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their dinner pails, kind of stooped, with old gray clothes on. They're all right, but they don't look like much of anything. They pour in and they do their work for eight hours. Then they go home. But look what they look like when they come out on a strike. I love to see them walk out then. Their eyes are glowing. Their heads are up. They're singing and shouting. They walk along with their arms swinging. They look like men, Miss Perkins.”

The point of all this is that this is a spread of enthusiasm without much sober judgment behind it. They don't stop to count the cost. Perhaps it's something like truancy from school. It's that kind of excitement of mass action, what they now call inter-personal relationships, which has no particular considered purpose. They just go.

This business of one union following another union in walking out in San Francisco had a good deal of that sort of thing in it. I was sure that it was all meant to be a demonstration of sympathy for the longshoremen, who had a true grievance, which ought to have been corrected, but for which no means had yet been found to bring about correction. It was partly also to show the people of San Francisco, and the ship owners in particular, that these men had friends, that labor was strong - watch