Bound for Glory

--More from Woody. Chapter XII, "Trouble Busting:"

(Leading up to this excerpt, Woody was having people of all kinds come to see him at his shack, because he had the recent reputation of giving good advice, or rather fortune-telling. Many called him a prophet and paid him up to one whole dollar for a visit; but Woody just saw it as talking, and he told them he never claimed to be no prophet or nothin' fancy.
I think it's such a ridiculous and humorous situation, but strangely profound.)

One day a whole crowd of ten or twenty oil field workers and farmers came to see him. As he said, "All kinds of cars were parked around my little old shack. People lost. People sick. People wondering. People hungry. People wanting work. People trying to get together and do something."
Anyway, the leader of the group asks Woody:

' What do you think about this feller, Hitler and Mussolini? Are they out to kill off all of the Jews an' [n-word]? '
I told them, 'Hitler an' Mussolini is out to make a chaingang slave outta you, outta me, an' outta ever'body else! An' kill ever'body that gits in their road! Try ta make us hate each other on accounta what Goddam color our skin is! Bible says ta love yer neighbor! Don't say any certain color! '

[...the men respond] ' This old world's in a bad condition! Comin' to a mighty bad end!'

'Mebbe th' old one is, ' I yelled at the whole bunch, ' but a new one's in th' mail! '

[...] ' Men! Hey! Listen! I know we all see this same thing--like news reels in our mind. Alla th' work that needs ta be done--better highways, better buildin's, better houses. Ever'thing needs ta be fixed up better! But, Goddamit, I ain't no master mind! All I know is we gotta git together an' stick together! This country won't ever git much better as long as it's dog eat dog, ever' man fer his own self, an' ta hell with th' rest of th' world. We gotta all git together, dam it all, an' make somebody give us a job somewhere doin' something'!' "

But the whole crowd walked off down toward Main Street, laughing and talking and throwing their hands. I leaned back up against the side of the shack and watched the gravel and dust cutting down the last of the hollyhocks.

'News reels in my head,' I was looking and thinking to myself. [...] 'News reels in my head. By God, mebbe we all gotta learn how ta see them there news reels in our heads. Mebbe so.'