Hellraisers Journal – Tuesday February 9, 1904 Trinidad, Colorado – Mrs. Bertha Howell Reports from Colorado Strike Zone
From the American Labor Journal of January 28, 1904:
From the Appeal to Reason of January 30, 1904 -Mrs. Mailly’s Article Was Also Published in the Appeal Along with the Following Drawing by Lockwood and with the Following Introduction:
THE COAL MINERS’ STRIKE IN SOUTHERN COLORADO ———-
(Not much news of the strike of several thousand coal miners in Southern Colorado has reached the outside world. Mrs. Bertha Howell Mailly, wife of the National Secretary of the Socialist Party, went to that district from Omaha last week to be with Mother Jones, who was dangerously ill in Trinidad, but who is now happily recovering. While in the strike district, Mrs. Mailly will write a special series of articles for the Socialist press, the following being the first.)
Hellraisers Journal – Sunday June 8, 1913 New York, New York – John Reed Recalls Time Spent in Passaic County Jail, Part II
From The Masses of June 1913:
The Paterson Evening News April 28, 1913
[Part II of II]
And so it was that I went up to the County Jail. In the outer office I was questioned again, searched for concealed weapons, and my money and valuables taken away. Then the great barred door swung open and I went down some steps into a vast room lined with three tiers of cells. About eighty prisoners strolled around, talked, smoked, and ate the food sent in to them by those outside. Of this eighty almost half were strikers. They were in their street clothes, held in prison under $500 bail to await the action of the Grand Jury. Surrounded by a dense crowd of short, dark-faced men, Big Bill Haywood towered in the center of the room. His big hand made simple gestures as he explained something to them. His massive, rugged face, seamed and scarred like a mountain, and as calm, radiated strength. These slight, foreign-faced strikers, one of many desperate little armies in the vanguard of the battle-line of Labor, quickened and strengthened by Bill Haywood’s face and voice, looked up at him lovingly, eloquently. Faces deadened and dulled with grinding routine in the sunless mills glowed with hope and understanding. Faces scarred and bruised from policemen’s clubs grinned eagerly at the thought of going back on the picket-line. And there were other faces, too-lined and sunken with the slow starvation of a nine weeks’ poverty—shadowed with the sight of so much suffering, or the hopeless brutality of the police—and there were those who had seen Modestino Valentine shot to death by a private detective. But not one showed discouragement; not one a sign of faltering or of fear.As one little Italian said to me, with blazing eyes: “We all one bigga da Union. I. W. W.—dat word is pierced de heart of de people!”
“Yes! Yes! Dass righ’! I. W. W.! One bigga da Union”—they murmured with soft, eager voices, crowding around.
[Introduced to Quinlan and Strikers by Big Bill]
I shook hands with Haywood, who introduced me to Pat Quinlan, the thin-faced, fiery Irishman now under indictment for speeches inciting to riot.
“Boys,” said Haywood, indicating me, “this man wants to know things. You tell him everything”—
They crowded around me, shaking my hand, smiling, welcoming me. “Too bad you get in jail,” they said, sympathetically. “We tell you ever’t’ing. You ask. We tell you. Yes. Yes. You good feller.”
And they did. Most of them were still weak and exhausted from their terrible night before in the lockup. Some had been lined up against a wall, as they marched to and fro in front of the mills, and herded to jail on the charge of “unlawful assemblage”! Others had been clubbed into the patrol wagon on the charge of “rioting,” as they stood at the track, on their way home from picketing, waiting for a train to pass! They were being held for the Grand Jury that indicted Haywood and Gurley Flynn. Four of these jurymen were silk manufacturers, another the head of the local Edison compony—which Haywood tried to organize for a strike—and not one a workingman!
“We not take bail,” said another, shaking his head. “We stay here. Fill up de damn jail. Pretty soon no more room. Pretty soon can’t arrest no more picket!”
It was visitors’ day I went to the door to speak with a friend. Outside the reception room was full of women and children, carrying packages, and pasteboard boxes, and pails full of dainties and little comforts lovingly prepared, which meant hungry and ragged wives and babies, so that the men might be comfortable in jail. The place was full of the sound of moaning; tears ran down their work-roughened faces; the children looked up at their fathers’ unshaven faces through the bars and tried to reach them with their hands.
