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Hellraisers Journal – Monday September 12, 1904
Traveling West Virginia with Mother Jones during the Great Coal Strike of 1897
From the Boston Sunday Herald of September 11, 1904:
In the Sunday Magazine Section of the Boston Herald, a reporter recalls traveling with Mother Jones into the hills of West Virginia during the “first great anthracite strike” [most likely the Bituminous Coal Strike of 1897]. The reporter describes how Mother beguiled a young mine owner into allowing her to speak to his employees “near the pit mouth on his own property.” As gleaned from the memory of the reporter, the result of the speech given by Mother Jones to those miners and their families was dramatic.
…..In West Virginia, during the first great anthracite strike , the United Mine Workers of America had placed some of its organizers. Among these was “Mother” Jones, the only woman organizer employed by the trades unions. On the way she had traveled through the mountain roads by night and day, toiling in the passes, tramping the railroad tracks, riding in farm wagons, or push carts, or in whatever way seemed easiest to get from camp to camp to preach the doctrine that working men must unite, the slogan of the trades unions.
She had a good measure of success, and the fame of her power as a trouble maker had spread among the mine owners. She was detested and feared by half the state, wondered about and gaped over by the other half. She was sleeping under any sort of shelter, eating the coarsest of food, stripping herself of clothing to give away right and left. Though she was earning a fair salary, she could not use it to make life easier for herself in this environment.
Reaching a town one morning which was practically dominated by the influence of a rich young mine owner, she applied for permission to the authorities to hold a mass meeting. She was refused the permit unless she could gain the consent of the mine owner himself, who held a position of local political authority. Two reporters, who had been sent out to watch the progress of events in this part of the state, believed that no speechmaking would occur in this town. “Mother” Jones thought differently. She sought the mine owner in his home. She told him that she had come to make a request which she saw in his face he would grant. He smiled and asked who she was and what she desired. With the benignity of the most gentle kindliness and simple dignity the old lady replied demurely that she was “Mother” Jones, and wished to have a talk with his employees.
“You, ‘Mother’ Jones,” said the rich man, astonished; “you are surely not in earnest?”
“Yes, I am ‘Mother’ Jones, the wicked old woman,” replied the supplicant with her steadfastly radiant expression and her almost subtle smile; so quiet, so gentle, so intelligent it made the words she uttered so whimsically of herself, a patent libel and insult upon her character. It was an irony that disturbed the judgment of the rich young man.
The mine owner studied the fact, the attitude, the folded hands of the woman before him, and then inquired what she would like him to do. “Mother” Jones said she would like him to send word through his mines that she was there, and grant her permission to talk on Sunday in an open space near the pit mouth on his own property. Though it seems incredible, the young mine owner consented. The inscrutable smile had been too much for his resistance.
The word was accordingly sent out through the mines that “Mother” Jones was to speak by permission of the operator. The foreman and bosses could scarcely believe their ears, and the ignorant miners, the foreign element that could scarcely speak English, did not believe. They feared it was some trap to compass their economic ruin, or more simply, to cost them their jobs. On Sunday morning only a few persons gathered at the meeting place designated, and “Mother” Jones seated on a rock, watched and waited.
The Local Labor Leader Surprised.
“This is going to be a frost,” said the local labor leader, one John Walker.
“Wait a little,” said “Mother” Jones.
Gradually it was apparent what the old lady was watching with her smiling eyes. Men were climbing up through the mountain passes and hiding behind huge boulders; they were peeping over the tops and around the sides of their hiding places, and women were lurking in the thickets.
“Come nearer, comrades; don’t be afraid, brothers,” said “Mother” Jones, standing up, and then she began to talk. In a few minutes about 100 men and women gathered in front of the rocky platform. The mine owner himself sat on a rock some paces away.
Has any one ever told you, my children, about the lives you are living, more so that you may understand how it is you pass your days on earth? Have you told each other about it and thought it over among yourselves, so that you might imagine a brighter day and begin to bring it to pass? If no one has done so, I will do it for you today. I want you to see yourselves as you are, Mothers and children, and to think if it is not time you look on yourselves, and upon each other. Let us consider this together, for I am one of you, and I know what it is to suffer.
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Mother Jones at Columbus.
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