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JOHN MITCHELL 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNW 
 
John Mitchell. 1900 
 
JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Miner 
 
 LABOR'S BARGAIN WITH 
 THE GILDED AGE 
 
 by Elsie Gliick 
 
 THE JOHN DAY COMPANY 
 
COPYRIGHT, I929, BY ELSIE GLUCK 
 FIRST PUBLISHED, APRIL, 1 929 
 
 PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. 
 
 FOR THE JOHN DAY COMPANY, INC. 
 
 BY THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY, INC., RAHWAY, N. J. 
 

 "1 
 
 To 
 MY MOTHER 
 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR 
 
 Elsie Gluck has devoted many years to 
 the study of labor problems, and through 
 her work with trade unions has first-hand 
 knowledge. 
 
 After being graduated from the University 
 of Wisconsin in 1920, where she was a stu- 
 dent of John R. Commons, she directed the 
 educational work of the Ladies' Waist and 
 Dressmakers' Union. Subsequently, as a 
 member of the staff of the International La- 
 dies' Garment Workers' Union, she con- 
 ducted campaigns and assisted in strikes in 
 several cities. She has also done research 
 work for that organization, after having 
 served as research assistant to several well- 
 known economists. She has been more re- 
 cently connected with the teaching staff of 
 the Economics Department of the Univer- 
 sity of Wisconsin. 
 
 From time to time, she has contributed 
 articles to the American Federationist, Ad- 
 vance and other labor publications. 
 
XV 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 I. SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 3 
 
 II. LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 16 
 
 III. THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 36 
 
 IV. THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 50 
 V. THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 66 
 
 VI. THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 102 
 
 VII. BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 137 
 
 VIII. THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 157 
 
 IX. THE BROKEN HARMONY 179 
 
 X. THE BREAKING MAN 197 
 
 XL THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 221 
 
 XII. THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 240 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 263 
 
 INDEX 267 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 JOHN MITCHELL. 1900 Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 JACK HAWTHORNE, PETE HENDERSON AND 
 JACK MITCHELL. SPRING VALLEY, ILL. 1888 67 
 
 MINERS' HOMES, SHOWING THE MINE SHAFT 
 
 IN THE DISTANCE 80 
 
 ROOSEVELT, BISHOP HOBAN OF SCRANTON 
 AND MITCHELL 180 
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 
 
 The author wishes to acknowledge indebtedness to Miss 
 Elizabeth C. Morris, secretary to John Mitchell, for her 
 assistance in making available the many documents of mine 
 workers' conventions, joint conferences, etc., as well as for her 
 many suggestions and corrections during the writing of this 
 book. The early files of the United Mine Workers 9 Journal 
 were made accessible through the courtesy of Mr. Thomas 
 Kennedy, Secretary-Treasurer of the United Mine Workers' 
 International Union. This source material was supplemented 
 by contemporary newspaper and periodical comment, and the 
 author also drew heavily on Conciliation and Arbitration in 
 the Coal Industry of America by Arthur E. SufTern. 
 
 In the effort to supplement by personal interview informa- 
 tion obtainable from published sources, the author inter- 
 viewed dozens of persons connected with Mr. Mitchell. She 
 wishes to acknowledge with special thanks the assistance of 
 Miss Morris and of Mr. W. D. Ryan, formerly secretary- 
 treasurer of the United Mine Workers' organization, now 
 with the U. S. Bureau of Mines. Among the many others who 
 have generously contributed of their time are: 
 
 Mr. Richard J. Beamish, formerly with the Philadelphia North 
 
 American; 
 Father John J. Curran of Wilkesbarre, Pa. ; 
 Mr. Clarence S. Darrow, Chicago ; 
 
xii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 
 
 Mr. Thomas Duffy, formerly President of Anthracite District, 
 
 No. 7 (U.M.W.) ; 
 Mr. Thomas Duffy, newspaper correspondent, Scranton, Pa.; 
 Mrs. Mary Burke East, official stenographer for all mine workers' 
 
 conventions and conferences, as well as for the conventions of 
 
 the A. F. of L. ; 
 Mr. Frank Feehan, formerly President of Pittsburgh District, No. 
 
 5, U.M.W.A.; 
 Mr. W. H. Haskins, formerly President of Ohio District, No. 6; 
 Mr. Daniel Hart, now Mayor of Wilkesbarre, Pa. ; 
 Mr. Thomas Kennedy, National Secretary-Treasurer of Mine 
 
 Workers' Union; 
 Mr. John Lof tus, Scranton ; 
 
 Mr. Andrew Matti, President of Anthracite District, No. 7 ; 
 Mr. Duncan McDonald, at one time on the staff of the Union ; 
 Mr. James O'Connell, Metal Trades Department, American Fed- 
 eration of Labor ; 
 Mr. Charles P. Neill, Umpire under agreement in anthracite fields ; 
 Mr. Michael D. Ratchford, President of U.M.W., 1897 and 1898; 
 Miss Harriett Reid, formerly of the staff of the U.M.W.A. ; 
 Mr. Harry N. Taylor, formerly an operator in Illinois ; 
 Mr. W. D. Van Horn, long a National Executive Board member 
 
 of U.M.W.A.; 
 Mr. John H. Walker of Springfield, 111., one-time officer of 
 
 U.M.W.A., now President of Illinois State Federation of 
 
 Labor ; 
 Dr. Frank Julian Warne, economist, of Washington ; 
 Mr. Walter Wellman, one-time correspondent for The Chicago 
 
 Record-Herald ; 
 Mrs. Walter Weyl, whose husband was associated with John 
 
 Mitchell, and who collaborated with him in the writing of 
 
 Organized Labor, 
 
 It is to be regretted that the official correspondence of Mr. 
 Mitchell during his years of office was unavailable. These 
 records were reported as missing when John P. White entered 
 office in 1911. Through the courtesy of President William 
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS xiii 
 
 Green and Miss Florence C. Thome of the American Federa- 
 tion of Labor, the correspondence of Mr. Mitchell and 
 Samuel Gompers was made available. Matters covered by 
 personal correspondence and personal files are contemplated 
 for use in a volume by Miss Morris and are therefore not 
 accessible. Personal correspondence with John Loftus of 
 Scranton, Pa., was placed at my disposal by Mr. Loftus. 
 Mrs. Caro Lloyd also permitted me to examine such corre- 
 spondence of Henry D. Lloyd as might throw light on the 
 anthracite strike of 1902. 
 
 Research in connection with this study was carried on 
 while the author was a fellow at the Robert Brookings 
 Graduate School of Economics and Government, and as a 
 graduate student at the University of Wisconsin. The visits 
 to mining centers were made possible through the aid of the 
 American Fund for Personal Service. 
 
 Criticisms and suggestions on the manuscript were made 
 by Mr. Arthur E. SufTern, now of the Federal Council of 
 Churches; Mr. W. D. Ryan, Dr. Leo Wolman, Director of 
 Research for the Amalgamated Clothing Workers' Union, 
 by Miss Marguerite Steinfeld and Miss Marjorie Griesser. 
 The first half of the original draft was also carefully read and 
 criticized by Dr. Carter Goodrich of the University of Michi- 
 gan, Dr. I. Lubin and Dr. Helen R. Wright of the Institute of 
 Economics. Mr. H. S. Raushenbush gave invaluable aid in the 
 revision of the manuscript. I am especially indebted to Profes- 
 sors John R. Commons and Selig Perlman of the University 
 of Wisconsin for such counsel and continual encouragement as 
 made possible the completion of this study. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 This book is more than a biography — it is a study of lead- 
 ership and mass movement. Miss Gliick went where Mitchell 
 went, and interviewed those who worked with or against 
 Mitchell. His leadership had its individuality. It was cre- 
 ated, as it were, out of the thin-vein coal deposits of Northern 
 Illinois — the economist's "marginal mines" — where twice or 
 three times as much work was required to get out a ton of 
 coal as in the ten-foot veins of Southern Illinois and West 
 Virginia. These were the last mines to open up and the first 
 to shut down. Mitchell knew by experience — not by literature. 
 Those veins produced many other thinkers, and talkers and 
 leaders. But something about John Mitchell brought him to 
 the leadership of the leaders. He was not aggressive — he was 
 conciliatory. He talked after the others had finished. And it 
 seemed that he could clearly state everything that had been 
 said. You felt, too, a great power and integrity in his state- 
 ments. Then, when he was quite certain that all were with 
 him, he could talk in private or public to the organized 
 employers with not only the same power and integrity but 
 also with the still voice of 300,000. So he could wait. He was 
 the least hurried of labor leaders. He let the operators have 
 their say first, and then, as one of them said, he made them 
 look like thirty cents. He did not exaggerate himself. He 
 knew that he was a leader, not a boss. And he was just as 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 philosophical when, flushed with power, the 300,000 would 
 not wait for his conciliatory waiting. So he was a leader only 
 a few years. A leader out of bondage — not a dictator after 
 victory. Yet he left an enduring organization because he built 
 on economic power to make collective agreements and on fidel- 
 ity to them when disadvantageous. This biography is a useful 
 lesson in leadership and democracy. 
 
 John R. Commons. 
 University of Wisconsin. 
 
JOHN MITCHELL 
 
I 
 
 SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 
 
 THE great burst of energy and ambition which ripped 
 open the West and gave us some of our first and most 
 notable industrial millionaires and buccaneers also shored 
 up at the side of the railroads and coal mines some hun- 
 dreds of dispirited, discouraged towns. The people in them 
 had come from the East, had come all the way from Eng- 
 land, from Scotland and Wales, to take their part in the 
 opening of the industrial resources of the middle and western 
 borders. Some of them went into Northern Illinois when the 
 Central Illinois Railroad was built and settled in Decatur, 
 Braceville, Braidwood and the small mining camps about. 
 There was work for a while. Some of them went off to the 
 Civil War. There was work for those who stayed at home. 
 It was a country where there was a promise behind the hard 
 work of pioneering, a time when men rose suddenly to wealth 
 and power. 
 
 When the men came home from the war to their families 
 even the promise of steady work faded, and the unspoken 
 hopes beyond that essential were slowly buried by the process 
 of keeping alive. There were more mines than the country 
 needed. Many of them closed. The rest lowered wages. The 
 miners and their families were left to shift for themselves. 
 
4 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 The war had kept a united country — there had never been a 
 war for a united coal industry. Competition was still seen as 
 the life-blood of trade. What the miners suffered was a peace- 
 ful violence: unemployment, starvation wages. They had the 
 right and freedom to try their fortune elsewhere in the grow- 
 ing country. Some of them even had the money to move 
 away. 
 
 Habit and hope were strong and hardy in most of them. It 
 was the mining craft they knew and wanted to work at. The 
 closed collieries represented thousands of dollars of invest- 
 ment. They had worked once; surely they would work again 
 if only men waited. Meanwhile some garden truck could be 
 raised, some milk gotten from a cow or goat, some lucky 
 chance would bring a few days' work on the roads or farms. 
 Children kept coming into the world. 
 
 In the winter of 1870 John Mitchell was born in Braid- 
 wood, Illinois. His father had come back from the wars and 
 stayed there to take his luck with the rest. His father, Robert 
 Mitchell, was one of the Scotch-Irish who took a pride in 
 being considered Irishmen at a time when their social standing 
 in this country was low; but on July 12th he would be found 
 marching in the Orangemen's Parade. He had three wives. 
 His first wife gave him three sons before she died; his second 
 gave him two, one of whom was John Mitchell, and a daugh- 
 ter, and then died when John was two and a half years old; 
 his third wife brought along a child of her own from another 
 marriage and gave John's father another son of his own. He 
 was killed by a runaway team when John was six years old, 
 and left these four sets of children under one roof and a heavy 
 
SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 5 
 
 soldier's coat under which John and a half-brother would 
 snuggle through the long cold winter nights. 
 
 The lives of the poor leave few documents. They are known 
 to their neighbors and remembered only by the existence of 
 something unusual. Poverty, a widow with four sets of chil- 
 dren were not unusual. Of John's own mother only her name, 
 Martha Halley, and her son are remembered. Of his step- 
 mother there is such account as he himself gave in the later 
 years when people sought to account for his career. Re- 
 luctantly he broke through the silence he had guarded about 
 his childhood years. 
 
 His stepmother, a Scotch Presbyterian, had to take in wash- 
 ing. To her family she taught a few simple maxims. "Tell the 
 truth and shame the devil" was one of them. She did not spoil 
 her children. John had to help with the washing, and could 
 attend school only irregularly. He could not keep pace with 
 the other boys because of that. "The humiliation and shame 
 of lagging behind them caused me to lose interest in my stud- 
 ies," he said later. This was only part of it. The other boys, 
 whose mothers did not take in washing, would pass the house 
 on Saturdays and Sundays to go to the ballgrounds, to the 
 swimming-hole, to the woods. John had to remain at home, 
 an exile from the life of the others, doing the washing, help- 
 ing with the housework, weeding the vegetable garden. There 
 was no relief on Sundays. Under the strict Presbyterian rule 
 of his mother he went to Sunday School and read the Bible. 
 Membership in the church counted for something to a woman 
 who had little else to support her. 
 
 The boys of the town missed no chance to drive the exile 
 
6 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 from their ranks further into his loneliness. When he hung 
 the clothes out to dry in the backyard, they would gather 
 around and torment him with the jibe that he was doing a 
 girl's work. All this happened before he was ten years old but 
 he never forgot it. 
 
 A normal boy could stand this only so long. When it was 
 whispered around that the boys were going over to Joliet, 
 twenty-one miles away, to see the circus, he took his courage 
 in both hands and joined them. He had never been near one 
 before. The parade was a scene that met his wildest expecta- 
 tions. The walk over had been long. None of them had any 
 money for the fifty-cent ticket of admission. They were given 
 the privilege of carrying water for the menagerie to earn their 
 right to see the show. Without breakfast, without sleep all 
 night during the walk, the boys worked at it seven hours, 
 bucket after bucket. Finally the job was ended, the price of 
 admission paid off. On the last trip, fifty yards away from 
 the entrance, a boy of his own age approached him "and of- 
 fered, most kindly, I thought, to carry my bucket for a short 
 distance." He gladly surrendered it, only to see the good 
 Samaritan walk right into the tent with what turned out to 
 be the credential of the day's work, the last bucket. He never 
 saw the circus. His childish belief in others, which was to last 
 far beyond childhood, only brought him the experience of 
 being seized by the collar and thrown out. On top of that he 
 had the bitter return over the whole twenty-one miles, the 
 taunts of his companions, and a beating from his stepmother 
 when he reached home. 
 
 His stepmother married again when John was ten, and he 
 
SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 7 
 
 left home, wandering out into the neighboring countryside, 
 finally getting a job on one of the farms as water boy to the 
 farmhands. In addition to his keep he received one dollar a 
 week. When he was twelve he came back to Braidwood and 
 went into the mines. The State law put the age limit at thir- 
 teen years, but boys younger than himself were getting in. He 
 had no great trouble getting a job as a trapper-boy, opening 
 and closing the wooden doors that separated one section of 
 the workings from another whenever the mule drivers came 
 along the dark tracks with their coal trucks. 
 
 The pay was low. The day's work was long. He was one of 
 thousands of boys who had come out of the loins of toil and 
 sorrow that generated in the early seventies and who knew 
 no better world. The men with whom he was later to fight his 
 way up were going through the same life in the camps around 
 him, in Indiana, Pennsylvania, Ohio. It was a time when men 
 went to church because they had to believe in another world. 
 
 Braidwood and the other mining camps of the day were 
 still places where the raw and simple function of emptying 
 the bowels of the earth had not been embroidered by many 
 of the delicacies of our culture. The tipple rose huge and un- 
 painted above the miners' shacks that grouped around it. At 
 one side was the growing mountain of culm, of waste. The 
 places where men ate and slept were ramshackle affairs of one 
 or two rooms. There was a general store, owned in most cases 
 by the coal company, where the miners could buy food on the 
 credit of each day's wage; a superintendent's house, a school- 
 house, many saloons and churches finished the picture. If a 
 man wanted recreation he had the saloon at his door. In the 
 
8 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 periods of idleness he could try the rivers and woods for fish 
 and game. The miners stayed by themselves. Some slight con- 
 tact with the superintendent, the storekeeper, the saloon- 
 keeper, priest or minister was the only connection they had 
 with other walks of life, other manners of living. 
 
 The mining camp was isolated from other communities and 
 modes of life, and the miner was isolated from other men. 
 The entire social, industrial and political life centered about 
 the mine. Such town officials as there were would most likely 
 be miners, and the taste of local political life made many a 
 miner ambitious to sit in the State assemblies and make better 
 laws for the protection of his craftsmen. In John Mitchell's 
 day, the mayor of Braidwood was one of the earliest of union 
 leaders in Illinois — John James. Dan McLaughlin, who first 
 attempted to put bargaining in the coal fields on a national 
 scale was another of Braidwood's mayors. 
 
 Life in a mining camp was dreary but violent. Frequent 
 strikes, the desperate outbursts of hungry men and boys, and 
 race riots made these camps "tuff towns." Mine disasters on 
 a large scale were comparatively infrequent, but death under- 
 ground was a daily occurrence. The camp hardly knew a day 
 without a funeral procession. Every home accepted the fact 
 that its head might any day be brought home, injured or dead. 
 The Diamond Mine Disaster of 1883 in Brace ville, an ad- 
 joining town, resulted in the death of sixty-one men. A winter 
 wind from the prairies froze the flooded mine. The miners 
 came from the surrounding towns to help in the rescue, and 
 John Walker of Illinois remembers seeing, in that procession, 
 
SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 9 
 
 a trail of blood across the ice from under young Mitchell's 
 cut bare feet. 
 
 The poverty that now seemed to have no end in sight, the 
 constant risk of the occupation, drove men to drink. Still a lit- 
 tle aside from his fellows, John Mitchell, at that time, would 
 not drink. For this he was promptly and frequently charged 
 by the young men of his age with being a "sissy." It was one 
 of the worst taunts of boyhood, and he withstood it. The en- 
 forced difference that had so long separated him from the 
 life of the other boys had become a virtue to which he was 
 forced to cling tight. If he gave that up, he could only judge 
 himself by the standards of the others, adult boys infinitely 
 more shrewd than himself in the ways of the world. 
 
 None of these shrewd boys nor their fathers could really 
 see any way out of the situation except the same process they 
 used in leaving the lower levels of the workings for the top. 
 The only way to get out of their situation was to get out of 
 the mines. There was talk about unionism. There was always 
 talk about that. But meanwhile they lived on as best they 
 could. In Ohio annual earnings for miners, which were $314 
 in 1879 were dropping toward $239 in 1885 and 1886. For 
 that pay men spent from ten to twelve hours underground in 
 an isolation different only in degree from that they met 
 aboveground. 
 
 The miner worked in a "room" or "breast" alone, unsuper- 
 vised, on his own responsibility, shooting blasts, timbering 
 the rock for safety, laying the track for the truck which was 
 to carry out the coal, hauling water from his room, doing all 
 
10 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 the "dead work" for which he got no payment, incidental and 
 necessary to the actual picking and loading of the coal. Some- 
 times the miner worked with a "buddy" ; most often he worked 
 alone, lying on his belly in the three-foot veins of Northern 
 Illinois, bending over double as he loaded the coal, driving 
 his mule in the darkness down the long passageways to the 
 mine opening. One can visualize young John Mitchell at the 
 age of twelve, going down to his first day in the mine, step- 
 ping on to the "cage" which bore men and coal up and down 
 the shaft, being lowered several hundred feet into utter dark- 
 ness, the feeble light in his top-heavy miner's cap blown out 
 by the sudden gust of air. He recalls that he often slid down 
 the rope before the arrival of the hoisting engineer, hours be- 
 fore the sunrise. At the bottom of the mine there were here and 
 there faint lights on the caps of the men who hoisted cars of 
 coal on to the platform. Then, probably, he was taken some 
 distance, perhaps a mile, along the dark passages and left 
 alone in the terrific darkness and silence, to open and shut the 
 trapdoors which controlled the ventilation of the mine, in 
 order to let cars go through, hearing only the strange noises 
 of the mine — a driver swearing at his mule, the sound of a 
 pick somewhere in the distance — and then silence, and wait- 
 ing again. 
 
 Within a month after his entry into the mines, relief from 
 this utter isolation came in the form of a promotion. The rise 
 of a miner is from trapper-boy to mule driver, to miner's 
 helper, to skilled miner, and then — when old age has set in — 
 back again to the task of trapper-boy. Young Mitchell became 
 helper to his stepfather, Smith, of whom he said in later years 
 
SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 11 
 
 that he was a harsh teacher, but a good miner. These two 
 would work away at their "room" in Northern Illinois. In low, 
 three-foot veins, this meant a continual bending and bowing, 
 a continual crouching, so that the miners of this region — 
 according to the report of a State Investigating Commission 
 for Illinois — came to have what was known as a "miner's 
 shape." They developed a set of muscles "not developed by 
 ordinary labor, at the expense of other muscles used in agri- 
 cultural and everyday pursuits." This often unfitted them for 
 other occupations. 
 
 To make matters worse, another troop in the long proces- 
 sion of immigrants was being brought into the coal fields. 
 The first three British groups that had come — Scotch, Welsh 
 and English — had had no love for each other. But they had 
 joined against the Irish Catholic invaders with a hatred that 
 had its roots in the days when the coal operators of Durham 
 and Northumberland had replaced their striking miners with 
 bewildered Irishmen who then knew nothing of the craft. 
 Riots still occurred on St. Patrick's Day and Orangemen's 
 Day. The Irish were not people to take a licking. They struck 
 back. In the anthracite fields the Molly Maguires had gone 
 out for the Welsh foremen. Now all four groups, coupled 
 with some stray Germans, had to watch the importation of 
 men they speedily called "roundheads" — Bohemian, Polish, 
 Belgian and Italian workers. They brought with them a stand- 
 ard of living, a willingness "to work for a crust of bread and 
 a kick in the pants," that threatened even the few dollars a 
 week the other groups were getting out of the industry. Sto- 
 ries started, and have never been silenced, about some of these 
 
12 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 newcomers not only underbidding the others for the few jobs 
 but offering to throw their wives into the bargain. 
 
 Some efforts were being made to meet the whole situation 
 by a union of all the mine workers. The British miners had 
 brought that tradition with them. One of the most active men 
 lived right in Braidwood — Daniel McLaughlin — a follower 
 of the great Scotch mine leader, Alex McDonald. Without 
 much communication between the scattered camps, without 
 resources, the task of binding together the men already in the 
 mines against the operators or against the newcomers was al- 
 most superhuman. Two separate unions, the National Fed- 
 eration of Miners and the Knights of Labor, soon warring 
 with each other, did come into the fields. 
 
 For a few years around 1885-6 it seemed possible that some 
 less casual status for the mine workers might be established. 
 In the country at large the Knights of Labor claimed seven 
 hundred thousand members. The young American Federation 
 of Labor claimed two hundred and fifty thousand. Prices had 
 risen from 1880 to 1883. The exhaustion of the frontier land, 
 the inpouring of cheap contract labor, a renewal of industrial 
 expansion, all helped to make the workers see that they were 
 being permanently shut up in the wage system. A series of 
 strikes and lockouts began, some of them lasting over a year. 
 In the Hocking Valley of Ohio the miners took a bad beating. 
 But farmers and workers alike were beginning to have enough 
 of "monopoly." A hatred of it lasted across lost strikes and 
 high prices into 1885-6 and swelled the ranks of the Knights 
 of Labor from various classes. A big victory in 1885 on the 
 
SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 13 
 
 Gould railroad showed that something could be done by or- 
 ganization. 
 
 It was this organization which John Mitchell and every 
 other mine worker in Braidwood joined. Its romantic title 
 had originally been backed up with pompous, elaborate initia- 
 tions dwelling on the dignity of labor, the common tie be- 
 tween all classes. Although its primary appeal was to un- 
 skilled workers, in other parts of the country businessmen 
 were members. It was to many miners an artificial leveler, as 
 the church was to their wives. There was nothing revolution- 
 ary about it. In the pledge of membership he took, John 
 Mitchell said with the others: "We mean no conflict with neo 
 essary enterprise, no antagonism to necessary capital.' , Its 
 leaders were really more interested in education, mutual aid 
 and labor legislation than in trade unionism. 
 
 The somewhat modest aims of this group, the appeal to 
 liberal public opinion which it represented came to ruin in 
 part by the fact that other groups in the country wanted much 
 more and wanted it at once. The psychology of the disinher- 
 ited was represented in the growth of the anarchist move- 
 ment. The Black International, formerly somewhat restricted 
 to the metropolitan areas, led by Germans, Bohemians and 
 Scandinavians, began to feed on the depression throughout 
 the country, extending into smaller cities, taking in the un- 
 employed, including many native-born Americans in their 
 ranks. 
 
 The Black International took the eight-hour-day plank of 
 the Knights and demanded it as the first step in the revolu- 
 
14 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 tion. In the middle of a strike of the McCormack Harvester 
 workers for an eight-hour day, a bomb was tossed, the Hay- 
 market riots broke, and the country coupled innocent and 
 guilty together. Samuel Gompers was to say later that it not 
 only killed a few policemen, it killed the effectiveness of the 
 labor movement in America for some years. 
 
 It was all discouraging to a young man like John Mitchell 
 who had been hoping for help from the outside. He was six- 
 teen now. He went West. He would carve out his own for- 
 tune in a better, freer country. There were thousands of un- 
 employed who made the same trek, homeless, disinherited men 
 for the most part. Some eighteen years later the world was to 
 know them and fear them under the name of the Industrial 
 Workers of the World. In 1886-7 they had no organization 
 quite so adapted to their itinerant casual type of labor. 
 
