Back
in the late ‘70’s I was in Virden,
Illinois where the Industrial
Workers of the World (IWW) was running a strike in the August heat and humidity. By most labor standards it wasn’t a huge
deal. A small shop with about a dozen
workers had signed up in our Metal and
Machinery Workers Industrial Union 640. The
company bought and rebuilt heavy
construction equipment—big D-8
Caterpillar bulldozers, road graders, and the like which they
then sold at auctions across the Mid-West. But it was a very big deal for the IWW at
the time.
When
the local Fellow Workers called a
strike for union recognition, I came down from Chicago to help out, which included manning the picket lines and
coordinating foot loose Wobblies who
came down to help. Veteran IWW organizer
and legendary soap boxer Frank Cedervall came down from Ohio as well.
It
was a tough little strike. The bosses
brought in scabs. The union sent flying picket squads to all of
the auctions where the heavy equipment was up for sale. One Sunday afternoon one of the strikers had
all of the Fellow Workers over to his house in the country near town for a cook
out and a few beers. And some
shooting. Everyone brought their guns, both rifles and pistols, and
spent the afternoon plinking away in a make shift target range out back on his property. I hadn’t handled a gun since leaving Wyoming in high school, but got into
it.
As
the afternoon wore on talk turned to the threatening
phone calls being made to strikers’ homes.
The Fellow Workers vowed to, “be ready.”
A week or so later someone drove by the home of one of them in the wee
small hours of the morning and let loose three or four rounds. A little later a scab truck driver pulled a
pistol on picketers at the gate.
After
that, I began to carry a gun for the first and only time in my adult life, a Brazilian made .38 revolver given to me by a Chicago Fellow Worker. Luckily I never had to use it and things
cooled down. Eventually the strike was
lost and various NLRB cases dragged
on until an order for a recognition election was handed down. But by that time there were only two or three
of the original members left in the shop and the scabs who had been kept on
defeated the union.
A
sad little story that I relate only because of the place where it all played
out—Virden in the heart of Illinois coal
country south of Springfield. Labor battles had always been intense in that
area and the use of firearms was not uncommon.
All of the local Fellow Workers knew the stories. Some of them came from three generations of United Mine Workers of America. Most of the mines were closed by them, or so
heavily mechanized that they employed only a handful compared to the hundreds
who had once labored in the pits. They
talked about it as if it was yesterday and were prepared to “stand up” like
their grandparents if they had to.
You
see Virden was the site of a famous pitched
battle between union miners and company gun thugs trying to import scabs.
Sometimes miscast as a Massacre, the
Battle of Virden was one of the few
times that union members in this country fought it out with arms and actually
won. But at a heavy, heavy price.
Detail from the bas relief monument commemorating the Battle of Virden in the Illinois town. |
The
relatively new UMWA had won its first big victory in the Illinois coal fields
after a bitter, hard fought strike in 1897.
It was the strike in which Mary
Harris, the Irish born widow
from Chicago became famous as the hell raising militant Mother Jones. After a six
month struggle most of the big operators in the state agreed to the union terms
including a new higher wage scale of 40 cents per ton of coal mined.
The
new contract was set to go into effect on January 1, 1899 but a minority of
operators held out. Among them was the Chicago-Virden Coal Company. As much as the UMWA was determined to bring
them into line, the company was determined to resist by any means necessary.
They
enclosed the mine behind a stockade
built of six inch thick oak strong
enough, as one mine boss said to “bounce a cannon ball.” Police officers from Chicago with famous
experience in battling the often violent strikes in that city, including the
recent Pullman Strike, were lured by
promises of high wages. More
reinforcements came from the Thiel
Detective Service, a St. Louis based
agency which trolled the river front
for toughs and thugs. This force was
issued new Winchester repeating
rifles and plenty of ammunition.
Mean
while the company advertised for “Good Colored Miners” in Alabama promising
good wages and regular pay. No mention
was made to the recruits that they were to be scabs
After
a long summer and early fall in a picket stand-off, union miners got wind of
the plan to import black scabs in September.
