They are
throwing a birthday party this
evening for Mother Jones in Chicago at the Irish American Center, 4626
North Knox Avenue complete with Irish music, drinks at the Center’s Fifth Province Pub (despite her ambivalence
with alcohol as a distraction from
the class struggle and the bane of
workers’ wives and children) , and
the dedication of a new exhibit
including a major work by artist Lindsay
Hand.
Somewhat surprisingly
the Government of Ireland which
under the previous long dominance of the right wing nationalist Fianna Fáil was loathe to acknowledge labor and leftist members of the Irish
diaspora. The current government, a coalition led by Fine Gael, by no means radical, none-the-less has adopted more
progressive stances on social issues.
But Mother Jones herself might be more than a little amused and surprised
by the late recognition from her home country.
At any rate, I
am looking forward to celebrating May
Day with “the most dangerous woman in
America."
Mary Harris started life as
the daughter of tenant farmers living
on the fringes of the City of Cork in 1837. Her exact
birthdate is unknown, but she was faithfully baptized on August 1 meaning that she was probably born sometime in
July. Almost 90 years later in The
Autobiography of Mother Jones she claimed the symbolic birthday of May 1, 1830. May Day was selected as the International Workers Holiday commemorating the 8 Hour Day Strikes of 1886 in which she
had participated and the execution of the Hay
Market Martyrs She back-dated her birth year, frankly,
because her story of labor hell raising
was even more impressive if people thought she was even older than she was. To this day, many sources therefore identify
her as 100 years old at her death.
Her
family decided like so many others to seek their fortunes in the New World.
They fortunately immigrated to Ontario,
Canada when she was five, just
before the Potato Famine. They were able to establish themselves in
the new country before hoards of desperate and wretched immigrants would flood the cities. They prospered enough to afford a good Catholic education for their children. One brother, Father William Richard Harris went on to be one of the most influential
priests in Ontario. Mary was sent to a convent school in Toronto.
Armed
with that education, she got a job teaching
in a Catholic school in Michigan
and then pushed on to the boom city
of Chicago where she first plied the
trade of a seamstress. In 1861, on the eve of the Civil War she accepted another teaching
job in the busy river port city of Memphis, Tennessee. Her employment did not last long. She met and married George E. Jones an iron molder
and sometime organizer for the National Union of Iron Moulders.
Thus
would begin the happiest six years of Mary Jones’s life. Four children arrived in quick succession,
each one doted upon. George, as a skilled tradesman, made a reasonably
good living although he could spend little time with his growing family working
10-12 hour days, six days a week. That
made him an ardent union man and also impressed his wife who ever after
maintained a working man should earn a decent enough wage to support a family
on 8 hours a day. There were the inevitable disruptions to
their life brought on by economic
dislocations to the city caused by the Civil
War and from occasional local
strikes.
Mary’s
happiness was shattered when her husband and all four children perished in a yellow fever epidemic in 1867.
She donned the widow’s black
mourning that she would wear the rest of her life and vowed not to marry
again. Not only did she lose her family,
but the expense of burying them made a pauper of her. She tried to establish herself again as a
seamstress, but found that the many accomplished Black women in the city who had been trained to sew elegantly in
the homes of the wealthy during slavery
times, too much competition.
She
returned to Chicago and started again as
a seamstress. She also took in laundry,
the widows, but tried hard to leave that stigmatizing trade behind as she
built of a trade as a lady’s tailor.
Then just when that business was established her home and shop, and
everything she owned was destroyed in
the Great Chicago Fire of October 1871.
Stunned,
she stumbled through the next weeks nursing the many injured. Then, as the city rose from the ashes she
turned to the labor movement and
poured the rest of her life into its service.
She joined the Knights of Labor
and was soon a noted speaker for
them in the city which seemed perpetually in the throes of labor strife.
In
1877 she was working for the Knights in Pittsburgh
when the Great Railway Strike broke
out. Despite the official opposition to
strikes by Knights leaders like Terrance
V. Powderly, Mary Jones made her first public mark as a speaker urging the
workers on and the spread of the strike.
Pittsburgh became one of the hubs
of the strike as it spread across the country and the site of pitched battles as strikers tore up
tracks and burned rolling stock.
The
strike impressed two things on her—the
incredible, power of working men
when they were righteously angry and united and the ruthlessness of the Capitalist bosses in suppressing the challenge to their authority.