 This getting out into the world, away from the hometown 
 boys who had sneered at him for hanging up the wash, who 
 had called him a sissy because he would not drink, who had 
 laughed at him for a credulous fool, with whom he had not 
 been able to keep up in school, was probably the wisest thing 
 he could have done if he had been planning his career with 
 the wisdom of an adult labor leader. Hardly any of the way- 
 faring men of the day had any money. Mitchell did not. 
 Traveling was a matter of riding the rods or the bumpers, or 
 walking. All belongings went into one small bag to be jeal- 
 ously guarded day and night. Some of the men turned tramps 
 long before Colorado was reached. 
 
 Colorado at that time was no El Dorado. There too the 
 mining camps were overcrowded, men competed against each 
 
SONS OF TOIL AND SORROW 15 
 
 other for the work. A sixteen-year-old boy was only a weak 
 competitor. He finally did secure a job, and then found that 
 he had to relearn his whole trade as the character of mining 
 was different from the one he had grown up in at home. For 
 a while he had luck in that he lived with the family of old 
 Dan McLaughlin, from his home town of Braidwood. The old 
 man's plans for a collective agreement of the operators of the 
 four big coal states with the miners had fallen through and 
 he had come out to be superintendent of a newly opened mine 
 at Starkville. From him Mitchell could learn what undying 
 energy some men bring to the hope and work of their lives. 
 
 For two or three years he worked in various camps in Colo- 
 rado, New Mexico and Wyoming. For him there was no gold 
 in those hills. He turned eastward. Some rumor of new mines 
 opening at La Salle and Spring Valley in Illinois had come 
 through. The life was the same all over. Perhaps it would be 
 a little better now in Illinois. He reached home in the finan- 
 cial condition that he left it — penniless. But now he was a 
 man who had been around a bit, a different, harder person 
 than the boy who had left home, seeking change and fortune. 
 He had reconciled himself to the miner's lot in Illinois as his 
 inevitable destiny. 
 
 That acceptance bound him up with the fate of the Illinois 
 miners, who were inside of ten years to have the strongest 
 district of the most powerful labor union in the country. 
 
II 
 
 LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 
 
 IN the next ten years there was not enough food in Illi- 
 nois to put flesh on a miner's bones. John Mitchell's child- 
 hood had kept him thin. He was a man who could and 
 later on did take on weight. During these years he was slight, 
 wiry, one hundred and twenty pounds of weatherbeaten 
 muscle, giving no promise that the time would come when 
 success would add another sixty pounds to his bulk. In these 
 years he gave the impression of an ascetic. His hair lay down 
 black over his high forehead. Keen, quiet brown eyes in a 
 swarthy face occasionally misled people into taking him for 
 an Italian. Shortly after his return, when he swept on with 
 the sweeping forces of revolt, and wore the ministerial black 
 which characterized all men of the times who considered 
 themselves in public life, there were many who mistook him 
 for a crusading Catholic priest. What he lacked in impressive 
 height was made up somewhat by the poise he brought back 
 with him from three years of hard buffeting in parts of the 
 country which the miners of Illinois had never and would 
 never see. 
 
 The miners' leaders were undergoing a process of unnatural 
 selection. Everyone of them who had hopes for his fellows 
 and for himself crashed full steam into one of two wrecks. 
 The coal companies were not interested in encouraging or fos- 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 17 
 
 tering any private initiative other than their own. When a 
 man showed his head above his fellows he was dismissed, 
 forced to go on the road, hunting for a job where all south- 
 ern Europe had poured in on the same quest. This was the 
 fate that met William D. Ryan, who was thrown out of 
 Braidwood, Mitchell's home town, and had found another 
 precarious hold on life railroading. Later he was to become 
 Mitchell's most powerful backer. Those leaders who were not 
 eliminated by the employers were more than likely to go 
 under in the constant series of failures which marked this 
 decade of defeat. The loss of strikes had to be blamed on 
 someone, and man after man fell a victim to his fellows be- 
 fore he fell a victim to the discrimination exercised by the 
 employers. The men were too desperate to be loyal. They 
 wanted victory too much to forgive. This process had drained 
 off some of the best men. 
 
 When Mitchell came back to Illinois in 1888, he found 
 work for a short time at Spring Valley on the Illinois River, 
 fifty miles southwest of Braidwood. It was one of the many 
 towns flooded by Italians, Poles, Austrians and Hungarians. 
 For a short while the dazzling sun of prosperity had touched 
 Northern Illinois. So many men had flocked to its warmth 
 that the operators felt free to set them to working against 
 each other, bidding against each other for jobs, driving 
 the wage bill down to the place where competition with 
 the low-cost mines of Southern Illinois would remain possible. 
 The threat of retaliation on the part of the miners was met, in 
 Spring Valley, by a lockout. 
 
 It was a bitter welcome home for the nineteen-year-old 
 
18 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 traveler. The miners in the other towns were asked for relief. 
 They were on strike themselves. In July the companies started 
 evicting the men and their families from the company houses 
 and property. The correspondent of the New York World 
 reported that men were "dying to escape slavery." He said: 
 "Twelve hundred heads of families of Northern Illinois had 
 not had a stroke of work since May; seven out of every ten 
 families are sick, seriously so; malarial fevers, diphtheria, 
 cholera morbus, ague and pneumonia form the bulk of the 
 ailments. . . . Salt pork, potatoes and corn meal, with a lit- 
 tle tea and coffee, have been their sole means of subsistence 
 throughout the lockout." 
 
 Men looked for help to their unions and looked in vain. 
 The two rival organizations were carrying on a struggle for 
 power, too intense to allow of any compromise with the rival. 
 The only men who profited by their existence at that moment 
 were the operators. In Spring Valley they forced a reduction 
 of twenty per cent on their men, men who had during the 
 months of employment previously earned between $45 and $60 
 — not including deductions for powder and tool dressing. 
 Their leaders were blacklisted and all men who entered the 
 mines were forced to sign yearly contracts of work which 
 Henry D. Lloyd of Chicago — already noted then as an hu- 
 manitarian — characterized as "slavery — slavery in yearly in- 
 stallments." 
 
 For the men of the mines the tradition of defeat was grow- 
 ing stronger. The loss of the struggle in Northern Illinois 
 after almost a whole year of intense resistance came after the 
 anthracite strike of '87 had been lost and after the miners 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 19 
 
 in the Hocking Valley of Ohio had been beaten in '84. Even 
 the men in the most isolated mine towns had learned one 
 lesson: the time was overripe for a united front. 
 
 Pressure from below brought the two organizations — Na- 
 tional District No. 135 of the Knights of Labor, and the other, 
 now known as the National Progressive Union — together at 
 Columbus on January 22, 1890. Ten long years of rivalry 
 had created hatreds and ambitions which could be suspended 
 for one short moment of enthusiasm but not stamped out until 
 many men had gone to their graves. The rank and file, who 
 did not believe it possible that men should quarrel among each 
 other forever for power when there was no bread in the house, 
 cheered themselves hoarse and cried with hope as the leaders 
 of the two factions sunk, for the moment, their differences and 
 the United Mine Workers of America came into existence. 
 
 The name was a proud boast. The mine workers were not 
 united and the union did not cover America. It gave men's 
 hopes a spur. Many of the younger men, Mitchell among 
 them, joined the local branch of the newly organized union. 
 They soon found that if they were to have better wages and 
 conditions they would have to lead the fight themselves — the 
 national organization could give them no help. They were the 
 ones who had to take the brunt and risk of leadership. 
 
 In 1891 Spring Valley was on strike again, a strike which 
 lasted ten months, the second one inside of three years. It 
 was not a strike fought through with great hope, with any 
 exaltation coming from the belief in victory. Neighboring 
 mine camps which were solicited to make the strike solid and 
 effective throughout the district made promises and then 
 
20 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 broke away. There were jealousies, bickerings, accusations of 
 treachery. Some attempt was made to blame the foreigners 
 for this repeated failure to make the unity as real as it was 
 nominal. It was an explanation many accepted, but in the 
 state and district conventions the miners represented in the 
 wrangling bore the names of Murray and Crawford, Don- 
 nelley and Gallagher. 
 
 These were days which made a man want to be anywhere 
 else than in the mines at the same time that they took away 
 his ability to move out of the mines. It was a day when men 
 looked for panaceas, hunting them in Darwin, Spencer, and 
 Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward, a few years later 
 rising to the challenge and promises of free silver. Mitchell 
 was one of those who read Looking Backward, given to him 
 by Father Power, one of the several priests whose lives were 
 identified with the struggles of the miners. With some en- 
 couragement from a local lawyer, he began to read law. That 
 was the way out which led to the legislature. Together with 
 other men of his own age, in the union hall or in the friendly 
 barroom of James Hicks' saloon, they discussed "national 
 issues," everything and anything which seemed to give prom- 
 ise of bringing prosperity into the poverty-stricken world they 
 knew. A lone survivor of that group still remembers the "won- 
 derful big words" of the young mine leader. He never went 
 on with the law. At best it; gave him some self-confidence with 
 his own people and helped him in 1896 when he was to go as 
 legislative representative of the miners to Springfield. 
 
 The ten months of strike in 1891 ended in defeat again, 
 and again John Mitchell trekked out West to try his for- 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 21 
 
 tunes. New Mexico proved no kinder than Colorado and in 
 1892 Mitchell was back in Spring Valley. He gave definite 
 signs of settling there now. In 1892 he married Catherine 
 O'Rourke, daughter of what one writer, with unconscious 
 irony, called "a prosperous miner." She, too, knew the hard- 
 ships of mine life. She, too, was motherless and she accepted 
 the lot of miner's wife philosophically as did most miners' 
 daughters. He was twenty-two then and had spent most of 
 his life boarding around. She was two years older, she was 
 stable and calm and marriage to her signified a certainty he 
 had yearned for. They moved into the double-family house 
 which his father-in-law owned, occupying it jointly with an- 
 other family. Within the year their first child, a son, was born. 
 He had a stalwart faith in the future. 
 
 There was little on the horizon to justify it. That year the 
 state union only received $187 to do all its work. The anti- 
 truck law passed by the State legislature, in which the miners 
 had placed so much faith — abolishing the system of payment 
 in scrip and compulsion to trade at the company "pluck-me" 
 stores — was declared unconstitutional. The union, the courts, 
 the State, politicians and the business interests of the country 
 were not helping the miners any. They turned from one to 
 another, looking for relief. The panic of 1893 swept all but 
 five hundred men off the State union roll. Everything seemed 
 to split them against one another, religion, national origin, 
 the black record of dissension. The only thing they had in 
 common was hope, and that was food for no one. 
 
 The country, many historians agree, was stumbling towards 
 revolution. It was not the revolutionists who were making 
 
22 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 it. It was men who had been beaten so often in their peace- 
 ful attempts to gain the bare bones of existence who were 
 becoming convinced that there was nothing left to them but 
 violence on a large scale. 
 
 The miners were by no means alone in desperation. In the 
 year Mitchell married, the best organized union in the coun- 
 try, the steel workers, went down under Carnegie and Frick 
 in Homestead. Pinkertons shooting workers, Berkman shoot- 
 ing Frick, came into the scene of possibilities. In later years 
 many miners would forbid their children the Carnegie li- 
 braries. The switchmen in Buffalo, coal miners in Tennessee, 
 metal miners in the Cceur D'Alene, all told of the power of 
 the great industrialists and the "lank, stark, naked failure" 
 of the workingmen to protect themselves. 
 
 In that year the People's (Populist) Party, breathing the 
 spirit of radicalism, polled over a million votes, captured 
 twenty-two presidential electors, and sent a powerful delega- 
 tion to Congress. Mitchell cast his vote for the Populists. 
 
 In 1894, a little before the Pullman strike began its course, 
 a little after the American Federation of Labor had endorsed 
 nationalization of the mines, railroads and telegraph sys- 
 tems, the President of the United Mine Workers, John Mc- 
 Bride, stood before the fifth annual convention of the Union, 
 with the simple proposition: "There is a limit to human en- 
 durance and you have reached that limit." He said it to a 
 union which had only thirteen thousand paid up members out 
 of the two hundred and fifty thousand men working in the 
 mines of the country. The first call of the national union for 
 a strike, to begin on April 21, 1894, was obeyed by one hun- 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 23 
 
 dred and twenty-five* thousand men. It met the welcome men 
 reserve for audacity. 
 
 People were beginning to shake in their boots. The miners 
 burned bridges over which the coal trains came up from West 
 Virginia to break the strike. People remembered the Molly 
 Maguires. President Cleveland called out the troops at Chi- 
 cago to put down the "rioters" in the Pullman strike. Coxey's 
 army was in the making. Two years were still to intervene 
 before Bryan could declare to the workers of the country that 
 their relief lay in political action, that he knew one way in 
 which labor should not be crucified. 
 
 In Spring Valley itself, where Mitchell had been elected to 
 the Board of Education, one of his fellow officials, the county 
 charity officer named Love joy, advised the miners in August 
 of 1894 to accept the reduction in wages. If they could not 
 make a living at the reduced wages, he said, the country would 
 make up the deficit. This was a flick on the raw of pride, all 
 that the miners had left. Their retort to that came in the 
 Mine Workers' Journal: 
 
 "If after toiling and moiling, sweating and fuming, digging, 
 backing, shoveling, sawing, smothering, gasping, scrapping, in 
 water, mud, bad air, foul stenches, dangerous caves, treacherous 
 rocks, pushing, heaving, twisting, hammering, lifting, prying, 
 boring, wedging, sometimes in spaces not sufficient for full-grown 
 rats, sometimes where the earth is open like a vast toothed dome 
 whose teeth are hanging in the shape of jagged stones and ready 
 at any minute to crash down and kill — this man Lovejoy, a public 
 officer, tells those men that if they, after doing all this from ten 
 to thirteen hours a day, and after having exhausted every nerve 
 and muscle and vein in their body, have not earned enough to 
 pay for the supper, the county will help them — that is, they will 
 sup poorhouse fare after toiling like galley slaves. . . ." 
 
24 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Such pride did not keep men who had often been beaten 
 from a complete rout. They went back to work "through with 
 the union." In Spring Valley Mitchell and his wife saw the 
 president of the local union sent "on the tramp." He was one 
 of the many who had worked hard during the strike and had 
 met the fate of all those who did anything for the miners. It 
 was something for a young married man with a newborn baby 
 to think about. 
 
 While Coxey's army was starting from the mining camp 
 of Massillon, Ohio, in the most prominent of a long series of 
 attempts which the disinherited of the great industries have 
 made to appeal to the Great White Father at Washington, 
 Mitchell was learning just how complete a defeat can be. He 
 had struck with the others ; he had stood by the others ; he had 
 thought that defeat could be no more than hard work for a 
 pittance. When it was all over, he did not even get his job 
 back. The new superintendent in his mine was an English- 
 man. He immediately discharged all the Irish. Mitchell, who 
 was not quite Irish, but who had married into a Catholic fam- 
 ily, was one of those to go. He found work in a near-by camp. 
 Here he was found by an old acquaintance from Braidwood, 
 the William D. Ryan who was later to play Mark Hanna 
 to his McKinley. Ryan, who had been out of mining for 
 three years and had worked at railroading, was traveling 
 around as secretary of the sub-district of Northern Illinois, 
 the only one then in existence in the state. Mitchell's senior by 
 ten years, he picked the twenty-four-year-old miner as a man 
 with qualities of leadership. At a time when so many of the 
 miners' leaders had been pushed out by their employers or by 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 25 
 
 their fellows, he chose Mitchell as one of a staff of men still 
 willing to attempt to organize the chaos. 
 
 In Spring Valley that year, on Independence Day, three 
 hundred miners made an offer to the world to go into volun- 
 tary slavery in return for reasonably comfortable homes, 
 plenty of fuel and food and serviceable clothing. According to 
 a Cleveland paper: 
 
 "They represent the best elements among the miners and are 
 willing to serve thus without a cent of wages. They say they will 
 sign an ironclad contract . . . During the past three years they 
 have suffered so . . . that rather than see their families suffer 
 any more they will become serfs." 
 
 Illinois was not alone. Miners' children in the western 
 fields of Pennsylvania were driving dogs away from garbage 
 so that they might search through it for food. A legislative 
 commission of that state reported that miners there "lived in 
 many cases worse than beasts . . . herded together like cat- 
 tle and in many cases wallowing in their own filth." Ryan 
 stated that wages in Illinois averaged $12 a month, and that 
 the miners were in worse shape than they had ever been in 
 since coal was found in Illinois. 
 
 There was need for men to work hard and fast. Just what 
 could be done that had not already been tried nobody knew. 
 To be inactive was the only form of surrender that was rec- 
 ognized for itself. Mitchell became secretary-treasurer of the 
 sub-district organization, which meant being the main finan- 
 cial official of all Illinois. At one of the first joint conferences 
 of operators and miners of the sub-district, he heard the 
 miners' stories of starvation, unemployment and injustice 
 
26 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 matched with the operators' stories of harsh competition and 
 of "wild-cat" operators who would have nothing to do with 
 the union, over-expansion, discrimination of railroads against 
 union fields. It was the first of many, many times he was 
 to hear both sides complain of a system over which they had 
 no control. 
 
 Bryan, who had been endorsed by the Populists in '96, 
 went down to defeat before Mark Hanna's candidate, Mc- 
 Kinley, who had gained some repute amongst the strong 
 Ohio miners' union for defending strikers before the courts. 
 Mitchell went to Springfield as legislative representative of 
 the Illinois miners. Here he helped secure — according to a 
 correspondent of the Mine Workers' Journal — an amendment 
 to the anti-trust law which gave operators and miners the 
 right to go into convention and fix a scale of prices, some- 
 thing some of them had not dared to do before. The Legisla- 
 ture also passed a weighing law, a child labor law, and an act 
 establishing an apprenticeship in the mines of two years. 
 It was a position which made him somewhat known through- 
 out the state. Some of his friends spoke of sending him to 
 the legislature. A career in politics had lured other miners. 
 John Mitchell had neither the talent nor love for a political 
 career. 
 
 Ryan needed him in the state union. The organization was 
 still weak. Good men, men willing to serve without salary, to 
 trudge over the state, to spend night after night at meetings, 
 to face adversity and opposition, were scarce, and Mitchell's 
 personality, his willingness to serve, made for a rapid rise in 
 the State organization. In 1897 Mitchell became a member of 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 27 
 
 the State Executive Board, after having been defeated for the 
 vice-presidency by an older, more experienced man. Ryan was 
 elected State secretary-treasurer. It was an effective working 
 combination. 
 
 John Mitchell was twenty-seven, and board member in the 
 organization of one of the weaker states of the miners' union, 
 when the national organization, on July 4, 1897, declared 
 what was to be its first victorious strike. This time one hundred 
 and fifty thousand miners — one-half the total in the bitumi- 
 nous industry — joined "the spontaneous uprising of an en- 
 slaved people." Less than ten thousand of them were mem- 
 bers of the United Mine Workers. 
 
 The national organization had neither a tradition of vic- 
 tory nor leaders to whom it gave unlimited confidence and 
 trust. In 1890, the A. F. of L. had selected the carpenters' 
 union as the first to make a nation-wide struggle for the eight- 
 hour day, and the carpenters had been victorious. In 1891, 
 the miners' union was to be the second organization to make 
 the attempt, but it felt itself too weak, with its twenty thou- 
 sand membership, to accept the responsibility. Three years 
 later, in 1894, with a larger membership, the union had called 
 a suspension which had ended disastrously. It was powerful 
 enough in the councils of American labor to have its presi- 
 dent, John McBride, defeat Gompers for the presidency of 
 the American Federation of Labor some months later. Mo- 
 Bride's successor, Phil Penna of Indiana, had struggled on 
 with a beaten union for a few years, and had resigned finally 
 to take the labor commissionership for the Indiana coal oper- 
 ators. 
 
28 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 When Michael Ratchford took office, in 1897, the union 
 was so poverty-stricken that there was not enough money in 
 the treasury to call a meeting of the national executive board 
 and the district presidents. Demands for increases, brave 
 enough in print, had been formulated at the convention, but 
 hardly had the delegates reached home before "coal took a 
 tumble in the market" and wage reductions were made in all 
 coal fields. In the face of local unauthorized strikes, bound 
 to end in failure, Ratchford attempted unsuccessfully to go 
 into the matter of a national suspension by circular letter with 
 his executive board. Finally, six months after his election, 
 when the situation was desperate, he summoned the board and 
 district presidents to Columbus, Ohio, the national headquar- 
 ters, for a meeting on June 26, 1897. It was understood that 
 each man was to pay his own expenses. It was at this meeting 
 of a few men, representing^ an impoverished organization, 
 that the decision to call the strike was made. 
 
 These men, with an inherent dramatic sense, called the 
 strike for July 4th — Independence Day — just as their Illi- 
 nois brothers some years back, on the same day, had offered 
 to sell themselves in slavery. The decision to strike on July 
 4th was strategic also since no one expected the strike, and 
 the operators were not prepared to fight. Previous strikes had 
 always occurred on April 1st or May 1st, so that wage changes 
 might be included in the reckonings of new prices by the 
 operators. The call for the 1897 strike was not issued until 
 a day or two before the appointed time. There was no time 
 to build up reserves of coal or to import strike-breakers. 
 Furthermore, the miners' leaders, not quite sure of their 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 29 
 
 strength, had figured that the men would be idle that day, 
 anyhow, and that the very meaning of Independence Day, 
 plus the impetus of the day's idleness, would give a healthy 
 start to the strike. 
 
 In Spring Valley, under the leadership of Mitchell and 
 others, every miner responded to the call. Everywhere in 
 Northern Illinois the men came out solid for the strike. Only 
 four hundred and fifty of the poverty-stricken men had been 
 members of the union before, but now, "the miners . . . pro- 
 cured bands of music and patriotic banners and marched from 
 district to district to add strength to the strike feeling. . . ." 
 Forgotten leaders came to the front again, and new leaders 
 arose, volunteering their services, tramping from one mine 
 camp to another, speaking, gathering funds. Chief amongst 
 these leaders were the State officials — Ryan, Hunter and 
 Mitchell. 
 
 Probably no one was more surprised at the astounding re- 
 sponse to the call than the man who ventured the call, Michael 
 D. Ratchford, national president of the almost bankrupt 
 mine workers' union. 
 
 Altogether, the move was a bold and startling one. Yet 
 there were some important districts which did not respond 
 fully — West Virginia, Southern Illinois, Central Pennsyl- 
 vania and the lesser districts of Maryland and Kentucky. 
 
 It was to the task of organizing Southern Illinois ("Little 
 Egypt") — later to be made famous by the Pana Virden and 
 Herrin Massacres — that John Mitchell was assigned, in ad- 
 dition to his work in the Northern District. Southern Illinois, 
 with its "Little Egypt," with its Kentucky feuds, its influx 
 
30 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 of black labor, its traditions of American individualism, was 
 a difficult territory to organize; Mitchell, and the men who 
 helped him, succeeded in preventing any mass production of 
 coal in the region. The defection of Southern Illinois in the 
 strike would have led to its complete defeat. 
 
 By August, a month after the strike, it was reported in the 
 Mine Workers' Journal that forty thousand Illinois miners 
 were out, including the aristocrats of the industry — the coal- 
 hoisting engineers, who belonged to another organization. All 
 through the hot summer months, the young miner from 
 Spring Valley tramped through the woods or along the rail- 
 road tracks, without money in his pocket for train fare or else 
 without the price to hire a hall, reaching out-of-the-way min- 
 ing camps with the strike call. Meetings were held in the 
 woods when no hall was available; where a hall was available, 
 there was always that crucial moment when money had to be 
 raised from the poverty-stricken miners, not only for their 
 own needs, but in order to pay the rental. 
 
 Without a doubt, the strike was one of the greatest strug- 
 gles in American labor history up to that time. It enlisted the 
 sympathy of the American Federation of Labor and of the 
 still existing but much weakened Knights of Labor, of Eu- 
 gene V. Debs of Pullman strike fame, of Mother Jones, of 
 W. D. Mahon of the Street Car Men, of James O'Connell 
 of the Machinists, and many others. 
 
 When West Virginia began, in 1897, its long- to-be-con- 
 tinued record as the state that used injunctions to prevent 
 unionization, the most prominent labor officials of the coun- 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 31 
 
 try poured into the state in protest. West Virginia was in- 
 deed, then as now, a problem and test for the Union. There 
 was little or no trace of unionism in the state. Organizers sent 
 there found themselves confronted not only by the isolation of 
 the mountainous camps, by the barriers erected by company- 
 owned roads, but by privately hired police and by injunctions 
 forbidding them to trespass on company property — and the 
 highways and streets of many mining districts were com- 
 pany property. Although Mother Jones and other organizers 
 were arrested and flung into prison, the strike gained some 
 adherents in West Virginia. 
 
 All in all, Ratchford and the other leaders of the organiza- 
 tion had cause for content. Public sympathy in the cause and 
 leadership had been aroused to such an extent that when strike 
 leaders went about collecting relief funds in the cities and 
 farming districts, Governor Tanner of Illinois "publicly de- 
 clared that the conduct of the strikers was praiseworthy; that 
 they had learned the secret power of all great undertak- 
 ings . . . self-control. ..." 
 
 To many of the labor leaders and sympathizers with labor, 
 the strike afforded a great forum for the discussion of ways 
 and means of advancing the position of the worker. Meetings 
 of all sympathizers were called by the American Federation 
 of Labor to devise means of aiding the starving strikers. The 
 first of these was held in July in Pittsburgh ; the second, as a 
 protest, at Wheeling, West Virginia, itself, at which latter 
 meeting, according to the Journal, Samuel Gompers described 
 the strike in his characteristically dramatic way: "A wail of 
 anguish, mingled in desperation, arises from the bowels of the 
 
32 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 earth, and the miners' cry for relief, for some degree of jus- 
 tice, touches a responsive chord in the hearts and consciences 
 of the whole people." 
 