“What nationalities are all the people!” I asked. There were Dutchmen, Italians, Belgians, Jews, Slovaks, Germans, Poles—
“What nationalities stick together on the picket- line?”
A young Jew, pallid and sick-looking from insufficient food, spoke up proudly. “T’ree great nations stick togedder like dis.” He made a fist. “T’ree great nations—Italians, Hebrews an’ Germans”—
“But how about the Americans?”
They all shrugged their shoulders and grinned with humorous scorn. “English peoples not go on picket-line,” said one, softly. “’Mericans no lika fight!” An Italian boy thought my feelings might be hurt, and broke in quickly: “Not all lika dat. Beeg Beell, he ‘Merican. You ‘Merican. Quin’, Miss Flynn, ‘Merican. Good! Good! ‘Merican workman, he lika talk too much.”
This sad fact appears to be true. It was the English-speaking group that held back during the Lawrence strike. It is the English-speaking continent that remains passive at Paterson, while the “wops” the “kikes,” the “hunkies”—the ‘degraded and ignorant races from Southern Europe”—go out and get clubbed on the picket-line and gaily take their medicine in Paterson jail.
But just as they were telling me these things the keeper ordered me to the “convicted room,” where I was pushed into a bath and compelled to put on regulation prison clothes. I shan’t attempt to describe the horrors I saw in that room. Suffice it to say that forty-odd men lounged about a long corridor lined on one side with cells; that the only ventilation and light came from one small skylight up a funnel-shaped airshaft; that one man had syphilitic sores on his legs and was treated by the prison doctor with sugar-pills for “nervousness;” that a seventeen-year-old boy who had never been sentenced had remained in that corridor without ever seeing the sun for over nine months; that a cocaine-fiend was getting his “dope” regularly from the inside, and that the background of this and much more was the monotonous and terrible shouting of a man who had lost his mind in that hell-hole and who walked among us.
Hellraisers Journal – Thursday April 3, 1913 Ralph Chaplin Travels with Comrade Rumbaugh to West Virginia Strike Zone
From the International Socialist Review of April 1913:
[Part III of III.]
A brief account of a trip made by Comrade Rumbaugh, of Hurricane, W. Va., and myself to the danger zone, might be of interest to readers of the REVIEW. We rode into Charleston “on the front end” and found that city to have the appearance of a place preparing for a siege. Martial law had been declared but a short time previously and the streets were full of soldiers. Yellow-legged sentries were stationed in front of the state house and the governor’s residence. It was rumored that machine guns were mounted in the upper windows of the former building, commanding both entrances to the capitol grounds.
A sentry was also stationed in front of the office of the Labor Argus to guard Comrade W. H. Thompson, who is editing that paper while Comrade Boswell is being “detained” in the bull pen. Comrade Thompson is an ex-Kanawha county coal miner and is unblushingly ”red.” He is the editor of the Huntington Socialist and Labor Star and he has put up as staunch a fight for the cause of the miners as any man in the state. At the city jail we witnessed the interesting spectacle of a bunch of “tin horns” bringing a prisoner from the military district to the city lockup. As the great iron gates swung open to receive them, the spectators commenced hissing the soldiers, calling them “scab herders” and other expressive names. Some of the “yellow legs” glared at these people brazenly but, may they be given due credit, others of the soldiers hung their heads with shame, as if such condemnation from members of their own class was more deadly to them than bullets.
From Charleston we took the labor train that was to carry us into the martial law zone. At Cabin Creek we were almost arrested with a bunch of miners in the car who were poking fun at the grave and ludicrous antics cut by some of the would-be man-killers in khaki. At the Paint Creek junction we remained for several hours, ostensibly to visit some soldier boys of our acquaintance, but in reality to secure information and photographs for the REVIEW and the Labor Star. Comrade Rumbaugh was afterwards arrested and relieved of his camera for attempting to take photographs to illustrate this article. We spoke with dozens of the soldiers, and one of them, an ex-mine guard, admitted that the guards use dum-dum bullets against the miners. He told of two miners who had been killed with these proscribed missiles, one man who had the top of his head completely shot off and another who received a death wound in the breast large enough to “stick your fist into.”
