The Coal Miners of the Old Dominion – J.P. 12/19/1901

Republished from our predecessor publication Lucifer the Light Bearer

A few Sundays ago I attended church in a place called McDonald, on Loop Creek, in West Virginia. In the course of
his sermon the preacher gave the following as a conversation that had recently taken place between him and a miner:
“I met a man last week,” said the preacher, “who used to be a very good church member. When I asked him what he
was doing at the present time, he said that he was organizing his fellow craftsmen of the mines.” Then, according to
the preacher, the following discussion took place: “What is the object of such a union?” asked the preacher. “To better
our condition,” replied the miner. “But the miners are in a prosperous condition now.” “There is where we differ,” said the
miner. “Do you think you will succeed?” “I am going to try.” Commenting on this conversation to his congregation, the
preacher said: “Now I question if such a man can meet with any success. If he were only a college graduate, he might
be able to teach these miners something and in this way give them light; but as the miners of this creek are in a prosperous
condition at the present time, I do not see what such a man can do for them.” Yet this man was professing to preach
the doctrines of the Carpenter of Nazareth. Let us compare his condition with that of the “prosperous” miners, and perhaps
we can see why he talked as he did. At this same service he read his report for the previous six months. For his share
of the wealth these miners had produced during that time he had received $847.67, of which $45 had been given for
missionary purposes. Besides receiving this money, he had been frequently wined and dined by the mine operators and
probably had a free pass on the railroad. What had he done for the miners during this time? He had spoken to them
twenty-six times, for which he received $32.41 a talk, and if they were all like the one I heard, he was at no expense
either in time, brains, or money to prepare them. During all this time the “prosperous” miners were working ten hours
a day beneath the ground amid poisonous gases and crumbling rocks. If they were fortunate enough to be allowed
to toil every working day throughout the year, they would have received, in return for 3,080 hours of most exhausting
toil, less than $400.

Jesus, whose doctrines this man claimed to be preaching, took twelve men from among the laborers of his time (no
college graduates among them) and with them founded an organization that revolutionized the society amid which it
rose. Just so, in our day, the organization of the workers must be the first step to the overthrow of capitalism. Then my
mind turns to the thousands of “trap boys,” with no sunshine ever coming into their lives. These children of the miners
put in fourteen hours a day beneath the ground for sixty cents, keeping their lone watch in the tombs of the earth, with
never a human soul to speak to them. The only sign of life around them is when the mules come down with coal. Then,
as they open the trap doors to let the mules out, a gush of cold air rushes in, chilling their little bodies to the bone.
Standing in the wet mud up to their knees, there are times when they are almost frozen; and when at last, late at night,
they are permitted to come out into God’s fresh air, they are sometimes so exhausted that they have to be carried to
the corporation shack they call a home. The parents of these boys have known no other life than that of endless toil.
Now those who have robbed and plundered the parents are beginning the same story with the present generation.
These boys are sometimes not more than nine or ten years of age. Yet, in the interests of distant bond- and stockholders,
these babes must be imprisoned through the long, beautiful daylight in the dark and dismal caverns of the earth. Savage
cannibals at least put their victim out of his misery before beginning their terrible meal, but the cannibals of today feast
their poodle dogs at the seashore upon the lifeblood of these helpless children of the mines. A portion of this bloodstained
plunder goes to the support of educational incubators called universities, that hatch out just such ministerial fowls as
the one referred to. The very miner with whom this minister had been talking had been blacklisted up and down the
creek for daring to ask for a chance to let his boy go to school instead of into the mines. This miner could have told
the minister more about the great industrial tragedy in the midst of which he was living, in five minutes, than all his
college training had taught him.

At the bidding of these same stock- and bondholders, often living in a foreign land, the schoolhouses of Virginia are
closed to those who built them and to whom they belong by every right. The miners pay the taxes, build the schools,
and support the officers; but if they dare even to stand upon the schoolhouse steps, a snip of a mine boss comes
along with pistol in hand and orders them off. “Free speech?” said one of them to me when I protested. “We do not
need any free speech. You get off the earth.” Not only the schoolrooms, but every church or public hall is locked
against us. On every school board you will find at least one company clerk or mining boss, and it is the business
of this henchman of the mine owners to see to it that the school buildings are not used for public meetings by the
miners. Yet these same school buildings are used by the operators for any kind of meeting they choose, and any
demoralizing, degrading show that comes along has free access to them, as well as all political meetings of the
old capitalist parties. But when the labor agitator, or trade-union organizer, comes along trying to make it possible
for the miners’ children to go to school, the schoolhouses are tightly closed. In some of these camps the miners
are forced to pay as much as $9 a barrel for flour, 14 cents a pound for sugar, 18 cents a pound for fat pork, and
$8 to $10 a month rent for a company shack, the roof of which is so poor that when it rains the bed is moved from
place to place in the attempt to find a dry spot. Many a miner works his whole life and never handles a cent of money.
All he earns must be spent in the “pluck-me.” Every miner has one dollar stopped for a company doctor. With 1,200
men working in a mine and a young doctor paid $300 a year, this means a nice little lump for the company. And this
is the divine system the preacher was defending. In the closing hours of the baby year of the twentieth century, I stood
on the soil that gave birth to a Patrick Henry, who could say, “Give me liberty or give me death,” and a Jefferson, the
truth of whose prophecy—that the greatest tyranny and danger to American liberty would come from the judges on the
bench—has been so often shown in these last few years.

I had just left West Virginia with all its horrors, and as I was whirled along on the railroad I wondered if, when I stood
on the soil stained with the blood of so many Revolutionary heroes, I would once more really breathe the air of freedom.
Well, this is the first breath I received. I arrived in the northern part of Wise County, Virginia, over the L. & N. R.R.,
to find a message waiting for me from the superintendent of the mines saying that if I came down to the Dorcas mines
to talk to the miners of his company, he would shoot me. I told him to shoot away, and that I did not propose to be
scared out by the growling of any English bulldog of capitalism. Here is the oath which every miner is forced to take
before he can go into a mine or get an opportunity to live (the name of the miner is omitted for obvious reasons):
“I, John Brown, a Justice of the Peace, in and for the County of Wise and State of Virginia, do hereby certify that
__ has this day personally appeared before me and made statement on oath that he would not in any way aid or
abet the labor organization known as the United Mine Workers of America, or any other labor organization calculated
to bring about trouble between the Virginia Iron, Coal and Coke Company and its employees, in or near the vicinity
of Tom’s Creek, Wise County, Virginia.

Witness my hand and seal, this the 19th day of December, 1901.
— J.P.”

This superintendent should remember that the shooting of John Brown did not stop the onward march of the Civil War
and the emancipation of the blacks, and should know that the shooting of Mother Jones will never stop the onward
march of the United Mine Workers toward the goal of emancipation of the white slaves from capitalistic oppression.
The laborers will move onward in their work until every child has an opportunity to enjoy God’s bright sunlight, and
until some Happy New Year shall bring to every toiler’s home the joyful news of freedom from all masters.