By SAM KUSHNER
People’s World
. SALT LAKE CITY Just
off skid row there is a long
narrow store where the mer
ory of Joe Hill lives day in and
day out. .

They just don’t talk about the
famed organizer of the Industrial
Workers of the World who gave
America some of its most endur-
ing working class ballads before
he was framed on a murder
charge and executed by the “‘cop-
per bosses” of Utah — As Earl
Robinson’s great song and Barry
Stavis’ richly documented “The

~Man Who Never Died” have af-
firmed

Yes, they do more than talk;
they lead Joe Hill’s kind of life.

It is hard to imagine any-
thing about 72 Post Office Place
that would not be to Joe’s liking,
except perhaps the formal type
name imprinted on the front
door—Joseph Hill House of Hos-
pitality and St. Joseph’s Refuge.

On Nov. 19, 1915 a firing squad
triggered the bullets that ended
Joe’s life. So the courts of this
sovereign state had decreed.

Forty-six years later, Nov. 19,
1961, Joe Hill House as it is be-
coming to be known near and far,
opened in this city to keep alive
Joe’s memory, but more import-
‘ant, to continue his life’s work.
_And a gigantic mural, covering
the kitchen half of the long store,
has a ceiling-to-floor depiction of
the death of one of America’s
great labor martyrs.

e

Mary Lathrop, co-founder of
Joe Hill House, painted the scene
of Joe’s last moment, when the
firing squad bullets brought death
to him while he sat strapped and
blindfolded in a chair. But the
central figure in the mural is
neither Joe Hill nor four paid
killers of the state of Utah. It is
the crucified Jesus Christ, look-
‘ing down upon another martyr in
the ages-old struggle for man’s
humanity.

Even if the impressive mural
were not there, one could not help
but knowing that this building
is Joe Hill’s home. Even if Am-
mon Hennacy, the director of Joe

Hill House and a legendary fig-
ure in his own right, did not
speak of the meaning of Joe’s
life, as he will do at the drop of
a hint, one cannot escape the Joe
Hill atmosphere in this large
room.

Nowhere else in these United
States is there anything like it—
a place where any itinerant
worker can come to the door and
be welcomed, fed and housed
with no questions and for as long
as is necessary. No names, no
references and no listening to
sermons are required.

e

This is how Joe Hill would have
liked it, in Ammon Hennacy’s
opinion — and that is how it’s
being done. The ways and life of
the migrant worker are not
strangers to Hennacy, who for
11 years worked the fields and
travelled with the crops.

Seventy years old and with the
energy and determination of a
healthy man at least 20 years
his junior, Hennacy says, ‘‘It will
take me the rest of my life to
build up Joe Hill House here in
Salt Lake City.”

The man who describes him-
self as a ‘‘Catholic Anarchist’ and
who in 1912 joined the ranks of
the Wobblies (IWW) was asked
by Catholics in this city, ‘Why
do you come here—why not some
other city that may need you
more?”

To them and all other inquirers,
Hennacy has a simple reply:
“This is the city where they kill-
ed Joe Hill.’’ As far as he is con-
cerned that covers the entire is-
sue, and he has no intention of
being deterred from his project
in this Mormon-dominated city,
where neither Catholics nor radi-
cals would win with popularity
contests.

There is nothing pretentious
about Joe Hill House: It is home
to 60 men every night, in the
roughest sense. All of them, in-
cluding Hennacy, stretch out on
the floor for the night. And three
times daily the best available
meal is served—360 servings on
the average day, since many with
other lodgings come in for food.

This is a section of the mural at Joe Hill House in Salt Lake
City, depicting the execution by a firing squad of the

famed U.S. labor martyr.

Throughout the western states
itinerant workers know that if
you are near Salt Lake City and
in need of a meal and place to
stay, and short of cash, Joe Hill
House is the place to head for.
You will always find genial, un-
derstanding and modest Ammon
Hennacy at the door to welcome
you.
~ Keeping up Joe Hill House is
hard work, but not expensive if
you run it the way Ammon Hen-
nacy does. The only costly out-
lay is $50 a month for rent. And
donations of a dollar bill from a
friend in England, or $20 from a
woman who has a son in jail, or
an occasional five spot from a
well-wisher in far off Switzerland
are all welcomed.

Even Hollywood personalities
contribute on rare occasions. One
such donation of $100 came in a
while ago, Hennacy said. Then he

quickly added, ‘‘Rich people are
the hardest people to separate
from their money.”

Catholics, Mormans and Metho-
dists all contribute quantities of
food which help feed the tempor-
ary residents of Joe Hill House.
And Hennacy, in his disarming
but persistent manner keeps the
food coming in.

On the day this writer visit-
ed Joe Hill House a small card-
board sign in the window an-
nounced that Hennacy would
speak about the John Birch So-
ciety that evening.

No. 72 Post Office Place is
more than a refuge for the home-
less and hungry. It is more than
a memorial to the memory of a
martyr of America’s working
class. It is also a way station
for those who seek light on the
happenings of today.

On the wall, one finds Art

ouse where Joe Hill ‘never

,

died’

famous poster with a
of Jesus Christ which
declares that he is ‘‘wanted for
sedition, criminal anarchy, vag-
rancy and conspiring to over-
throw the established govern-
ment.”

