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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"

He wished to visit the strikers who
had been arrested in front of Prince's restaurant. He and several
others stood before the heavy barred doors asking for admission,
while a big crowd gathered and stared. I sat watching the scene,
with phrases learned in earliest childhood floating through my mind:
"I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto
me."
But it appeared that Sunday was not visitors' day at the jail, and
the little company was turned away. As they climbed back into the
wagon, I saw two husky fellows come from the jail, a type one learns
to know as plain clothes men. "Why won't they let him in?" cried
some one in the crowd; and one of the detectives looked over his
shoulder, with a sneering laugh: "We'll let him in before long,
don't you worry!"
The wagon took up its slow march again. It was a one-horse
express-cart, belonging, as I afterwards learned, to a compatriot of
Korwsky the tailor. This man, Simon Karlin, earned a meager living
for himself and his family by miscellaneous delivery in his
neighborhood; but now he was so fascinated with Carpenter that he
had dropped everything in order to carry the prophet about.


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