Page:The Autobiography of a Catholic Anarchist.djvu/71

CHAPTER 4. SOCIAL WORK 58 as I know in our school we treat them better than before, because we think that every other person will treat them bad." My girls bought no war stamps all during the war.

I took my non-registrant statement to the U.S. District Attorney. He had heard Emma Goldman during his college days and thought this war was about fifty–fifty as to guilt. We had a pleasant time and he told me to go on my own recognizance and he would call me when I was to have a trial. The papers wrote about the terrible tongue lashing he had given to a "draft dodger." Bill Ryan was soon sentenced to 2 years in Sandstone, Minnesota prison.

After a few weeks I was called down and put behind the bars. An officer took me to the draft board in my district and the man in charge said "What is your name?" I replied, "You know my name." Again, "Where do you live?" Answer, "You know where I live," Question: "Where do you work?" Answer, "You know where I work." "Here is your draft card," he said. "It is not mine; it is yours, I didn't tell you anything," I replied quickly. And I handed him back the card.

The District Attorney did not tell me definitely what was to be done in my case, but told me to wait and see. It seemed that instructions had been sent from Washington not to imprison those over 45. I was 48. Later my sister-in-law, with whom I was staying, signed a special delivery letter containing my draft card. I returned it personally to the District Attorney, putting it in his waste basket. It was sent to me again. I tore it up and mailed the bits to Washington, telling the authorities I would never carry it. I heard nothing more from them. With all the lies printed by authorities as to the action of radicals I had written to Dorothy Day, at the Catholic Worker, saying that if she heard that I had registered not to believe it; but at least all that any one of us could do was to refuse to give in no matter if we were the only ones left.

My wife and girls had left Los Angeles when the cult to which she belonged was denied the use of mails for fraud. Headquarters were established in Santa Fe, N.M. and she followed there. Housing was difficult to find there, so she moved to Denver. Now that I was not tied down to a civil service job I worked at two other jobs and left on the Fourth of July for Denver. After a few days I was working at the huge City Park Dairy where my work consisted in being a social worker to 900 cows. Certain cows that had teats too large for the milking machine; sore teated ones; kicky ones; and those suffering from garget were scattered here and there over the huge barn. The average worker beat the cows and as in the case of human beings they retaliated. I visited my family for a few hours now and then, and on my birthday we all went to the top of the mountain near Golden and visited Buffalo Bill's grave. Here and there along ravines were shanties where squatters eked out a living panning gold.

I did not know that the dairy where I worked was a closed shop, being organized by the AFL Teamsters Union. Mr. Coffee, the business agent, was soon around to get my $12.50 initiation, explaining that it was being raised to $25 and I was sure lucky to get in now. About 500 attended the first union meeting where I was present. A motion came up to vote $1,000 for Liberty Bonds. I asked to speak against it, but as with about all motions, the idea