The freight house at Paint Creek has been converted into a bull pen, and over fifty men are now incarcerated there, only three of whom are not native West Virginains. The interior of this place would make a Siberian prison pen look like a haven of refuge. The sleeping accommodations are inadequate, ventilation poor and the floors filthy beyond description. Even with two or three men sleeping in the coal-bin there is no room for the others. The only papers the prisoners are permitted to read are the reactionary local rags and the National Socialist. Mother Jones, Charles Boswell and John Brown have somewhat better quarters elsewhere in town. A sentinel is constantly measuring his paces before the door of each. Dear old Mother Jones in the bull-pen and guarded by armed mercenaries of the Mine Owners! The very thought of it makes blood boil, here in West Virginia.
Hellraisers Journal – Friday January 23, 1903 Mother Jones News Round-Up for December 1902, Part I W. V: Saved from Suspicious Hotel Fire; Ill: Attends Celebration for Mitchell
FromThe Richmond Dispatch (Virginia) of December 3, 1902:
TO BURN “MOTHER” JONES. ———- This Seemed the Object of Incendiaries at Montgomery, W. Va.Mother Jones,
PARKERSBURG, VA., December 3.-(Special.)—”Mother” Jones, the friend of the miners, narrowly escaped with her life from a burning hotel at Montgomery, early this morning.
Mrs. A. R. Wagoner, the wife of the proprietor of the Montgomery Hotel, was aroused from her slumbers and gave the alarm. The room occupied by “Mother” Jones was full of smoke when she wakened, and in a short time she would have been suffocated.
The fire was of incendiary origin, starting in a room that had not been occupied for three days. The hotel has been on fire three times within the past few weeks, and it is supposed that it was because “Mother” Jones was stopping there.
John C. Todd, one of the guests, had a hip fractured by jumping from the third story window. All the guests lost most of their valuables and clothing.
[Photograph added.]
From Hinton Daily News (West Virginia) of December 6, 1902
Mother Jones was at Beckley yesterday and made a speech at the labor meeting.
From the Duluth Labor World of December 13, 1902:
Mother Jones was nearly suffocated in a hotel fire at Montgomery, W. Va., this week. The fire was of incendiary origin. The coal operators would not be sorry to learn that Mother Jones lost her life, and it is not improbable that some of their thugs had something to do with firing the hotel.
From the Chicago Inter Ocean of December 15, 1902:
MITCHELL IS HERE; RECEIVES OVATION ———- Mine Workers’ Chief Greeted by Chicago Labor Men. ———-
HAS LITTLE TO SAY ———- Refuses to Discuss Matters Before the Commission. ———- Goes to Spring Valley Today for Reception and Will Hasten Back to Scranton. ———-
John Mitchell, president of the United Mine Workers of America and the most prominent figure in the labor movement today, arrived in Chicago at 10:30 o’clock last night. He will leave at 9:15 o’clock this morning for his home in Spring Valley, where a public demonstration is planned in his honor by the residents of that city.
The train on which Mr. Mitchell arrived was delayed seven hours on account of a snowstorm, but the friends who had gathered to greet him waited patiently for his arrival. The Cabdrivers’ union sent a carriage to the depot, and he was driven to McCoy’s hotel, where he was given an ovation by the crowd in waiting in the rotunda.
[…..]
“Mother” Jones Here.
At the same hotel is “Mother” Jones, the socialist agitator and organizer of the miners of the country. She will be one of the speakers at the reception at Spring Valley today. Mrs. Jones is almost as popular among the miners as Mr. Mitchell, and while she shakes her head over the probable outcome of the investigation of the commission, she is rejoicing that the actual condition existing in the mines are being held up to the public.
[She said:]
I have been preaching about those conditions for years, but the world refused to listen.It is listening now, and whatever the final outcome may be it cannot fail to be an advantage to the suffering miners.
Hellraisers Journal – Thursday September 11, 1902 Mother Jones News Round-Up for August 1902, Part III Found in Anthracite Region of Pennsylvania, Returns to West Virginia
From the Wilkes-Barre Daily News of August 11, 1902:
MOTHER JONES CONDEMNS ———- She Does Look With Favor on Certain Statements.
