While H.A. was leaving the party of his family – the Republicans and embracing the Democratic Party, I was working with the party of my father and my namesake – the Socialist Party. I never mentioned my political activities to my Aunt or the Wallaces. I didn’t think they would approve and I didn’t want to do anything that would affect the comfortable life in which I found myself.
After my namesake Eugene V. Debs died in 1926, Norman Thomas became the standard bearer of the Party. Although I could not vote – too young – I was very interested in the 1932 election. I was fortunate to hear Mr. Thomas speak in Iowa promoting his campaign for president. I was even more fortunate to meet A. Philip Randolph, union organizer and civil rights leader also stumping for the Thomas campaign. I read many of Randolph’s articles in back issues of the Messenger, a radical monthly newsletter that advocated against the chains of segregation and for the freedom of democratic socialism. When possible I would attend Socialist Party rallies and meetings, and when I got my car I had many more opportunities. My candidate, Norman Thomas lost the election, but Mr. Wallace’s candidate, F.D.R., won.
But wait, I have been very rude. I have to take some time and thank my Great Aunt for taking care of me when no one else would. She left Texas at a young age to get away from the “hard south” as she called it. She is a strong, intelligent women who following the death of her husband, worked tirelessly to raised her family, and then found me at her door and raised me too. She earned enough money to send her two daughters to school to become a teacher and a nurse. Strong, proud, resourceful women, and they douted on me. They helped me catch up on my missed school years. Their careful attention, along with our extended family, also prevented me from missing school and getting into mischief. I knew my Aunt would find out immediately and I did not want to disappoint her. Our community was very tight-knit in Des Moines and very proud. Education and hard work were stressed to better both the individual and the community.
Now, I’m not using the names of my living relatives and friends because I don’t trust J. Edgar Hoover. I might be paranoid, but the F.B.I. has spies and informants everywhere. If you are reading this Mr. Hoover please be advised that you are the antithesis of everything that makes America great. You hate anyone who varies from your narrow vision of what makes an American. You are [this section was not transcribed due to the use of crude and obscene language -A.S.].
Unfortunately, Mr. Hoover has the power to turn his hate into action. Just ask the passengers of the Buford, like Emma Goldman, Ethel Bernstein, Peter Bianki, Dora Lipkin, Alexander Berkman and over 200 others, who were exiled to Russia. With unequal justice under his law, anyone who does not fit Mr. Hoover’s narrow definition of an American are harassed, imprisoned, and exiled. Just in case the FBI, steals these cylinders, or the transcripts that might be made one day, and wants to harass my friends and relatives – who did not already have a high public profile, I’m not going to help them by giving out names.
If H.A. ever becomes president, I’m going to lobby him to fire Mr. J. Edgar Hoover. That’s a promise.
Okay back to Spain, or at least how I got there in the first place.
When H.A. went to Washington to become the Secretary of Agriculture, he convinced Congress to give him extra-ordinary powers to control the production and price of agricultural products. Meanwhile, I was helping farmers in Iowa by assisting with rallies and other protests. My favorite actions were the penny auctions. At farm foreclosure auctions, the farmers and their allies would attend in mass. Possible bidders would be escorted from the property. Without bidders the intimidated auctioneer would sell the property back to the farmer for a penny. Sadly, the populist farm organizers frequently did not want to associate with people of my skin tone; however, the communist organizers eagerly accepted my help. Soon I was helping to organize farmers and driving them in borrowed trucks to the auctions and other events. The power of an organized citizenry amazed me and scared me a little too – I saw that with different leadership the mob’s anger might easily be turned against me.
The penny auctions were successful. Iowa issued a moratorium on foreclosures. However, the moratorium was challenged in court by the financial interest who held the mortgages. In protest, a group of farmers in La Mars, Iowa kidnapped, abused, and nearly lynched Judge Charles E. Bradley who was hearing the case. Governor Clyde Herring declared martial law and dispatched troops to put down the “Corn Belt Rebellion.” The authorities raided the Communist Party headquarters in Sioux City and arrest over eighty farmers and organizers. Following this “Rebellion,” Wallace and F.D.R. had no problem getting their ground-breaking agricultural legislation through Congress.
Soon half of the nation’s farmers, three million, signed on to the various federal programs to limit production in order raise prices on produce. In one program Wallace called for the slaughter of six million baby pigs, which would naturally reduce hog production. The resulting one hundred million pounds of pork and pork by-products (lard and soap) were given to the poor. H.A. said, “Not many people realized how radical it was, - this idea of having the Government buy from those who had too much, in order to give to those who had too little. So direct a method of resolving the paradox of want in the midst of plenty doubtless could never have got beyond the discussion stage before 1933.” Through these and other agricultural programs hunger was abated and the income of farmers rose by over thirty percent in the New Deal's first year.
The poor showing of Norman Thomas in the election soured me to electoral politics, but through the penny auctions I learned first hand the power of direct action. I picked up information and books by Mikhail Bakunin [Russian Anarchist 1814-1876 - A.S.], Peter Kropotin [another Russian Anarchist 1842-1921 - A.S.] and Emma Goldman [yet another Russian Anarchist - this one lived in the United States and was appropriately deported - A.S.]. I became fascinated with the ideals of anarchism [Subject goes on diatribe of how all power structures and authority - from laws to traditions - must be questioned - A.S.].
Okay, okay, back to Spain.