 Mitchell was not able to attend these two meetings, but 
 the third of them was held in St. Louis — only a hundred miles 
 or so from Springfield. Mitchell and Ryan had enough be- 
 tween them to pay the fare, and they were willing to hazard 
 the chance of food and lodging. ... At this conference they 
 heard trade unionists, members of the Knights of Labor, So- 
 cial Democrats, Free Silverites, each with his own philosophy, 
 expounding not only means of aiding the strikers but of bring- 
 ing about the millennium. After several days of listening 
 to speech-making, and several nights in twenty-five-cent 
 ' 'flop' ' houses, John Mitchell and the miners' delegates re- 
 turned to the field to carry on the fight. 
 
 This was the period later to be called the Gilded Age. 
 The victories won by the new industrialists on the railroads, 
 in the steel mills and coal fields, were bringing money to a 
 young aristocracy, which had not yet learned that to spend 
 discreetly is to spend well. The newspapers carried stories of 
 favorite steeds being fed champagne and roses; of a pet 
 monkey which had its own valet and carriage; of Roman 
 dinners at which guests found cigars wrapped in hundred- 
 dollar bills; pies out of which chorus girls hopped; of opera 
 glasses costing $75,000 — these were the items which the im- 
 poverished miners read. The grand climax of the period was 
 in the Bradley-Martin ball of 1897, held in the Waldorf- 
 Astoria, when that hotel was converted into a replica of Ver- 
 sailles and Belmont wore a suit of gold armor inlaid with 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 33 
 
 gold, valued at $10,000, and other guests, expended similar 
 fortunes which might have fed whole mining communities. 
 
 The strike was an unforgettable lesson in leadership for the 
 future president of the miners. Public opinion came to the 
 aid of the soft-coal miners now, when it had failed them and 
 the railroad men in 1894. To some extent this change in the 
 temper of the country had been brought about by the agita- 
 tions of the Populists and of the Boy Orator of the Platte. 
 The continual emphasis on law and order by the miners' 
 leadership had impressed those who recalled the Haymarket, 
 Homestead and Pullman riots and the bridge burning of '94. 
 Not even the accusations of political motives behind the coal 
 struggle — accusations which were thereafter to be made in 
 every- coal strike — alienated public sympathy. Perhaps it was 
 the oncoming of a change for the better in the economic con- 
 ditions of the country as a whole. 
 
 By August, when over five thousand West Virginia miners 
 had struck, the operators who in July had "nothing to arbi- 
 trate" began to make overtures for peace. The settlement 
 offered was below the scale decided upon in the strike call, 
 and was not on a national basis. The miners, now aware of 
 their strength, refused the offer. Early in September a 
 conference of the district presidents and the Executive Board 
 was arranged in Pittsburgh. A more favorable offer of the 
 operators was submitted, though it was still a compromise. Its 
 chief attraction was a provision for a joint interstate con- 
 ference of operators and miners which was to meet in Chi- 
 cago to decide on a new scale in January of 1898. After 
 much discussion and opposition, the offer was accepted and 
 
34 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 most of the men went back to work. It was the first national 
 victory the miners of America had ever known. 
 
 Curiously enough, the settlement was not sufficient for 
 the miners of Illinois. They had been recalcitrant members 
 before the strike. Now they were thoroughly aroused and re- 
 fused to return on the scale accepted by the National Board 
 and the district officers. They had built up a large and mili- 
 tant organization. The settlement was spoken of by the "hot- 
 heads" as a betrayal. Mitchell, who was to prove later more 
 completely that he was by temperament a conciliator, de- 
 fended the national officers and went out campaigning for 
 unity. He knew the need and value of discipline. As late as 
 October, however, he was still out in the field trying to get 
 local settlements. When his efforts failed, a joint meeting of 
 the operators and miners of the northern section of the state 
 was called. At this conference, Mitchell's was one of the few 
 voices raised for peace. In the absence of the district presi- 
 dent, he acted as chairman of the joint session. The miners of 
 Illinois were still amazed to see the man who had had so 
 large a share in organizing the difficult sections of the state 
 pleading for what seemed to them an unreasonable com- 
 promise. 
 
 In November, two months after the general settlement, 
 the Illinois miners and operators arrived at a scale higher 
 than the Columbus settlement, ten per cent in advance of the 
 scale of the previous May. Peace did not come, however, until 
 the state president, James Carson, was suspended on sensa- 
 tional charges of "selling out." His office as president was 
 taken by John Hunter, a former preacher. His coveted place 
 
LIEUTENANT OF REVOLT 35 
 
 on the now powerful National Executive Board was filled by 
 Mitchell's friend, W. D. Ryan. For the moment Mitchell re- 
 mained only a member of the State executive board; a few 
 months later he went as delegate to Illinois, to the National 
 Convention. It was a not unimportant achievement for a 
 young lieutenant of the revolt with only two years of official 
 service and twenty-seven years of life. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 
 
 THE long monotony of local strikes and local defeats 
 was broken at last. Old Dan McLaughlin's ideal of 
 treating the labor problems of the national industry on a na- 
 tional basis was nearing realization. Hope excited men like 
 drink. Some men had starved, other men had gone bankrupt 
 because of the long failure of the industry to accept the prop- 
 osition that stabilization is better than chaos, peace better 
 than war, compromise better than unrestricted private in- 
 itiative. 
 
 To the miners it became a question they had never met 
 before — to put flesh on the bones, facts on the promises, of 
 their triumph of 1897. A few things they had learned: coura- 
 geous local attempts to coerce employers into giving the wage 
 the miners wanted were expensive, futile gestures. Other op- 
 erators and other miners would simply take the advantages of 
 such local strikes with glad and selfish eagerness. Another 
 thing: the four states in the central competitive area — Illi- 
 nois, Indiana, Ohio and Western Pennsylvania — produced 
 only one-third of the coal of the country. Any defection in the 
 unity they were still striving for in that area, any extension 
 of the notably non-union production of West Virginia or 
 Kentucky, would shake the whole plan for stability in the 
 industry. They had also learned that the steady importation 
 
THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 37 
 
 of workers from Southern Europe, the policy of unrestricted 
 development of every coal seam discovered meant that they 
 could only work two-thirds of the time, that the industry was 
 fifty per cent overdeveloped. They had to have a shorter work- 
 ing day to spread the work around. They had also learned, 
 from bitter repetition, the difference between reality and 
 promise. No matter what scale of tonnage rates the operators 
 promised, there were always ways and means for them to 
 nullify it. The most common technique was a process of en- 
 larging the holes in the screens over which the coal was run 
 to eliminate the dust and small unmarketable chips. The men 
 knew that unless they insisted on getting paid for the "run 
 of mine" coal (all they produced) or in interfering in man- 
 agement to the extent of fixing the size of those screens, they 
 would always be at the mercy of their employers. 
 
 Now they were meeting with operators who had been 
 beaten without being completely convinced. In a world where 
 the word of the operators had long been law, where their 
 mine guards had been the police and the final authority, where 
 union leaders had been dismissed as a matter of course, those 
 leaders who had survived were attempting to protect their 
 people and themselves against any renewal of the continuous 
 widely scattered sniping. Every point they gained was so 
 much more bread and butter, so much more guarantee that 
 they would no longer have to live in fear of their jobs, so 
 much more opportunity to stand up and talk out like free men, 
 fighting for their stake in the country, their right to share 
 with others the covenants of life, liberty and the pursuit of 
 happiness. 
 
38 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 In convention assembled at Columbus, Ohio, on January 
 11, 1898, the delegates from the mine towns knew all these 
 things. They knew too that fortune was favoring them at last. 
 Prices for coal were rising. A few months later the Spanish- 
 American War was to help an industrial boom. In the State 
 House some blocks away Mark Hanna, who had made McKin- 
 ley, was fighting for his own place in the sun, a United 
 States senatorship. The leaders of the Ohio miners were called 
 upon for pressure on their assemblymen. The union began to 
 see itself as a factor in national politics, capable of interest- 
 ing both parties. The long hunger for success partook of every 
 food. 
 
 The men knew what they wanted. There was no irrecon- 
 cilable conflict. Without much discussion they turned the 
 matter of formulating demands over to a scale committee and 
 set themselves about a task which they felt to be more surely 
 within their own field of experience and competence — that of 
 choosing leaders who would really stand up and fight for 
 them. Men they could understand and evaluate. The princi- 
 ples those men stood for, in working out the agreed pro- 
 gram, the difficulties they encountered, were then and have 
 since been objects of their lesser interest. 
 
 Many of the delegates wore broad-brimmed sombrero hats 
 and long miners' coats. Their meeting was half-hidden in the 
 clouds of smoke from the ever-present miner's pipe. For all 
 the oppression they had undergone, they were an articulate, 
 well-informed group, even though a few may have been some- 
 what the worse for liquor. Ten states were represented there, 
 and though many nationalities were involved, the delegates 
 
THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 39 
 
 elected were in the main of the older group — English, Welsh, 
 Scotch and Irish — with only here and there a lone Slav or 
 German or Italian. The spirit of the convention was elated 
 and jubilant, despite an occasional note of doubt of the per- 
 manency of the victory or of fear that the spirit of unity 
 might be lost again. 
 
 It was John Mitchell's first national miners' convention. 
 The only other meeting of national scope he had ever at- 
 tended had been the St. Louis conference, held the previous 
 August to devise means of helping the strikers. He came to 
 it as one of the younger men who had risen rapidly. 
 
 Before the delegates had time to congratulate themselves on 
 their gains, the factional fights for office began. This time 
 Illinois had one hundred and four delegates and one hundred 
 and ten votes, in contrast with only one at the previous con- 
 vention. Ohio, always the strongest union state, had one 
 hundred and thirty-six delegates (one hundred and fifty 
 votes), split, however, by rival ambitions. Indiana, West- 
 ern Pennsylvania and the states bordering around the central 
 competitive area made up the total of four hundred and 
 thirty-one votes. 
 
 Each state promptly developed desires to be represented by 
 national office. Ohio had the president, Michael Ratchford. 
 Like Ryan and many of the leaders, he was some ten years 
 Mitchell's senior. He brought a handsome, almost stagey pres- 
 ence, together with the first triumph of a national union, to 
 the scene. He was one of a long series of good-looking men 
 whom the miners had delighted to honor. A friend and par- 
 tisan of Hanna and McKinley, he was shortly to leave the 
 
40 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 union presidency for an appointment to the United States 
 Industrial Commission. After that he was to be State Com- 
 missioner of Labor, commissioner to the operators of Ohio for 
 a short time, and to hold other minor political offices. Already 
 there was talk of his retirement into the political field. In spite 
 of that he was reelected. 
 
 Ohio wanted more. A candidate for the vice-presidency was 
 given a complimentary nomination, but withdrew. The an- 
 thracite field proposed Big John Fahy, tall, upstanding, with 
 long, drooping mustaches, and a gift for the florid oratory of 
 the period. He was called the handsomest man in the union. 
 The anthracite fields were still very weak, however, and Fahy 
 also withdrew, as did several Pennsylvania men. Ryan and 
 Hunter of Illinois withdrew in favor of John Mitchell, who 
 was then left alone in the field to oppose Patrick Dolan of 
 the Western Pennsylvania field. 
 
 This was the first of a long series of clashes between the 
 two. Hail-fellow-well-met, rough and ready, not bad to look 
 upon, amusing the convention with his songs, Dolan brought 
 with him some of the prestige that was given men who had 
 served an apprenticeship in Scotch unionism. He had proved 
 that he knew the way to power. District president, member 
 of the National Executive Board, he had all the prestige of 
 political success. Against him Mitchell could only bring the 
 appeal of his frank, youthful appearance, some popularity in 
 the state of Illinois, and the ability of W. D. Ryan as a 
 political strategist. At the beginning of the convention, 
 Dolan' s standing was recognized by a place on the most im- 
 portant committee, the scale committee. Mitchell's was rec- 
 
THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 41 
 
 ognized by a place on the committee second in importance, the 
 resolutions committee. 
 
 Men were looking out for themselves and their friends for 
 some years ahead. The possibility that Ratchford would re- 
 sign made the vice-presidency important. The men in Ohio 
 who had been fighting Ratchford wanted his job. Was the 
 vice-presidency the route to that job? Ohio could not have the 
 two chief offices at once. Better to take the promise Ryan 
 offered that in return for giving Illinois the vice-presidency 
 now, one of the Ohio men — Tom Lewis most probably — 
 would get the Illinois support for the presidency when it 
 became open. Dolan, counting on Ratchford's support, did 
 not see all these long-term plannings. He knew he had In- 
 diana and Pennsylvania. He let the vote be taken, and found 
 that Mitchell was only one short of the necessary majority, 
 receiving two hundred and fifteen to his own one hundred 
 and ninety-five. The scattering votes switched to the leader. 
 Dolan picked up only one but Mitchell picked up thirteen and 
 was elected to the vice-presidency of the United Mine 
 Workers. 
 
 For one brief moment the bad blood caused by Dolan's 
 defeat, the hot accusations of double-crossing, were forgotten. 
 In a burst of jovial song, with Pat Dolan leading a somewhat 
 tipsy circle in the strains of "The English, the Irish and the 
 Scotch," the convention adjourned. The chosen delegates took 
 the special train to Chicago to meet the operators and to 
 prove to their people and themselves that the hope centered 
 on them could be justified. 
 
 At Chicago there came into being an arrangement which was 
 
42 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 to be the main stabilizing factor in the industry for an almost 
 unbroken period of thirty years. It was the first national 
 agreement which any important industry in the country had 
 made with its men. It represented neither dictated peace nor 
 bankrupt surrender. The four states competing most directly 
 with each other agreed that the one item on which they would 
 not compete was labor cost. The operators protected them- 
 selves against financially weak or unscrupulous competitors. 
 The miners protected themselves against their own people in 
 the labor market. The first meeting of what was later to be the 
 "annual joint conference of coal miners and operators of 
 Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Western Pennsylvania" did not 
 move either swiftly or surely toward the function it was to 
 fulfill. Too much material for controversy had accumulated. 
 At moments it seemed as though the sectional competition be- 
 tween the operators of the four states would be too strong a 
 barrier to overcome. The operators had at best a loose tem- 
 porary organization without compelling discipline or respon- 
 sibility. They had to gamble on the power of the union to 
 enforce the agreement. 
 
 There were times when the miners too seemed linked to the 
 operators of their district, their work-givers, more than to 
 their fellow-miners in competing states. Conflict between 
 Dolan and Ratchford was discussed in the papers. For days 
 the scale committeemen met in secret and were able only to 
 disagree. Time after time Ratchford arose to speak — a living 
 reminder to boch sides that the miners could be led to a vic- 
 torious strike, a red flag to the defeated candidates for office. 
 It was a training ground, full of pitfalls for the young vice- 
 
THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 43 
 
 president of a national union. Behind him was only one ele- 
 ment of comforting strength — his Illinois miners were solidly 
 organized; no matter what happened to the joint conference 
 they at least would get the eight-hour day and payment on a 
 run-of-mine basis. At public meetings he was able to stand 
 up and advise coolness and patience. 
 
 The miners' leaders did not allow the victory to slip away 
 from them. After eleven days of wrangling, they were able to 
 take home to their expectant people a further increase in 
 wages, the pledge of the operators to collect the dues for the 
 union from the wage bills (the check-off) for everywhere ex- 
 cept Western Pennsylvania, where the union was weakest. 
 The eight-hour day was won. Illinois coal was to be paid for 
 on a run-of-mine basis. In the other states the size of the 
 screen was limited. 
 
 It was great news to the people at home. For once they 
 had the sensation of being able to tell the operators what 
 they wanted and of making it stick. When Mitchell came to 
 Spring Valley, to his wife and children again, he was met 
 by a parade, speeches and praise. The local boy had not only 
 made good ; he had made the union good. 
 
 At last he was out of the mines. He could put away his 
 pick, cap and lamp, overalls and boots, and wear the broad- 
 brimmed sombrero and traditional long coat of the leader. 
 The days when he had to crouch on his haunches or lie 
 flat on his belly ten hours a day in a three-foot vein were over. 
 From the work he knew how to do well enough to support 
 his family and himself, he had to move into a new and 
 strange world and learn work which was to support forty 
 
44 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 thousand other miners' families. It was a traveling job and 
 meant the beginning of a long separation from wife and 
 family, from the brief interval of stability he had found for 
 himself in a wandering, lonely life. 
 
 Mrs. Mitchell accepted the separation as she had accepted 
 the hardships of her life. She was absorbed in her family — 
 there were now three children— and the uncertainties of 
 political office hardly warranted giving up the established 
 life in Spring Valley. She had been proud of her young hus- 
 band as a local mine leader. She would have been content had 
 he stayed as State leader. She was proud now that he had 
 won national honors. His salary of nine hundred dollars held 
 the promise that his children would have a less precarious life 
 than he had had himself. 
 
 There was no time to rest at home on his laurels. West 
 Virginia, with cheap non-union labor, was taking business 
 away from the Ohio operators. There was a threat of a break 
 in Southern Illinois. The union, although grown from ten 
 thousand to forty thousand men inside of two years, was still 
 contending with two hundred and thirty-one thousand unor- 
 ganized men in the bituminous industry. Discipline had to be 
 built up. Men had to be convinced that the union had a power 
 which it had never had before, a power sufficiently sustained to 
 make unnecessary the greedy seizure of what they could get 
 in years of prosperity. 
 
 To the young vice-president was apportioned the task of 
 organizing West Virginia. Although five thousand of the 
 fifteen thousand West Virginia miners had answered the 
 strike call in '97, there had been no victory in that state. 
 
THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 45 
 
 Wholesale arrests, injunctions, evictions and deportations had 
 broken the men. Mitchell's stay was not lengthy; almost im- 
 mediately he ran into the private police system of the state 
 which had won for it the title of being the stronghold of 
 feudalism in America. An organizer of the national office 
 who had gone down to West Virginia with Mitchell tells of 
 their having been pursued in one company-owned town by 
 armed guards who shot at them, and of their forced swim in an 
 icy mountain stream in order to escape death. 
 
 Mitchell could hardly be said to have been successful in 
 his mission. At the end of 1899 the membership of West Vir- 
 ginia was only three hundred and seventy-five. The national 
 office, as an alternative, resorted to the expedient of sending 
 out a circular to organized labor and its friends everywhere 
 asking them to boycott West Virginia coal. John Mitchell 
 was sent off to other duties. It was defeat for him, his first. 
 
 The organizer mentioned above tells another story — for 
 which no confirmation can be found. According to this, 
 Mitchell was sufficiently discouraged after the West Virginia 
 experiment to go to Ratchford with his resignation. Ratchford 
 induced him to stay by holding out the possibility of the 
 presidency in the event that he, Ratchford, should accept a 
 post on the newly created Industrial Commission. 
 
 There was danger nearer home. In Southern Illinois, where 
 the miners were less strongly organized than in the northern 
 part of the state, several individual operators were breaking 
 the terms of the national agreement, and attempting to run 
 their mines on a non-union basis. Mitchell was sent into the 
 situation. He spoke at length of the sacredness of the con- 
 
46 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 tract, but even the State Board of Arbitration suggested a 
 compromise below the scale in that contract. The operators 
 not only rejected that, they began importing carloads of negro 
 laborers from Alabama and Tennessee. Southern Illinois, 
 which had been settled to a large extent by men from Ken- 
 tucky, men accustomed to white supremacy and feudal prac- 
 tice, saw the prospects of riots and racial wars. 
 
 Mitchell and Ryan sent hurried wires to Governor Tanner, 
 who had shown himself favorably 'inclined to the miners' 
 cause in the strike of '97, to intervene. Tanner sent David 
 Ross, ex-miner of Braidwood and friend of Ryan and Mitch- 
 ell, and then Chairman of the State Industrial Commission, 
 to investigate the situation. The Illinois leaders sent word to 
 the organizers in Alabama, but trainloads of negro miners, un- 
 suspecting strike breakers, kept pouring in. These trains were 
 met by the strikers and their leaders, and in many cases the 
 negroes were persuaded that it was not at all for their welfare 
 to remain in Little Egypt. In spite of all advice as to mod- 
 eration, feeling amongst the strikers ran very high. 
 
 Governor Tanner stopped further importations of negroes 
 on the ground that many of them were probably criminals who 
 had learned their trade under a convict system, and sent out 
 the State militia with orders not to permit their disembarka- 
 tion, the first time in the history of the State and of the 
 nation that the military power of the law during an industrial 
 contest has been exercised in defense of the rights of Ameri- 
 can labor. 
 
 It was a moment when the responsible leaders — with the 
 eyes of the whole state on them, with the inner knowledge 
 
THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 47 
 
 that if the Pana Virden field were lost, on top of the failure 
 in West Virginia, the whole interstate agreement, and with 
 it the union, might drown — needed to work fast and shrewdly. 
 Mitchell's friend, W. D. Ryan, himself tells that, tired of 
 public negotiations, he made a secret agreement with the 
 operators to accept a lower scale on condition that all strike 
 breakers be immediately sent out of the territory. He kept 
 this from Mitchell. No sooner were the negroes on the south- 
 bound train than negotiations for peace began again. Ryan 
 repudiated the secret agreement and the operators, outwitted, 
 finally gave in. 
 
 Later, in personal conversation, Ryan confessed and asked 
 Mitchell what he would have done had he known of Ryan's 
 part in the secret agreement, even though Ryan had done it 
 in shrewd anticipation of the ultimate outcome. Without a 
 moment's hesitation Mitchell, according to Ryan, turned on 
 the man who had been his friend and strategist for the last 
 five years, and said: "I would have denounced you and de- 
 manded your expulsion." 
 
 The feeling engendered continued with the lockout all 
 through the summer. On September 2, 1898, sixty miners of 
 Pana seized David J. and Levi S. Overholt, president and 
 superintendent of one of the mines, and threatened to lynch 
 them because of their vicious tactics in the fight against the 
 miners. A Protestant minister tried to intervene and was badly 
 injured. Someone sent word to Mitchell and Ross, who were 
 having a conference at the time, that murder was very decid- 
 edly in the air. The story goes that Mitchell entered the 
 angry mob and rescued the two men, not without personal 
 
48 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 risk. He and Ryan accompanied the rescued men to a near-by 
 store, followed by the crowd who insisted on hanging them. 
 Once the operators were safe, they promised to meet with a 
 committee of the strikers, and Mitchell dissuaded the miners 
 from further violence. Where he was not condemned for his 
 folly, he was praised for his bravery. For a moment it wiped 
 out in his own mind his failure in West Virginia. 
 
 The owners and men came together then, but peace 
 throughout the district did not come until after the disastrous 
 "Virden Massacre" in which mine guards employed by the 
 companies fired on and killed eight strikers who were trying 
 to prevent strike breakers from entering the mine. Ten mine 
 guards were also killed. The "massacre" was the last straw; 
 within a few days the struggle came to an end, the oper- 
 ators accepting the compromise offer made by the State Board 
 of Arbitration. It was below the scale of the contract, but it 
 was tHe best Mitchell thought he could get. 
 
 The Pana Virden struggle had more than a personal sig- 
 nificance. It was not only a dramatic vindication of Mitchell ; 
 it meant the extension of the interstate joint contract to the 
 Southern Illinois field — the most important section of this 
 important district. The failure to make the operators live up 
 to the contract had been a sore point in the joint conference 
 in 1898. Had both this section and the West Virginia sec- 
 tion remained unorganized, it is doubtful whether the inter- 
 state joint conference would have been continued. The work 
 of years would have fallen to the ground, and Mitchell with it. 
 
 In the very midst of the Illinois difficulties, a meeting of 
 the National Executive Board in Indianapolis, hastily sum- 
 
THE FLUSH OF VICTORY 49 
 
 moned, was called for September. Ratchford had at last 
 accepted an appointment to the United States Industrial 
 Commission, which was investigating the causes of labor dis- 
 turbances in the United States. There was much talk that a 
 new election would be insisted on, instead of permitting the 
 inexperienced young miner from Illinois to succeed to the 
 presidency for the balance of the term. His brief stay in West 
 Virginia had not been outstandingly successful; his conduct 
 in Southern Illinois, however, seemed to assure as strong a 
 following there as he had in Northern Illinois. Mitchell 
 hastily left the scene of the massacre for Indianapolis. 
 
IV 
 THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 
 
 OFFICE was one of the few means open to miners to 
 secure some distinction for themselves in the com- 
 munity. Office within the union had the advantage over politi- 
 cal office in dealing with things they already knew about, men 
 and the mining industry. So much hard work had gone un- 
 rewarded for so long, so many leaders had gone away from 
 the fields and had either been forgotten or never forgiven for 
 failures for which they were only in part responsible, that 
 those men who survived had an eagerness to be compensated 
 in a quite different way. 
 
 Ratchford's resignation in the middle of his term seemed a 
 fresh opportunity for all those who had taken part in the 
 victory election of January. Rather than run the risk of re- 
 peating the political wrangles of January, it was decided by 
 the Board, in the fall of 1898, that Mitchell should be Acting 
 President until January of 1899. 
 
 Mitchell, with one failure and one somewhat compromised 
 success to his credit, had now to organize his own victory, to 
 overcome the objection men still raised to his youth, to meet 
 Pat Dolan of Pittsburgh and Tom Lewis of Ohio on the 
 battlefield of the first political principle, the ability to get 
 elected. 
 
 There was need of unity in the organization. The agree- 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 51 
 
 ment with the operators came up for decision again in Jan- 
 uary. The organization, still very weak in the outlying fields, 
 needed to present its best front. Some things, however, had 
 been accomplished and Mitchell, as Acting President, could 
 take a share of the credit. Within the year Kansas, Iowa, Ar- 
 kansas and what was then known as the Indian Territory 
 (Oklahoma) had all made a beginning of organization. If it 
 was pointed out that West Virginia still had its meager mem- 
 bership of two hundred and seventy-five, it could be answered 
 on the other hand that Kentucky, now organized for the first 
 time, had eighteen hundred members, that Tennessee and Ala- 
 bama together claimed three thousand union men. There had 
 been some increases of wages, some improvement of condi- 
 tions. Part of the prosperity that had come to the coal fields 
 could be attributed to the Spanish-American War, but the 
 good feeling it had brought to the administration, of which 
 Mitchell was head, could not be argued away. 
 
