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GLUEMANIA
The uninformed think there
is nothing but writing done around a Writers' Project.
I object.
For nigh on to three years I
have been everything from gem clip picker -upper to forty -inch ehvelope
licker. I've licked so many envelopes that I can't eat dessert without
first decapitkting it to look for an enclosure. _
Not being a writer, I have the
official and misleading position of supply clerk.
This occupation includes supplying
an attentive and sympathetic ear to all the trials and tribulations that
befall the workers; which, in turn, gives an insight to their idiosyncrases.
The most consistent finder of
catastrophes is the draftsman. He draws maps and raises pigeons, flowers,
and Hell.
On pretty days, he gets discouraged
and wants to go back. Ihere I don't know. Just back.
On rainy days, he complains of the
chemical effect of dampness upon drawing paper and tracing cloth. I have
no knowledge of either, but he calls me over to the board to show me the
1/128 fraction of an inch difference in the circle on his map and the
number which before the rain was inside the circle. His other pet peeves
include the thickness of his tracing paper; an ink stopper that won't
stay in the bottle; hair on his penpoints; water on the bone which
causes pains in his propping elbow; and pigeons that refuse to lay
more than once a day.
While checking a tour, the tours editor
saw an Indian mound. He retraced his steps, went to the library and
read of the conditions that led to the eviction of the Indians, compared
those conditions with the present one, and now contends that the Indians
should be 4ilimmillawimismmini11101111111111111111011111111m charged with fraud.
The tours sidlit editor also raises chickens
and is distinguished by his fight against coccidiosis .chicken appendicitis).
Chickens develop this ailment by pecking in the dirt. The tours editor
prevents it by cooping his chickens atop his house. A roof without too
much slope is reccommended.
On the feminine side of our editorial staff
is one who edits copy but not her conversation. For instance:
She mentioned that she is writing a book; 1115.
41111111111111111111160=00.011111110.0111111fthad completed fourteen chapters. To
show the proper interest, I asked how many words per chapter. -3he answered
by reading to me the fourteen chapters and synopsizing the next six.
The typists include a blond, a red -head, and
a finicker.
The blond is very enthusiastic and explosive.
Everytime I an comfortably seated, she yells for gem clips, carbon, or
onion skin.
I deliver the supplies and she wants to knowqMOMMOINft my
opinion of her date of the night before and i finally escape after guessing
how much beer he can drink before he passes out. .51A ect4, JAA'Ati 4,4444.
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.24 ,te_ag..ti 64,10-4t,eA
bosses me; she bosses. I like red -heads, but she's obstinate.
The finicker is one of these prophylactic
kittens who wouldn't lick an envelope if her life depended upon it. After
I watch the writers until 1 learn how to write, I'm going to write an essay
on world affairs and show how the affairs would be better if everyone
attended to his own envelope licking.
1
The man who wrote "Three Fools" for
American Stuff sits nearby with a mosquito extinguisher pipit in his
mouth; a jumble of copy for the "Alabama Almanac"on one side of him;
and two or three essays on the other side. his desk are four contests
that he hopes to win and in his head are five or six stories that he ex:lects
to sell. But 5,7 can't, writing. He's either reading or hunting
notes, but regardless of what can be seen with the naked eye, copy keeps
turning up with his name across the top. All of which should add up to
this moral: "A horse doesn't have to be a 'Seabiscuit' to earn his bread
and salt."
The Assistant Director is a drinking man.
He walks in drinking, drinks all day, and walks out drinking. He drinks
so many pops that the janitor has installed a soft drink stand in the
office and is doing a thriving business on the nickels of the bosso secundo.
Between my desk at the front of the office
and the State Director's desk at the back in front of the windows is an
assortment of typewriter tables, chairs, wastebaskets, what-nots, and feet;
all disarranged in perfect order.
4
5,385.6 times a day the State Director calls
for me to look for various and sundry articles, but mostly her glasses,
a copy of Negro Life; Industry, Commerce, and Labor; her hat, coat, and
overshoes.
Because I enjoy doing things the hard way, I
close my eyes and swivel -hip through the obstructiohs like an All-American
only
until I slam up aaainst her desk withAthe sliahtest of abrasions. Before
learned, I broke bones.
The impact opens my eyes. I glance bewilderedly
over the mountain of copy or her desk; then blindly I point to where her
glasses AUST BB under Industry,Commerce and Labor which is under Negro
Life which is under a fossil paper weight weighing seven pounds, a flower
pot filled with some of the draftsman's flowers, and two dozen blue pencils
that need sharpening.
Adle clearing these from the desk, the upheaval
discloses it the hat, coat, and overshoes; a 1936 calendar; a pass to "The
Birth of a Nation"; and a copy of the first bulletin on the"American Guide"
The excavation over and the lost articles recovered,
I turn proudly and thread my way back to my seat, where I content myself with
licking surplus envelopes until I am called aPain to the aid of some distressed
worker.