BELIEVES THAT IT IS ONLY A QUESTION OF A SHORT TIME UNTIL THE MINERS WIN-TRAINMEN UP IN ARMS. ———-
President Mitchell spent yesterday at Scranton, the guest of friends. His visit was one of pleasure and had no bearing on the strike situation. He returned last evening but had nothing of an interesting nature to disclose. He is still confident of the ultimate results.
Mother Jones still remains in the city and unless the present plans are changed she will deliver an address this afternoon at Nanticoke.Mother Jones has no particular love for Father O’Reilly and believes the latter to be unwise in his assertion about the miners and their organization. She believes that he will profit by his indiscretion. When told that he had delivered another address derogatory to the miners’ cause, she waxed warm, saying that if the occasion permitted; she would go to Shenandoah and tell the miners some pertinent facts.
[Declared Mother Jones:]
I know the miners are going to win this struggle, and every just man who is a competent observer of the prevailing conditions must be actuated by the same feeling. It is fallacy for even biased persons to harbor the idea that the miners are not steadfast. They show the same determined spirit, are practically speaking, of one mind and will never swerver the least iota from that course, they planned to take. The time is not far distant when the operators must mine coal or else lose their markets. In September the consumers will make an effort to get anthracite, and if they cannot they will look elsewhere and once the grates are changed it will take years, perhaps, before they resume the use of hard coal. If the operators permit it their business ability is not as great as credited. There may be an attempt made to operate the mines with non-union men, but the number will be so decidedly small and the work incompetently done, the effort will be given up with disgust. The operators will, after the trials, comprehend the determination of the men and will make the necessary concessions. The people of this country can rest assured that the miners are going to win this strike.
How about the one in West Virginia? asked the reporter.
[Mother Jones continued:]
We will not give up until the same results are achieved. Some of the places are completely tied up and victory is only a question of a short time. The collieries at Fairmont have not been reached, that I will admit, but do you know that there is a fence built around the town and no one in allowed to enter unless a permit is secured from some company agent. The men of West Virginia are partly paid in script, receive their money every month, sometimes every six weeks, deal in ‘”pluck me” stores and undergo other indignities. No American can or will endure such conditions.
Hellraisers Journal – Sunday September 8, 1912 Charleston, West Virginia – Mother Jones and Harold Houston Speak
September 6, 1912, Charleston, West Virginia -Speech of Mother Jones at Mass Meeting Held in Courthouse Square:
[Operators Get a Hearing, Miners Don’t]
Wheeling Intelligencer September 7, 1912
This great gathering that is here tonight signals there is a disease in the State that must be wiped out. The people have suffered from that disease patiently; they have borne insults, oppression, outrages; they appealed to their chief executive, they appealed to the courts, they appealed to the attorney general, and in every case they were turned down. They were ignored. The people must not be listened to, the corporations must get a hearing.
When we were on the Capitol grounds the last time you came here, you had a petition to the Governor for a peaceful remedy and solution of this condition. The mine owners, the bankers, the plunderers of the State went in on the side door and got a hearing, and you didn’t. (Loud applause.)
Now, then, they offer to get a commission, suggested by the mine owners. The miners submitted a list of names to be selected from, and the mine owners said, “We will have no commission.” Then when they found out that Congress, the Federal Government was going to come down and examine your damnable peonage system, then they were ready for the commission. (Applause.)
Then they got together—the cunning brains of the operators got together. What kind of a commission have they got? A bishop, a sky pilot working for Jesus; a lawyer, and a member of the State Militia, from Fayette City. In the name of God, what do any of those men know about your troubles up on Cabin Creek, and Paint Creek? Do you see the direct insult offered by your officials to your intelligence? They look upon you as a lot of enemies instead of those who do the work. If they wanted to be fair they would have selected three miners, three operators and two citizens. (Cries of: “Right, right.”) And would have said, “Now, go to work and bring in an impartial decision.” But they went up on Cabin Creek-I wouldn’t have made those fellows walk in the water, but they made me. Because they knew I have something to tell you, and all Hell and all the governors on the earth couldn’t keep me from telling it. (Loud applause.)
I want to put it up to the citizens, up to every honest man in this audience-let me ask you here, have your public officials any thought for the citizens of this State, or their condition?
(Cries of: “No, no, no.”)
Now, then, go with me up those creeks, and see the blood-hounds of the mine owners, approved of by your public officials. See them insulting women, see them coming up the track. I went up there and they followed me like hounds. But some day I will follow them. When I see them go to Hell, I will get the coal and pile it up on them. (Loud applause.)