 Naturally and from childhood turning in on himself, owing 
 the major part of his political success to Ryan's astuteness, a 
 man of few intimates, Mitchell had a straight-out political 
 fight for his life. Tom Lewis, who had supported him for the 
 vice-presidency, had been promised by Ryan the support of 
 Illinois for his own candidacy in 1899. To him Ratchford's 
 resignation seemed premature. There were charges of an ar- 
 rangement between Ratchford and the Illinois group to push 
 Mitchell in for the presidency. On top of this, Dolan, who 
 opposed Mitchell bitterly, announced his own candidacy. 
 Dolan had the political advantage of having the convention 
 meet in his home city, Pittsburgh. To that was added the argu- 
 
52 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 merit that the district organization weakest in the central 
 competitive area would be bolstered by having the president 
 come from what was the largest coal-producing state in the 
 country. 
 
 The fight opened bitterly. There were charges of extrava- 
 gance, of using organization funds and machinery to secure 
 delegates who would reelect the men in office. The Lewis fac- 
 tion gained the right to examine the records of the locals elect- 
 ing delegates, a direct attack on allegedly padded membership 
 rolls of Illinois. The Mitchell group in return made a fight 
 over the credentials of John McBride, a Lewis partisan, who 
 had formerly been president of the union and of the Ameri- 
 can Federation of Labor, but was now out of the mines. 
 
 Dolan withdrew shortly and the fight for control of the 
 union narrowed down to two men, Mitchell and Tom Lewis. 
 It was a fight that lasted as long as Mitchell was in the 
 union and was not forgotten when Lewis finally became presi- 
 dent himself. 
 
 Lewis, who was much the older man, was shrewd and capa- 
 ble. When Mitchell had been a youngster in the mines, T. L. 
 Lewis and his brother, W. T. Lewis (Master Workman of 
 District No. 135 of the Knights of Labor, and reputed to be 
 the brains of the Lewis family) were well-known and influ- 
 ential in the miners' union. These brothers were two of eleven 
 children born to a miner of Welsh ancestry, of whose family 
 it was said by the Mitchell men that each was a Lewis cam- 
 paigner in another section of the country. Lewis seemed to 
 have the united district of Ohio behind him. A small man, 
 with a large head and drooping mustache, he was an unim- 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 53 
 
 pressive speaker, a cold, unappealing, antagonistic leader and 
 a bitter fighter. He was credited by some miners, however, 
 with knowing more about the coal industry than any other 
 man in the organization. He was well read, hard working, 
 with plans for the education of the miners, for the elimination 
 of the saloon and its replacement by lecture halls. He had a 
 keen, logical mind, in fact, every quality of leadership ex- 
 cept the most essential one — the ability to work with his 
 fellows. His ambition made him suspicious of every man and 
 from the beginning of his career he instituted a bitter faction- 
 alism, a spy system. He never forgot that he wanted to be 
 president of the miners' organization. 
 
 Mitchell, on the other hand, was already in office and that 
 in itself gave him a certain advantage. The record of achieve- 
 ment during his months in office, the voting power of Illinois 
 — which now more than outnumbered Ohio and Pennsylvania 
 together — the political strategy of Ryan, all these too were 
 in Mitchell's favor. Finally, the personality of this quiet, self- 
 possessed young man inspired a confidence in the delegates 
 from the new districts which all the shrewd manipulation 
 of the Ohio group failed to arouse. 
 
 Men were willing to give youth its chance. Shrewdness 
 might lead to office, but the very inexperience of Mitchell in 
 the jungle fighting of union politics led to trust. When the 
 vote was about to be taken, Lewis withdrew and Mitchell 
 polled five hundred and seventy-one votes, Dolan two, and a 
 West Virginian who had remained in the fight forty. Mitch- 
 ell's popularity was best shown in the election of delegates to 
 the American Federation of Labor. He ran first and Dolan a 
 
54 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 bad fifth. This victory brought Mitchell the knowledge that 
 from now on he could count on the opposition of Lewis and a 
 portion of the Ohio group, of Dolan and the Pittsburgh group. 
 He would either have to overcome it by sheer political mas- 
 tery and dominance, or surrender to it by compromise and 
 fusion, or trust to a splendid record of achievement to make 
 his defeat impossible, or go under. In spite of his great ma- 
 jority, he had seen how close the roads to prominence and 
 retirement may run. Back home a month later, he showed that 
 the nation-wide acclaim which greeted the youngest executive 
 a national union had ever elected, had not turned his head. 
 He said: 
 
 "I am proud to be back among my Illinois brothers who have 
 stood by me when I was being criminated and recriminated (sic) 
 at Pittsburgh until every charge had been refuted. ... As your 
 National President I shall never allow the trouble that I have 
 passed in other states against me to make one iota of difference in 
 my conduct, no matter how hard they may attempt to stigmatize 
 my character. When I have finished my term of office, I shall re- 
 turn to Illinois and take up my pick among you. . . ." 
 
 The arrangement of the legal machinery of the organiza- 
 tion had been of a character which allowed a political leader 
 once in power to make, unchecked, almost endless moves to 
 keep himself there. For all but two weeks in the year, during 
 which the convention was held, the president was the supreme 
 authority, checked only in case of dispute by the General Ex- 
 ecutive Board. He appointed all the national organizers, the 
 traveling salesmen of unionism, and it was to him that they 
 were responsible. As they went around the country, they could 
 either build or undermine reputations and characters. The 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 55 
 
 president also filled any vacancies occurring in the national 
 office. He passed on the constitutionality of an act, when 
 appeal came from a local or district organization. He had a 
 financial check on all the activities of the national union. This 
 structure gave him wartime powers all the year round. There 
 was the check on the executive of an annual election — but 
 that was all. In strike situations, he not only was accustomed 
 to receive a fairly free hand from the district committee, his 
 very presence in the situation made the public consider him 
 as the final authority in the negotiations. In spite of the fact 
 that the General Executive Board not only had advisory 
 powers but could impeach the president, the rank and file were 
 inclined to acclaim a president who was successful and hold 
 him alone responsible in case of failure. The complicated 
 responsibility of the office meant that a man had to be a splen- 
 did success or spend most of his time in successful attempts to 
 secure his own reelection. 
 
 In the joint conference immediately following his election, 
 the miners had on their side a long unprecedented comparative 
 prosperity. They demanded higher wages and better conditions 
 and seemed to be willing to take their chances with another 
 national strike. The operators retorted that the failure of the 
 union to organize West Virginia and to force the operators 
 of that state into the interstate joint conference meant that 
 they had no protection. Especially bitter was the complaint of 
 the hardship caused by the eight-hour day and in Illinois of 
 the run-of-mine system of payment. 
 
 Whether the young union could weather another strike 
 just now was a matter of judgment. Mitchell threw his weight 
 
56 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 with those who thought it better not to risk the attempt until 
 the interstate conference was on a sounder basis. The joint 
 conference of 1899 ended in renewing the previous agreement 
 and established in the minds of its participants the ability of 
 Mitchell to discipline his own group. The easily wooed ap- 
 proval of a public which always dreaded strikes was also his. 
 The miners' new president made his first step as a conservative. 
 The middle of the year brought a sudden rise in the market. 
 The groups among the miners which had accepted the renewal 
 without an increase in wages with reluctance began to clamor 
 for a revision. Their cause had not only been proved right, 
 the conservative element in the union proved wrong, but they 
 also saw an opportunity to assert their influence on the side 
 of higher wages which might not come again in a long time. 
 Mitchell had had an experience of importance which was 
 somewhat similar. The effort of men to seize every momentary 
 advantage to improve their agreements was within the ex- 
 perience of practically every local or district leader in the 
 union. It was a perpetual struggle between militant oppor- 
 tunism and the less spectacular belief that contractual rela- 
 tions were in themselves important enough to warrant some 
 sacrifice of immediate opportunities for the long term good. 
 In Northern Illinois Mitchell had tried to make his own 
 neighbors see that it was more important for them to keep 
 the national agreement than to get a little extra money on 
 account of being close to the Chicago market. He had failed 
 then to persuade them ; they had won a rate higher than that 
 allowed in the settlement. Other men who had taken the same 
 attitude as himself had been accused of "selling out." The 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 51 
 
 accusation had not been made against him; he was willing to 
 take his chances that his own people would still trust him 
 in spite of the fact that their immediate interests were at 
 variance with the long term interest of the union. He came 
 out at once with the proposition that unless the contract with 
 the operators were kept sacred, the union's reputation in the 
 country would be lost. At the next convention Samuel 
 Gompers rallied vigorously to his support. The old hand was 
 laid on young shoulders. Not only for the miners but for 
 unionism in America, sacredness of contract was a badge of 
 respectability. 
 
 The real work was in the field. Headlines in the papers 
 whenever he spoke, an election to a vice-presidency in the 
 American Federation of Labor, acquaintanceship with some 
 of its leaders, with some politicals, a personal friendship with 
 an Illinois operator, Harry N. Taylor, and the criticism he 
 received for it, were all parts of his own education. The fact 
 that without a fighting disciplined group in every field the 
 union would become a top-heavy shell was something he never 
 allowed himself to forget. 
 
 He did not go out as a conqueror, or even as a political 
 boss with control over the political destinies of all the men 
 he met. It had been hammered into him by friends and en- 
 emies that a young man must first overcome the handicap of 
 his youth. Only after that could his youth become an asset. As 
 soon as he arrived in one of the miners' camps, he would go 
 to headquarters, sit there and listen to what the local leaders, 
 what the rank and file who might be around, had to say of 
 the situation. He took time for every man and every idea. 
 
58 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Men who had put in twice his years of life into the service of 
 the union, who were accustomed to knowing their own minds, 
 were often disarmed by his willingness to listen and to take 
 suggestions. He learned by listening; he had infinite patience 
 and faith. Even when his decisions were adverse to them, some 
 quiet friendliness about him convinced them they had not 
 been overridden. His quiet self-confidence did not bar the im- 
 pression that here was a man who wanted assistance in a seri- 
 ous job. He aroused a desire to protect him in men who were 
 his subordinates. After that they were sometimes willing to 
 believe that his wider contact in the union had given him a 
 greater ability to judge well. His demeanor disarmed also 
 those who were afraid that their new union would become 
 What the old one had turned into, a vehicle for personal pro- 
 motion. He seemed to be making no attempt at all to even 
 build up enough political machinery to assure himself an hon- 
 orable chance for reelection. In spite of the fact that five of 
 the ten members of the National Executive Board were not 
 friends of his, he appointed Ohio and Pennsylvania men, 
 friends of Tom Lewis and Dolan, as organizers. In many cases 
 this meant that they would control the delegates from the 
 regions where they were active. 
 
 At this time he had the good fortune to have a large part 
 of the wearing work of office detail, which so often occupies an 
 undue part of an official's life because of his very inexperience 
 with it, taken from his shoulders. In 1899 Miss Elizabeth 
 Catherine Morris became his secretary. Her contribution to his 
 advancement was, of course, of a somewhat different type than 
 that of the men mentioned before. To the young miner, whose 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 59 
 
 expense books of the previous year had been kept in the 
 faltering handwriting and unsystematic fashion of the self- 
 taught workingman, her aid in the important routine of the 
 executive office was invaluable. It was she who told him when 
 he mispronounced the big words he occasionally liked to use, 
 and helped to make grammatical and easy-flowing some of the 
 long, winding sentences of his speeches of that day. Miss 
 Morris had come from a decidedly middle-class atmosphere; 
 she had studied with and been secretary to May Wright 
 Sewall, an author, then well known as a leader of women's 
 organizations and founder of the International Council of 
 Women. The rough-and-tumble surroundings of the miners' 
 headquarters was a totally new experience for the rather deli- 
 cate, diminutive girl. But the personality of Mitchell and his 
 enthusiasm for the miners' cause won her devotion to him, and 
 through him, to the miners. Her loyalty to him, her ambition 
 for him prompted her to keep a record of his activities so that 
 he might be better able to summarize his work and to plan it. 
 In the innumerable ways in which a capable secretary can 
 help, she helped. It was she who remembered the names of 
 the miners who came to see him or who talked to him at con- 
 ventions, so that it might be easy for him to call each man 
 by name and receive his everlasting gratitude. It was she who 
 jealously watched the men she thought were seeking to dis- 
 credit John Mitchell. Under his instructions, she saw to it 
 that no letter from any miner or from anyone interested in the 
 miners' organization went unanswered, and that no grimy pit- 
 man was slighted if he called at the miners' headquarters. In 
 the enormous task before the miners' president in 1900 and 
 
60 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 afterward, he knew he could count always on her loyalty, her 
 efficiency, her genuine assistance. She stayed with him for 
 twenty years, until his death. 
 
 He could keep himself free for the intense work of mak- 
 ing the union a life factor in every mining district in the 
 country. It was no small ambition. In Michigan, Missouri, 
 Iowa and Kansas, district agreements now carried provisions 
 for an eight-hour day and for wage scales comparable to those 
 in the central competitive field. In Kentucky, Alabama and 
 Tennessee the miners held joint conferences with the employ- 
 ers and secured increases, ranging in some instances as high 
 as thirty per cent. Even in West Virginia the organized miners 
 in the northern section negotiated an increase which influenced 
 wages in the non-union sections. In the anthracite fields of 
 Pennsylvania — which had remained broken since the disas- 
 trous Knights of Labor strike in 1887 — some eight thousand 
 men found courage to join the union. 
 
 Not everywhere were gains made peacefully and as a logical 
 consequence of the growing strength of the union. There were 
 strikes even in the central competitive region, in the Hocking 
 Valley of Ohio and the block-coal section of Indiana, when 
 operators refused to live up to their agreements. The most 
 outstanding struggle of the year was carried on in the newly 
 organized southwestern region of Arkansas and what was then 
 known as the Indian Territory. When attempts to negotiate 
 peacefully failed, the miners in these two districts went on 
 strike. The operators replied, in West Virginia fashion, by 
 obtaining injunctions which prohibited the holding of strike 
 meetings. The leaders of the miners, John P. Reese of Iowa 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 61 
 
 and Albert Struple of Arkansas, were arrested when they at- 
 tempted to address a meeting of strikers, to which strike 
 breakers had been invited, and Reese, as an outsider, was sen- 
 tenced to ninety days in jail. Mitchell had wired the American 
 Federation of Labor and the heads of the various unions 
 affiliated with it to protest to Secretary of the Interior Hitch- 
 cock. Hitchcock, in turn, wired Mitchell to "unite with the 
 department in suppressing such contemplated violations of 
 law" as holding strike meetings. The youthful president, who 
 continually, in his speeches to the miners, emphasized the 
 necessity for abiding by the law, replied to this wire in no 
 uncertain terms that labor was entitled to the protection of 
 the law: 
 
 "It was our understanding that the constitution of the United 
 States guaranteed all citizens the right of peaceful assemblage. 
 ... I cannot understand why mine workers have not as much 
 right under the law to secure brass bands and march to a given 
 point for the purpose of holding meetings, as any other class of 
 citizens. However, I assure you that our organization will not 
 countenance or tolerate the commission of any overt act or viola- 
 tion of law." 
 
 Wide publicity was given by the organization to the "high- 
 handed usurpation of judicial authority" and protest resolu- 
 tions were sent out by many unions against what Mitchell 
 then called "those protectors of corporate interests." The 
 militant strikers carried on the struggle for seventeen months, 
 with the aid of strike benefits from national headquarters. The 
 momentary loss, in August, 1900, of the Indian Territory 
 field, was replaced a few months later with an advantageous 
 agreement and a strong union. 
 
62 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Men were beginning to take some pride in belonging to an 
 organization that had upset the tradition of defeat. The Mine 
 Workers' Journal boasted : 
 
 "The present membership is much in excess of the number of 
 men under the command of General Grant at the memorable battle 
 of the Wilderness, the greatest in the history of modern warfare. 
 It is a great industrial army, marching in the vanguard of pro- 
 gressive trades unionism. . . . We can now say with pride that 
 the U. M. W. of A. is the largest organization in the world. . . ." 
 
 Mitchell could feel some of this seeping up to him through 
 the ranks, coming to him also from his peers, from a certain 
 new deference in the press. He had in his two years in the 
 presidency made no palpable errors. While in 1900 he still 
 looked the picture of the "boy president," still slender, wide- 
 eyed and humanly appealing, there was underneath the ma- 
 turity of a man who had not only had the luck to rise rapidly 
 but had already convinced himself of his ability to carry on 
 the work, to meet the great responsibilities of a growing or- 
 ganization, and a growing situation, in full. The difference 
 showed itself even in his language. At the end of his first year, 
 he spoke of a life not having been in vain, of "benefits that 
 would accrue like an overflowing river." * In 1900, however, 
 
 1 "Since our assuming the presidency our time day and night has been our 
 fellow craftsmen's to command, we can only add that whatever avenue of life 
 we may find ourselves placed in that the interests and welfare of our brother 
 miners will be our first consideration, and if we can be of service in making 
 life more pleasant by increasing their comfort and happiness and bringing 
 joy and gladness into their homes instead of gloom and sadness . . . our lives 
 will not have been spent in vain. We have met with nothing but kindness and 
 for our successors we could desire nothing better. Trusting that our delibera- 
 tions will be harmonious and that benefits like an overflowing river will accrue 
 to our fellow miners, I return to your keeping the trust your representatives 
 have placed on me." 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 63 
 
 at the end of his second year in office, he was strong enough 
 himself to say in public that the union was not strong. After 
 a pardonable pride in the accomplishments of the year, he laid 
 most of the stress on * 'prudence and business methods." The 
 last penny of market conditions to which the miners were en- 
 titled should be insisted upon, but in the same spirit they 
 should accord to the operators those profits to which they 
 were properly entitled. Official acts could only be sustained by 
 public opinion. 
 
 This time he had taken the alternative of making such a 
 splendid achievement that it would swamp opposition and had 
 won. He was reelected by acclamation. Tom Lewis, his bitter 
 enemy, however, was elected as vice-president, a position 
 where he could not only claim whatever credit there was to be 
 had from the administration achievements but could work 
 against Mitchell on a large scale. He did not win the election 
 without a fight, but the opposition to him was not effectively 
 managed. Either Mitchell had completely unbounded con- 
 fidence in his own ability to repeat his successes or he was 
 blind to the difference of character that separated his own 
 somewhat eager and ready trust in his fellow-men from his 
 vice-president. The two men met the proposal to increase their 
 salaries in a way characteristic to each of them. Mitchell com- 
 mented : 
 
 "I appreciate the honors that you have done me, and assure you 
 that if advancing my salary was to injure the organization, if one 
 man was to go away from here dissatisfied about the matter, then 
 I say you should put the salary at last year's figures or even make 
 them smaller. . . ." 
 
64 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Tom Lewis said bluntly : 
 
 "I do not believe in the policy of attempting to advance mining 
 rates unless we also advance salaries. It will give the joint con- 
 vention next week a chance to say that we do not advance our 
 officers' salaries because we did not get an advance ourselves. . . . 
 I am one of the people who if I think my services are worth a 
 certain sum, are going to ask for it, and if I don't get it, I am 
 going on a strike." 
 
 The raise was not given. Tom Lewis, however, did not go 
 on strike either. 
 
 From this convention the miners went to their third meet- 
 ing with the operators of the four central competitive states. 
 Here they secured increases approximating twenty per cent, 
 making, in Mitchell's words, "the highest mining price paid 
 since the formation of our organization if not in the history 
 of the mining industry." It covered some hundred thousand 
 miners. But he knew that the function of the union still in- 
 cluded the matter of paying as it went. If he was to make the 
 union strong in the outlying fields he must exact the price 
 of no trouble at home. At the same time that he gave notice 
 to the operators who had signed up with the union that the 
 sacredness of contract applied to them — that they had a re- 
 sponsibility to the union and that neglect of it would mean 
 that he would sanction a strike — he told his own men that it 
 was a two-edged sword, that they had to keep the contract 
 themselves or suffer suspension from the organization. He 
 wanted a free hand for the outlying fields without the loss of 
 reputation or expenditure of effort which might follow out- 
 law strikes at home. It was the statement of a man who saw 
 
THE VICTORY OF YOUTH 65 
 
 his immediate situation clearly. In this most important in- 
 dustry — since characterized as the worst-run of all national 
 industries — this young man of twenty-nine took upon him- 
 self the assumption of executive power. His modesty and his 
 caution had nothing to do with the burning necessity of 
 making good on the agreement. 
 
 With the approval and support of his organization behind 
 him and his policies, a satisfactory agreement in the central 
 field, gains elsewhere — Mitchell, had he been a vain man or 
 one eager for power, might easily have overstepped himself. 
 The greater part of the task was, in his opinion, still before 
 him. Mitchell was no mere "prudent businessman," no matter 
 how much he might so protest at the conference; he was an 
 organizer, the head of a militant union. Three hundred thou- 
 sand miners (including the anthracite fields) were still unor- 
 ganized; the strike in the Indian Territory was in progress; 
 West Virginia was still to be unionized ; and the great strong- 
 hold of the trusts in the coal industry — the anthracite fields 
 of Pennsylvania — were still to be entered. Mitchell left the 
 joint conference for the unorganized fields, devoting himself 
 particularly to the anthracite section. Before 1900 was over, 
 the "prudent businessman" had been transformed into a cru- 
 sader, a strike leader, and it was in this role that public atten- 
 tion and approval were centered on him and his own position 
 in the union rendered impregnable. 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 
 
 THERE were still two great sections of the coal fields 
 where the proposition that men should be allowed to 
 organize and bargain together against great combinations of 
 wealth had met with no success. West Virginia, with its 
 thirty-five thousand soft-coal miners, was one of them, and the 
 anthracite field, with one hundred and fifty thousand men, 
 the other. Mitchell chose the latter for the field of his activity. 
 His personal opponent, Vice-President Lewis, went down to 
 West Virginia; perhaps he could do better there than 
 Mitchell had done two years before, in 1898. 
 
 It was in this field, in the eastern part of Pennsylvania, that 
 Mitchell was to gain a reputation of being something close to 
 a superman, a Lincoln of the oppressed hard-coal miner. He 
 entered this work with some advantages he had not had when 
 he had attempted to organize West Virginia. Now men knew 
 his name, knew that he had brought success with him, had 
 put back food in houses where there had been none. They 
 knew, in a vague way, of his childhood, not unlike their own. 
 They knew of his sudden rise to a position where newspapers 
 quoted him and political figures associated with him. He was 
 the walking proof that their own hopes might come true. He 
 had given them a dignity and importance in the country which 
 they had never had. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
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 HH9BMHI 
 
 J"rft"/4 Hawthorne, Pete Henderson and J nek Mitchell. 
 Spring Valley, III. 188S 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 67 
 
 Mitchell entered the anthracite regions in the fall of 1899 
 tinder a mandate of the convention of that year. This was 
 embodied in a resolution brought in by Ben James, one of the 
 three delegates who were the only representatives of the local 
 unions which existed in the region. From the vague wording of 
 the resolution, the motivating impulse behind it was the de- 
 sire to organize the hard-coal fields to prevent their being used 
 as a means of defeating struggles in bituminous fields. The 
 pioneers in the hard-coal fields, John Fahy and Miles Dough- 
 erty, were soft-coal miners. 
 
 What Mitchell found in the mine camps of the Susque- 
 hanna and Schuylkill valleys was the stuff out of which 
 weaker men than he had made tears. There were as many 
 miners to be organized in the five hundred square miles of 
 Pennsylvania as had walked out in response to the call of 
 1897, more than twice as many as were enrolled under the 
 banner of the union. These men worked and lived under con- 
 ditions which could not be adequately described by all the 
 vivid phrases used to picture the hardships and injustice in 
 the lot of the soft-coal miner. Starvation wages and inhumanly 
 long hours were not all that kept them helpless; they were 
 kept in a condition of servitude through the system of com- 
 pany-owned houses, enforced purchases in company stores, 
 deductions for company medical services they rarely received. 
 They were bound as serfs to their hard lot. In the anthracite 
 regions, dockage charges were more unjust, the cost of sup- 
 plies more exorbitant, hours longer, work more uncertain, 
 favoritism more unjust, child labor more cruelly widespread, 
 and the death and accident toll much higher than in the worst 
 
68 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 period of soft-coal history. Their greater misery did not make 
 the anthracite miners more revolutionary, more eager to listen 
 to the gospel of unionism. It made them more hopelessly 
 despairing. 
 
 The concentration of the entire industry in five hundred 
 square miles of Pennsylvania territory should have lightened 
 the task of organization in contrast to the scattering of the 
 soft-coal fields throughout twenty-seven states. But within 
 that area were barriers far more insuperable than those of dis- 
 tance. These barriers were harder to mount and overcome 
 than the stark high hills which separated one anthracite camp 
 from another. The miners themselves were divided by racial, 
 national, economic and social differences. The economic line 
 was drawn between the skilled miners who became contractors, 
 and the unskilled "helpers." This line was reenforced by the 
 barriers of race and religion. The skilled men were the older 
 group and English-speaking — English, Welsh, Scotch and 
 Irish. The helpers were the despised new immigrants from 
 Southern and Eastern Europe, grouped together by the Eng- 
 lish-speaking group as "dagoes" and "hunks," but actually 
 divided into almost twenty cultural groups, each with its own 
 language and church, its own poverty-stricken settlement or 
 "patch" of company houses. The recollection that these for- 
 eigners, hated enough for their strange ways, had been im- 
 ported as strike breakers by the thousands during and after 
 the lost strikes of '75 and 3 87, was wormwood and gall to the 
 older group. They told Mitchell that these "dagoes" and 
 "hunks" could not be organized; they were ignorant, they 
 were low; they lived like animals. Wasn't it true that five 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 69 
 
 immigrant families lived in company houses discarded as un- 
 inhabitable by one "white man's" family? Wasn't it the 
 children of these foreigners who made up the bulk of the army 
 of twenty thousand breaker boys between the ages of ten 
 and sixteen? The English-speaking miners took out their re- 
 venge by making it practically impossible for the "dagoes" 
 and "hunks" to become skilled miners, maintaining in a world 
 of economic suffering what social prestige tHey could. The 
 foreigners hated them almost as much as they hated the fore- 
 man and the vast, impersonal machinery which was crushing 
 them. 
 
