I missed Carlos Cortez's memorial service. A blizzard intervened. I was all the way up in McHenry County. Instead, I did my duty as an elementary school head custodian and spent that Saturday digging out from the storm. I was out over 11 hours as the wind and the snow filled my work in behind me. Less than a week later, I was unemployed after 18 years on the job. My big mouth had offended a local big shot. Carlos would have laughed and asked me, "What did you expect, Fellow Worker"

Carlos and I went back almost 35 years. He was Editor of the Industrial Worker and I a hippy grunt recruit. I learned a lot from him. Over the years I worked for him, we both worked together in a "Staff Collective" and eventually I was the editor and he the long-running collumnist of "Left Side."

As a native Westerner, I also wore a big hat and sported a goatee. For a while we both worked together as janitors at a trade school. Everyone assumed we were father and son. They may not have been as wrong as biology may have indicated.

When Carlos and Marrianne's appartment was being renovated, they statyed in the fouth floor walk-up apartment I shared with Kathleen Taylor at "Wobbly Towers." Later, when I was homeless and in disgrace, I stayed for months with the two of them enjoying long conversations and learning to drink strong coffee from tiny cups. Carlos even drew an illustration for my wedding anouncement.

For me, Carlos was not a legendary figure, as he became for so many. He was my friend, my Fellow Worker, my drinking buddy. We could squabble over the content of the Industrial Worker without ever loosing that deep connection.

I saw him mentor generations of Wobblies, as he did the wide eyed Chicano kids who came to him. He gave his life to both--his revolution and his art.

His like will not be seen again. Farewell, Fellow Worker.

Patrick Murfin,
Crystal Lake, Illinois