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Excerpt from Mrs. Tubbs Does Her Bit: A Patriotic Comedy-Drama, in Three Acts And hes worth more to me than all the money hi the land, but I give him gladly to his country. In war time folks has got to make sacrifices. Rich and poor, high and low, we all got to do our bit. Ill work day and night, and God is good; Ill put my trust in Him, but my boy is going to fight for his country. Maybe Simon Rubbels aint as bad as hes painted, but there aint no angel wings a-sproutin out of his shoulders, and Ive noticed that his breath smells a heap more like brimstone than it does like angel cake. God bless every one of em, every boy who wears the khaki on land, or tossing on the waves of the ocean, or over there in the trenches fightin fer their country and their flag. God bless em and send em safe home. Ive made up my mind, and when Mollie Tubbs makes up her mind the hull United States army and navy to boot cant unmake it. Gimme that rifle! Im doing my bit fer humanity and my native land. If every black cloud had a cyclone in it, the world uda been blowed to toothpicks long ago. Its the little things in life that count, Scuffles. The little things. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work. This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work. As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
Rescued from the dumpster of a boarded-up house, the yellowing scraps of a young migrant’s schoolwork provided Benjamin Moore with the jumping-off point for this study of migration, memory, and identity. Centering on the compelling story of its eponymous subject, The Names of John Gergen examines the converging governmental and institutional forces that affected the lives of migrants in the industrial neighborhoods of South St. Louis in the early twentieth century. These migrants were Banat Swabians from Torontál County in southern Hungary—they were Catholic, agrarian, and ethnically German. Between 1900 and 1920, the St. Louis neighborhoods occupied by migrants were sites of efforts by civic authorities and social reformers to counter the perceived threat of foreignness by attempting to Americanize foreign-born residents. At the same time, these neighborhoods saw the strengthening of Banat Swabians’ ethnic identities. Historically, scholars and laypeople have understood migrants in terms of their aspirations and transformations, especially their transformations into Americans. The experiences of John Gergen and his kin, however, suggest that identity at the level of the individual was both more fragmented and more fluid than twentieth-century historians have recognized, subject to a variety of forces that often pulled migrants in multiple directions.