They beefed up their pickets and called for reinforcements from
throughout the region. On September 24 a
train containing black miners pulled into the Virden station but was informed
that it had entered a “strike situation.”
The recruits declined to get off the train and it proceeded to
Springfield. Most of the Black miners
then refused to be sent back.
By
early October another contingent had been recruited. By this time the Virden miners were regularly
putting 40 members on the picket line and scheduled shifts and sleeping in
nearby shacks. A large contingent from
the UMWA stronghold at near-by Mount
Olive came by as well as miners from other areas. So did a contingent of Black miners from
Springfield.
The
Virden men were mostly native born Americans or English colliers. Many of
the supporting pickets were “Bohunks”,
mostly Bohemian, Croatian, and Italian miners. So it was a
very mixed contingent who waited for a train on the cold, rainy morning of
October 12, 1898. The picketers were
armed with hunting rifles, shot guns, and a few rusty pistols. The occupied a large open field along the
tracks. The fortified mine and a bank of
gravel were across the tracks.
When
the train pulled in gunfire erupted. No
one knows which side fired the first shot.
The battle lasted for more than 10 minutes and one veteran called the
fire “Hotter than San Juan Hill.”
The
striker’s fire raked the train. But the
men were standing in the open. They drew
intense fire from the train, from parapets of the stockade and from detectives
lying behind the gravel embankment. In
addition, sharpshooters were stationed in the mine tipple, virtual snipers
able to pick off individual miners from an elevated spot.
The
battle ended when the wounded locomotive
engineer backed his train out of the siding and took it back to St.
Louis. There the Black miners were
abandoned without ever receiving a penny of pay.
Devastation
on the union side was horrific. Seven
miners lay dead. More than 40 were
wounded. On the other side, four guards
were killed and one Black miner. A dozen
were injured. Despite the lopsided
casualties, the union men won the battle.
Not only did they hold their ground at the end, but the company never
tried to run more scabs to Virden—although others tried in other towns to
tragic ends as we shall see. By November
the recalcitrant company had to agree to Union terms and the mine was reopened
with UMWA workers.
One
of the reason that the strikers could prevail was that Republican Governor John Riley
Tanner, a liberal reform
minded politician, refused to mobilize the National Guard to quell the
strikes. He took a position of professed
neutrality. Part of the reason was
political. If he ran for re-election in
1900 he would likely face former governor John Peter Altgeld, the man he
had defeated to win office in 1896.
Altgeld was the hero of labor having not only pardoned the surviving Haymarket
prisoners, but having resisted Grover Cleveland’s dispatch of Federal
Troops to Chicago to crush the Pullman Strike. Altgeld had publicly stated that he would not
use militia as strike breakers, making him hugely popular down state.
Tanner, however, to placate his critics, cast his
refusal to mobilize troops to his opposition the “alien” strike breakers, which
in a series of speeches across the coal districts he made clear were
Black. Shameless race-baiting, along
with attempts to divide native born miners from the Bohunks, helped turn the
continuing strikes against other recalcitrant operators into near race riots in
some cases, despite the best efforts of UMWA officials and organizers to
maintain solidarity across racial and ethnic lines.
Earlier there had been battles at Pana on
April 10 where seven were killed and 15 wounded; at Lauder on April 30
where a train with Black miners leaving Pana was attacked wounding several and
killing one woman; and a virtual race riot in Carterville on September
17 that killed five black miners and wounded more.
Speeches like those by Governor Tanner and the
skillful use of race baiting by mine operators themselves, helped convince many
American born and immigrant miners that blacks were synonymous with scabs. Mines were segregated by agreement with the
union, a decision that would haunt the UMWA in later decades.
Despite the ugly side of the conflict, Illinois coal
fields had become the “citadel of union labor in the Coal Fields.” Strength in Illinois helped the union sustain
itself in many battles to come in other battle grounds from West Virginia and
Kentucky to Colorado.
In Virden, a monument commemorates that battle and
celebrates the victory, In nearby Mount Olive, the home of four of the union
dead, an impressive monument to the dead rises over the Union Miners’
Cemetery. When Mother Jones died in
1931 by request she was laid there by the side of “her boys.”
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