We call
you the White Mice. You have pretty words and white lies, pretty ways
and false smiles. Lies! lies! lies! You are only giving back, with the
aid of your superficial fine ladies, the money stolen from the true
money earners. You have discovered the Ghetto--you and the impertinent
newspaper men. And like the reporters you come down to use us for
'copy.' You live here in comfort among us and then go away, write a book
about our wretchedness and pose as altruistic heroes in your own silly
set. How I loathe that word--altruism! As if the sacrifice of your
personality does not always lead to self-deception, to hypocrisy! It is
an excuse for the busybody-rich to advertise their charities. If they
were as many armed as Briareus or the octopus, their charity would be
known to each and every hand on their arms. These sentimental anarchs!
They even marry our girls and carry them off to coddle their conscience
with gilded gingerbread. Yet they would turn their backs on Christ if he
came to Hester Street--Christ, the first modern anarch, a
destructionist, a proletarian who preached fire and sword for the evil
rich of his times.
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