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Title: To Tramps
Author: Lucy E. Parsons
Date: 1884
Language: en
Topics: class struggle
Source: Retrieved on April 29, 2010 from http://courses.washington.edu/spcmu/speeches/lucyparsons.htm
Notes: “To Tramps,” Alarm, October 4, 1884. Also printed and distributed as a leaflet by the International Working People’s Association.

Lucy E. Parsons

To Tramps

To Tramps, The Unemployed, the Disinherited, and Miserable.

A word to the 35,000 now tramping the streets of this great city, with

hands in pockets, gazing listlessly about you at the evidence of wealth

and pleasure of which you own no part, not sufficient even to purchase

yourself a bit of food with which to appease the pangs of hunger now

knawing at your vitals. It is with you and the hundreds of thousands of

others similarly situated in this great land of plenty, that I wish to

have a word.

Have you not worked hard all your life, since you were old enough for

your labor to be of use in the production of wealth? Have you not toiled

long, hard and laboriously in producing wealth? And in all those years

of drudgery do you not know you have produced thousand upon thousands of

dollars’ worth of wealth, which you did not then, do not now, and unless

you ACT, never will, own any part in? Do you not know that when you were

harnessed to a machine and that machine harnessed to steam, and thus you

toiled your 10, 12 and 16 hours in the 24, that during this time in all

these years you received only enough of your labor product to furnish

yourself the bare, coarse necessaries of life, and that when you wished

to purchase anything for yourself and family it always had to be of the

cheapest quality? If you wanted to go anywhere you had to wait until

Sunday, so little did you receive for your unremitting toil that you

dare not stop for a moment, as it were? And do you not know that with

all your squeezing, pinching and economizing you never were enabled to

keep but a few days ahead of the wolves of want? And that at last when

the caprice of your employer saw fit to create an artificial famine by

limiting production, that the fires in the furnace were extinguished,

the iron horse to which you had been harnessed was stilled; the factory

door locked up, you turned upon the highway a tramp, with hunger in your

stomach and rags upon your back?

Yet your employer told you that it was overproduction which made him

close up. Who cared for the bitter tears and heart-pangs of your loving

wife and helpless children, when you bid them a loving “God bless you”

and turned upon the tramper’s road to seek employment elsewhere? I say,

who cared for those heartaches and pains? You were only a tramp now, to

be execrated and denounced as a “worthless tramp and a vagrant” by that

very class who had been engaged all those years in robbing you and

yours. Then can you not see that the “good boss” or the “bad boss” cuts

no figure whatever? that you are the common prey of both, and that their

mission is simply robbery? Can you not see that it is the INDUSTRIAL

SYSTEM and not the “boss” which must be changed?

Now, when all these bright summer and autumn days are going by and you

have no employment, and consequently can save up nothing, and when the

winter’s blast sweeps down from the north and all the earth is wrapped

in a shroud of ice, hearken not to the voice of the hyprocrite who will

tell you that it was ordained of God that “the poor ye have always”; or

to the arrogant robber who will say to you that you “drank up all your

wages last summer when you had work, and that is the reason why you have

nothing now, and the workhouse or the workyard is too good for you; that

you ought to be shot.” And shoot you they will if you present your

petitions in too emphatic a manner. So hearken not to them, but list!

Next winter when the cold blasts are creeping through the rents in your

seedy garments, when the frost is biting your feet through the holes in

your worn-out shoes, and when all wretchedness seems to have centered in

and upon you, when misery has marked you for her own and life has become

a burden and existence a mockery, when you have walked the streets by

day and slept upon hard boards by night, and at last determine by your

own hand to take your life, — for you would rather go out into utter

nothingness than to longer endure an existence which has become such a

burden — so, perchance, you determine to dash yourself into the cold

embrace of the lake rather than longer suffer thus. But halt, before you

commit this last tragic act in the drama of your simple existence. Stop!

Is there nothing you can do to insure those whom you are about to

orphan, against a like fate? The waves will only dash over you in

mockery of your rash act; but stroll you down the avenues of the rich

and look through the magnificent plate windows into their voluptuous

homes, and here you will discover the very identical robbers who have

despoiled you and yours. Then let your tragedy be enacted here! Awaken

them from their wanton sport at your expense! Send forth your petition

and let them read it by the red glare of destruction. Thus when you cast

“one long lingering look behind” you can be assured that you have spoken

to these robbers in the only language which they have ever been able to

understand, for they have never yet deigned to notice any petition from

their slaves that they were not compelled to read by the red glare

bursting from the cannon’s mouths, or that was not handed to them upon

the point of the sword. You need no organization when you make up your

mind to present this kind of petition. In fact, an organization would be

a detriment to you; but each of you hungry tramps who read these lines,

avail yourselves of those little methods of warfare which Science has

placed in the hands of the poor man, and you will become a power in this

or any other land.

Learn the use of explosives!

Dedicated to the tramps by Lucy E. Parsons.