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little less than a year ago these cards were me, and they'd
been me for over twelve years before that or for just about one
third of my life. I got them both at the same time and from the
same man, when I was twenty years old and fresh out of a
California penitentiary. This one here is the card that says I
was a longshoreman on the San Francisco waterfront every day of
those dozen years. And this one says I was a member in good
standing of the American Communist party, when I was just that,
up until I became twenty-four or five, and it didn't seem to make
much sense for me to renew my membership. Now, both of these
cards were given to me by the same man, or, I should say, by the
associates of the same man--Mr. Harry Bridges, who I'm sure all
you members of the working proletariat know to be the head of the
San Francisco longshoreman's union, as well as a radical champion
of all workers' rights.
"What I'm driving at is that neither of these cards is me
anymore. Oh, they still have my name on them all right, but they
ain't me no more--no way! The reason they no longer are, is a
long, long story which I'll shorten by simply reachin' its
conclusion for you. But I want you to all understand that I
didn't jump to no quick conclusion then, when I actually canceled
both of these cards out of my life forever. It was a goddamn
long-drawn decision I made after tryin' to work within their
confines for all those years of my youth. I didn't jump to no
fuckin' conclusion! I thought about it slowly for a long
time--too long!
"Anyway, the reason I gave up my card-carrying membership
in both these organizations was I realized they were full of
shit, and I didn't want to be a part of that shit. Part of the
lie that says all socially relevant change is brought about
through the power of the working class. You see, I really want to
do something to change this goddamn system we got here, and when
I realized that I really, really did want to do something
relevant to change the miserable way most people live in this
fuckin' world, I knew I had to stop kidding myself by going to
monthly Party meetings, while at the same time earning over three
hundred dollars in take-home pay every week. I mean, I had no
real beef with anything, really, as long as the two hundred
dollars for my thirty-five hours' work was coming in every week.
And it was basically those wages that made me see that my
involvement with the Communist Party, U.S.A. was nothing more
than an elitist hobby that made me feel self-righteously good
once a month, that's all, and did nothing for no one. One day, I
just looked 'round at all my friends who were all playin~ the
same [end page 397]
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