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Hellraisers- Thursday July 24, 1902
Cincinnati, Ohio – Mother Jones Interviewed on Her Way Back to West Virginia
From The Cincinnati Post of July 23, 1902:
[Part I of II]
With a nervous little nod and a deprecating smile, “Mother Jones,” best known throughout the coal regions as “the miners’ good angel,” greeted me in her room at the Dennison House Tuesday evening. “Mother Jones” had stopped over in Cincinnati on her way from the Indianapolis convention of United Mineworkers, to speak before the Central Labor Council at Cosmopolitan Hall.
Mother Jones is at least 60 and a picture of health and comeliness. Her ample white hair is becomingly arranged in soft waves and puffs. A delicate pink tints her cheeks, smooth whiteness when she becomes excited, and her eyes are veritable Irish ones-full of humor, pathos and “the melancholy which transcends all wit.”
OUT ON BAIL
She is out on bail now. Two weeks ago she was placed on trial before Judge Jackson at Parkersburg, W. Va., with 10 miners, charged with violating an injunction order issued during the coal strike in that State. A decision in the case is to be rendered by the Judge Thursday, and “Mother Jones” has said that she wouldn’t be surprised if she were sent to jail.
Unmindful of the prison cell which may be awaiting her, however, the plucky little woman spent the day in Cincinnati shopping. From the middle of a very womanly disorder of tangled twine, torn wrapping paper and articles of feminine adornment, “Mother” Jones begged me to be seated. Considering that she had refused to see me until I had nearly exhausted a very plump and exceedingly warm-looking bell boy with plaintive messages, Mrs. Jones’ smile was a concession.
SUBJECT NEAREST HER HEART
She was unmistakably ill at ease when I opened the conversation with a remark about herself. Her slim, nervous fingers picked imaginary specks off her respectable black gown, and she eyed me with suspicion.
She picked up my note and quoted: “Dear Mrs. Jones, please see me, and you can talk about anything you wish.”
“Seeing that it is so nominated in the bond,” said she, “I choose to talk about my people, the miners.“
Softly stroking a pair of new, gray silk mitts-a purchase of the morning-the dainty old lady began to speak of the work nearest her heart, As she talked every vestige of nervousness vanished and the silk mitts were apparently forgotten.
KNOWS THE MINER’S LIFE
[Said she:]
My dear, I have lived, worked, suffered and rejoiced with the miners. They are my people. When the outside world says it knows all about the miners’ troubles and their wrongs, it has no conception of the home life or the privations and sorrow which dwell under every miner’s roof.