The Daily Worker

WORK. OR WAGES
A Play on a Revolutionary Theme

By MEYER DWORKIN

Autumn. Midnight. An industrial city in deep chill and early frost.
Occasionally ship sirens, gloomy and forbidding, are heard in the distance.
A yellow blotted moon drifts across a hazy sky. Deep silence.

In a narrow and dark alley, surrounded by magnificent skyscrapers, silhouettes of men, women and children huddled together in the darkness, are seen standing in a row. The line reaches out into a moonlit avenue, past which expensive automobiles are seen rolling by. One of the skyscrapers, to the left of the alley. Is a fashionable hotel, in which every window is illuminated with blazing white lights.
From its luxurious dining salon, merry music, hand clapping and laughter are heard.

In the alley among the silhouettes there are signs of restlessness.
Children are heard crying.)

A VOICE IN THE ROW: Patience, my good fellow citizens, the gluttons behind the silk drapes will soon be through. I can tell by the dreamy music . . . and the clinking wine glasses. (Music and laughter above in increases in volume).

ANOTHER VOICE OF A SILHOUETTE: (Shivering with cold. Sarcastically. I got it... The rich are rich because they obey the law . ..!) (General laughter.)

ANOTHER VOICE: (Speaks derisively in a loud voice.) My idea, gentlemen, is, they are rich because the "law" obeys them . ..! (a cop's shrill whistle is heard, and in the alley the sounds of clanging garbage cans. The silhouettes begin to rush. A door in the alley opens and a porter calls out):

PORTER: Patience my men, the last course hasn't been served yet. They are drinking the wine now. (Door closes. Again darkness and silence, broken by dance music. The porter appears again—He motions them to move up forward. A stampede occurs. General commotion and sounds of emptying garbage cans.

A VOICE OF A MAN: (Ironically) Women and children first! (A tall silhouette of a man appears running from the alley eating some bread.)

"We" are the victors! "We" have won the war!

ANOTHER MAN (Victoriously): To the victor belongs the spoils. . .. (From the darkness of the alley figures trickle out and disappear silently into the darkness. From these, however, a number are seen separating, each carrying his respective tool, such as picks, axes, brick hod, fork and rake. Among them are men in soldier's uniform, a farmer, and a woman. All rest their tools against the wall of the hotel. Silence. They move about restlessly in an effort to keep warm, and mass in front of the brilliantly lighted hotel. The cop's shrill whistle is heard again in the distance. Glittering autos roll by and halt at hotel entrance.)

A VOICE OF a man with upturned coat collar (Brandishing threatening fist): Well, we are still hungry and cold, damn you!

ANOTHER VOICE (Bitterly): And humiliated . . . God damn it, humiliated!.

ANOTHER VOICE (tall man looking upward): The day is not far ... (Silence. A lone foreboding ship siren is heard in the distance.) To action, men, dreams will avail you nothing. (A pouchy cleric appears in entrance of the hotel.)

A VOICE FROM THE STREET: (mockingly) Praised be the lord . . . (From above a shaft of brilliant white light sweeps across the procession on the dark street. The droning of an airplane is heard.)

A VOICE: It is the ever wakeful eye of the oppressor. It never rests. It always fears its enemies, the oppressed. It fears the red dawn that will follow the dark night.

CLERIC: Come my good men. We have a warm meal and bed provided for you, the worthy poor, in god's house. (Somewhere in the night a dog bays. . .)

A VOICE FROM THE STREET: And there again to find the banker and the war maker! (Ironically) Good men, indeed! Too good, too patient and too meek with the world's robbers and their tools! I still remember the war—and the dastardly part you black robed hirelings played in it. Even at the front, where capitalist civilization was crashing before your very eyes, you haven't failed to serve the world's assassins, the robbing master-class! You hovered about us dispatching our souls into eternity even before the master-class had riddled our bodies with bullets. How we hated the sight of you, vultures! We still remember! To hell with you! (Rumbling and approval from the masses. A cop's shrill whistle is heard in the distance.)