Last year there was a picket
line at Dugway Missile Base,,
west of this city. Annon Hen-
nacy distributed a leaflet to the
people declaring: ‘‘Thou Shalt
Not Kill—Capital Punishment is
Murder—Dugway Missile Base is
Preparing for Murder—Civil De-
fense is No Defense—Peace is the'
Only Defense.’

Young’s
drawing

When three young men were
sentenced to be executed by the
state of Utah, Hennacy and the
men of Joe Hill House picketed,
fasted and passed out leaflets
in protest. And because such a
large portion of the federal bud-
get goes for war expenditures
the director of Joe Hill House has
refused to pay taxes since 1943.

e

Like everything else he does,
Hennacy does it in the full sight
of the public. Last year he pick-
eted the office of the Internal
Revenue Department for 16 days
defying them to collect taxes and
protesting war expenditures.

These activities do not leave
Hennacy with insufficient time
to visit with college students who
drop in (at the request of their
college professors), or newspaper-
men or people merely passing
through the town. And on the.
radio, at campus forums, and
even on TV Hennacy is hearc
often.

Joe Hill would have liked the
goings on inside the Joe Hill
center, where itinerant workers
are treated with the dignity and
warmth with which he wrote and
sang of them. But even more
would he have liked what comes
out of Joe Hill House. Like Joe
Hill, Ammon Hennacy goes on to
organize.

As that great working class
song says, ‘Joe Hill never died.”’
And if you want concrete proof
of it drop in at 72 Post Office
Place in Salt Lake City.

Chinese prisons stress

By BERT WHYTE
PT Staff Correspondent
© normal person is ever
happy .in prison and I
am quite sure the 1,800 male
and female inmates of Peking
Prison all look forward to the
day when they walk out the
gates as free citizens.
But as prisons go, this one
is notable for several features
‘which Canadian penologists
shoulq find interesting. Al-
though there are four corner
towers with armed guards
along the outer wall, inside
the prison itself few guards
are in evidence and the place
looks similiar to many factor-
ies with dormitories attached,
such as OMe sees everywhere
in China. :
Prisoners

sleep eight in a

room and there are no bars on.

the windows. The doors are of

ordinary wood. Yet in the
past year only one prisoner

has made an escape attempt—
he managed to get out of his
building and over the wall,
but was picked up within a
few hours.

I visited Peking Prison —
the only large one in this
city of four million people —
one afternoon in February
this year. Two armed guards

tered the main gate with my
interpreter and a prison offic-
ial who had come out to greet
us.

We went. to a _ reception
room and over cups of hot
tea, Hsin Chung Ho, secretary
of the general office of the
prison, gave a short briefing,
then answered my questions.
REFORM STRESSED

Peking Prison was built
about 50 years ago, during
the period of warlords. After
Liberation in 1949 it was
completely reconstructed —
small cells were joined to
make large rooms, iron bars
were torn off windows and
the windows were enlarged.

Workshops were built so
that all prisoners could learn
trades and engage in creative
labor. “Our policy is not
merely to punish criminals,
but to reform them through:
productive labor,” said Hsin.

The prison is the equival-
ent of a Canadian penitenti-
ary; usually only those serv-
ing more than two years are
sent here, while short-termers
go to an institution in the
countryside which, I gathered,
is something in the nature of
a “labor farm.”

About 40 percent of the

prisoners are doing time for

occasionally an

counter-revolutionary activi-
ties. Many of these sentences
date back several years; Kuo-
mintang agents and spies who
received long terms.
Ordinary criminals include
thieves, blackmailers, people

who have been found guilty

of drunkeness or negligence
in fatal traffic accidents, and
a few rapists and murderers.
All are given a chance to re-
mould themselves and emerge
as new men and useful citi-
zens.

There are 110 women pris-
oners, the majority sentenced
for theft. (When I asked about
prostitution I was told it is no
longer a problem in China;
individual
prostitute is arrested, but as
such she is sent to the laber
farm).

PRISONER’S DAY

What is a prisoner’s day
like? Reveille is at six o-
clock; he goes to the dining
room for a simple breakfast,
probably corn bread, starts
work at 7 a.m. and knocks off
for lunch at 11:30; lunch
might consist of rice, flour
dumplings with vegetables,

steamed bread; back to work >

from 12:30 noon to 4:30 p.m.;
one-hour rest period before
supper and another free hour

afterward; study period from
7-9 p.m.; lights out at 9:30
p.m.

Every Friday is a holiday,
although on that day prison-
ers have to clean their rooms
and dormitories. On Thursday

night there is a film or stage

play.

“Tet’s walk around and you
see the place,’ suggested
Hsin. So we started out.

On’ the way to the men’s
quarters we crossed the bas-

ee Se

LON Naeem 8

| PROMISE
TO RESIGN

ketball court and passed the
open-air theatre. I noticed a
wallboard with pictures of
several dozen prisoners and
brief notes about them. Sure
enough, it was the usual fac-
tory system of praising ‘“‘mod-
el workers.”

I asked if the men were
known by names or numbers.
“No numbers,” smiled Hsin.
“And as you can see, no spec-

“And we hope, above all, that your memory will not foil you!”
Mussil in the Frankfurter Rundschau (West Germany

May 10, 1963—PACIFIC TRIBUNE—Page 8