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Newspaper Page Text
Somehow I think Joe Basch -would
change his mind about there being
no empty stomachs in Chicago, and
somehow I think his heart might be
changed, too, so that he would have a
little human feeling toward his fel
lows even toward those of his fel
low unfortunates who belong to
what Basch calls "the lower classes."
There must be something ahout
the acquiring of much money that
shrivels a man's soul, as it shrivels
some men's skins and frames, leaving
it dried and incapable of expansion
or warmth or kindliness or justice or
No man whose heart still beats
warm- in his breast could have talked
the way Joe Basch talked about his
employes to the O'Hara commission.
It was unnatural, inhuman.
It wasn't Joe Basch, the human
being, that spoke that way. It
couldn't be. It was Joe Basch, the
vice-president of Siegel, Cooper &
Co.; it was Joe Basch, the money
making machine; it was Joe Basch,
the business man.
It is pitiful to see a man changed
into a cold-blooded, heartless ma
chine like that. One hardly knows
whether to be more sorry for him
or for the employes he rules over and
speaks of so cold-bloodedly.
But I think it is he one should pity
the more. For the employes still are
left freedom of thought- They still
are left the glorious right to love
their fellow men. They still have the
capacity to sacrifice themselves to
make some other happy.
But he cannot do these things. He
cannot have freedom of thought; for
money rules all his thoughts. He
cannot love his fellow men; because
if he did that, he would have to be
content with less money. He cannot
sacrificeanything of value to make
another happy; because there is only
one thing of value to him, and that is
money, and he" cannot part with any
of that -unselfishly.
And then, too, there must be times
when the heart once more tries to
express its old-time rule; times in the
still watches of the night when Mam
mon becomes small and inconse
quent, and the money-machines
search their own souls and find them
rotten to the core.
It must be terrible to do that; to
know oneself a traitor to oneself; to
awake sweating in the night and be
afraid of oneself; to fear the darkness
because in the darkness one sees
I had rather be a starved clerk at
six dollars a week than a merchant
prince who found his princely title
in squeezed human souls and starved
human bodies and so became afraid
to sleep with himself at nights!
SOME MORE TONGUE TWISTERS
Here are some more of those
TONGUE TWISTERS. We're going
to spring the stiffest yet tomorrow.
In the meantime, keep sending 'em
in to the Tongue Twister Editor of
The Day Book.
Betty B otter bought some butter.
"But," she said, "this butter's bitter,
If I put it in my batter
It will make my batter bitter,
But a bit of bette rbutter
Will but make my batter better."
So she bought a bit o' butter
Better than the bitter butter,
And made her bitter batter better
So 'twas better Betty Botter
Bought a bit of better butter
MISS GRETCHEN REEDER,
4122 Wilcox av.
The sea ceaseth and dfsmisseth
us! ROBERT NOME,
3706 Lake av.
If you stick a stick across a stick,
Or stick a cross across a stick,
Or cross a stick across a stick,
Or cross a cross across a stick,
Or stick a stick across a cross,
Or stick a cross across a cross,
Or cross a cross across a cross,
Would that be an acrostic?
9417 Champlain Av.'