For
the next nine years she traveled for the Knights, but spent most of her time in
Chicago. She began to invent a new role
for herself—not an organizer who had
to be interested in things like keeping
membership rolls and establishing
permanent organizations, but a self-proclaimed
hell raiser and agitator whose job it was to stir the workers to collective action
and support them in the heat of strikes and battles. That often put her at loggerheads with institutionalists in the Knights as it
later would with the other unions she was involved in.
In
1886 she joined the Knights, the local Central
Labor Council made up of craft
unions, and the anarchist agitators
of the International Working Peoples
Association in planning a city wide
strike on May 1 for the eight hour
day. There was already a major
strike going on at the McCormick Reaper
Works with pitched battles between strikers, scabs, and police as
well a half a dozen other strikes, including one by seamstresses. Mary was not a leader of the strikes, but was
a reliable street corner orator who
knew just how to stir up a crowd with a combination of salty language, vicious
and colorful attacks on the bosses, and humor.
She was not at the Haymarket
for the protest meeting for the
killing of strikers at the McCormick Works on May 4 when the bomb went off in the midst of attacking
police. But she did witness the enormous oppression that followed and the quick railroading
of the Anarchist leaders and their executions.
If
there had been any vestige of labor
conservatism in her heart following those events, it was replaced by a burning
outrage.
In
the years after the Haymarket, the Knights collapsed as an effective union. Mary was not attracted to the craft union
movement which had become the American
Federation of Labor. She felt that
their refusal to organize the mass of
unskilled laborers in industry was not only a breach of solidarity but a long term prescription for disaster.
She
went to work in the notorious textile
mills in Birmingham, Alabama in
1894 to learn about conditions. Then she
led the workers out on a dramatic, but futile strike.
Mother Jones had a long and ultimately contentious relationship with United Mine Workers President John Mitchel.
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After
that, she attracted the attention of United
Mine Workers president John Mitchel,
who began to selectively employ her in the coal fields of West Virginia and Pennsylvania.
The UMW was the only AFL union whose charter permitted it to organize industrially and like Jones was interested in spreading that principle to other
basic industries.
Around
1897 when she was 60 years old and
already white headed, Mine Worker
periodicals began to recount the adventures of Mother Jones.
She
had also been a member of the old Socialist
Labor Party (SLP), and then had joined another industrial unionist, Eugene V. Debs in his new Socialist Party (SP). Both parties occasionally employed her as
a speaker. She was not opposed to electoral activity as an auxiliary support for workers in the
labor movement, but it was neither her passion nor main interest.
She
published The New Right (about the rights
of labor, not conservatives) in 1899 and the two volumes of Letters
of Love and Labor in 1900 and 1901.
At
the turn of the new century, Mother Jones was just beginning the most famous
and colorful part of her long career.
In
1901 Mine Worker leader Mitchel sent Mother Jones to help build solidarity for striking silk workers in Pennsylvania. Many were young girls and a key demand was parity for them with men’s wages.
But Jones had a different view.
She wanted the enactment and enforcement of child labor laws to keep many of the young women out of the mills
and high wages for men so that their wives and daughters would not have to work. This was in keeping with her deeply held Irish
Catholic reverence for home and hearth
and a belief that women were happiest as wives and mothers with economic
security.
She
saw women as essentially an important
auxiliary for the struggle of men, who they would nurture and support. She organized striker’s wives and children
into “Broomstick militias” and
turned them out armed with brooms sticks and pans to bang on when injunctions prevented their husbands
from picketing.
The
strike ended. Thanks to Mother Jones a
great deal of attention had been drawn to child labor issues, but the
settlement included wage boosts for the girls, not a release from labor. Mother Jones reluctantly recommended
ratification of the contract
anyway. But she never again involved
herself in a strike involving large numbers of women workers, and thus missed
the big strikes in the mills of Lawrence and Paterson and by garment
workers in New York and Chicago.
In
1902 she was in West Virginia pulling miners out on strike. Reese
Blizzard, a local district attorney
told a jury trying her on charges of
violating an injunction against
picketing that she was “The most
dangerous woman in America…. She comes into a state where peace and
prosperity rein ... crooks her finger [and] twenty thousand contented men lay
down their tools and walk out.”
Mother Jones leading her Children's Crusade for child labor laws.
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Back
in Pennsylvania she worked with miners for the UMW and continued her agitation
to end child labor for the next two years.
