I^r—* I Ll>—* I Hr—I Ur-* | Hr—I git—I 111—I IM—1 UCJ HU U» HU MT « HU mwj m. ■ »*—• — » ■ . . EDITORIALS . . ran iran ran n=ni iF>n n=n [fsi r=h r?=n rpn irfi 11=11 rFm^TUPn rpn fpn/fFn^’n/rmfr’fLfauaLraLrai rF^n FTua THE OMAHA GUIDE Published every Saturday nt 24618-20 Grant Street., Omaha, Nebraska Phone WEbster 1750 GAINES T. BRADFORD, - - Editor and Manager -I Entered as Second Glass Matter March 15, 1927, at the Post Of fice at Omaha, Neb., undertheActof Congress of March 3, 1879. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION $2.00 PER YEAR Race prejudice must go. The Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of Man must prevail. These are the only priciples which will stand the acid test of good citizenship in time of peace, war and death. Omaha, Nebraska. Saturday, November 2 ,1935 FOUR HOMES WAITING FOR THEIR BOYS (Continued from last week) “1 know you all up there are doing all you can for our boys. And I hope you keep right on doing it until they are free with us again. Though I don't know what they are corn ing back to.” CUT OFF FROM RELIEF Mrs. Williams lives in this rumbling old house with her sister and her children, and a lodger and her children. She was completely cut off the relief while she was sick, and stayed with Mother Patterson who took her in and eared for her. The children stayed with her sister. They wouldn’t give her anything until she went hack to her children .they told her. “Imagine that, letting on that 1 abandoned my children or something. .Just so they could put more money in their own pockets. I know they do. They just ran a man out of town for telling on them. They do all us people outol' our relief money and put it in their own pocket. They don’t even deny it very hard. Because the papers and reports they send on to the government tell what they spent all the money they got for the relief and nobody except us knows the difference. “I went to the relief lady and fought and finally, four weeks ago, she put me hack on after 1 came here. Yes, 1 gel $1.50 a week for me and all the children. That's all. She knows I don’t pay my sister any rent. So all I get is that $1.50 and I had to go fight for the last one, too. She didn’t send it out when it was supposed to come. PRISONERS RELIEF OF I. E. D. HELPS “If it wasn’t for the money you all send me every month we’il all be starved to death. We just about get enough to eat to keep alive on now. I was hoping to save enough money to get to see Eugene, but I couldn’t with the doctor and the medi cine 1 had to get, and feel that I was taking the food out of the mouths of my children when I did it.” Mrs. Williams has six children besides Eugene. The littlest is Christine. She has a tiny, heart-shaped face, and large, sail eyes like her mother’s. After her comes Dorothy and then three boys, Fred aud Junior and Robert, who is thirteen now. Just the size of Etigene when he left home ,und the same age. “lie looks so much like I remember Eugene, too,’’ Mrs. Williams said. Then there’s Ophelia, age 15. Ophelia is a big girl who never smiles She doesn't get a chance to smile. She’s working all the time. Especially now that her mother is sick. She has to cook and wash and try to keep the children clean .though that is an im possible task. All around the house is dust and filth. The chil dren run around half-naked and bare footed, in clouds of gray dust. There’s no place for them to sit except on the bare ground. They simply can’t keep clean. And sd Ophelia stands over the tub, aud scrubs awny ut the rags. “And I bet if she was a boy she’d be off just like he was,’’ said Mrs. A\ illiams. “That child is so unhappy. Like me when I was her age, work and work and nothing else, and hardly enough to eat, and no decent clothes. 1 don’t blame Eugene for going off. Maybe be would have found work further on— so he could grow up decent and help us all. “Maybe when lie’s free he’ll be able to take all of us away from this here—’’ The sweep of her hand embraced the blackened boards of the porch, the chairs that all missed a leg or a back or a seat, the road banked by mountains of junk and garbage, the totter ing old houses, and the ragged children. Maybe soon— “Ada, I’m gonna tell my mother you waa talking to a white lady all day loug.’’ This belligerent statement was made by a mean looking red-headed youngster to Mrs. Ada Wright, moth er of Roy and Andy, two of the Scottsboro boys in the kitchen of the “white-folks house’’ she works at. Among her many duties which include scrubbing the large house, washing, and doing all the cooking is the care of this boy and his little sister. They have a white nurse to look after them. But they don’t Jike her, and why should she work when she can get Mrs. Wright to fetch and carry for her, while she sits out on the shady porch erdering her around. The lady of the hou^e is away on business most of the day. In 1932, Mrs. Ada Wright Left the same job at the invita tion of the international Labor Defense and traveled through twenty-six countries of Europe. Wherever she went, if she was not put in jail or immediately deported by the police, she was greeted by huge crowds of workers, who cheered her iu more than a 'dozen different languages iuid pledged to help her win freedom for her two sous and all the other Scottsboro boys. * - - * ACCLAIMED BY CROWDS In Germany, she spoke to a mass gathering of 150,000 in the Lustgarten in Berlin. In Paris, she was acclaimed by tens of thousands. In the Soviet Union at the W'orld Congress of o the International Labor Defense, Mrs. Wright was a guest of honor. To millions she became a symbol of an oppressed, black skinned people—a mother whose children are threatened with murder and lynching so that a whole nation can be “kept in its place’’ for plunder and robbery. Back in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Mrs. Ada Wright is being pushed back “into her place.” She has to support herself and her baby Lucille, who is 13 years old. Her married daughters have troubles of their own. Mother Wright and Lucille move back and forth, staying with each of them part of the time. Beatrice, the oldest daughter .lives in the house the “boys’ livid in and grew up in. It’s just beyond the tracks. All day long and far into the night trains passing over those steel rails could beckon to the hoys carrying promises of work and plenty further on yonder, somewhere. Roy and Andy Wright and their friends Haywood Patter son and Eugene Williams must have been tempted by those shiny roads for years. At home—only proverty and hunger and no work no matter how hard you tried. So there was only hope left. And one fine morning the four hoys went off to gether on those tracks and got as far as Scottsboro, Alabama, and a lynch sentence to death. STARVATION WAGES Mrs. Wright thinks of her boys all the time while she goes about her work in the fine “white folks” house way out in a suburb called St. Elmo. Its wide clean streets are shaded by the sides of Lookout Mountain from the intense heat of the southern sun. She gets $5 a week for seven days work from seven in the morning to seven at night. It costs her a dollar a week in bus fare to get out there every1 day. That leaves $4 a week for her an