Through the communist organizers, who thought my anarchist interests were naïve and unscientific, I learned about the opportunity to go to Spain and fight against the fascists, who were trying to overthrow the democratically elected government. Sadly, the democratic nations of the world would not come to the aid of the Spanish Republic and established a “non-intervention.” Fortunately, anti-fascists from around the world organized and joined the struggling democracy’s fight against fascism. It was an amazing effort. 32,000 volunteers, from 53 nations, formed The International Brigades in Spain [The International Brigades were under the control the Soviet Union’s Comintern - A.S.]
I was well aware of the fascists, Benito Mussolini in Italy and Adolf Hitler in German, and their murderous rampages against Anarchists, Socialists and Communists in their countries. Regrettably, many in the United States supported the fascist regimes thinking it was a quick way to restore order and prosperity, in addition to solving the problem of “undesirables.” In addition to the lure of Spain itself, the ability to fight the spread of fascism made my participation inevitable. Best of all, the Communist Party would arrange and pay for transportation there and back. The first volunteers left for Spain right after Christmas in 1936. I wanted to go with them, but my Aunt begged me not to go. Negotiations with my Aunt continued through the Winter, Spring, and Summer of 1937. Eventually, we compromised. She said I could go to Spain if I did so legally. The U.S. had initiated passport restrictions for volunteers going to fight, so most Americans had to go to France and secretly cross over the Pyrenees to get to Spain. Fortunately, it was still legal to go to Spain to provide humanitarian and medical assistance. Without my knowledge my Great Aunt had her daughter make contacts with colleagues who had connections with the American Medical Bureau in Spain. With a new passport and a job with the American Medical Bureau I left for Spain in October 1937. I arrived in Spain in mid-November and served until the following April. [A deep sigh is audible followed by a long silence before the Dictaphone is turned off –A.S.]
[Dictaphone turned back on - A.S.] I was fortunate and did make it back. About a third of the nearly 3,000 American volunteers were killed in Spain and many of the survivors were wounded. I made it back physically intact.
I did not want to leave Spain. We were told to leave Spain. We had to come back to the States, even though the war was not won. We had to leave because the Spanish Prime Minister, Juan Negrin, in a deal with the League of Nations, ordered all of the International Brigades out of Spain in exchange that the foreign fascists would also leave. We left, but naturally the dishonorable fascist Germans and Italians stayed.
When I did get back, I had a hard time making the transition to civilian life. I initially stayed with my grandmother in New York, my grandfather died when I was in Spain. I couldn’t find steady work. The nation slid back into a recession when the conservatives convinced F.D.R. to pull back on his spending on federal programs. I don’t know if my employment problems were the result of the recession, my activities in Spain, or because I left my self-confidence and youthful exuberance in Spain as well. In addition, I gave my tools to the Republic as a parting gift.
I also left behind most of my Communist friends because of the Communist repression of the other leftists in Spain. In 1937 the Communists attacked the anarchists and members of POUM [Worker’s Party of Marxist Unification – Trotskyites - A.S.] in Barcelona and around the Republic. I heard rumors but I was too busy at the front – and you heard lots of rumors at the front. Back in New York, I could not bear to hear my former communist allies tell me that it was necessary to unify the opposition to Franco – “one revolution at a time.” I knew this was the Party line from Moscow and it was dead wrong. Emma Goldman when she escaped from the Soviet Union wrote about how Lenin and Trotsky betrayed the revolution and attacked the anarchists and other leftists who did not turn their minds and bodies completely over to the Bolsheviks. Stalin was just continuing this brutal tradition.
I attempted to find support in the bohemian and leftist communities that supported Emma Goldman and countless other radicals in New York, but none provided the solace I needed. Unable to find satisfaction in New York, I decided to move to Philadelphia to try to rediscover my parents. This too was futile. Naturally, nothing was familiar and I had no family or friends there. I missed Spain.
My depression hit bottom on April 1, 1939 when the last defenders of the Republic surrendered.
Again my Great Aunt came to my rescue. Still in Des Moines, and still in contact with the Wallaces, my Great Aunt asked Mr. Wallace, now Secretary Wallace, to get a job for me. Fortunately, Mr. Wallace agreed.
At first I was a driver and messenger and did odd jobs at the Department of Agriculture. Since I always enjoyed playing with mechanical things, I quickly learned how to repair typewriters. This made me very popular among the secretaries and my social life improved tremendously, as did my self-confidence and mood. However, unlike in Spain, the fairer skinned of the fairer sex, would only meet me surreptitiously. Discussions to bring these relationships into the open light of day would immediately be met with shocked expressions of “What would people say” and “I have to think of my reputation.”
When Mr. Wallace, now H.A., became the Vice President, H.A. promoted me to become his scheduler and personal aide. My key responsibilities are making sure that meetings are with people actually working to get things done (no frivolous socializers or self-promoters are allowed to get through the doorway), making sure that H.A. keeps to his calendar and his visitors don’t overstay their allotted time, and that all the materials, briefing notes, reports, presentation aides, etc., needed for the meetings are prepared and distributed. This is a very important position and has let me become an active participant in the New Deal – happy days did indeed return.
An Anarchist working for the Vice President of the United States – I don’t think Emma Goldman would be very proud of me; however, the work is meaningful and I really enjoy the company.
Yes, I skipped over Spain. I guess I’m still not ready to talk about it.
© 2011 Ron Millar