A VOICE: It is not bread alone that we want. We demand what is due us as workers and producers of the world's wealth! (From all around voices of approval.— Yes, we demand! (Orchestra in dining salon increases to mad tempo. All pick up their tools in readiness. The hotel lights, except those in the dining room are extinguished. On the yellow window shades silhouettes of servants are seen carrying heavily laden trays with food and drink. Silhouettes of merry diners are seen drinking toasts to one another.)

A VOICE FROM BELOW: Fiddle while Rome burns!

Woman brandishes a threatening fist at dining room windows where silhouettes of wealthy dames are seen chatting at a table, in the center of which a huge bull dog is sitting.)

(All in Unison.) We demand work!

VOICES FROM THE MASS: Our families are starving!
We have reached the limit of our suffering.
We will starve no longer!
We shall save the world!
We can build houses! We can make clothing! We can join forces with our brother workers across the seas who have freed themselves from their oppressors and are no longer starving!
We can fight!

ENTIRE MASS: We can go down to the very gates of hell if necessary to build a better world for all! And we will do it! (Hotel darkens completely. All raise their work tools in readiness to march off. They shade their eyes with right hand gazing through the darkness towards the eastern horizon. Those in lead exclaim:

We see a red star! Onward, toilers to a new life! (A reverberating mass shout is heard) Strike! (The procession marches off with heavy tread.)

Scene Changes.
(Past midnight. Darkness. Intense silence. Somewhere in the distance the cheerful crowing of a cock is heard. Gradually a vast landscape of slumbering industrial cities begins to appear. Upon this landscape various processions are groping silently in the darkness. Now they almost touch one another. Suddenly they part again. General confusion follows. A babel of various languages and exclamations are heard from the darkness. Once more dense darkness blankets all the groping processions from view. Distant rumbling is heard followed by silence.)

A VOICE (from the darkness): Fellow workers! What language do you speak?

A VOICE FROM ANOTHER PROCESSION: The language of poverty and oppression! The language of the working-class!—And you?

A VOICE IN ANSWER (eagerly): The same language. Brother, come closer! Or we will perish!

ANOTHER VOICE: How far away are you, brother?

VOICE ANSWERS: We seem to be very close one to another, and yet so far. ...!

VOICE (courageously): Let us find the way. Dawn is not far . . .! (Cock crows cheerfully. General commotion and joy from all processions. They are seen marching closer and closer together, though still groping in the dense darkness. Crimson streaks of dawn appear on the east-

A VOICE (joyously): I feel the earth rocking under me. Is it the coming of the new day? I fear . .. I have been groping in the darkness, it seems, for centuries. Now, I am afraid of the rising sun....!

A VOICE: Fear will not halt the rise of the sun. . . . Lone men fear. . . . Let us get together. understand one another, and all fear will disappear from the earth . ..! (joyously) I too feel an earth tremor ... (They all grope very closely one to another. Cock crows. Suddenly joy and commotion. In the distance a red procession, like a spark of dawn out of the crimson eastern horizon, appears carrying a red flag blazing through the dark night closer and closer, marching forward towards these still groping in the darkness. Suddenly a shout of joy is heard: "Comrades" The sky lightens voices from the masses.

Fellow workers!
I see the sun rise!
The day is coming!
Ay, brothers! We all look alike ...
We shall suffer no more!
How?

"If your mighty arm only will, all wheels will stand still." Tools down for universal workers solidarity against the war mongers! (General commotion, joy, and greetings. All groups finally march out of the darkness and group together in one seething mass. The group carrying the red flag is in the center above all. In the distance as the sun rises, the singing of the 'International' is heard faintly. The song is rolling like a thunder closer and closer. Finally a reverberating mass shout from all the groups is heard: "Work or wages! 'Strike!' 'Strike'!"