Comrades: A Story of Social Adventure in CaliforniaDixon, Thomas, Jr.
General
Comrades: A Story of Social Adventure in California
Dixon, Thomas, Jr.
California -- Fiction; Socialism -- Fiction
"In the Department of Production we need hod-carriers, bricklayers,
carpenters, architects, teamsters, and skilled mechanics for the
foundry and machine-shops, saw-mill, and flour mills. On the farm and
orchard we need ploughmen and harvesters for grain and hay, gardeners,
stablemen, and ditchers.
"In our Department of Domestic Service we need cooks, seamstresses,
washerwomen, scrubbers and cleaners, waiters, porters, bell-boys,
telephone girls, steamfitters, plumbers, chimney-sweeps, and sewer
cleaners.
"In the Department of Education we need artists and artisans,
teachers, nurses, printers and binders, pressmen and compositors, one
editor, scientists and lecturers, missionaries, actors, singers, and
authors.
"Now you each of you know what you can do best. Choose the work in
which you can render your comrades the highest service of which you
are capable and best advance the cause of humanity. Write your name
and your choice of work on the blanks which have been furnished you."
The orchestra played while the ballots were being cast and counted.
The chairman at length rose with the tabulated sheet in his hand and
faced his audience.
"Comrades," he said, with a twinkle in his eye, "that old saying I'll
have to repeat, 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again!'
Beyond the shadow of a doubt we shall have to try this election again.
If I didn't know by the serious look on your faces that you mean it
I'd say off-hand that you were trying to put up a joke on me."
He paused, and a painful silence followed.
"Give us the ballot!" growled the Bard.
Norman looked at the list he held, and in spite of himself, as he
caught the gleam of mischief in Barbara's eye, burst into laughter and
sat down.
Wolf ascended the platform, glanced over the list and whispered:
"It's a waste of time. Call for the election of an executive council
with full powers."
"We'll try once more," Norman insisted, quickly rising.
"Comrades, I'm sorry to say there is no election. We must proceed to
another ballot, and if the industries absolutely necessary to the
existence of any society are not voted into operation, we must then
choose an executive council with full power to act. I appeal to your
sense of heroism and self-sacrifice----"
"Give us the ballot! Read it!" thundered the offended poet.
"Yes, read it!"
"Read it!"
The shouts came from all parts of the hall. The crowd was in dead
earnest and couldn't see the joke.
Once more the young chairman raised the fateful record of human
frailty before his eyes, paused, and then solemnly began:
"In the first place, comrades, more than six hundred ballots out of
the two thousand cast are invalid. They have been cast for work not
asked for. They must be thrown out at once.
"Three hundred and sixty five able-bodied men choose hunting as their
occupation. I grant you that game is plentiful on the island, but we
can't spare you, gentlemen!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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