 The English-speaking skilled miners themselves offered 
 very little hope. There were so many living participants in 
 past failures who reminded each other and the others of the 
 futility of organization. Had not the leader of their first 
 union, back in 1850, absconded with the organization funds 
 after a lost strike? Would not one field scab on another, as 
 they had done during the "Long Strike" of 1875? They had 
 struck twelve years before against a ten per cent reduction, 
 and had ended up by being forced to take a twenty per cent 
 cut. What could John Mitchell, stranger and soft-coal miner, 
 accomplish in the stronghold of monopoly, when John Siney, 
 the ablest of the early leaders, had failed, and had, to use 
 their own language, been "crucified" by the men themselves? 
 Old hatreds, old distrusts, old fears were strong. 
 
 The employers were cognizant of this division in the ranks 
 of the men. But, unlike the operators in the soft-coal field, 
 who were many, who were divided and scattered, the anthra- 
 cite operators were united into one of the most powerful 
 
70 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 monopolies in the country. Ownership and control was con- 
 centrated in the hands of seven coal-carrying railroads, which 
 in turn were combined into two groups, one controlled by the 
 Morgan financial powers and the other by the Vanderbilt com- 
 bine. The coal miners had seen the terrible defeat in 1892 
 and again in 1900 of the best organized workers in the coun- 
 try, the steel workers, by the steel trust. What chance had one 
 hundred and fifty thousand unorganized miners, half of them 
 foreigners, against the coal monopoly ? 
 
 Mitchell brought something new into the situation to coun- 
 teract and overcome racial hatreds and distrusts, the tradition 
 of defeat and sectional treachery, the power of the coal mo- 
 nopoly. He was the living embodiment of the success of the 
 soft-coal miners. The fact that this was an argument used 
 against him by the anthracite operators strengthened rather 
 than weakened his cause with the miners. More than that, he 
 brought them the promise that the bituminous miners would 
 aid them in a very real way during any strike. He could bring 
 them the plan of the union, reenforced by his own standing 
 and the trust men had in his word, that this time for once the 
 three districts in the anthracite would not only strike to- 
 gether but would stay together until the very end. Finally, his 
 personality, and the legend of this successful "man from the 
 west" who was to lead them to victory, made their mark. 
 The English-speaking miners saw in him one of their own 
 men. To the foreigners, this sober, slender young man, quiet, 
 sympathetic and serious, dressed in the long miner's coat worn 
 by the westerners, and buttoned up to a straight clerical col- 
 lar, seemed much like their own priests. They attached to 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 71 
 
 him the reverence they had for their priests. The warm, mag- 
 netic personality, the tolerant understanding which had won 
 over delegates at miners' conventions and subordinate officers, 
 made its own appeal. Here was a leader. 
 
 Finally, Mitchell brought to them a new policy, a new plan 
 for unity. Here was the problem: Mitchell could throw his 
 lot with the skilled and English-speaking miners. For such 
 a step he could be sure of praise from them, from some of the 
 leaders in the craft unions. It was not enough. Action based on 
 such exclusive groupings had failed too often in the anthracite 
 field for the new immigrants, whose assistance was absolutely 
 necessary, to give it their support. If the aliens were not to be 
 fought, they had to be gathered in. He called to his aid, for 
 work among their own group, the few leaders among the 
 English-speaking miners, and then set himself to the task of 
 finding and developing leaders from among the foreigners. He 
 went out into the field searching for such men amongst the 
 miners themselves, interviewing every possible candidate, 
 checking back on the man's references in the local foreign- 
 language associations, lodges and clergy. When he found able 
 men, he gave them office on a standing with the English- 
 speaking organizers. He selected men who understood their 
 own language following, but who, even more, understood the 
 meaning of unionism. In the minds of many of them, the 
 cause of unionism became identified with the figure of 
 Mitchell. 
 
 To all of his aides in the great cause, Mitchell brought 
 not only a new technique of organizing, but a new spirit. As 
 he went from one district to another, one mine town and pit- 
 
72 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 head to another, addressing them in halls and in the open 
 fields, talking to them from the pulpits of their churches, visit- 
 ing their homes, he emphasized over and over a simple but 
 much-needed doctrine. He appealed to them to forget their 
 racial antagonisms and all lines which divided them. The 
 foreigner was no longer to be despised; he too was a miner 
 and fellow-sufferer. "The coal you dig," he pleaded, "isn't 
 Slavish or Polish or Irish coal, it's coal." Coal was the leveler. 
 It brought its own terrible equality. He asked the English- 
 speaking miners, in particular, "who failed to treat these fel- 
 low-workers who did not speak the English language . . . 
 with consideration . . . who called them Hunks . . . that 
 they should stop that practice and give these foreigners as 
 much consideration as they demanded for themselves ... to 
 call them Mr. So and So or to learn their first names. . . " 
 The miners of all groups and languages came to hear him. 
 They listened for hours on end in the open fields as Mitchell 
 spoke in his slow unoratorical fashion to them. They could 
 not all understand the words but they caught the spirit long 
 before their own language interpreters, one after another, 
 translated what he had said. A new day, the miners felt, was 
 coming. 
 
 Mitchell looked around for other help. In the old days in 
 Spring Valley, Father Power and other priests had exercised 
 great influence over both miners and operators. In the anthra- 
 cite region he knew the influence of the priests and foreign 
 language editors was even stronger. He met with every priest 
 and clergyman throughout the district, pleading the cause of 
 the union. He pointed out what they already knew, that crime 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 73 
 
 and lawlessness followed in the wake of the wretched poverty 
 of the district, that the new generation was destroyed in its 
 childhood. The union which he represented, and he himself, 
 embodied a way out of poverty and lawlessness. He was most 
 successful with the Catholic clergy which depended for sup- 
 port on and had most intimate contact with the masses. This 
 non-Catholic leader, so often mistaken for a priest, won over 
 Bishop Hoban in Scranton, made a strong ally of Father J. J. 
 Curran of Wilkesbarre, himself once a breaker boy, and hith- 
 erto antagonistic to the union, and, after a public debate, con- 
 verted Father Phillips of Hazleton. These three men had 
 great influence not only with the miners but with the oper- 
 ators. The Protestant clergy, too, despite the dependence of 
 their churches for support from the employing and tradesmen 
 classes, rallied to the miners. No man was overlooked. When a 
 local union leader complained bitterly against a Lutheran 
 minister who had advised his parishioners against the union, 
 and suggested darkly that "something should be done," Mitch- 
 ell made a friendly call on the preacher. He did not attempt 
 directly to change his point of view, but later, during the 
 strike, this minister did much to aid the strikers. 
 
 Mitchell went further in his program of winning "public 
 opinion." No group or agency in the anthracite field or outside 
 of it was left untouched. John J. Loftus, a Scranton pharma- 
 cist with a wide acquaintance and political connections, who 
 had become his loyal friend, after some effort, induced the 
 Elks' organization to give Mitchell a hearing. They intended 
 it as an opportunity of giving him a friendly warning to keep 
 his hands ofl that part of the country, but before the meeting 
 
74 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 was over he had won their support, important since they con- 
 stituted the tradespeople and general citizenry of the section 
 who might be asked to extend credit to the strikers. His ob- 
 vious earnestness, his utter lack of demagogy, appealed to 
 them. His argument that general prosperity could be built 
 only on the foundation of a well-paid working population 
 with money to spend aimed at their self-interest. 
 
 At the shabby, one-room headquarters in the old Valley 
 Hotel in Hazleton, purposely selected both for the sake of 
 economy and so that the miners could feel free to come as 
 they wished, Mitchell sat in his shirt sleeves, planning the 
 work and talking with his people. The work became an unre- 
 mitting round of bolstering up timid hopes, flattering hurt 
 vanities, appealing to what unselfishness and what courage 
 had been left over from all the years during which the anthra- 
 cite industrialists had relentlessly eliminated the most fit from 
 their enterprises. After iivc months of work in the field, there 
 were still only ten thousand union members out of a total of 
 one hundred and fifty thousand workers. He left the field to 
 report this fact to the national field. When he came back, the 
 bituminous miners had received a twenty per cent increase. It 
 was an open advertisement to the doubters in the anthracite 
 field that the thing could be done. Some of them had taken 
 so many risks and lost, that now they wanted water-tight, 
 fool-proof, completely guaranteed assurance that there would 
 be no more failure. Others were so eager of results that they 
 struck immediately, but in the old way, closing down only a 
 few scattered collieries. 
 
 In August of 1900, just as the presidential contest between 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 75 
 
 McKinley and Bryan was getting seriously under way, 
 Mitchell called a convention of the three anthracite districts 
 to meet in Scranton. He had been in the region almost a year. 
 There had been a great increase in the union enrollment. 
 Would the operators pay any attention to him'? Would the 
 bulk of the men really come out*? Would the politicians do 
 anything to avoid having the issue of social injustice figure in 
 the campaign? Would the people in New York City and the 
 other cities on the eastern seaboard who heated their homes 
 with anthracite coal be with the miners, or against them? 
 
 The convention worked out demands. They wanted wage 
 increases. They wanted to be paid on a piecework basis of 
 twenty-two hundred and forty pounds to the ton instead of 
 the "long" ton (twenty-seven hundred to four thousand 
 pounds) basis. They wanted relief from the system by which 
 the operators were free to dock their wages for almost any 
 amount of what they chose to call unmarketable coal. These 
 were the main things. They had received no increase since 
 1 880, twenty years. The working days had been cut down to 
 one hundred and ninety a year. They wanted relief badly. 
 What could Mitchell promise them toward it? 
 
 For the moment it seemed to be very little. An appeal to 
 the operators to meet with the district officers and himself 
 was, in spite of the prestige he was supposed to have, com- 
 pletely disregarded. The National Executive Board gave him 
 authority to call the whole anthracite field out on strike 
 within ten days. Did the operators pay any attention to that 
 threat? Into their intense silence he sent a wire suggesting 
 arbitration of the issues. It was ignored as all his other com- 
 
76 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 munications had been. He was being shown his place in the 
 East. 
 
 He knew that the operators could, on the face of things, 
 very well afford to ignore him. They were the great financial 
 leaders of the country, men who had not only seen the railroad 
 and steel workers crushed by their colleagues in finance, but 
 knew exactly how it had been done. There was an opinion 
 current in their circles that men had their price. In the face 
 of this attitude there was only one thing for Mitchell to do — 
 call the strike and take a chance that enough men would 
 come out to show both the others and the operators that the 
 union had at least that power. The only other alternative, 
 of waiting until the official enrollment had grown more im- 
 pressive, was a matter of impossible years. 
 
 On September 17, 1900, the strike call went into effect. In 
 the mining camps, at the forks of the creek, in the hills of the 
 Schuylkill and Lehigh Valley, in Scranton, Wilkesbarre, 
 Pittston, in the flat cities of the north, the whistles blew for 
 work that morning. The miners woke and listened, stood up 
 and got dressed, and then, in spite of all their need for every 
 cent they could earn, some hundred and twelve thousand men 
 stayed at home, and heard the whistles blow again, and still 
 stayed at home, and hoped and prayed that other men through- 
 out the region whom they had never seen and never would 
 see had also determined to stand fast. It was a matter of 
 three days before the news got to the remote camps that a 
 real strike had begun at last, that there was a good chance 
 that this time their courage would not have to be hidden away, 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 77 
 
 that they would not have to plead with the bosses to forgive 
 them their trespasses. 
 
 Against Morgan, Vanderbilt and tKe other financiers in 
 New York it was not hard to raise a righteous fist. There 
 were, however, a few independent operators who lived in the 
 fields, who prided themselves on their close personal rela- 
 tionship with the men who worked for them, their workers' 
 clubhouses, the baskets their wives took to the sick. They felt 
 they were not unreasonable. John Markle, one of the most im- 
 portant of them, was petitioned by his twenty-four hundred 
 employees to grant some demands. He promised an answer 
 and offered arbitration. It would have set a dangerous policy 
 of defection. A meeting of these men was held at the Jeddo 
 School House two days after the strike started. Mitchell in- 
 vited himself along. Against Markle's offer of arbitration for 
 his men, against a warning by the much beloved Father Phil- 
 lips that they should not break their unwritten contract, 
 Mitchell could only point out what he had learned, that wages 
 and conditions were not a local and individual issue, that 
 terms now won by the Markle men could not be enforced 
 long unless the same wages prevailed throughout the whole 
 region, unless the union was established. Arbitration was use- 
 less unless it included the railroad corporations which con- 
 trolled more than three-quarters of the coal in this section. He 
 pleaded with them in the name of their struggling fellow- 
 workmen who did not enjoy the advantage of a philanthropic 
 employer. News of the strike's success was coming in every 
 hour; the Markle men decided to stay on strike. Before it 
 
78 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 was over, Father Phillips had been won over to the union 
 cause. The great danger of local settlements had been averted. 
 
 As soon as it was clear to the country that the miners really 
 were on strike, and stories of the actual misery they were try- 
 ing to alleviate were told, the people who were interested in 
 electing a president on the proposition that he had brought and 
 would bring a full dinner pail with him, began to stir. Those 
 who were interested in defeating a Republican president on 
 the ground that he had not brought a full dinner pail also 
 began to stir. The interest of Hanna and McKinley in the 
 Ohio miners, the fact that Bryan had seemed to embody to the 
 workers four years ago some fulfillment of their hopes, were 
 remembered. 
 
 Marcus Alonzo Hanna, who was to play an important part 
 both in the 1900 and 1902 strikes, was at this time considered 
 not only boss of the Republican Party, creator of the "stand 
 pat" policy, but spokesman for the financial powers of the 
 country. Originally belonging to the industrial captains, his 
 fortune made on forfeit during Civil War days, he seemed to 
 have and to retain a human sympathy for men who worked 
 and fought hard. He had bargained with the union in Ohio 
 ten years before other operators had been forced to it. Some 
 of his most valuable lieutenants — the radicals called them 
 his labor henchmen — were miners' leaders. Since he had gotten 
 into national politics he had learned that the men really run- 
 ning the country were not the industrialists like himself but 
 their financiers. They, as absentee landlords, were even less 
 inclined to deal with the unions than the industrialists. When 
 he became the dominant force in the National Civic Federa- 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 79 
 
 tion, he used his position to impress these men with his con- 
 viction that unions were a necessary evil and something to be 
 accepted speedily and intelligently. The Federation, at that 
 time, had the hearty hatred of the manufacturers' associations. 
 Hanna could be counted on for assistance. 
 
 There was only one of the four questions left. The bulk 
 of the men had come out. The operators had paid no atten- 
 tion so far. The politicians were beginning to consider the 
 effect that an issue of social injustice might have in the cam- 
 paign. What remained in doubt was whether the citizenry 
 and consumers would feel with the miners or against them. 
 Mitchell wanted their support. He preferred to take the 
 criticism of the radicals in his organization that he was a 
 mild conservative rather than to alienate middle-class sym- 
 pathy. One of his first appeals to the miners was to avoid 
 violence. There was to be no opportunity to repeat the hor- 
 rors of the Lattimer massacre of 1897, when forty of the 
 foreign-born miners, marching from camp to camp, an Ameri- 
 can flag in the hands of their leader, were shot down and nine- 
 teen of them killed. The picture of an almost priest-like young 
 gentleman, coming out of the West to stand up in behalf of 
 humble men against all the powers that seemed to be con- 
 trolling industry against the will of the common people and 
 bringing with him peace rather than revolution, captured the 
 imagination of both newspaper men and reading public. 
 
 When the operators, in public pronouncements, raised fine 
 points about whether or not the union represented their work- 
 ers, even the conservative New York Times insisted that that 
 was beside the real point of the validity of the strikers' 
 
80 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 claims. The suffering of the miners' families and their de- 
 votion to the union made the hair-splitting of their opponents 
 ridiculous. A priest in the region was quoted as saying that the 
 men were now more loyal to the union than to the church. 
 The loyalty extended to their wives and children. A story was 
 told of an old woman who put all her husband's clothes into 
 the washtub to guard against any possible yielding on his 
 part to the temptation to return to work. Privation and want 
 threatened the strikers. There was not always enough bread, 
 and butter was a luxury unknown. Actual starvation was 
 warded off by the helpful extension of credit by local trades- 
 men, now thoroughly with the miners. Breaks in the ranks of 
 the strikers were unknown. 
 
 The usual tales of strike violence failed of appeal. The 
 press was agreed that here was mass action and much pas- 
 sion, but violence was unheard of. "The quiet in the mining 
 hamlets (is) so intense, so unnatural as to arouse the feeling 
 of uneasiness." The day after the strike call, the pledge of 
 temperance had been taken by many of the strikers and ad- 
 ministered by the priests at the request of the union. Disor- 
 ders were fewer than in peace time. Not even the cry of de- 
 struction of property could be raised, since the union had not 
 called out the pumpmen and engineers, and the mines had not 
 been flooded. 
 
 Then the operators pronounced it a plot on the part of soft- 
 coal operators in conspiracy with the union. The outspoken 
 sympathy of the bituminous operators for the cause of the 
 strikers made that plausible until it was pointed out that even 
 prior to the strike, due to the great industrial activity, the 
 
53 
 
 =>3 
 
 -si 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 81 
 
 demand for soft coal was greater than the supply, and that, 
 in ordinary times the two products did not directly compete 
 with each other. The press declared the issue an evasion of the 
 strikers' claims of injustice. 
 
 Then the operators, who themselves were high in political 
 councils, insisted, with great indignation, that the strike had 
 been "pulled for political purposes." It was a matter of gen- 
 eral knowledge that Senator Hanna was using every means he 
 could to bring about a settlement. Opponents of the union 
 accused it of conniving with now the Democratic and now the 
 Republican Party, the accusation depending upon the politics 
 of its maker. Mitchell's method of meeting such accusations 
 when he was directly confronted with them is illustrated in a 
 statement, issued by Miss Morris: A certain William V. 
 Webber of the "German- American McKinley Roosevelt 
 League" was quoted as saying that the anthracite coal strike 
 had been planned by Mr. Johnson of the National Demo- 
 cratic Committee, the Mayor of Indianapolis and John 
 Mitchell. Mitchell commented that "he was reluctant to be- 
 lieve that Mr. Webber made the charge and stated positively 
 that the story was untrue ; that he did not know Mr. Johnson 
 and had never held a conversation with Mr. Taggart in his 
 life . . . that any man who would inaugurate a strike in the 
 interest of any political organization would be deserving of the 
 severest punishment which could be meted out to him, and 
 that any persons who made political capital out of the suffer- 
 ing and misery of the men, women and children of the anthra- 
 cite region would be unworthy of the privilege of citizenship." 
 In all his life, Mitchell never attacked a man, either in de- 
 
82 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 fense of himself or of his ideas. Every accusation made against 
 the miners' cause was turned into an argument for it, partly 
 by virtue of its own righteousness, and the unfair nature of 
 the attacks, and partly by the temper of Mitchell's replies. 
 
 It was said that the strike was a fight for personal prestige 
 and union recognition only. Mitchell replied that the matter 
 of union recognition would not stand in the way of a fair 
 settlement. 
 
 Early in October there were signs of the end of the strike. 
 It was getting too close to election time. The operators made 
 overtures to the strikers by posting notices of a ten per cent 
 increase for those men who would return to the mines im- 
 mediately. No mention of the other demands was made, no 
 promise or guarantee as to the length of time to be covered by 
 this increase was given, and no method of adjusting griev- 
 ances included. The union decided to continue the strike and 
 hardly a man broke ranks. 
 
 During all of this time, Hanna was busy. When he found 
 the operators firm against any discussion, he went over their 
 heads to J. P. Morgan and arranged an interview for Mitchell. 
 The desire for political victory commingled with admiration 
 for Mitchell's personality. No public announcement of the 
 result of this interview was made, but the railroad presidents 
 received their orders. 
 
 On October 3, 1900, eight hundred delegates, representing 
 every colliery in the region, met in convention and decided on 
 certain compromise terms : a ten per cent increase until April, 
 1901; a reduction in the price of powder of almost one hun- 
 dred per cent; the abolition of the sliding scale of wages (by 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 83 
 
 which wage rates fluctuated with the market price of coal) in 
 the southern and western fields; and finally, recognition of 
 workers' committees in the adjustment of grievances. 
 
 The operators gave no sign of awareness of the convention, 
 but a week later notices were posted in and about the mines 
 embodying these compromise terms. The notices were tacit 
 acknowledgment of the strength of the miners, and were ac- 
 cepted as such by them. It was good enough. It was victory. 
 The country at large considered it a victory in the struggle 
 against industrial feudalism. On October 29, 1900, an order 
 was issued by the national and district officers, announcing the 
 end of the strike. 
 
 The miners entered the strike, unorganized, helpless, un- 
 certain, ignored by the operators, divided amongst themselves. 
 At the end of six weeks they emerged as a power to be dealt 
 with, a group with a definite status in the industry and in the 
 community. They had not won formal recognition, but in 
 effect their union had been recognized. In the national union, 
 they now represented almost as large a group as all the bitu- 
 minous miners. The northern district alone was almost as 
 large as the most powerful, militant district in the soft-coal 
 section, Illinois. Mitchell announced that the strike "stands 
 out in bold relief as the most remarkable contest between labor 
 and capital in the industrial history of our nation." 
 
 Mitchell, as leader of that strike, was, to the men and to 
 the public, the personification of the new power of labor and 
 the new attitude toward unionism not only in the anthracite 
 region but throughout the country. October 29th was voted a 
 holiday by the miners and called Mitchell Day. The press 
 
84 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 spread itself in his praise ; the miners spread a worship of him 
 as a Moses who had wrestled with their Pharaohs, a saviour, 
 a Lincoln. Before he left the region he was loaded down with 
 gifts and memorials. The twenty thousand breaker boys, pa- 
 thetically proud, presented him with a gold medallion which 
 touched his sentimental pride in them ; their lot, as sad as his 
 own boyhood, had made his work in the anthracite field, a 
 mission, a crusade. Local unions, district executive boards, 
 foreign-language associations, Elks, all feted him and marched 
 in his honor. 
 
 This was his first great fighting triumph. Other victories 
 had been won by his powers of negotiation, by competent ex- 
 ecutive control of other leaders. His triumph over attacks on 
 him outside the union, the new dimensions of his leadership, 
 did not save Mitchell in the years between 1900 and 1902 
 from attacks within the union both on his policy and on his 
 personal integrity. There was little enough time for him to 
 rest on his new laurels. 
 
 The opposition to Mitchell at this time was mainly that 
 led by Tom Lewis, whose personal ambition and jealousy led 
 to many attempts to undermine Mitchell's prestige. But there 
 was in addition a small but growing opposition, led by men 
 whose concepts of the function and methods of unionism dif- 
 fered fundamentally from the policies which Mitchell repre- 
 sented. To them — whether from time to time they enrolled in 
 the Socialist, the Socialist-Labor, or the I. W. W. ranks — he 
 was too conservative, too concerned with immediate results 
 and not enough with the revolutionary future of labor, too 
 willing to be on amicable terms with capitalists. His member- 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 85 
 
 ship, together with that of other international union presi- 
 dents, in the National Civic Federation did not appeal to 
 them. The Civic Federation, formed in 1900, was composed 
 of capitalists, representatives of organized labor, and repre- 
 sentatives of the public. One of its aims, set forth rather 
 patronizingly in its preamble, was to "show that organized 
 labor cannot be destroyed without the debasement of the 
 masses . . . that organized labor can be led to correct its 
 errors . . . that capital can be taught the practicability of 
 securing industrial peace in accordance with business meth- 
 ods . . . that the twin foes of industrial peace are the anti- 
 union employers and the Socialists, and that the former are 
 unconsciously promoting that class hatred which the latter 
 boldly advocates." To the leaders of the radical minority in 
 the union, this seeming advocacy of organized labor was more 
 to be feared than the open enmity of certain capitalists. The 
 leaders of this minority group, just beginning to be articulate 
 at this time, were practically all Illinois miners — Duncan Mc- 
 Donald, an eloquent orator, Frank J. Hayes, who was writing 
 poetry at this time but whose engaging personality won him 
 the presidency of the union a dozen years later, Adolph Ger- 
 mer, who was active in the socialist party. Occasionally one 
 of them, like John H. Walker, supported Mitchell out of per- 
 sonal loyalty and a conviction that his achievements were 
 sounder than the pronouncements of more radical leaders. 
 Their opposition was important then, not in itself, but in the 
 use which Lewis might, in his frequent bids for their support, 
 make of them. 
 
 The Lewis-Dolan group found it a little difficult to dis- 
 
86 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 cover weaknesses in Mitchell's armor. The organization had 
 grown in the years between 1898 and 1902 to over two hun- 
 dred thousand from less than forty thousand. Every month 
 new territories were brought into the effective ranks. Every 
 convention was a testimonial to Mitchell's leadership. In 1901 
 the anthracite miners, out of their meager earnings, made a 
 collection to build a home for Mitchell. He insisted that it 
 be converted into a fund for a memorial to the sturdy alien 
 strikers who had died in the bloody Lattimer massacre. 
 Mitchell's salary of $1,200 a year, small compared with the 
 salaries of other labor officials holding positions in unions one- 
 tenth the size of the miners' organizations, was, he said, suf- 
 ficient for his needs. It was — and he pointed that out — far 
 more than the vast majority of miners earned; he permitted 
 no resolutions for its increase to be considered for many years. 
 
