Except for the field organizers of strikes, who were pretty tough monkeys and devoted, most of the so-called Communists I met were middle-class, middle-aged people playing a game of dreams. I remember a woman in easy circumstances saying to another even more affluent: After the revolution even we will have more, wont we, dear? Then there was another lover of proletarians who used to raise hell with Sunday picknickers on her property. I guess the trouble was that we didnt have any self-admitted proletarians. Everyone was a temporarily embarrassed capitalist. Maybe the Communists so closely questioned by the investigation committees were a danger to America, but the ones I knew—at least they claimed to be Communists—couldnt have disrupted a Sunday-school picnic. Besides they were too busy fighting among themselves. John Steinbeck, A Primer on the 30s
Posted on: Sun, 13 Jul 2014 11:17:06 +0000
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