Hellraisers Journal: Emma F. Langdon Reports on Cripple Creek Strike: Force of Victor Daily Record Kidnapped by Military

Quote Emma F Langdon, Miners Are My Brothers, EFL p244, 1904 —————

Hellraisers Journal – Sunday October 11, 1903
Cripple Creek District, Colorado – Victor Daily Record Kidnapped

Report of Emma F. Langdon of Victor, Colorado:

The Victor Daily Record Kidnapped.

Tuesday night Sept. 29, at 11:05, the busiest hour on a morning paper, the Victor Daily Record, which had espoused the cause of the striking miners, was raided by the militia, and the entire force at work was “captured.” The linotypes were humming, ‘‘catching the elevator” on every line, the foreman was fuming and “rushing,” proofs, for “first side down” and first “forms” must go to “press” at 11:30. Suddenly the door of the composing room flew open and in stalked Tom McClelland with the air of a “conquering hero,” followed by a file of yaping yokels dressed in the garb of soldiers and armed to the teeth. “Halt!” yelled the fierce Tom. “Ground arms!” “Fix bayonets!” “guard the entrances!”

“What the h——!” says the foreman, “having a fit?”

The operators merely shifted quids, “brought down” a period and ‘‘sent in” the line.

“Private——— step forward!” roared “Thomas of the shining tin,” “identify the force!’’ A long, lank specimen of the genius homo, red headed, with a scraggly, three week’s growth of red fuzz that might have developed into red whiskers, had the soil from which they sprouted been fertile, shuffled from the ranks and in a hang-dog manner pointed his grimy finger at the foreman and the two linotype operators. This aforesaid specimen had been in the office the night before and had claimed to be a printer; and from his conversation he might have been at some time a janitor in a “print shop” or roller washer in a press room—but printer—oh, no. He was informed in plain, understandable English that if he had business to make it known, if not, conversation was a waste of time. He left and the “force’’ all said, “we’re spotted for the ‘bull pen’ sure.”

“You’re all prisoners of war!” bellowed Thomas, but the “mills” kept “turning over.” ‘Get up!” hissed the major of majestic mein.

“Who the —— are you?” calmly gurgled one of the operators.

“I’m Major Thomas E. McClelland, of the Colorado National guard!”

“Oh, my! does it hurt so very much?” In pitying accents from the operator, my husband [Charles G. Langdon].

“Sergeant seize that man!” gasped Thomas of the guard.

The “sergeant” pushed a wicked looking bayonet towards the operator’s neck and he had to “send in” a “short line.”

Mr. Kyner, the managing editor, then stepped into the composing room and asked what was wanted. McClelland stated that he had arrested the “force” and wanted him, too. ‘‘All right,’ said Mr. Kyner, “I guess you have me.”

“Me too.” said Mr. Sweet, the circulator.

That’s all,” said the “genius homo.”

“Well, it’s a clean sweep,” said Mr. Kyner, “May I telephone my wife?”

“You’ll have to hurry,” quoth pompous Mac.

“Who’ll get out the paper?” asked Richmond, the foreman.

“McClelland laughed and said, ‘“‘We’ll send printers down from the camp and get it out for you.”

“Oh no you won’t,” said Richmond, “It takes printers, and printers don’t bunch in your corral.”

With that the Record force was marched to the “bull pen” under an “honorary” guard of two companies of infantry, two troops of cavalry and, perhaps, the gatling gun, (late of Wyoming.)

At that time I was at home in bed and Mrs. Kyner came to my home and rapped at the door. I opened the door and she asked me if I had heard the latest. I replied that I evidently had not, and she informed me of the arrest of the Record force, and asked, “What shall we do?”

“Do!” said I, “get out the paper of course.” “Just the thing,” said plucky Mrs. Kyner. “I’ll notify Mr. Miller,” and away she flew in the darkness. We realized instantly that a strong effort had been made to suppress the liberty of the press, and determined forthwith that the entire military force of Colorado should not keep the Record from making its appearance as usual.