 The Lewis bid for radical support by his resolution that 
 National Executive Board members be elected by district con- 
 ventions instead of by the national convention, was belied 
 by his opposition to the proposal of Mitchell that national 
 officers be elected by direct referendum, instead of by the 
 convention delegates. Mitchell's proposal was not carried until 
 1902. Lewis' bid for the support of the foreign groups in a 
 resolution for the appointment of foreign organizers and the 
 introduction of foreign language sections in the Journal went 
 by unnoticed in the acclaim of the foreign-born for the man 
 who had brought them victory in the anthracite fields. 
 
 Radical propaganda for industrial unionism was made to 
 look futile and feeble beside the quiet practical achievement 
 of Mitchell, in gathering into the ranks of the union not only 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 87 
 
 the unskilled unorganized miners at one extreme, but the 
 highly skilled, well organized engineers, pumpmen, firemen, 
 carpenters, and blacksmiths who worked in and about the 
 mines. His success drew the protest of the craft unions which 
 had jurisdiction over each of these separate branches, and 
 finally, of the American Federation of Labor of which he was 
 now second vice-president of labor. He was rebuked, in 1901, 
 by Mr. Gompers : "Surely the lessons of previous efforts in the 
 organization of labor have been sufficiently costly to our 
 movement and to the workers generally to bid us have a care 
 lest we founder upon the same shoals of industrial concentra- 
 tion. The Knights of Labor endeavored to cover all branches 
 of industry in one, as they termed it, 'comprehensive' organi- 
 zation. . . . There was apparent success for a while, until 
 disadvantages broke out at every point and disrupted the 
 whole. . . ." Finally, after considerable correspondence, the 
 1901 convention of the Federation in Scranton — the scene of 
 his triumph over the anthracite operators — gave Mitchell 
 and the miners' union the right to include these crafts, 
 which formed, as Mitchell pointed out, but three per cent 
 of the total force but which, if they chose to strike, could 
 throw the remaining ninety-seven per cent out of work. The 
 permissive declaration, however, called for a maintenance of 
 the principle of craft autonomy "in so far as it is consistent 
 with the varying phases and traditions in industry." 
 
 It was, indeed, not until the 1902 convention of the miners 
 that an issue was found on which Mitchell might be attacked. 
 Between annual elections Mitchell insisted always that there 
 was no internal conflict. In 1902 the fight was made on the 
 
88 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 very delicate point of Mitchell's personal integrity as well as 
 his judgment of men. The national secretary-treasurer of the 
 organization was W. C. Pearce, who had held that office since 
 Ratchford's first term in 1897. He was an Ohio man, reputed 
 to be none too friendly to Mitchell. In the spring of 1900, 
 Pearce's secretary, a Miss Mollie Meredith, reported to 
 Mitchell a shortage in his stamp accounts and a general lax- 
 ness in his accounting methods. Mitchell showed unexpected 
 concern over the matter and his statement to Miss Meredith, 
 "I wish I had never to hear of such a matter," was given its 
 own interpretation by his opponents at a later time. He sought 
 the counsel of a national official, W. D. Van Horn, stationed 
 nearby at Terre Haute. Van Horn's solution was simple; the 
 man must resign. He could not understand Mitchell's extreme 
 concern, his astonishment and his tears, over the defection of 
 a fellow official. Pearce, confronted, admitted a shortage of a 
 hundred dollars, but put the appealing defense that his own 
 funds had year after year been steadily depleted by his as- 
 sistance to the many destitute miners who called at the na- 
 tional office. He was a broken and pitiful figure and Mitchell 
 hesitated. But when Pearce suggested that the matter be fixed 
 up quietly and that he be allowed to stay on until summer 
 when he expected a political appointment, Mitchell's sympa- 
 thetic mood vanished. Pearce was forced to resign, and the 
 official pretext was ill health. Miss Meredith was rewarded 
 for her services to the union, which gained a more efficient 
 secretary in the person of William B. Wilson of Pennsyl- 
 vania, an old and tried official. The Pearce matter was to all 
 appearances dropped. Pennsylvania now had a representative 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 89 
 
 in the national office, even though he came from the Clearfield 
 section, and not from the Pittsburgh district Dolan controlled. 
 Mitchell had insisted on the policy of official honesty. 
 
 His honesty did not go unchallenged, however. A short 
 time before the 1902 convention, Miss Meredith, no longer in 
 the employ of the national office, appeared at a meeting of 
 the Ohio district and charged Mitchell and Wilson with gloss- 
 ing over the Pearce default by failing to mention rake-offs 
 Pearce obtained on printing contracts. She repeated Mitchell's 
 exclamation to her. She had undoubtedly been brought to the 
 convention by Mitchell's opponents, but her story sounded 
 plausible. She was a handsome woman who appeared in the 
 role of an employee abused for her honesty, and the Lewis 
 men were in control of the district convention. It voted to 
 pay her expenses to the national convention at Indianapolis 
 and demanded that she be heard there. The discussion of her 
 charges took three days of the national convention's expensive 
 time. The press found good material in the spectacle of a 
 young woman, good-looking, becomingly dressed in the height 
 of the fashion, standing out seemingly alone against the pow- 
 erful president of a powerful organization. Many of the dele- 
 gates were inclined to think that there might be fire where the 
 smoke emanated from such a source. Mitchell was embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 At that time miners' conventions were held in an old, badly 
 underheated hall. It was a cold January day and most of the 
 delegates wore their coats indoors, but Mitchell's face when 
 he arose to answer Miss Meredith was, according to the re- 
 porter for the Indianapolis News, bathed in perspiration. He 
 
90 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 spoke with great emotion. He denied that he had failed to 
 report the full shortage to the Executive Board. He denied 
 any plan to cover Pearce's misdeed, pointing out that he 
 could have made no personal gain by such an act. He pro- 
 tested against Miss Meredith's interpretation of his expression 
 of regret. He did not refrain from pointing out that she had 
 not made the charges until after her own dismissal for in- 
 efficiency. 
 
 The convention was in an uproar. Resolutions were intro- 
 duced, some censuring Miss Meredith, others exonerating 
 Mitchell immediately, others calling for a vote. An investiga- 
 tion committee was finally selected, including many of 
 Mitchell's opponents, and Mitchell refused to have his name 
 considered for reelection until it had been cleared. When the 
 committee brought in its report, completely clearing Mitchell 
 and Wilson, the delegates arose and cheered. Rumors became 
 more insistent that Miss Meredith had been employed either 
 by the operators, or through them, by the anti-Mitchell men 
 in Ohio. The delegates sang the "Mitchell song," composed in 
 his honor by a miner-singer in the anthracite region, over and 
 over and ended the last session with it. 
 
 The whole matter touched Mitchell on the raw. He knew 
 his own weaknesses. The boy who had been scorned and 
 mocked, who had been for many years a wanderer among 
 strangers, still remained turned in on himself. He was not 
 toughened to the politics of an organization. As he met men 
 in other classes of life, he realized how inadequate his own 
 education had been. That too made him reticent. When people 
 appealed to him in the name of friendship they met a fund of 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 91 
 
 goodness and simple decency. Some found the very sincerity of 
 this quality disarming; others found in it an opportunity. It 
 hurt Mitchell to be accused of the least treason to the union 
 which was his life and family and religion. This was not the 
 last time he was to be accused. It hurt him more to have any 
 of those people who really were his friends accused or made to 
 suffer through him. In the midst of the anthracite strike of 
 1900, one of the Scranton papers published serious insinua- 
 tions about his relations to Miss Morris. He promptly brought 
 a libel suit against the editor and forced him to make a public 
 retraction. One of Mitchell's friends tells that at another 
 time Mitchell suddenly left him to follow into a saloon and 
 punish a miner from Ohio of whom he had heard that he had 
 made a similar accusation. 
 
 Another serious charge was made in 1901. The previous 
 year the steel workers' union made a last desperate fight to 
 stay in the mills of the newly formed United States Steel 
 Corporation. T. J. Schaffer, President of the Amalgamated 
 Steel and Iron Workers' Union, claimed to have received a 
 promise from Mitchell that he would call out the coal miners 
 in a sympathetic strike, on which promise the steel workers had 
 counted before they took the risk of the strike. Mitchell de- 
 nied this in full. He pointed out that both Gompers and he 
 had not approved of Schafler's policy of breaking the agree- 
 ments in the unionized mills in support of strikes in unorgan- 
 ized mills. Publication of the correspondence seemed to clear 
 Mitchell completely of any broken promise or hostile activity. 
 He was not present at the meeting of his National Executive 
 Board when it endorsed an appeal to its own locals for aid, 
 
92 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 and a resolution to the American Federation of Labor re- 
 questing President Gompers to call a mass meeting to consider 
 means of aiding the steel strikers. The reason for his absence 
 was that he had suddenly left for Spring Valley to attend the 
 funeral of one of his children. He had never known the boy 
 very well. The last few years had kept him almost incessantly 
 busy. He could not stay on to know the other children better. 
 Hardly was the funeral over than he had to leave for a con- 
 vention of the anthracite miners. The Schaffer attack, the first 
 charge flung at him from outside his own union, together with 
 his emotional state, made him abnormally sensitive about it. 
 
 All of these attacks made Mitchell realize that he was re- 
 sponsible not only to himself and to his people but to all those 
 throughout the country who placed their hopes in him as the 
 bringer of a new era in social justice. Any mis-step, of diplo- 
 macy as well as of economic program, would lead to bitter 
 factional disruption. The increased complexity of the tasks 
 before him, and the power concentrated in his office by the con- 
 stitution of his union, enlarged the opportunities for such a 
 mis-step. Mitchell left the convention of 1902 and the joint 
 conference which followed in depressed spirits and health. He 
 had been vindicated in the convention, he had won gains for 
 the miners in the conference. But he was said to be tortured 
 with pain — a hernia resulting from overstrain in his days as 
 a miner. His wanderings prevented any domestic existence. 
 His own children did not know him. He disliked the internal 
 conflict in his organization. The immediate tasks before him 
 were too pressing to permit him to dwell on his emotions. 
 
 The two great threats to a unified organization covering 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 93 
 
 all the coal fields in the country remained. After the 1902 
 convention Mitchell went back to the anthracite fields, where 
 one test of strength had made the men willing to take the 
 great risk of still another test. Tom Lewis, whose reelection 
 to the vice-presidency he had not opposed, went to West Vir- 
 ginia. It was a double attack. The work of unionization was 
 never finished. 
 
 In the anthracite field, Mitchell found that for lack of a 
 union with disciplinary powers and unified control there had 
 been more local stoppages in the months since the victory of 
 1900 than in the preceding year. Some of the foreign miners 
 were telling their foremen, "You not my boss, Johnny Mitch- 
 ell my boss." The operators liked to think that in 1900 they 
 had given in only because of the emergency of their favorite 
 political party. They were in no amicable mood. An elaborate 
 system of spying and blacklisting had been established. The 
 workers had the opportunity of seeing stockades built around 
 some of the mines, huge depots established for the storage of 
 a strike reserve of coal. 
 
 In September, 1901, McKinley was shot by a foreigner, 
 and Roosevelt, whom the financial powers did not like and 
 whom they had helped to kick upward into the vice-presidency 
 to get him out of New York State, succeeded him. It is said 
 that some of the foreigners in the anthracite region, when they 
 heard of the death of a president, went into mourning for 
 Mitchell. He was the only president they knew. 
 
 In 1901, the operators had met an attempt on Mitchell's 
 part to call a joint conference with a silence equal to that of 
 the previous year. They had simply posted in their mines a 
 
94 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 notice that the scale would be continued another year. The 
 convention of the anthracite miners was restless that year. 
 Through Mark Hanna's efforts, Mitchell and the anthracite 
 district officials met President Thomas of the Erie Railroad, 
 in New York City. Nothing was gained there except a repeti- 
 tion of the announcement that the scale would be continued 
 until April, 1902. Mitchell said later that the Union repre- 
 sentatives had "the hope, if not the anticipation, that the 
 union would be ultimately recognized." The organ of the 
 Socialist Labor Party, The Weekly People, sneered: "Mitch- 
 ell's mission is to prove to the companies that his union is 
 dollars and cents in their pockets." From the other side, the 
 Coal Trade Journal commented knowingly: "Mr. Mitchell's 
 invitation for a conference will not receive any more attention 
 now than it has in the past. He will be received however by 
 the operators and treated cordially. He will be given a satis- 
 factory answer to questions of minor grievances and promises 
 of a conference at a future date, say a year hence. That will 
 be satisfactory to Mr. Mitchell and he will then prevail upon 
 the members of the Executive Board to accept the offer of the 
 operators. One year hence there may be no President Mitch- 
 ell." Mitchell threw his weight with those who found the 
 situation unfavorable to another strike. 
 
 The men kept their confidence in his leadership. They did 
 not expect to own the earth in a day. No matter how much 
 he might say, "Relations of labor and capital are purely a 
 business proposition. There is no sentiment in it. Peace is bet- 
 ter for both," the newspaper men found the air on Mitchell 
 Day heavy with an almost religious devotion as the miners 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 9S 
 
 marched in honor of their union and its president. On his side, 
 he too was touched. Their hardly vocal desires went out to 
 him, and for a moment, under the crush and monotony of the 
 daily routine, he saw himself as they did, crusader and saviour. 
 The breaker boys were grouped before him. He said of them : 
 ". . . these boys in the hard-coal regions are men. They have 
 the bodies and faces of boys but they came to meetings where 
 I spoke and stood as still as the men and listened for every 
 word. I was shocked and amazed ... as I saw those eager 
 eyes peering at me from eager little faces; the fight had a 
 new meaning for me; I felt that I was. fighting for the boys, 
 fighting a battle for innocent childhood. . . ." 
 
 In 1902 the anthracite leaders pressed for action. The Na- 
 tional Executive Board authorized a joint conference, and, in 
 the event of its failure, a general strike in the whole anthra- 
 cite field. It did not want to break contracts in the bituminous 
 field, but did pass a resolution giving the board power to call 
 sectional or national suspensions of bituminous miners in case 
 any soft coal was shipped into anthracite markets. The 
 friendly bituminous operators took this as a gesture of warn- 
 ing. The radical element in the union took it as a complete 
 authorization for a nation-wide strike. Antagonistic employers 
 everywhere pointed it out as an indication of the slight im- 
 portance the union attached to its contracts. 
 
 When Mitchell reopened attempts at negotiation with the 
 operators, it was evident that the situation had somewhat 
 changed from the fact that his letters were not completely 
 ignored. Mitchell's invitation of February 14, 1902, to a 
 joint conference on March 12th was promptly, though unsatis- 
 
96 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 factorily answered by all the operators. The most important 
 of these railroad president coal-operators was George F. Baer 
 of the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad, which, in combina- 
 tion with subsidiary roads, controlled fifty per cent of all 
 anthracite production. The public utterances of these two 
 men, John Mitchell, young, uneducated president of a union 
 in a day when unions were regarded as outlaw organizations, 
 and Baer, his senior by a generation, well-trained in the law, 
 bearded and patronizingly benevolent, religious and powerful, 
 was to form one of the interesting phases of conflict between 
 two opposing forces. The shrewd business head was to prove 
 himself a far less apt judge of public opinion than the union 
 leader, uncertain of the endurance power of his forces. 
 
 Baer declined Mitchell's invitation to the conference of 
 March 12th, pointing out that a uniform scale was not prac- 
 tical, that Mitchell's proposal to "disturb the scale" showed 
 his lack of familiarity with the anthracite industry, that com- 
 plaints as to specific grievances from their own men would 
 always be received by the company, but that these men were 
 "well satisfied." That discipline "which was essential to the 
 conduct of all business" had been disturbed by the union, 
 with a resultant decrease in production, and "there can not 
 be two masters in the management of business." The adjust- 
 ment of wages and conditions did not "call for the interven- 
 tion of the organization which you, Mr. Mitchell, represent," 
 although he was willing to "concede" that certain "honest" 
 efforts of labor organizations toward better welfare and work- 
 ing conditions were commendable. 
 
 Mr. Thomas, of the Erie Railroad, who had met with 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 97 
 
 Mitchell in 1901, denied a verbal arrangement to meet with 
 the union in 1902, and added that nothing that had occurred 
 in the intervening year had raised the confidence of the op- 
 erators in the union. The other railroad presidents replied in 
 much the same way. 
 
 When the miners' convention took place in Shamokin, 
 March 18th to 24th, 1902, the miners were tired of delays 
 and dodges from the operators, and it took all of Mitchell's 
 conciliatory powers to keep them from the immediate declara- 
 tion of a strike. In the midst of the convention, he again sent 
 out telegrams to the operators inviting them to a joint confer- 
 ence. Mr. Baer's reply, the only one on record, read: "Always 
 willing to meet our employees. ... I had hoped my letter 
 clearly expressed our views." 
 
 The miners proceeded to a formulation of their demands 
 which included, in addition to a twenty per cent increase, 
 uniformity in the system of weighing coal, the eight-hour day 
 and similar demands, the important provision that the union 
 be recognized and that all discharged union men be rein- 
 stated. On Mitchell's advice, the convention again appealed 
 to the National Civic Federation to mediate for them. It also 
 decided that if, after April 1st, no agreement had been 
 reached, the men would work only three days a week. The 
 engineers and pumpmen, however, were not to be called out 
 unless absolutely necessary, so that the mines would not be 
 flooded. 
 
 Mitchell's counsel of peace again prevailed and again at- 
 tempts at negotiation were begun by the National Civic Fed- 
 eration. The operators actually did meet witK the miners, but 
 
98 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 the net result was a promise from Mr. Thomas, spokesman 
 of the operators, that union men would not be discriminated 
 against. On the other hand, he demanded that union men 
 must not refuse to work with non-union miners, and that the 
 quality of work must not deteriorate nor was the output to 
 be restricted. The upshot of it all was that "after discussing 
 at great length the general relations of labor and capital the 
 conference adjourned for thirty days." The second conference 
 brought no further results. 
 
 At these conferences Mitchell, in his role of advocate of 
 peace, offered several compromises and made "every attempt 
 consistent with the preservation of dignity" to avert the strike, 
 expressing, for the miners, a willingness to settle on a ten per 
 cent increase and a nine-hour day. Mitchell justified this pol- 
 icy a year later when he wrote in his book: "This policy was 
 not dictated by a fear of losing the strike but in order to avert 
 the terrible suffering which it was clearly foreseen would in- 
 evitably result from the desperate conflict. This policy was, 
 however, mistaken for weakness and each attempt at concilia- 
 tion increased the obduracy of the railway presidents." Peace- 
 making had its disadvantages. Not a single additional point 
 was conceded by the operators. 
 
 April 1st, the date of the expiration of the 1901 arrange- 
 ment, had come and gone. On May 7th, the District Executive 
 Committee, "with a lingering hope of averting the impending 
 strike," sent telegrams to the operators, reiterating their will- 
 ingness to submit their demands to a committee of five per- 
 sons, selected by the National Civic Federation, the decision 
 of the committee to be binding for a year. Or, if that was 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 99 
 
 unsatisfactory, they suggested a committee consisting of 
 Archbishop Ireland, Bishop Potter and one other person whom 
 the two would select. The miners went further: if, after in- 
 vestigation, such a committee decided that the wages received 
 by them were sufficient to enable them to live, maintain and 
 educate their families in a manner "comformable to American 
 standards," the miners would withdraw their claims. The op- 
 erators replied that there was nothing further to discuss. Baer 
 was a little more explicit. Anthracite mining "is a business 
 and not a religious, sentimental or academic proposition." He 
 would not, as the responsible head of a business with its duly 
 constituted management, even if he could "delegate this busi- 
 ness management to even so highly respectable a body as the 
 Civic Federation nor can I call to my aid as experts in the 
 mixed problem of business and philanthropy the eminent 
 prelates you have named." 
 
 There was now no retreat. Mitchell said, "We have spoken 
 our last word and the time for action has arrived." On the 
 12th of May, 1902, one hundred and forty thousand miners 
 answered the call for the temporary suspension of work. 
 Would it be permanent or would it fizzle'? The declaration of 
 the suspension hardly made a ripple in Wall Street, according 
 to the New York Times, John W. ( "Bet-you-a-million" ) 
 Gates, after a conversation with J. P. Morgan, was still will- 
 ing to bet one hundred to one against the strike, because of 
 the "wisdom of the leaders and the conservative elements 
 amongst the miners." The newspapers reported that, uncon- 
 cerned, the "coal barons play golf." Mitchell's tactics had in- 
 deed convinced them that the strike would fail. 
 
100 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Mark Hanna was still at work on mediation. He went over 
 the heads of the railroad presidents again and cabled to J. P. 
 Morgan in Europe. He tried to bring pressure on the stock- 
 holders, getting a committee of them together. He urged 
 Mitchell to name the lowest possible terms he would consider. 
 Mitchell spoke of a five per cent increase, but the railroad 
 presidents were scornful. It is doubtful that the miners knew 
 at the time of MitchelPs offer. 
 
 Two days later a convention was called to determine the 
 future of the suspension. Delegates were to come instructed 
 by their locals so that they would take the responsibility for 
 the calling of a strike. Mitchell had made the process of ne- 
 gotiation go as far as he could, and he still hoped for some- 
 thing which seemed to others to be a miracle. On the day of 
 the convention opening, May 14th, he was still urging the 
 National Civic Federation to do what it could. When the dele- 
 gates asked him for his advice he declared himself opposed to 
 the strike if it could possibly be averted "despite the provoca- 
 tion the miners had received from the operators." A year later 
 in his book he stated that he had hoped it would be averted 
 until the late fall when the men might have struck more 
 effectively. 
 
 A delegate who rose to ask the miners to follow the advice 
 of their president, the "Moses who had led them to the Prom- 
 ised Land," was met by the sardonic retort, "Yes, that's just 
 the trouble. It's the Promised Land." On the following day 
 Mitchell insisted that the delegates vote as they had been in- 
 structed, and that the discussion be not ended until all had 
 had an opportunity to express their opinions. Two of the 
 
THE CHALLENGE TO DESPAIR 101 
 
 three district presidents were against the strike. In the excite- 
 ment of the news that the companies were already taking steps 
 to discharge all the convention delegates, a telegram from the 
 American Federation of Labor advising against the strike was 
 read but unheeded. The vote to continue the suspension was 
 461^4 in favor and 394% against, a narrow margin as strike 
 votes go in the coal fields. For the men voting the way of 
 peace was already the way of defeat. What was later called 
 the greatest strike in American history had been declared. 
 
 On May 15, 1902, John Mitchell took up the duties of 
 leadership in a strike which he had opposed, a fight which 
 would reenforce his reputation as "the greatest labor leader 
 in the country." Oddly enough, in the months which were to 
 follow, his opposition to the strike was to constitute one of the 
 strong arguments in his favor with the general public. This 
 was not a struggle instigated by ambitious leaders, but one 
 insisted upon by the rank and hie. The Chicago Record-Herald 
 stated, a few days later, that the operators foreseeing his op- 
 position, "hoped to smoke him out of the union," and through 
 breaking him, hoped to break the union. They had calculated 
 that the failure to strike would mean the death of the union, 
 but that a strike against Mitchell's advice would lead to his 
 resignation, a leaderless and a lost strike. Whatever the deci- 
 sion, they expected the men to lose. They had not counted on 
 his willingness to accept the verdict of the men. His sincerity 
 in insisting "on the control of the union by its own members" 
 was being tested. John Mitchell entered upon the leadership 
 of the struggle with all the earnestness that had characterized 
 his attempts to avert it. 
 
VI 
 THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 
 
 THIS time one hundred and fifty thousand miners came 
 out on strike and only a few thousand remained at 
 work. While the strikers paraded through the streets of the 
 towns with home-made banners, carrying such slogans as "We 
 are slaves now but Mitchell will soon set us free," the man 
 on whose shoulders, whether he liked it or not, the whole re- 
 sponsibility lay, worked in his headquarters at Wilkesbarre 
 and was almost overawed by the magnitude of the task that 
 had been put upon him. In addition to the men made idle in 
 the anthracite field, Tom Lewis had called out twenty thou- 
 sand in West Virginia, in Alabama there were another twelve 
 thousand out, and in Michigan three thousand miners were on 
 strike, — altogether two hundred thousand men out. It had 
 immediately become so big an affair that in many quarters the 
 temptation arose to make it complete, to call out the whole 
 central competitive field and all the outlying districts. To 
 these people it seemed that the concentrated control which a 
 few financiers had over the country could only be met by a 
 unanimous attack. 
 
 Mitchell wanted to see the thing in a large way. He knew 
 that this time the anthracite operators were going to settle 
 once and for all the threat to their power of management 
 which had been raised in 1900. He knew that the hundred 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 103 
 
 thousand dollars in the national treasury would not go far 
 toward feeding two hundred thousand miners and their de- 
 pendents. This time he had no presidential election to help 
 him. He also knew that the one thing which led doubtful op- 
 erators to meet him was his insistence that unionization meant 
 stabilization, that contracts were respected. It had long been 
 his trump card. 
 
 He felt himself being shoved into a position which he did 
 not like. His chief quality was the courage of a prudent, in- 
 dignant man rather than that of audacity. He could do noth- 
 ing, or in the situation preferred to do nothing, to stop the 
 anthracite leaders from asking that the suspension be made 
 national. Only five districts were needed to insure the call of 
 a special convention, and once called, it was doubtful whether 
 such a special convention would dare to refuse the request of 
 striking districts. It would look too much like desertion in a 
 crisis, especially in view of the fact that the national con- 
 vention had made provision for the possibility of such a sus- 
 pension and the strike order had spoken of it. Within two 
 weeks after the calling of the anthracite strike, the five neces- 
 sary districts, West Virginia, Michigan and the three anthra- 
 cite districts, all of whom were on strike, put a call for the 
 special convention into his hands. Now it was up to him. 
 