In 1903 she launched her famous Children’s
Crusade march with child laborers from the mines and silk mills from Kensington and Philadelphia to President
Theodore Roosevelt’s palatial home at Oyster
Bay, New York. The President snubbed her, refusing to
meet either her or the children and not even responding to a written request
for an interview. But the march of
bedraggled children led by a white haired old lady in old fashion clothes got national
press attention and brought the issue of child labor to the fore.
An
exasperated Roosevelt, after she defied Federal
anti-strike injunctions in Colorado the
next year, would repeat Blizzard’s characterization and would thereafter usually
be credited as the first one to call her the most dangerous woman in America.
Mother
Jones had gone to Colorado, which was already almost in a civil war, right after the Children’s march. She found conditions deplorable and organized
violence by company thugs and the Colorado Militia outrageous. Once again she organized miners’ wives to
support their husbands. Back East the
UMW’s Mitchell became alarmed at
reports of wide spread violence during what he considered an unauthorized wildcat strike. He ordered
UMW locals, representing about a third
of those out, back to work or risk losing their union charters. That effectively
broke the strike with no gains despite enormous suffering. Many strike leaders were blacklisted.
Outraged
by the betrayal, Mother Jones broke
with the Mine Workers, sacrificing the only steady, if meager, income she had earned for years. There after she lived mostly on charity and handouts from supporters, living and eating with whatever workers
she was organizing.
The
experience also hardened Jones’s already stated opposition to women’s
suffrage. She had long argued, “You
don’t need the vote to raise hell.” But
now her ire was raised against the
largely middleclass suffrage movement,
and indeed against women crusading for reform in general. Colorado women had the vote, and those same middle class women did not exercise
their franchise in support of the starving and oppressed workers, as many
reformers claimed they naturally would.
In fact they seemed to be especially vocal in opposition dreading civil
disorder more than they thirsted for justice.
And many suffrage leaders were also prohibitionists
who during and after World War I would
successfully campaign to deny workers one of their few pleasures and solace—a dram of drink.
In
her 1925 Autobiography Mother Jones
would bitterly note that, “the plutocrats have organized their women. They keep them busy with suffrage and
prohibition and charity.” This aspect of
her career is often glossed over or omitted by modern activists who claim her as
inspiration, especially feminists.
After
the collapse of the Colorado wildcats, Mother Jones stayed mostly in the west
for the next 9 years agitating not only among coal miners, but among hard rock miners usually in association
with the radical Western Federation of Miners. She was active among copper miners in Arizona
and Idaho and was a repeated
nuisance.
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Mother Jones soapboxing in Seattle
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In
1905 she returned to Chicago to support her friends Socialist leader Eugene Debs
and Western Federation leader William D.
“Big Bill” Haywood in founding a revolutionary new industrial union. She signed the March 1905 call to the founding convention of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) and was present at the June founding. She took out a red card but was never
active with the union, and when she resumed relations with the UMW a few
years later, was actively hostile to IWW organizing attempts in the coal
fields.
That
re-association with the UMW—although not employment—came when she rushed east
to support the Cabin Creek/Paint Creek
Strikes in West Virginia which had devolved into open civil war between
miners, authorities, and gun thugs of the Baldwin–Felts
Detective Agency. She arrived in
June 1912 when the strike was three months old a taking a turn for the
worse. Baldwin-Feltz agents using machine guns and even an armored train were moving to evict
strikers from company housing. Shootings
and assaults on all sides were common.
75
year old Mother Jones flew into action.
She rallied miners with fiery rhetoric.
She personally snuck past patrols of armed guards on foot to reach
miners isolated at Eskdale and bring
them out on strike. Then in secret she
organized a 3000 man march of armed miners to the steps of the state capital in Charleston to read a formal
declaration of war on rabidly anti-union Governor William E. Glasscock.
After that, miners went on the offensive, attacking mine guards and
scabs at several occasions.
Martial law was declared
three times over the next few months. The final time was on February 10,
1913. Three days later Mother Jones was
arrested attempting to publicly read the Declaration
of Independence. When she was hauled
before a military tribunal on
charges of inciting a riot, she refused
to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the court or to offer a defense. Charges were amended to include conspiracy to commit murder. She was quickly convicted and sentenced
to twenty years in prison at hard labor.
Mother Jones in custody at Carney's Boarding House after being convicted of conspiracy to commit murder and other charges in West Virginia, 1913.
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Since
her arrest Mother Jones had been held in
isolation at Mrs. Carney's Boarding House
unable to communicate with supporters or the press. While there she contracted pneumonia. In May she smuggled a letter to pro-labor Indiana Senator John Worth Kern who on
May 23 announced the creation of a special Senate
Subcommittee to investigate conditions in the West Virginia mines. The subcommittee also extended its investigations to two other violent hot spots—the Michigan copper mines, and Colorado
coal fields.
