of one of Stalin’s speeches, The Soviet and the Individual, by heart: “Of all the valuable capital the world possesses, the most valuable and most decisive is people,” and the intriguing passage: “We pushed forward still more vigorously on the Leninist road, brushing aside every obstacle from our path. It is true that in our course we were obliged to handle some of these comrades roughly. But you cannot help that. I must confess that I too took a hand in this business. …”
He learned about deviationists and social fascists and Trotskyite vermin. He stood up and shouted, “Comrades, let’s not be bashful about the trials of the Trotskyite and Bukharinite wreckers and spies. Let’s hail the death of the twenty-one traitors and the findings of Soviet workers’ justice with gusto and joy. Hurrah! Hurrah! Let’s eradicate this scum and smooth the grid for the coming advance of peace and solidarity.” Standing on a soapbox at City College, it was Solly who answered a Jewish heckler by declaring, “Stalin brought Russia into the twentieth century. He is the new Moses of the Jews.”
Solly’s face was aglow, sitting in Madison Square Garden, watching Earl Browder, the quiet man from Kansas, mumble, “We’re living in the rapids of history and a lot of folks are afraid of being dashed on the rocks. But not us, comrades!” After the cheering, Browder mumbled, “Our ideological struggle has to be conducted as a concrete struggle arising from unfolding events. We demand that it be carried out in a fresh language. We will defeat those who spread pessimism and despair, confusionism and obscurantism, adventurism and recklessness, and thus establish unshakable ideological ties with the workers and the peasants. As the great, the wondrous Stalin says, ‘We will abolish underripe fruit and overripe fruit and quench our spirits with fresh fruit forever!’ All hail to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the first land of Socialism! All hail! May Stalin’s example be a fresh banana forever!”
Since revolution should be fun too, Comrade Stalin had designated a little laugh that the comrades could insert into their daily speech. It went like this: “Hey huh! Hey huh!” and it could be correctly expressed with a snicker or a snort.
And so as Comrade Browder spoke, he was interrupted after each lofty phrase with the audience of twenty thousand snorting, “Hey huh! Hey huh!”
“We will root out petit bourgeois influences, eliminating the final vestiges of right-opportunism and left-adventurism, never adopting a middle-of-the-road policy, steering a firm course at this critical crossroads. At this juncture we must particularly stress the next immediate stage of progress for the people, which is inseparably bound up with, and requires the crystallization of, a broad democratic front coalition.”
Browder drew a breath, smiled, and finished reading: “Comrades, it’s no accident that we are here today. It is no accident, furthermore, that ours is the party that combats left-sectarianism, right-opportunism, and philistinism of all sorts. We shall continue to develop correct tactics adopted to the concrete situation.”
The crowd stood and shouted, “Hey huh! Hey huh!”
29 Perry Street
Combining espionage and rich cultural evenings.
—G. L.
In the late fall of 1954, three months after Solly and Dolly Rubell had been executed for espionage, some of the gang assembled for a musicale at 29 Perry Street.
It wasn’t easy to talk: walls had ears. They confined their conversation to certain topics and what might be inferred between the lines, and they played the radio loudly. Josh Moroze, the People’s Songbird, tuned his guitar in a corner.
Sophie Rich, Dolly’s best friend, said, “This happened in Florida a year before the arrest. It was a family vacation. Dolly’s father, Sammy, was getting senile. His wife Ruth would treat him like shit. He came out of the cabana with his penis hanging out of his
He learned about deviationists and social fascists and Trotskyite vermin. He stood up and shouted, “Comrades, let’s not be bashful about the trials of the Trotskyite and Bukharinite wreckers and spies. Let’s hail the death of the twenty-one traitors and the findings of Soviet workers’ justice with gusto and joy. Hurrah! Hurrah! Let’s eradicate this scum and smooth the grid for the coming advance of peace and solidarity.” Standing on a soapbox at City College, it was Solly who answered a Jewish heckler by declaring, “Stalin brought Russia into the twentieth century. He is the new Moses of the Jews.”
Solly’s face was aglow, sitting in Madison Square Garden, watching Earl Browder, the quiet man from Kansas, mumble, “We’re living in the rapids of history and a lot of folks are afraid of being dashed on the rocks. But not us, comrades!” After the cheering, Browder mumbled, “Our ideological struggle has to be conducted as a concrete struggle arising from unfolding events. We demand that it be carried out in a fresh language. We will defeat those who spread pessimism and despair, confusionism and obscurantism, adventurism and recklessness, and thus establish unshakable ideological ties with the workers and the peasants. As the great, the wondrous Stalin says, ‘We will abolish underripe fruit and overripe fruit and quench our spirits with fresh fruit forever!’ All hail to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the first land of Socialism! All hail! May Stalin’s example be a fresh banana forever!”
Since revolution should be fun too, Comrade Stalin had designated a little laugh that the comrades could insert into their daily speech. It went like this: “Hey huh! Hey huh!” and it could be correctly expressed with a snicker or a snort.
And so as Comrade Browder spoke, he was interrupted after each lofty phrase with the audience of twenty thousand snorting, “Hey huh! Hey huh!”
“We will root out petit bourgeois influences, eliminating the final vestiges of right-opportunism and left-adventurism, never adopting a middle-of-the-road policy, steering a firm course at this critical crossroads. At this juncture we must particularly stress the next immediate stage of progress for the people, which is inseparably bound up with, and requires the crystallization of, a broad democratic front coalition.”
Browder drew a breath, smiled, and finished reading: “Comrades, it’s no accident that we are here today. It is no accident, furthermore, that ours is the party that combats left-sectarianism, right-opportunism, and philistinism of all sorts. We shall continue to develop correct tactics adopted to the concrete situation.”
The crowd stood and shouted, “Hey huh! Hey huh!”
29 Perry Street
Combining espionage and rich cultural evenings.
—G. L.
In the late fall of 1954, three months after Solly and Dolly Rubell had been executed for espionage, some of the gang assembled for a musicale at 29 Perry Street.
It wasn’t easy to talk: walls had ears. They confined their conversation to certain topics and what might be inferred between the lines, and they played the radio loudly. Josh Moroze, the People’s Songbird, tuned his guitar in a corner.
Sophie Rich, Dolly’s best friend, said, “This happened in Florida a year before the arrest. It was a family vacation. Dolly’s father, Sammy, was getting senile. His wife Ruth would treat him like shit. He came out of the cabana with his penis hanging out of his
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