 Mitchell did not want to use the call immediately. He kept 
 it in his pocket almost a month. He had seen public opinion at 
 work in 1900. He wished to do all he could to avoid alienating 
 it now. To go to the convention now meant that he would 
 face a repudiation of union policy and of himself. Other peo- 
 ple saw his own situation. Rumors began to fly that he would 
 
104 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 resign if a national strike were called. The story of his confi- 
 dential offer to give Hanna authority to settle for a five per 
 cent increase instead of the twenty per cent demanded was 
 made public. It made many hesitate. Unfriendly papers re- 
 minded the strikers that Mitchell had been against their 
 strike, conveying the impression that he was not unwilling 
 that they should lose in order that he might be proved right. 
 At about this time, Hanna announced in Washington that he 
 did not believe there would be a national strike. To all who 
 knew his close connection with Mitchell, this did not sit well. 
 
 The situation was touchy. The State troops were in the field 
 now in June, riding hard on the parades. The miners, who had 
 always been vociferously patriotic, were irked at their pres- 
 ence. Lattimer was only five years old, the Molly Maguires 
 still a live tradition in the southern part of the district. For 
 the moment there was order, but it was the tense order of ex- 
 pectancy. Mitchell met the situation by praising the miners 
 for their law-abiding conduct, holding them up to the world, 
 making, as far as he was able, a tradition of peacefulness for 
 them. Their only violence was to be such shock as their pa- 
 tient idleness caused to the susceptibilities of the operators. 
 
 What help could be expected from the public opinion on 
 which he counted so much"? A group of brilliant writers and 
 sociologists had gathered around Mitchell, many of them vol- 
 unteering their services. John R. Commons, who had already 
 made a name for himself as the outstanding student of the 
 American labor movement and the first scholar to present it 
 as an inevitable part of industrial development, was sent into 
 the region by the National Civic Federation to study the situ- 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 105 
 
 ation. He brought with him Walter Weyl, later to become 
 collaborator with Mitchell on his Organized Labor, his 
 companion on a trip to Europe, and still later to be one of 
 the founders of The New Republic. John Graham Brooks, 
 who had been previously interested in the spectacle of oppres- 
 sions and hopeless hatreds of the anthracite fields, offered his 
 assistance. Somewhat later, Henry D. Lloyd, then the best 
 known humanitarian of the day, using his great wealth in the 
 fight for industrial justice, came to Mitchell with a letter from 
 Father Power of Spring Valley. There were others — news- 
 paper men and women, clergymen, social workers — who of- 
 fered themselves in the service of the miners' cause. Mitchell 
 had no scorn for these "intellectuals" who showed a willing- 
 ness to learn from as well as to teach the workers. Among these 
 men and women there grew up a rather astonishing faith in 
 the uneducated, not widely read young leader who, unwilling 
 to wander out into the wider fields of social reform, still em- 
 bodied the great experiment in that direction. They fed 
 back to him in terms the social worker and humanitarian ele- 
 ment of the country could understand the truth he had gained 
 from his own childhood, that poverty and dependence were 
 not qualities that made the men America needed. Who else 
 was there 4 ? The press was almost entirely with the strikers. 
 Hearst in New York began to insist that the legal status of 
 the coal-carrying and mine-owning railroads was such as to 
 warrant prosecution under the Sherman Anti-Trust Act. In 
 the White House, Roosevelt called Attorney-General Knox 
 into consultation. Was this another Northern Securities case 
 in which Morgan and the other financiers could be surprised 
 
106 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 and rudely awakened to the fact that the government might 
 enforce its laws'? Could the government start suit? He was 
 informed that the railroads had managed their affairs with 
 both eyes on that law and that suit was difficult. Sentiment 
 against the trusts began to be expressed in an increasing num- 
 ber of newspapers. Hearst pressed his complaint. The man in 
 Wilkesbarre wondered how much all that would help. 
 
 There remained President Roosevelt. He let it be known 
 that he had hoped to appoint an arbitration commission but 
 could find no legal authority for it. In June, he sent United 
 States Commissioner of Labor Carroll D. Wright into the 
 region to secure the consent of both parties to an arbitration 
 and to make an investigation. The day before he entered the 
 region a young boy was shot by the coal and iron police. Two 
 weeks later Wright reported that the miners were conciliatory, 
 even willing to forego formal recognition of the union. From 
 George F. Baer he drew a sharp rebuke that the operators had 
 had enough of political interference and threats in 1900 and 
 could get on very well without anything further of the same 
 kind. Wright's own conclusions strengthened the support of 
 the miners. He recommended that a nine-hour day be granted 
 temporarily, with provision for a joint committee of concilia- 
 tion to make a complete investigation. He also recommended 
 — and the miners had no liking for the suggestion — that a 
 separate organization of anthracite miners be established, in- 
 dependent of the soft-coal fields. The strikers were hoping 
 that the special convention which Mitchell would soon be 
 forced to call would bring the bituminous miners very directly 
 to their support. 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 107 
 
 The report had no effect on the operators. Now discourag- 
 ing news came from West Virginia. The suspension had not 
 been complete there. Mother Jones and other organizers had 
 been arrested and were being kept in jail. While they cried to 
 high heaven at the injustice of it all, injunctions and attacks 
 on the strikers remained everyday occurrences there. It began 
 to seem as though the feeling for a sympathetic strike would 
 become inevitable and irresistible. The Illinois district secre- 
 tary, Ryan, converted a hundred and seventy-five thousand 
 dollars' worth of stocks into ready cash. Delegates represent- 
 ing the four states in the central competitive field met at 
 Springfield. After conferences with his friend, Ryan, and his 
 other friend, Harry Taylor of the Illinois Operators' Associa- 
 tion, Mitchell finally issued the call for the special convention 
 to be held on July 17th, a month ahead. He had gained seven 
 weeks from the time the call was placed in his hands, an im- 
 portant gain for a man who hoped to win the strike without 
 going back on a major principle. He had waited long enough 
 for the miracle that did not happen. Now he had to face a 
 clamorous uproar for action. 
 
 When he finally stepped before them, the demand for a 
 great, never-to-be-forgotten gesture was still loud, but now 
 men had had time to think it over, to see that the anthracite 
 region could hold out without it and to wonder whether that 
 was the best means of helping the strikers. Some three weeks 
 earlier an unusually competent observer, Walter Wellman of 
 the Chicago Record-Herald, had estimated that the ballot on 
 the national strike would immediately line up as many votes 
 from the five states for the strike as there might be in the 
 
108 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 central competitive field against the strike, and that it was 
 quite possible that a split of votes among the Illinois delega- 
 tion, due to the Socialist sentiment there, would require but a 
 small number of votes from the scattered regions to bring a 
 majority for the strike. In the intervening weeks, however, 
 most of the doubtful votes had definitely swung against the 
 strike. There were still enough, however, including a percent- 
 age of the Pittsburgh district which was on strike, to make the 
 result dependent upon the fight on the floor of the convention. 
 Before it went into session, several State conventions passed 
 resolutions against the national strike. 
 
 Mitchell did not wait to allow the convention to become an 
 attack on himself for holding the call so long. He immediately 
 put a plan before them that would avoid "disaster and dis- 
 honor," that would avoid destroying confidence, arraying "in 
 open hostility to our cause all forces of society." He appealed 
 to their sense of honor and pride that up until now contracts 
 based solely on the good faith of the union had under the 
 most trying circumstances been kept inviolate. He went fur- 
 ther. He took the responsibility of the anthracite strike on his 
 own shoulders. "It will be won without repudiating our sol- 
 emn agreements." 
 
 He looked around over the tense, quiet audience. Not a 
 tall man, lean-faced and worn from the steady grind on his 
 nerves and body, he faced them steadily. Some of his oppo- 
 nents he had satisfied with the promise that the responsibility 
 of the anthracite strike was now his. He knew well enough 
 what capital they would make of it in case that strike failed. 
 Even among the Socialist opponents he had personal friends 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 109 
 
 who did not distrust him or think him weak and dishonest. 
 Their ideals lay in a world shut off from him by his diffidence 
 and his responsibility to the men immediately involved in the 
 strike. He did not want the debate to center too much about 
 the ultimate purposes and aims of the union. He knew that 
 the majority of the strikers wanted financial relief at once. 
 Only if no other alternative was given them would they over- 
 ride the districts which had already let it be known that they 
 wanted to keep their agreements. He gave them that other 
 alternative. His plan went to the heart of the matter as he 
 saw it — finances. The national treasury was to advance fifty 
 thousand dollars immediately to the anthracite districts. Each 
 district was to donate what it could afford from its treasury. 
 Every working miner was to pay a dollar a week. Every officer 
 of the union who received over sixty dollars a month was to 
 make a considerably larger contribution, a quarter of his sal- 
 ary. This was coupled with an appeal to the other unions and 
 to the general public for financial aid and for pressure on the 
 stockholders of the anthracite railroads. 
 
 It was a considerable tax that he proposed. It carried its 
 own evidence of good faith. It did more than that. It reminded 
 the delegates that they would have to go home and inform 
 their locals that where Mitchell had said one dollar a week 
 from every miner would for the time being turn the trick of 
 aid, they themselves had insisted that they knew better — with 
 the result that all their neighbors were out of work and un- 
 able to support, with money, the strikers in the anthracite 
 fields. Against this proposition they could not afford a great 
 but perhaps futile dramatic gesture of solidarity. The attack 
 
110 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 of the Socialists, and of those who were already on strike and 
 had nothing more to lose, broke down. All day the discussion 
 went on, Mitchell, following his usual policy of insisting that 
 every delegate who wished it be given the opportunity to 
 speak. 
 
 Overnight the central competitive fields caucused and an- 
 nounced themselves ready to vote solidly for Mitchell's plan. 
 The next day some of the anthracite officials came out for 
 it in principle. Now began a flood of contributions by tele- 
 gram from other internationals, which gave a promise of great 
 results from all the rest of the labor movement. Illinois put 
 fifty thousand dollars into the pot as a voluntary donation, 
 Ohio followed with ten thousand and other states made large 
 pledges. It seemed obvious evidence that Mitchell knew how 
 to do the job in the best way. The plan was accepted and 
 Mitchell got peace with honor. Those who wanted war, open 
 as well as implicit, received a lesson in diplomacy. 
 
 While the public applauded the man who held something 
 sacred in a turbulent world, the miners on strike in the field 
 grew high hopes of the relief they were to receive. Some 
 newspaper had estimated that each of the hundred and fifty 
 thousand anthracite miners on strike should receive at least 
 five dollars a week. That meant three and a half million dol- 
 lars a month. Nothing like this came into the field, but be- 
 cause the story had once been spread the feeling of discontent 
 and suspicion began to spread. Money was getting to be worth 
 too much to trust anyone who might happen to have the 
 handling of it along its road to the strikers' pockets. 
 
 The men kept the peace pretty well. No serious attempt to 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 111 
 
 open the mines had been made. The saloons were less occupied 
 than during normal times. Most of the men had taken a pledge 
 of temperance. Ramshackle houses were being repaired, vege- 
 table gardens dug, baseball games played. Then late in July, 
 in the city of Shenandoah in District No. 9, an overzealous 
 deputy sheriff fired upon a crowd of strikers. He claimed that 
 after parading around the mine stockades they made a rush at 
 the gate. They mobbed him and also a local merchant who 
 came to his rescue. The State troops were already in the field. 
 They marched into Shenandoah and made an armed peace. 
 The miners began to walk with a chip on their shoulders. 
 They were not accustomed to being shot at in this country. 
 The miners had nothing against the soldiers in themselves, for 
 whom the matter took on the aspect of a thrilling picnic, but 
 they did not like the idea of so many guns in the region. 
 National guard, coal and iron police, State troopers — all had 
 guns. Some of the newspapers began shrieking about retalia- 
 tion and revenge. One of the hostile New York papers hur- 
 riedly sent down photographers to get pictures of the in- 
 cipient revolution. When they failed to see it, they paid men, 
 women and children a little loose change to stand together 
 with hands upraised. Later they were published in New York, 
 and Baer and others seeing them might perhaps permit them- 
 selves a personal comparison with St. George. 
 
 Mitchell began to lose more sleep. Miss Morris was never 
 allowed to refuse strikers an audience, although their tales of 
 suffering helped to unnerve him. The thing had gone on longer 
 than people thought possible. In 1900 the skirmish had been 
 won in six weeks. Now the third month was dragging out. He 
 
112 JOHN MITCHELI 
 
 began to feel a personal responsibility for every bit of suffer- 
 ing brought to him. In addition to the insomnia there was also 
 pain from an old sickness. The waiting was telling on him as it 
 was on all the others. Now again stories began to be circu- 
 lated. The delay and the magic five dollars that was to come 
 to every man had its part in starting them. Nasty stories of 
 misappropriation of funds circulated, old women's gossip that 
 he was hardly the saint he was painted, that at a time when 
 many of the miners had taken the pledge, Mitchell was drink- 
 ing. Credible details were added. On top of all this, one of the 
 priests, a Father H. F. O'Reilly, wrote to one of the news- 
 papers : "Everyone was happy until Mitchell and Fahy came 
 and organized the union; these men are not workingmen; 
 they are not respectable, and I would not give two cents for 
 the honor of either of them. They draw big salaries and live 
 on the best in the land." Another priest, Father Power of 
 Spring Valley, Mitchell's old adviser, rushed to his defense. 
 There was correspondence back and forth, all eagerly read, 
 serving for want of better news. The priest finally admitted 
 that he had not meant to reflect on Mitchell personally. The 
 reporter of an unfriendly newspaper included the five-course 
 menu of the modest hotel at which Mitchell was staying, a 
 story whicK the copy-reader headlined for the benefit of the 
 strikers, "What did you eat to-day?" The reporter was hooted. 
 So many attacks began to arouse loyalty that had grown 
 self-centered in the days when every man had to think first 
 of his own troubles. 
 
 Mitchell knew that something which might be the breaking 
 point Had come now early in August. A year later he wrote : "I 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 113 
 
 am fully convinced that the strike would have collapsed had 
 the operators at this time opened their mines and invited the 
 strikers to return." Then financial aid began to pour in as a 
 result of the action of the special convention. Sums were hur- 
 ried to the weaker points. Circular letters were sent out ex- 
 plaining the situation. Men were encouraged to find work else- 
 where and left on "Johnny Mitchell" specials. 
 
 At this time George F. Baer came to his rescue. One of the 
 local citizens had appealed in the chastened, almost solemn 
 mood of the strike that Baer should do what he could to end 
 it. Baer took the occasion to set him right on the essential 
 issues involved. The letter was, after some time, given to the 
 press, which immediately broke out into vehement editorials, 
 cartoons and exclamation marks. It seemed to have included so 
 completely what everyone suspected was in the operators' 
 minds, to show so fully the gap between those who were being 
 called the common people and those who were being called the 
 coal barons that it was recognized at once as a social docu- 
 ment. It is said that Baer denied the letter in the manner 
 later made popular by some politicians toward reporters who 
 quoted some slip of theirs. It did not work. The letter had 
 been photographed. It read : 
 
 "Philadelphia and Reading Railway Company 
 
 "President's Office, 
 "Reading Terminal, Philadelphia. 
 
 "17th July, 1902. 
 "My dear Mr. Clark: I have your letter of the 16th inst. I 
 do not know who you are. I see that you are a religious man ; but 
 you are evidently biased in favor of the right of the workingman to 
 control a business in which he has no other interest than to secure 
 fair wages for th© work he does. 
 
114 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 "I beg of you not to be discouraged. The rights and interests 
 of the laboring man will be protected and cared for — not by the 
 labor agitators, but by the Christian men to whom God has given 
 control of the property rights of the country, and upon the suc- 
 cessful management of which so much depends. Do not be dis- 
 couraged. Pray earnestly that right may triumph, always remem- 
 bering that the Lord God Omnipotent still reigns, and that His 
 reign is one of law and order and not of violence and crime. 
 
 "Very truly yours, 
 
 "George F. Baer, 
 "President. 9 ' 
 
 That God was on the side of the great industrialists of the 
 country was something the country at large was not yet ready 
 to admit. Great industrialists might have the money of the 
 country, but the common people still had God. Just a year 
 before, when J. P. Morgan had expressed some satisfaction 
 with the country, Bryan's Commoner had taken occasion to 
 comment that if the time ever came when he was dissatisfied 
 with it, he might return it to the people. Now parallel columns 
 drew a comparison between Baer's statement, "George the 
 Last" as Darrow was to dub him, and the words of George III. 
 The financiers might be ridiculed, but they held control. 
 Mitchell himself did not comment on the Baer letter until 
 much later and then mildly. The operators began to use a few 
 strike breakers, housing them on the mine property to protect 
 them from the workers. Here and there a few men who had 
 been on strike gave in and went to work, stealing from their 
 houses at night. A few households attempted to move from 
 the towns onto the mine property. Their wagons were upset in 
 the middle of the street. Strikers refused to go to the same 
 church with them. A few outhouses were dynamited — a grim 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 115 
 
 sort of humor. Every so often someone would lose patience 
 with the troops protecting the strike breakers and throw a ripe 
 tomato their way. General Gobin ordered the troops to shoot 
 without further orders any persons who harassed them by 
 throwing missiles. Mitchell again encouraged the miners to 
 keep the order. 
 
 At the very moment when Mitchell was despairing of the 
 success of the strike, there came a test as to the terms on which 
 he might encourage the workers to go back to work. Ralph M. 
 Easley, 1 secretary of the National Civic Federation (which 
 had on its board Hanna, Gompers, Oscar Strauss, as well as 
 others more conservative on the labor question) renewed ef- 
 forts to find some formula for compromise. He found that 
 the railroad presidents had their backs up, that they "were 
 willing to put in millions for defense, but none for trib- 
 ute." George W. Perkins, a partner in the Morgan firm 
 and a friend of Roosevelt's, made a suggestion which Easley 
 thought acceptable. It was that Mitchell send the men back 
 to work, while a committee appointed by Hanna — or a com- 
 mittee with Hanna, Frank P. Sargent, former labor leader 
 and now Commissioner of Immigration, and Charles M. 
 Schwab (or someone else representing Mr. Morgan) — make 
 an investigation, with the aid of a financial man, a mining en- 
 gineer and some sociological expert. This committee would 
 then wait upon Mr. Morgan, who had said at one time that 
 he would "do what was right" to urge his acceptance of their 
 conclusions. Mitchell was to have a chance to approve or dis- 
 
 1 Letter to Frank P. Sargent, August 4, 1902. Courtesy of American Federa- 
 tion of Labor. 
 
116 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 approve of the personnel. The men who drew this plan counted 
 too much on Mitchell's tiredness, on the outburst at Shenan- 
 doah, on the belief that the entrance of thousands of the 
 State troops had lessened the chances for keeping up the 
 strike. Mitchell was a conservative, but he would not endorse 
 any plan to put the strikers back to work on the hope of an 
 unofficial committee of such a type which would in turn have 
 to count on Mr. Morgan to accept their conclusion. Mr. 
 Easley's proposal was never made public. 
 
 People in the city of New York and elsewhere were begin- 
 ning to feel the strike in another way. Coal that had been laid 
 down in New York at five dollars a ton was climbing to four- 
 teen, and the poor who bought it in small lots were paying 
 for it at the rate of twenty dollars, and even that supply 
 threatened to give out. As September approached, they read 
 the papers with an again renewed interest. 
 
 The merchants in the anthracite district had long since 
 passed the limit of extending credit of their own to their 
 striking customers and were now finding the banks unwilling 
 to carry them any further. They petitioned President Roose- 
 velt to intervene in some way, in any way, but to intervene 
 at once. There were now continual parades of soldiers through 
 the mine towns, greeted by cries of derision. Union leaders 
 went from door to door to warn the strikers to stand the 
 insult of being policed in this fashion. A general order was 
 issued allowing the soldiers to arrest girls who insulted them. 
 That turning of the tables brought a momentary laugh. Some 
 priests in the region initiated a movement to have the troops 
 withdrawn. The miners had the satisfaction of knowing that 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 117 
 
 all the bayonets in the world could not hew a ton of coal. 
 
 Politicians began to stir again. It was not a presidential 
 year but Senators Quay and Penrose of Pennsylvania, Senator 
 Lodge of Massachusetts did not want to lose hold in the forth- 
 coming state elections. They began to feel the pressure from 
 below as the fall drew closer. Senator Piatt of New York 
 and Mayor Low of New York City showed great concern over 
 the situation. Prices continued to soar to twenty dollars a ton 
 and, for those who bought it by the bushel, to unheard-of 
 amounts. Governor Stone of Pennsylvania was expected to 
 call a special session of the legislature to consider a compul- 
 sory arbitration bill. Nothing came of that. There was a brief 
 moment of hope when Senators Piatt and Quay made a state- 
 ment that the strike would end in two weeks. Wall Street took 
 it seriously enough to finance a small boom in anthracite stock. 
 
 Every day brought some often good-hearted and usually 
 futile attempt to influence the situation. The Socialist Party 
 held special conferences; Jay Cooke suggested that a ten per 
 cent increase and a nine-hour day would be satisfactory to the 
 operators if they would be allowed to increase the price of coal 
 twenty cents. In Chicago turnvereins and religious confer- 
 ences aided and prayed for the miners. The New York Demo- 
 cratic State Convention went on record for the nationaliza- 
 tion of the mines. 
 
 At this moment the West Virginia strike in the Kanawaha 
 and New River districts, under the leadership of Tom Lewis, 
 came to an end. Each local was advised to settle on the best 
 terms it could get. The strike had lasted almost as long as the 
 anthracite struggle to date. Its disastrous end was an open 
 
118 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 advertisement to the anthracite operators that they too might 
 be able to push people to the limit of human endurance. The 
 bad news followed a few days after a statement by Baer that 
 "We are fighting the battle of freedom for the individual and 
 the right to labor on his own terms." He would resign rather 
 than arbitrate. John Markle, who in 1900 had urged his 
 miners to arbitrate, was now evicting men from his houses. He 
 said: "There will be no arbitration. Mitchell has become a 
 demigod and alone is obeyed, so that all ordinary and usual 
 matters of discipline are practically disregarded." It was a 
 firm stand from both the railroad companies and the inde- 
 pendents. 
 
 But now the miners knew that they were making history, 
 and they wanted it to be a proud history. The end was further 
 in the distance than they saw, but now they knew they would 
 stand together until the end. It was at this moment, after four 
 months of strike, that Wellman reported that there was not a 
 breath of criticism. If Mitchell, he said, "were to tell the men 
 to go jump in the Wyoming River they would do so. They 
 have no more doubt that he is going to win the battle for 
 them than they have of their being in America. ... To a 
 great many of the newly arrived miners John Mitchell is the 
 one great man in the United States. Possibly they have heard 
 of Pierpont Morgan and they have a dim idea there is such a 
 man as President Roosevelt, but ask the first Hun or Polander 
 on the streets who is president of the United States and the 
 odds are about even that he will reply 'Johnny D'Mitch/ ' 
 
 Now Mitchell could announce that the miners had enougH 
 money to fight it out on these lines all winter. The bituminous 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 119 
 
 districts had donated a quarter of a million and had sent in 
 assessed contributions of two millions; $420,000 had come in 
 from other trade unions. Mitchell's own district, Illinois, had 
 sent in in donations $861,000, almost twice as much as the 
 outside unions and the general public put together. In Jan- 
 uary, 1903, there was still over a million dollars on hand in 
 the treasury. 
 
 It was getting toward the end of September. On the 26th 
 of the month the Philadelphia and Reading invited its em- 
 ployees to return to work or lose their jobs. On September 
 28th Governor Stone announced that he would use all the 
 State troops to protect men who wanted to go back to work. 
 The next day Mitchell and the three district presidents were 
 conferring with their lawyers on the possibility, so it was 
 said, of action for government ownership and operation. There 
 were still over two months to go until Congress convened. 
 Already sentiment for a special session was growing. That day 
 it was announced that President Roosevelt was taking the 
 matter in hand. 
 
 Theodore Roosevelt had come to the presidency from that 
 oblivion into which Senator Piatt, boss of New York, had 
 tried to send him. The bullet that took McKinley away put 
 into power a man who had not been particularly identified 
 with the aims of the working class and who had condemned 
 many of their leaders. He spoke the language of and appealed 
 to the social reformers, and that "middle class" which felt 
 itself losing out in the new world so completely under the 
 control of the financiers and industrialists. He combined this 
 reputation with one of a man of action — founder of the club 
 
120 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 of men who first went up San Juan Hill — a hero on fields 
 where there was not much doubt as to who was victor and 
 who vanquished. He had used a great deal of vigorous lan- 
 guage about iniquitous wealth, but he depended on publicity 
 mainly to frighten the financial powers who were so largely 
 at that time the supporters of the Republican Party. He saw 
 himself limited in the face of the suffering of the strike in 
 many ways which irked him. His attorney-general had told 
 him that the coal-carrying railroads had managed their com- 
 bination with the mine properties so skillfully that he could 
 not threaten them as he had Morgan in the Northern Securities 
 case that February. On the other hand, if, as he wrote Lodge, 
 he was "more genuinely independent of the money interests in 
 all matters where I think the interests of the public are con- 
 cerned, and probably I am the first president of recent times of 
 whom this could be truthfully said," he recognized that he had 
 earned no favors for which he could now ask. 
 