Meanwhile
a new pro-labor Governor Dr. Henry D. Hatfield—yes one of those
Hatfields—took office. He ordered Mother
Jones transported to a hospital in Charleston for treatment and then released
unconditionally with several other jailed activists. Hatfield imposed
a settlement of the strike generally favorable to the UMW, but local militants
held out for more until June.
Despite
her ordeal, Mother Jones sprang back into action only a few months later as
Colorado coal miners prepared for another big strike in the coal fields. Once again she was on the stump and in the
tent villages of evicted strikers. She
organized marches and women. And once
again she was arrested. Held for several
days, she was deported to the
Colorado border with orders never to return.
Before she could come back Colorado Militia and Baldwin–Felts thugs attacked
the sleeping camp at Ludlow with machine gun fire and burnt the tents killing at least 19, mostly women and
children.
Mother
Jones barnstormed the East publicizing the outrage. The resulting publicity caused John D. Rockefeller, owner of one of the major employers, the Colorado
Fuel and Iron Company to meet personally with her and promise to go to
Colorado himself, which he did. He also
ordered some improvements in mine conditions, but did not offer union recognition. She
also met personally with President
Woodrow Wilson.
Mother
Jones remained mostly in the east until 1920 often working with the UMW in the
mine fields, but also offering support to other strikers, including those defying World War I strike bans in defense related industry. She only escaped the persecution and prosecution
of Debs, IWW leaders, and other militant unionists because of her age and
public sympathy.
Well
passed 80 she still spoke up in union affairs, and was a vocal critic of some
UMW actions. She spoke out fearlessly on
any topic when asked. Which, inevitably,
got her into trouble one last time. In
1924 the publisher of a fledgling Chicago newspaper sued her for slander, libel,
and sedition. As usual, she refused to contest the case and
was fined $350,000. A virtual pauper, she had no money to pay.
But
the same year Charles H. Kerr & Company,
the labor and socialist publisher,
issued The Autobiography of Mother
Jones. The modest royalties were expected to provide some small income in her advancing years. Now lawyers got it all for the settlement.
Finally
surrendering to age and infirmity, Mother Jones moved into the home of her friends
Walter and Lillie May Burgess in Adelphi,
Maryland where she was lovingly cared for.
She would entertain visitors and the press, always willing to share a
story or a sharp opinion.
On
her adopted birthday of May 1, 1930 a newsreel
team filmed her delivering a short greeting from her bed. It was the only time her voice was ever recorded. Eight months later she was dead.
Mother Jones cuts the cake for her self-proclaimed 100th birthday on May 1, 1930.
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When
Mary Harris Jones drew the last
breath of her long life on November 30, 1930 she had no living kin to mourn her. But she left behind thousands and thousands
of miners and their families from Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Illinois, all
the way out to Colorado and dozens
of other places who grieved for the
woman the called simply, Mother Jones.
At
her request, her body was taken to rest with “her boys” at the Union
Miner’s Cemetery at Mt. Olive,
Illinois where so many victims of
the vicious Illinois coal field wars and those killed in mine collapses and explosions were interred. She was laid next to the dead of the Virden Massacre. Later a modest but impressive monument was erected with her bas-relief bronze image attached to a pillar and flanked by statues of two miners,
heads bowed. The monument also contains
the inscribed names of the Virden dead.
A
few months later an almost unknown former railroad
telegrapher recently turned to hillbilly
singer on radio named Gene Autry sang about her on one of his
first records:
The world today’s
in mourning
O’er the death of Mother Jones;
Gloom and sorrow hover
Around the miners’ homes.
This grand old champion of labor
Was known in every land;
She fought for right and justice,
She took a noble stand.
O’er the death of Mother Jones;
Gloom and sorrow hover
Around the miners’ homes.
This grand old champion of labor
Was known in every land;
She fought for right and justice,
She took a noble stand.
O’er the hills
and through the valley
In ev’ry mining town;
Mother Jones was ready to help them,
She never turned them down.
On front with the striking miners
She always could be found;
And received a hearty welcome
In ev’ry mining town;
Mother Jones was ready to help them,
She never turned them down.
On front with the striking miners
She always could be found;
And received a hearty welcome
In ev’ry mining
town…
Her
legend and inspiration lives on.
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