I look at the little children born under such a horrible condition. I look at the little children that were thrown out here.
(At this moment an automobile came down Kanawha Street and turned around and went back, but in turning made considerable noise which attracted some attention and interrupted the speaker, who said, “Don’t bother about that automobile.”)
[“Howling Anarchy”]
Now then, let me ask you. When the miners-a miner that they have robbed him of one leg in the mines and never paid him a penny for it–when he entered a protest, they went into his house not quite a week ago, and threw out his whole earthly belongings, and he and his wife and six children slept on the roadside all night. Now, you can’t contradict that. Suppose we had taken a mine owner and his wife and children and threw them out on the road and made them sleep all night, the papers would be howling “anarchy.”
Hellraisers Journal – Wednesday March 26, 1902 Eugene V. Debs on Opines on Kept Preachers, Labor and Socialism
From the Milwaukee Social Democratic Herald of March 22, 1902:
Battle Cry of Superstition.
———-
The Church Protests in Vain Against the March of Civilization. ———-
By EUGENE V. DEBS.
The socialist movement encountered a great shock at Buffalo a few days ago. One Quigley, a Catholic bishop, and another Stauffer (Stuffer?) of the Protestant persuasion, jointly and severally assailed social democracy, the latter gravely declaring that it was the “unhatched egg of anarchy”-in other words, a bad egg. The bishop vaulted into the arena, made due exhibition of his asininity, and in the name of the hierarchy proclaimed excommunication as the fate of all who cast their lot with the wicked socialists.
No opposition to organized labor, declared the bishop, was intended, except in so far as it was tainted with the virus of socialism-a hint that union men would be wise to profit by.
It is not my purpose to write about religion, or to interfere with that of any man. I am trusting to the light and logic of the future to abolish creeds and dispel the darkness of superstition.
But we have those in the socialist movement who are so supersensitive that they rise in passionate protest when the church is even mentioned. They are doubtless honest and sincere, but their prejudice is such that if the orders and injunctions of such priests as Quigley and Stauffer could be and were obeyed, they would look on in silence and submission, while the church with iron boots crushed out the socialist movement and the sun of labor set in gloom to rise no more.
What has the church, as such, ever done for working men and women except to keep them in darkness, preach obedience to their masters, and promise them a future home in heaven as the reward of patience and submission in the present hell?
The fulmination of this precious combination at Buffalo reveals the true attitude of the church, which profanes the name of Jesus Christ. In all its pomp and power today it stands for all he abhorred and against all he loved; and socialists would be worse than cowards, they would be base-born traitors not to speak the truth and challenge the enemy of the socialist movement in whatever form he may appear; and when the church consents to prostitute its functions in the service of the ruling class, its robes turn into rags and every honest man should help to strip it naked and expose the whited sepulcher to the world.
For more than 25 years I have watched the church in its attitude toward labor and I know it is the enemy of the toilers and strives and strains to keep them in industrial bondage. The freedom of the working class will mean the end of the church as we know it today. It will simply be out of a job.
During the Chicago strikes the priests and preachers grew hysterically violent in demanding the shooting and hanging of the strikers in the name of the meek and merciful Jesus. All denominations melted into one and all the ministers were likewise a unit in defense of the corporations and denunciation and damnation of the strikers.
There is something almost melancholy in seeing a meek, sad-eyed, dyspepsic preacher suddenly grow fierce and bloodthirsty. It seems strange, but it is easily accounted for. The priest is simply the echo of the capitalist. if he declines the function he ceases to preach.
In every labor strike I have ever known the church and those who speak for it have lined up solidly with the corporations. This has been and must be the attitude of the church whose priests now direct its fiery fulmination against socialism at Buffalo.
Through all the centuries the church has been the handmaid of tyranny and oppression-there she stands today, red with impotent rage because socialism has stripped her of her mask and challenged her to do her worst. Can the church extinguish the socialist movement? Can a bat snuff out the sun? It is high time the working class were opening their eyes, time that they were discarding the sacred (?) symbols of superstition and proclaiming their royal right to represent themselves without the vulgar and impertinent intervention of priests who are but the emissaries of their oppressors and exploiters.
