and persecution, and their politicians, hired to turn the law against the workers. But alas, it did not seem so to the young radicals; they had to make enemies of one another!
Just now they were in a fever over the Russian revolution; a colossal event that had shaken the labor movement of the whole world. Here for the first time in history the workers had got possession of a government; and what were they making of the chance? The capitalist press of the world was, of course, portraying Russia as a nightmare; but the Soviets continued to survive, and every day of survival was a fresh defeat for the newspaper campaign. The workers could run a government! The workers were running a government! Just look!
So, in every country of the world, the labor movement became divided into two factions, those who thought the workers in their country could follow the example of the Russians, and should organize and prepare to do
