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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"

On the way I observed that the invitation of the "Times" had
been accepted; the Brigade had taken possession of the town. It was
just about possible to walk on the down-town streets; there were
solid masses of noisy, pushing people, every other man in uniform.
Evidently there had been a tagit agreement to repeal the Eighteenth
amendment to the Constitution for the next three days; bootleggers
had drawn up their trucks and automobiles along the curbs, and
corn-whiskey, otherwise known as "white lightnin'," was freely sold.
You would meet a man with a bottle in his hand, and the effects of
other bottles in his face, who would embrace you and offer you a
drink; in the same block you would meet another man who would invite
you to buy drinks for everybody in sight. The town had apparently
agreed that no invitation should be declined. If the great Republic
of Mobland had been unable to make for its returned war-heroes the
new world which it had promised them--if it could not even give them
back the jobs they had had before they left--surely the least it
could do was to get them drunk!
And several times in each block you would have to get off the
sidewalk for a group of ten or twenty flushed, dishevelled men,
playing the great national game of craps.


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