Hellraisers Journal – Wednesday March 19, 1902 Mother Jones News Round-Up for February 1902, Part II Found Returning to West Virginia as Organizer for U. M. W. A.
From The Philadelphia Inquirer of February 16, 1902:
Mother Jones stopped over in the city yesterday on her way to the Southern coal fields, to the organization of which region she has been assigned by President Mitchell, of the United Mine Workers.
[Photograph added.]
From the Birmingham Labor Advocate of February 22, 1902:
It is interesting to note the progress being made by the organization of Textile Workers for the betterment of the workers in the textile industries, both North and South.
A national organization of these workers with affiliation with the American Federation of Labor was only formed last year, and delegates were accepted at the last convention at Scranton. The organization consists of the workers in cotton factories and knitting mills and their strides forward have been rapid and well taken. Quite a foothold has been secured in the Carolinas, particularly North Carolina, the Charlotte district being compactly organized.
[…..]
The condition of the textile workers are little understood, and if told in cold black type would probably create a furore….They are first robbed of all independence, planted in company houses, often fed from company stores and worked at the company’s will. The result is that the spirit of organization has hard ground to work over, but the Textile Workers’ organization is making headway.
Mother Jones, that noted woman who has devoted her life to the interest of the organization of labor and to the betterment of the conditions of the workers, and whose penchant seems to be the factory workers, came to Birmingham a few years ago and spent considerable time in the Avondale mills working as a weaver and trying to lay ground plans for an organization, but the time was not ripe; yet many of the facts that she made known have been most useful in the work now progressing…..
Hellraisers Journal – Tuesday February 6, 1912 The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire: “God Did It” by Phillips Russell
From the International Socialist Review of February 1912:
A NEW YORK jury composed of capitalistic cockroaches has absolved Harris & Blanck of the murder of 147 young workers in the Triangle shirtwaist factory fire of March 25, 1911.
Harris & Blanck, the two bosses, were tried only for the death of one girl worker, according to the crooked ways of capitalist courts, and since “it couldn’t be proved” that they were responsible for this one girl’s death, they were freed.
A member of the jury afterward expressed himself as follows:
“I can’t see that anyone was responsible for the loss of life, and it seems to me that it must have been AN ACT OF GOD.”
Poor God! The capitalists have got him just where they have the working class-cornered! They tell us He can do all things. But there is one thing God can’t do, it seems-He can’t answer back. Else the moment this pitiful squirt uttered these words He would have rent the sky open, would have hurled His scepter aside, thrown off His robe, stepped down from His awful throne, taken this petty capitalist croaker by the throat, and rammed his statement back down him again.
Hasn’t God any manhood at all? How long will He continue to allow Himself to be made the goat for capitalist crimes? Or is His eternal silence a confession of guilt? If so, then it is time we were knowing. Is it God who has been up to the deviltry of all these years? Is it God who traps the worker in blazing factory or buries him in tomblike mine, without providing him with even one means of escape? Is it God who sends the sailor abroad in a rotten hulk of a ship and drowns him before he can leap from his foul bunk? Is it God who hurls the iron worker from his lofty perch a thousand feet to the stones below and mangles the brakeman and the machine hand into an unrecognizable mass, telling the weeping wives and children that He is very sorry but the dead men were guilty of contributory negligence? Is it God who takes into His tender care all that the worker produces and hands him back just enough to live on?
The capitalists say so. Their priests and preachers, their professors and editors, their teachers and other kept men, say so.
But we have begun to suspect. We have begun to see that the capitalists have created God in their own image. And He is running up a terrible account which some day He will have to settle with the working class of the world.
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The socialist movement encountered a great shock at Buffalo a few days ago. One Quigley, a Catholic bishop, and another Stauffer (Stuffer?) of the Protestant persuasion, jointly and severally assailed social democracy, the latter gravely declaring that it was the “unhatched egg of anarchy”-in other words, a bad egg. The bishop vaulted into the arena, made due exhibition of his asininity, and in the name of the hierarchy proclaimed excommunication as the fate of all who cast their lot with the wicked socialists.
—————
A NEW YORK jury composed of capitalistic cockroaches has absolved Harris & Blanck of the murder of 147 young workers in the Triangle shirtwaist factory fire of March 25, 1911.