Hellraisers Journal – Wednesday September 28, 1921 Mother Jones Speaks at United Mine Workers Convention, Part II
Indianapolis Convention of the United Mine Workers of America Sixth Day, September 26, 1921, Mother Jones Speaks, Part II of IV:
Indianapolis Star September 27, 1921
We then went into the Fairmont Field. One night while holding a meeting in New England I paid a fellow to go and circulate bills. We held a meeting on the sand lot. The United States marshal and the deputy marshal were there. When the meeting closed I went away. A little boy told me to get into a buggy and he would drive me to the interurban. When I was going over a dark bridge there were six or eight fellows at the company’s store. One fellow asked me where I was going. I said I was going into Fairmont and asked him to take care of the slaves because if he didn’t I would have to hunt a job for him next day.
Barney Rice, Joe Poggiani and another fellow from Indiana were there. I was hoping the boys would come, because those fellows could throw me into the river and say I committed suicide. Barney Rice came out calling: “Police! Police!” I asked what was the matter and he said they were killing Joe, that he was alone in the dark bridge and he had broken no law. The interurban turned the corner and I told those fellows to hurry. I ran into the bridge and the fellows who had attacked Joe had run away. He had a deep cut in his head. I dragged Joe out and bound his head up with a piece of my underskirt. I asked the interurban men to hurry him into Fairmont and they did.
Next day the boys came down to see Joe. There wasn’t a detective or a gunman that didn’t run out of the city that night. Every one of the cowards left. I had about 150 men at the hotel, and the general manager asked: “Mother, what can I do for the boys?” I said: “Send up a couple of drinks for the boys, because they need it.” There wasn’t a gunman stayed in town that night. Even the United States marshal got scared, but no- body was hurt except Joe.
That was the start of this thing. Later on I went into Wise County. Old Dad Haddow of Iowa was with me. The colored people gave us their church for the meeting. The gunmen told us we couldn’t hold a meeting there and we went out and held it at the corner of two roads. I said: “Dad, have you a pistol?” He said he had and I told him he had better show it. I told him the law said if the pistol was exposed, even a little bit, he would be safe, but if he had it concealed he might be arrested. Those hounds got around Dad and nearly tore him to pieces. They took him to the oflice and those fellows came, the general manager with them, and said: “Mother Jones, what is the matter? I am astonished, really astonished! The idea of you going into the house of God with a pistol!” “Don’t you know,” I said, “that I know God never comes around a place like this—he stays a damned long way from a place like this.”
The gunmen were there and I was arrested. The old man was nearly scared to death. They fined him $25. He didn’t want to pay it, he wanted to appeal, but I said we would pay it. I paid the $25. That evening one of the men who had been in the crowd came to me and said: “Mother Jones, I want to pay my respects to you for paying that $25 as quick as you did. The scheme was to lock you up and burn you in the coke ovens.” And you women raised those brutes! It is horrible to think of.
We battled on and here and there we organized and got better conditions for the men. In 1902 a board member and your President, John L. Lewis, went up Kelly Creek. They chased him out. I was determined to organize that Creek. I went to the town at Eastbrook and in the morning went across by ferry, then walked six miles. The company was paying two deputies to keep me out but we got into the mining camp. I told a merchant my business and he said we could use a hall over his building. I rented that for four months. I took the men down and organized them that night. The company suspected there was something wrong and the next day discharged forty of the men. Then the drivers got restless and came out. I was determined to finish the job and on Sunday went through the camp with the boys marching. I told them to ask every fellow they saw sitting on the steps of the houses to be an American and come down. They came.
We told Jack Roan, the manager, who had come over from Columbus that day, to come out. He didn’t come out. In front of the hotel were two fellows and one said: “I would like to have a rope and hang that old woman to a tree.” Another one said: “And I would like to pull the rope.” After the meeting the boys pointed those men out. I stood with my back to a tree and said: “You said you would like to hang the old woman. Here is the old woman and the tree, where is your rope?” They ran away because there were more than a thousand men at the place. Since that day there has been no strike and no disturbance, but there is one thing we failed to do—we did not educate them thoroughly, because bringing them into the union was only the kindergarten; we should have educated them after they came in but we failed to do that.
Those men are isolated, they see very little of the outside world. The company controls everything. There is a company doctor, a company picture show, a company minister, a company teacher—for generally the teacher is the superintendent’s sister and the chairman of the school board is the general manager’s wife. Conditions are not like they are in Illinois or Pennsylvania. It is a peculiar state of affairs and very few organizers who go in there understand the psychology of the people.
Now I will come to the Cabin Creek strike [1912-1913]. A statement was made before the Senatorial Commission in Washington that the International called that strike. I think Mr. White was President. The International did not call that strike and had nothing to do with it. I was in Butte, Mont., and saw that the Paint Creek Colliery Company was not going to recognize the union. I said I would go and give them a fight. The International office didn’t know I was going there at the time. I went up Paint Creek and held a meeting. There was some military man there. Then I went around Kanawha and through the creeks there. On July 6 I went up Cabin Creek. At Montgomery the boys came for me at 6 o’clock in the morning and asked if I would go with them.
I left that Creek thoroughly organized in 1903 and went west. For nine years no organizer had gone up that Creek without coming out on a stretcher. Someone went to the Governor and told him I was going up there. That was a board member. He said a company of militia had better be sent there. The railroad men circulated the bills. When the miners came down they didn’t know who was going to speak. They came over the mountains and their toes were out of their shoes. A man got up to speak and I landed him out of the wagon and told him I was running the job.
The militia, the mine manager, the general superintendent and the gunmen were all there that day. When I was half through my speech they asked if I would organize them into the United Mine Workers. I told them: “I did organize you once and you betrayed the organization.” “Mother,” they said, “We will swear that if you organize us now we will stick to the death.” They didn’t have a dollar to pay for their charter. I told them to go home and not mention the meeting to anyone, not even to their families, but put on their overalls in the morning and dig as many tons of coal as possible, and then the general manager [Charles Cabell] could go to Kentucky and take a few tons of what they dug and give it to the foreign mission cats to take Jesus to China so he won’t get on to what they are doing here.
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