Saturday night, just as the Jubilee hop was beginning to get under way, I was ploughing my way through old drunks and quarrelsome sailors to 30 Stuart Street, the headquarters of the local Socialist Workers' Party (Trotskyist). Saturday marked the S. W. P. May Day celebration, and festivities were to include a talk by Comrade Weiss.

The meeting was held in a small room with slightly chipped green walls, a rostrum at one end, and twenty rows of chairs. Sitting around when I came in were a couple of old men, two old women, and a six-year-old girl who mugged everyone present. From out of the corner an impeccably dressed individual with horn-rimmed glasses and a bush of curly hair appeared to greet me.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said smoothly. "You might take a look at some of our pamphlets." He pointed to a shelf full of little games extolling the coming revolution with big black print and pictures of heroically posed workmen.

People began trailing in at around 8:15. One of the local wheels strode in, looked around, and asked, "Where are the masses?" Most of the listeners were in their middle thirties, well dressed, and decidedly unproletarian. The old men talked of poor health and committing suicide. "Well," said one wearily, "when the depression comes . . ." "Yeah," his neighbor replied, "It'll come."

Soon the Chairman arouse and intoned lugubriously, "Comrades and friends . . ." He went on to introduce Comrade Weiss from New York.

Comrade Weiss, a short and cocky man with thick lips, started his lecture on the topic "Is America headed toward War or Peace?" by pointing out that the Great Debate over MacArthur "is symptomatic of the crisis in the ruling class of America." He rattled out all the West's troubles--China, crime in high places, England's cabinet crisis, and strikes in Spain--to prove that capitalism is dying.

"This is the setting for the current MacArthur hearings. Big Business and the Big Business Democratic and Republican Parties realize this setting. It's hard for us to know what America is rich, powerful, it owns everything. America has spent BILLIONS to prop up the ruling class in Europe and tie them to her with golden chains as vassals."

But now, he went on, "Capitalist statesman, generals, and politicians are afraid. Cries of fear come from their hearts in means and groans. The facade of America's power has collapsed as mere Chinese peasants are winning in Korea."

"What has driven Truman on to war against the wishes of the people?" Weiss asked. "It is American Big Business, which needs expanding markets to get rid of its capital accumulation." He spent some time developing this theme, mouthing astronomical figures representing profits and liquid assets.

"All this money is in idle balances where it earns two and one half percent--peanuts. Compare this with the monopolistic juicy profits of imperialism. Capital is American foreign oil enterprises earns 25 percent." He explained that Big Business makes profits to plough back so as to make bigger profits to plough back again--"this is the lifeblood, the circulation of capitalism." "Now, there's no place to plough it back. Capitalism has lost much," he said, "and it MUST reach out for what it has lost, or die. Revolution is the obstacle."

The comrades received all this with a stolid expression of approval. Weiss turned next to Stalinist Russia.

"How about Stalin? We Trotskyists are no friends of Stalin. But Russia is not under the same compulsion to expand as America. Of course, a little territory here, a country sold at Yalta--Roosevelt says 'OK' and Churchill looks the other way--you take it. But Russia doesn't have to choose between expansion or death. It's not Stalinism that's starting war, but American imperialism."

The lecture came to an end on a happy note--increased membership in the New York local and $175 in contributions from one New York meeting. "We are a small group," he said, beaming, "but our time is coming."

Comrade Chairman arose and, grinning, muttered something about not comprehending all those big sums of money. This reporter soon found out that Comrade Chairman was saying this to start off a plea for contributions. A little straw basket was duly passed around; it came back brimming with one dollar bills. The basket passer retired during the question period to a small room, partitioned off by the pamphlet shelves, to count out the evening harvest. Contrary to tradition, the question period was not followed by a rendition of the "International."

Comrade Chairman then announced refreshments, and I made for the door. Before I could get out someone stopped me to strike up a pleasant conversation about ten Harvard students--"great big guys"--who appeared at the last meeting. Pleading studies, I climbed nervously down the stairs and headed for home.