I believe I broke all records in dressing, for in less than two minutes I was running through the dark alleys on my way to the Record office, five blocks away. On the way I kept a close lookout for soldiers. I did not know how I would get into the office. My one thought was that I would get in in spite of all their efforts. Under the belief that the pressman had been arrested with the others, I planned to take “‘stone proofs” of the ‘‘forms” and save the issue in that way. I also bethought me of the Teller County Banner office, and had the emergency demanded, would have broken in there, printed a Record on the “Job’”’ press and so saved the issue.

I was much relieved when I reached the office and found that I had arrived there before the militia had completed arrangements for guarding the plant, and with the aid of Mr. Miller and Mr. Conrad, the pressman, who had been summoned, was quickly inside.

We locked, boited and barred the doors. This was not accomplished an instant too soon, for in another minute we had the satisfaction of seeing soldier faces peering through the window panes. In vain they pounded on the doors, demanding entrance “in the name of the governor of the state of Colorado.” They were informed that the “governor of Colorado” was not running the Record, but in the absence of Mr. Kyner, Mr. Miller was, and that they would not get into the office unless they broke in, which they did not attempt to do.

This well repaid me for my flight through the streets attired in a thin dressing gown and unlaced shoes, with no wrap of any kind. It was bitter cold here, too, at that hour of the night.

I quickly “manned” one of the linotype machines and set type to the last moment, (I had set three “galleys” in the afternoon and my husband and brother-in-law had “gotten up” all the “grape vine” before the raid.) Mr. Miller made up the forms-and the pressman did the rest. At 3 o’clock a. m. a fairly good issue of the Record lay before us, and above all ON TIME. Across the top in big, black letters appeared the very forceful legend:

“SOMEWHAT DISFIGURED, BUT STILL IN THE RING!”

I then went to my home and prepared a lunch for Mr. Miller and Mr. Conrad, which I took to the office for them. I then took a paper fresh from the press and went to Mrs. Kyner’s home and everything being still and dark, I pushed a copy under the door, so that when she awoke she would know that the Record had been issued. I then returned to the office and found that the carriers, finding the doors locked, had left. I immediately hurried out and ran down the alley, finding two of them several blocks away. I told them to tie their horses some distance from the office, get the other boys and quietly slip in, as the paper was ready for delivery. I returned to the office and reported to Mr. Miller that I had secured the carriers.

Now that everything was safe, as far as the paper was concerned, I went to my sister’s (Mrs. F. W. Langdon) home and awoke her and told her the news. By this time dawn began to break and I bethought me of my appearance, bareheaded, hair down, in loose dressing sacque and unlaced shoes.

I hurried home, dressed myself in street attire and returned to the office.

Through it all my one thought was how glad Mr. Kyner and the imprisoned force would be to see the Record at 6 o’clock, and I determined to get through the guard line and deliver it to them myself.

I took the papers and stuffed them into my waist, my sleeves, under my belt and in the lining of my jacket, and started for Camp Goldfield, where the force, including my husband, was imprisoned. I arrived at the guard line just as the Gold Coin whistle blew 6 o’clock.

I heard, while standing at the guard line, one officer say to another:

“There’s one good thing that d— Record will not come out this morning.”

“Why?” the other officer asked in surprise.

“We have the whole —— —— force in the ‘bull pen,’ and we are going to keep them there, too,’’ was the reply.

These tinsel heroes evidently had no respect in their choice of language in the presence of a woman. I could not stand this talk any longer, and spoke up and said that I guessed that he had not seen the morning paper.

“Oh, yes,” said he we have the Morning Times.”

“I mean the Record,” I said.

“I guess you are not aware that the Record force is all in the bull pen,” he answered.

I said that I was very well aware of that fact, “and allow me,” said I, “to present you the Morning Record for yourself and men.”

The officer took the paper, and, looking it over, finally broke out with another volley of oaths, beginning with “who the h”—— but before he had time to finish the sentence I answered:

“I did, and I expect I shall be your next victim.”

I had just overcome the red tape formalities of getting through the lines when I received a message from my husband that they were all “O. K.” and that I should “waste no time trying to see them, but to get back to that office and get the Record out in spite of everything.”

I knew that they were depending on me, so I hurried back-and started composition on another issue. I worked continuously until 11 o’clock that night, when the “regular” force came into the office, having been released and again ready for business.

[Emphasis added.]

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