The strikers were not only isolated--lost in a backwater district of Brooklyn, out of touch with labor organizations, ignorant of the laws and of their rights--they were also weakened by the division of languages. All were "greenhorn" immigrants, who had not yet learned English. They belonged to diverse and hostile races--a disunited medley of Slovaks, Poles, Italians, and Jews. The bosses have been quick to discover how serious an impediment to organization is a mixture of races. Yetta came to them in the same way that Mabel, three and a half years before, had come to the striking vest-makers--bringing detailed, practical knowledge of how to manage a strike. As soon as she had telephoned in a first story to _The Clarion_, she took up the work of bringing order and hope into the despairing chaos of the struggle. She called on the police captain, and her threat of publicity made him change his mind in regard to the right of the strikers to hold meetings. Before supper-time the effect of the _Clarion_ story was evident. Half a dozen labor organizers and Socialist speakers turned up. With this outside help the paper-box makers were able to organize their picket, arrange meetings, and start plans for money-raising. A Socialist lawyer took up the cases of the dozen odd strikers who had been arrested. By ten o'clock the situation was immensely improved. Yetta escaped to a typewriter to get out her big "follow-up" for the next day's paper. She went at it with a peculiar thrill. She was realizing for the first time what a power in the fight a working-man's paper might be. While she was working out her story, the semi-annual stockholders' meeting of the Coöperative Newspaper Publishing Company was called to order in one of the halls of the Labor Temple on East Eighty-fourth Street. Walter had spoken of _The Clarion_ as "Isadore's paper." In reality it was a coöperative enterprise. In the days when the working-men nearly elected Henry George as Mayor of New York, they had started to raise money to found a newspaper which would represent the interests of their class. It was decided that fifty thousand dollars was necessary, and a committee had been formed. In the first enthusiasm they had collected five thousand. Fresh efforts had been made intermittently, and the sum had grown to eight thousand. When Isadore had returned from his vacation with the Pauldings, he had decided to centre his efforts on this project. He had studied the ways and means carefully, he had infused new life into the committee, and at last he had succeeded in organizing this coöperative publishing company. At their first meeting they had decided that fifty thousand was hopeless, and that they could begin with twenty-five. But after straining every nerve for six months, arranging balls and picnics and fairs, they had raised only twelve thousand. _The Clarion_ was started on that amount. Every one who knew anything about modern journalism told Isadore he was a fool.