 The use of troops in which he placed great confidence could 
 not be invoked without the request of Governor Stone, and the 
 Governor, suspecting the use to which Federal troops might 
 be put, made no such request. The question of whether Con- 
 gress had a right to legislate concerning an entirely intra-state 
 industry such as the anthracite was so debatable as to preclude 
 much hope from a special session of Congress. Meanwhile he 
 knew, and wrote Hanna, whom he had publicly berated in 
 1897 for hesitancy about the country's entry into war but 
 with whom he was now friendly, that the public at large would 
 "tend to visit on our heads responsibility for the shortage in 
 coal, precisely as Kansas and Nebraska visited upon our heads 
 
THE COURAGE OE A PRUDENT MAN 121 
 
 the failure to raise crops in the arid belt eight, ten or a dozen 
 years ago." The governors of Massachusetts and New York 
 notified him that as the cold weather came on, if the coal 
 famine continued, the misery throughout the northeast and 
 especially in the great cities would become appalling and the 
 consequent public disorder so great that frightful consequences 
 might follow. He commented at this point in his autobiog- 
 raphy : "As long as I could avoid intervening, I did so. . . ." 
 He wrote his friend Hanna to please bestir himself again in 
 New York. On September 27th Hanna replied: "Confiden- 
 tially I saw Mr. Morgan and I also saw Mr. Mitchell (the 
 public knows nothing about that). I got from Mr. Morgan a 
 proposition as to what he would do in the matter and I got 
 Mitchell to agree to accept it — if the operators would abide 
 by the decision. I really felt encouraged to think I was about 
 to accomplish a settlement." He found, however, "to my sur- 
 prise," that Mr. Baer absolutely refused to "entertain it." 
 Hanna felt that the operators would stick it out until the 
 "miners are starved to it, and that may be weeks ahead as 
 they are getting abundant supplies from their fellow work- 
 men all over the country." Hanna felt that the operators 
 had "put all efforts of mine in a false light before the public." 
 With the knowledge that Morgan and the railroad presi- 
 dents themselves were no longer one in the situation, Roose- 
 velt decided to use the only method open to him, the unofficial 
 one of moral suasion. On September 29th he sent to Mitchell 
 a telegram stating that he would "greatly like" to see him in 
 Washington on October 3rd, "in regard to the failure of the 
 coal supply which has become a matter of vital concern to the 
 
122 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 whole nation." The presidents of the coal companies received 
 similar dispatches. 
 
 On Friday, October 3, 1902, at eleven o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, Mitchell (who came with the three district presidents) 
 and the operators walked through the large crowds waiting 
 outside the doors of the temporary White House. Roosevelt, 
 still confined to his chair from injuries received in Pittsfield, 
 Massachusetts, where his carriage had been struck by a trol- 
 ley, received them. Mitchell, about whom he, together with 
 the rest of the American public, had read for so long, was 
 haggard and seemed painfully young in that gathering of im- 
 pressive middle-aged and elderly officials and capitalists. 
 Roosevelt scrutinized him closely. Here too was a fight leader, 
 without the advantage of military discipline to help him, a 
 man whose personal power led others on. Roosevelt had 
 tasted a little of the trust Mitchell's men gave to him and 
 he knew how precious it was and how hard to earn. He had 
 read the solemn words Mitchell had spoken in Philadelphia 
 the day before he had been summoned to Washington: "We 
 are conducting this struggle without malice and without bit- 
 terness. . . . We ask not for favors but for justice." Then 
 came language which Roosevelt, who said he stood not for the 
 poor man nor for the rich man, but for the righteous man, 
 would never use: 
 
 "Involved in this fight are questions weightier than any 
 question of dollars and cents. The present miner has had his 
 day. He has been oppressed and ground down; but there is 
 another generation coming up, a generation of little children 
 prematurely doomed to the whirl of the mill and the noise 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 123 
 
 and the blackness of the breaker. It is for these children that 
 we are fighting. We have not underestimated the strength of 
 our opponents; we have not overestimated our own power of 
 resistance. Accustomed always to live upon a little, a little less 
 is no unendurable hardship. It was with a quaking of hearts 
 that we asked for our last pay envelopes. But in the grimy, 
 bruised hand of the miner was the little white hand of the 
 child, a child like the children of the rich, and in the heart of 
 the miners was the soul-rooted determination to starve to the 
 last crust of bread and fight out the long, dreary battle to the 
 end, in order to win a life for the child and secure for it a 
 place in the world in keeping with advancing civilization." 
 
 With Mitchell were the three district presidents, T. D. 
 Nicholls, commonly spoken of as a radical and accounted the 
 most thoughtful of the three; Thomas Duffy, short, vigorous, 
 representing the older rough-and-ready element; and John 
 Fahy, the handsome orator who had once been nominated for 
 the vice-presidency against Mitchell. They brought with them 
 the hopes of a hundred and fifty thousand men. 
 
 For the operators there appeared George F. Baer, whose 
 letter had made him more famous than his position in the in- 
 dustry ever could have done ; W. H. Truesdale of the Dela- 
 ware, Lackawanna and Western, who was said to have been 
 playing golf the day the strike was declared; T. P. Fowler of 
 the New York, Ontario and Western; David Wilcox of the 
 Delaware and Hudson Company, who was later to use his 
 legal training to grill Mitchell unmercifully; and John Mar- 
 kle, the independent operator, as a representative of his group. 
 For the government, there was Attorney-General Philander 
 
124 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Knox, Secretary of Treasury Cortelyou, who was later to be- 
 come president of one of the largest corporations in America; 
 and Carroll D. Wright. 
 
 After the usual statement of the seriousness of the situation 
 and thanks for the presence of the representatives, Roosevelt 
 said that he realized he had no legal right or duty to interfere 
 but that the urgency of the situation impelled him to use what- 
 ever influence he could. He stated that he did not invite a 
 discussion of the claims. "I appeal to your patriotism and to 
 the spirit that sinks personal consideration and makes indi- 
 vidual sacrifices for the general good." Mitchell answered first 
 for the miners. He too was impressed with the gravity of the 
 situation, he said, although the miners were not responsible 
 for it. The miners were willing to meet with the operators to 
 adjust differences. If that could not be done, "we are willing 
 that you shall name a tribunal which shall determine the 
 issues that have resulted in the strike and if the gentlemen 
 representing the operators will accept the award or decision 
 . . . the miners will willingly accept it even if it should be 
 against their claims." This was to Roosevelt's own heart. He 
 wanted ways of action discussed. The operators wished time 
 to put their answer in writing and there was a temporary 
 adjournment. 
 
 Mr. Baer read the answer of the coal operators when the 
 conference reopened. He did not understand how the discus- 
 sion could proceed along the lines indicated by Mr. Roosevelt, 
 "but we assume that a statement of what is going on in the 
 coal regions will not be irrelative." He then proceeded to pic- 
 ture a "terrible reign of terror, lawlessness and crime," from 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 125 
 
 which "only the lives and property of the members of the 
 secret, oath-bound order . . . are safe." He spoke of the 
 dynamiting bridges, maltreatment of the fifteen to twenty 
 thousand men he said were at work by those forces over whom 
 "John Mitchell, whom you have invited us to meet, is chief." 
 He outlined the duty of the president to him. It was "not to 
 waste time negotiating with the fomenters of this anarchy 
 and insolent defense of law, but to do as was done in the 
 war of the rebellion — restore the majesty of the law. 
 
 "The government is a contemptible failure if it can only 
 protect the lives and property and secure the comfort of the 
 people by compromising with the violators of the law and the 
 instigators of violence and crime. Just now it is more im- 
 portant to teach ignorant men, dwelling among us, misled 
 and used as tools by citizens of other states . . . that order 
 must be restored. ... . ." He declined Mr. Mitchell's "consid- 
 erate offer to let us work on the terms he names." He offered 
 to continue the wages existing at the time of the strike and 
 the adjustment of the wages at each colliery, and in addition, 
 to submit disputes to the judges of the Court of Common 
 Pleas of the district in which the colliery is situated for final 
 determination." 
 
 Now it was Mitchell's turn again. He wanted to be very 
 definite on one matter — the miners were not suggesting arbi- 
 tration because they were beaten, because they had any doubts 
 of the justice of their claims, but in the hope of relieving the 
 situation for the consuming public. He was confident that any 
 impartial tribunal would see the equity of the miners' de- 
 mands, but whether or not it did, its decision would be ac- 
 
126 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 cepted, if it were also accepted by the operators in the form 
 of an agreement for not less than one nor more than five years. 
 He would then call a convention of the miners and recommend 
 the return to work, with the understanding that the wages 
 decided upon were to go into effect from the day on which 
 work was resumed. 
 
 Markle arose for the independent operators. He repeated 
 Baer's stricture and concluded: "I now ask you to perform 
 the duties vested in you as President of the United States, to 
 at once squelch the anarchistic condition of affairs. . . . Are 
 you asking us to deal with a set of outlaws ? I can hardly con- 
 ceive of such a thought." The operators leaped into the role 
 of defenders of the faith with considerable ardor. To their 
 charge of twenty murders, Mitchell answered that if it could 
 be proven that the strikers had committed such alleged mur- 
 ders, he would resign his position. He admitted some law- 
 lessness but said it had been provoked by the criminal ele- 
 ment composing the coal and iron police. 
 
 The operators did not accept his offer. They stood by 
 their guns. They would refuse to recognize him in any capacity 
 whatever in the settlement of the strike. 
 
 Then everybody went home. Roosevelt wrote Hanna that 
 rie was downhearted over the result. It was a blow to his own 
 prestige. He said later: "There was only one man in that 
 conference who behaved like a gentleman and that man was 
 not I." He who was so articulately impatient was impressed 
 by the patient silence of Mitchell in so desperate a situation. 
 He was discouraged both because of the "great misery en- 
 suing for the mass of our people and because the attitude of 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 127 
 
 the operators will beyond a doubt double the burden on us, 
 who stand between them and socialist action. . . ." He began 
 to consider what to recommend to Congress and added, in his 
 letter to Hanna, that the attitude of the operators made him 
 wonder if he could not make a "fairly radical experiment" on 
 the anthracite coal business to institute some power of super- 
 vision and regulation by the government over such corpora- 
 tions. He told Hanna that had the operators acceded to his 
 plan, he would have put him on the commission. Later he 
 wrote ex-President Cleveland that he had him in mind as 
 one of the members of such a board, in fact, as its head. 
 
 Conferences began all over again in New York and Phila- 
 delphia. Mitchell went back to Wilkesbarre. Roosevelt called 
 on Governor Stone to act under the State law against the rail- 
 roads. The mine operators visited Secretary Root in the hope, 
 it was rumored, of getting Federal troops. Oscar Strauss tried 
 to solve the situation by suggesting that Roosevelt accept the 
 common pleas judges Baer had mentioned as arbitrators and 
 wired Mitchell urgently to accept the proposition. Mitchell 
 replied that an arrangement for three hundred and sixty-four 
 separate arbitrations for each colliery was out of the question. 
 Governor Stone kept on sending more State troops into the 
 region so that the "men could go back to work." None went. 
 
 Roosevelt, piqued, refused to be "turned down by the oper- 
 ators" and talked of "little else than the coal strike and vir- 
 tually dropped all other public business for the time being." 
 If Morgan's interest was not enough, he would go after Presi- 
 dent Cassatt of the Pennsylvania Railroad. He did. The strike 
 continued. He got a little comfort from a laudatory letter 
 
128 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 from Grover Cleveland, who, as President, had sent Federal 
 troops into Illinois over the protest of Governor Altgeld and 
 had broken the back of the Pullman strike. Roosevelt's appre- 
 ciative reply was that on going over Mr. Cleveland's action he 
 decided to "try to use this force with the same firmness that 
 you showed. . . ." Meanwhile, since he had no success with 
 Governor Stone or the operators, he tried Mitchell again. On 
 October 6th he sent Carroll D. Wright to propose that "if Mr. 
 Mitchell will secure the immediate return to work of the 
 miners in the anthracite region, the President will at once 
 appoint a commission to investigate thoroughly into all the 
 matters at issue . . . and will do all within his power to ob- 
 tain a settlement of these questions in accordance with the 
 report of the commission." 
 
 Mitchell, for all his willingness to be conciliatory, would 
 not accept the proposition. He had seen what little effect 
 Wright's recommendations had made months ago. Nothing 
 new had developed in the Washington conference to suppose 
 that the operators would accept a report after it had been 
 made. Hanna wired Gompers to use his influence over 
 Mitchell, to which Gompers replied that he could not "advise 
 Mr. Mitchell to accept a proposition so elusive and unprom- 
 ising." Hanna could not dictate to either side. 
 
 Then Mitchell brought the men together to test and show 
 their solidarity. Their convention voted unanimously in favor 
 of continuing the strike "until the matters in dispute between 
 them and their employers were decided by a board of arbitra- 
 tion, even if all the troops of the United States were sent into 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 129 
 
 the anthracite coal fields." The men stood solid but would 
 accept arbitration. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Roosevelt, according to his autobiogra- 
 phy was at the moment planning to send "all the troops of the 
 United States into the anthracite coal fields" over the protest 
 of the miners. He described his plan : The Governor of Penn- 
 sylvania would "ask me to keep order." He would then "put 
 in the army under the command of some first-rate general." 
 He had the man all picked out, a benevolent person, "a most 
 respectable-looking old boy," Major General Schofield. No 
 interference by the strikers with men who wanted to work 
 was to be permitted. The operators would be dispossessed and 
 General Schofield would run the mines as receiver "until such 
 time as the Commission might make its report, and until I, 
 as President, might issue further orders in view of this report. 
 ... At that time I should have been almost unanimously 
 supported. . . ." Governor Stone, however, gave him no op- 
 portunity to try this army game. 
 
 Meanwhile the country was talking and praying. The day 
 after Mitchell refused the President's second proposition, he 
 went to New York, by request, to see Senators Quay, Pen- 
 rose and Piatt, Governor Odell and other politicians. Now 
 Cassatt of the Pennsylvania was to be influenced through 
 Mayor Low by receiving a much-desired franchise for the 
 Long Island Railroad. But Baer told Governor Odell of New 
 York again, "We will not accept political advice or allow 
 the interference of politicians." 
 
 More drastic action was now discussed. In Detroit a con- 
 
130 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 ference of mayors and governors called to consider the situa- 
 tion actually passed resolutions in favor of a receivership to 
 be declared by Congress at a special session, and plans were 
 outlined for the raising of funds to aid the strikes. The West- 
 ern Federation of Miners wired Mitchell their solution that 
 all the miners in the country be ordered to strike. The Ameri- 
 can Federation of Labor sent out a widespread appeal for 
 money, which contained a clause remarking that the miners 
 had been willing to leave the entire matter to Mr. Morgan and 
 "what more could the miners do and maintain their self- 
 respect?" Mitchell requested that this be deleted and it was. 
 
 It was still a month and a half before the convening of 
 Congress. Public sentiment had been so vocal that there was 
 very little doubt that some plan which would take away the 
 absolute control of the industry from the operators would be 
 proposed and passed and put to Roosevelt, who had already 
 said so much that he could not be counted upon to oppose sucK 
 Socialism. Secretary Root asked permission to mediate in his 
 own name and had a five-hour conference with Morgan on his 
 yacht, while Baer and Cassatt conferred elsewhere. The re- 
 sult was that on October 13th, ten days after Mitchell had 
 been received at the White House, Mr. Morgan and Robert 
 Bacon, a member of his firm, entered the White House and 
 announced that the operators were at last willing to submit 
 to arbitration. 
 
 The country was one loud clamor of approval. It was about 
 time. In Chicago the people had been ripping up the wooden 
 paving blocks for fuel. 
 
 At Washington it became a question of the composition of 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 131 
 
 the arbitration commission. Mitchell insisted that he could 
 not relinquish, for the protection of the miners, the right to 
 have one representative of labor on it. The idea of having the 
 board made up mainly of nominees of the employers was 
 already drawing fire from the mine fields, where the men 
 called local meetings and denounced the scheme as a gold 
 brick. Roosevelt saw the point but he had his own troubles 
 with the operators who had "worked themselves into a frame 
 of mind where they were prepared to sacrifice everything and 
 see civil war in the country rather than back down and ac- 
 quiesce." In his autobiography he wrote of the deadlock: 
 "Suddenly after two hours' argument it dawned on me that 
 they were not objecting to the thing but the name. ... I 
 shall never forget the mixture of relief and amusement I felt 
 when I thoroughly grasped the fact that they would heroically 
 submit rather than have Tweedledum, yet if I could call it 
 Tweedledee they would accept it with rapture; it gave me 
 an illuminating glimpse into one corner of the mighty brains 
 of these 'captains of industry.' . . . All that was necessary 
 for me to do was to commit a technical and nominal absurdity 
 with a solemn face. This I gladly did. I announced at once 
 that I accepted the terms laid down. With this understanding 
 I appointed the labor man I had all along had in view, Mr. 
 E. E. Clark, the head of the Brotherhood of Railway Con- 
 ductors, calling him an 'eminent sociologist,' a term which I 
 doubt he had ever previously heard. ... In publishing the 
 list of the Commission when I came to Clark's appointment, 
 I added: f As a Sociologist, the President assuming that for 
 the purposes of such a commission the term sociologist means 
 
132 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 a man who has thought and studied deeply on social questions 
 and has practically applied his knowledge." Roosevelt also 
 added Bishop Spalding of Peoria, and, as recorder, the person 
 whom the operators had expected him to name as an "emi- 
 nent sociologist/' Carroll D. Wright. 
 
 The operators had accepted, in their fashion, and now 
 Mitchell, despite the fact that the previous convention had 
 directly endorsed arbitration, took no authority on himself. 
 He sent out a call for another convention of the anthracite 
 delegates of all three districts, but he also issued, in the name 
 of the Wilkesbarre district, the acceptance of that district. 
 Immediately he was deluged with criticism. Many of the local 
 leaders felt that the submission of the operators proved con- 
 clusively that they were whipped, and since the miners had the 
 funds, it was folly to submit to arbitration with victory at 
 hand. Mother Jones burst into a stormy denunciation of 
 Mitchell. From England came word that the president of the 
 British Miners' Federation, Benjamin Pickard, Member of 
 Parliament, gave it as his opinion that Mitchell had erred 
 gravely. 
 
 Mitchell felt that he could have taken no other step with- 
 out breaking his word and the word of the miners who for 
 months had been insisting on their willingness to arbitrate. 
 To withdraw now because victory was in sight might bring 
 some immediate gain, but it would alienate that very public 
 sympathy which had in his opinion helped the strike. He took 
 silently the taunts that Roosevelt's reception of him in Wash- 
 ington had turned his head. The judgment of most students 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 133 
 
 of the labor movement, years later, was that despite serious 
 defects in the final award of the commission, submission to 
 arbitration had been one of the wisest moves Mitchell ever 
 made, not only for the miners but for the labor movement. 
 
 And now the strikers met, five months and a week after 
 they had gone out on strike, on October 20th. Was this the 
 victory they had hoped Mitchell would bring? The debate 
 was long and hot. It lasted for two days. What guarantee, 
 delegates asked, would there be of the payment of back wages, 
 of freedom from discrimination? Would all men get back their 
 jobs? Mitchell answered the engineers and pumpmen — who 
 had not come out originally with the miners but had followed 
 them a few days later when their own demands were refused 
 — by telling them that their rights would be respected. He felt 
 that men who voted should be aware of the fact that a few 
 of them would not be "restored to their former positions." 
 According to reporters, the debate was interrupted again and 
 again by appeals to him to close it, but he always refused, 
 until every man who wanted the floor was heard. 
 
 When they had finished, he addressed them. He was weary 
 and looked broken in health. They had suffered much and he 
 praised them for their noble work. He too had suffered. He 
 spoke of his gratitude to the other workers who had helped, 
 and to the many who, though they lacked fuel, did not turn 
 against the strikers. He emphasized particularly the fact that 
 he would himself have preferred direct conferences with the 
 employers, except for the promise of the miners and the earn- 
 est pleading of President Roosevelt. He admitted the many 
 
134 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 objectionable features in the plan as it stood. He said he 
 would not have accepted it at all if labor had not been given 
 a representative to the commission. 
 
 Then to that vast multitude of suffering men, he spoke — 
 to the disgust of radicals and to the amazement of those of 
 his people who were and well could be bitter — of his "lack of 
 malice" for their opponents, and of his belief that "there 
 should be no irreconcilable conflict between capital and 
 labor." He had been called a Lincoln, and, as a matter of 
 fact, he had as little of the revolutionist in him as had 
 Lincoln, who had so often disappointed the abolitionists. 
 
 At the end of two days the convention accepted the ap- 
 pointment of the commission, and adjourned after the singing 
 of the national anthem. 
 
 Mitchell knew how far from complete the victory really 
 was, and raised no hopes that would be boomeranged back to 
 him later. There was no recognition of the union as yet, but 
 there was the open action of the President of the United 
 States to assure the miners that they would have justice. Their 
 story had been greeted throughout the whole five months of 
 strike by the public in a way to convince them that no one who 
 heard their story would fail to see that they needed a new 
 deal. They had been vindicated in the faith they gave their 
 leader, and he had been vindicated in his course of action. He 
 took occasion after their decision to tell the miners that the 
 "strike itself has demonstrated the power and dignity of 
 labor," and perhaps as an answer to the radicals in and 
 outside of the union, "conservative, intelligent trade unionism 
 has received an impetus, the effects of which cannot be meas- 
 
THE COURAGE OF A PRUDENT MAN 135 
 
 ured." To the country at large he pointed out, by way of a 
 letter to the President, that, "if our offer of arbitration had 
 been accepted six months ago instead of now, there need have 
 been no strike." But he saw that something more than a vin- 
 dication of the reasonableness of their claims had taken place. 
 In this letter he added: "The poor underpaid workers of these 
 coal regions . . . have taught these corporation managers a 
 lesson in civic and social duty." Nevertheless he bore them 
 no grudge for their arrogant accusations and insults. 
 
 There was credit enough for all. President Roosevelt's ad- 
 mirers gave him all the glory. But the foreign-born miners 
 still knew only one president, the one who had led the strike 
 and who now presented this settlement. When Mitchell left 
 Wilkesbarre for Washington he was "besieged by hundreds 
 of mine workers and their friends who almost pulled him to 
 pieces . . . and literally carried him off his feet." The 
 Slavish, Polish and Lithuanian groups united in presenting 
 him with a watch; the three districts gave him a diamond 
 ring. The speech of the foreign miners began with the phrase, 
 "Blessed be the moment . . . when you arrived in our midst." 
 A writer in The Outlook went so far as to say that he heard 
 in the streets of Scranton a conversation between two Slav 
 miners in which one of them disputed, "Mitchell am more 
 than God." 
 
 Throughout the country, too, the praise of Mitchell was 
 overwhelming. A boom was begun to have him elected as 
 President of the American Federation of Labor at its Novem- 
 ber convention. He was spoken of for a half dozen political 
 appointments and nominations. Newspapers and periodicals 
 
136 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 vied with each other for terms of superlative commendation. 
 All seemed agreed that Mitchell "had gone through the 
 long struggle with not one error. . . . Without doubt John 
 Mitchell is the greatest labor leader the country ever saw . . . 
 great because he is honest, able, sincere, conservative." There 
 was dissent from this judgment still among the radicals in his 
 own organization and outside of it, who were outspoken in 
 their belief that for one cause or another, he had fumbled in 
 carrying through the opportunity for a great revolutionary 
 strike. 
 
 The strike was over. On October 23, 1902, the miners an- 
 swered the steam whistles after one hundred sixty-three days 
 of strike. Estimates of the cost to the mines and railroads were 
 put at one hundred million dollars. No one could estimate the 
 cost to the strikers themselves. 
 
 Now it was over, and for a few moments at least, the man 
 who had carried the final responsibility on his shoulders 
 breathed easily. But there was little rest. As the greatest strike 
 in American labor history was ended, Mitchell began the 
 work of preparing the material for the miners' cause, so that 
 as their advocate he might make a showing worthy of it and 
 of their courage. 
 
VII 
 BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 
 
 NOT only by the miners but by the public the appoint- 
 ment of this commission was held to be a victory. 
 While the miners went back to work and to the risk of acci- 
 dent, the members of the commission were blooded by going 
 down into the pits, "descents into infernos," as one of them 
 expressed it, and the sociologists whom Mitchell had grouped 
 around him were preparing evidence on which the industrial 
 feudalism could be indicted and convicted in the open court, 
 Mitchell was being deluged by a chorus of acclaim and ap- 
 preciation from all over the country. 
 
 It would have been enough to turn the head of a weaker 
 man. Louis D. Brandeis, John R. Commons, as well as Henry 
 D. Lloyd, saw in his face the spirit of a man inspired by a 
 great cause. One of the men who wrote most extensively about 
 him was Walter Weyl. Weyl saw in Mitchell more than an 
 instinctive honesty, sincerity and sympathy. He credited him 
 with keenness of perception and saneness of judgment, as well 
 as with a remarkable gift of being able to arouse enthusiasm 
 in others without being blinded or misled himself by that 
 excitement. His very limitation — his single-minded absorp- 
 tion in unionism — was a source of strength. He saw him as a 
 man too sensitive about personal attack on himself to accept 
 such opportunities as his opponents gave him to inflict wounds 
 
138 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 of that character. "His philosophy," Weyl says, "is like that 
 of the trained prize fighter who feels no hatred against his an- 
 tagonist, even though he is endeavoring to disable him tem- 
 porarily." One of the many incidents which influenced WeyFs 
 enthusiasm for this suddenly great figure on the American 
 scene was an occurrence about which he wrote only later. 
 
 Apparently there had been people not yet convinced that 
 the old order had changed at all in this man. Their repre- 
 sentative, with a large sum of money, went to Mitchell's hotel 
 to induce him not to interfere with the naming of the com- 
 mission. Weyl described him as "bold, facile, plausible, with a 
 record which might have been envied by the most enterprising 
 of scoundrels." After a short fifteen minutes, he left the room 
 without having mustered up courage to propose his dishonor- 
 able scheme to the man who gravely and innocently conversed 
 with him. 
 
 One newspaper correspondent pronounced him "not a prom- 
 ising object of study. It is too much like studying a well." To 
 the public at large he was a romantic figure. To them his rise 
 from complete misery to his calm and patient self-confidence 
 at the White House had an enviable and dazzling speed to it, 
 almost as great as if he, like the proverbial poor boy, could 
 rise to the presidency himself. He was frequently described 
 as very handsome, full faced, clean shaven, with deep-set, 
 luminous eyes, firm mouth and high forehead, with brown, 
 almost black hair brushed carelessly back by his fingers. His 
 frock coat and a black tie almost large enough to hide the 
 white of his shirt-front gave him the semblance of a priest. 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 139 
 
 Even to those who knew he was no saint, there was something 
 of the saint in his character. 
 
 Pictures taken during that time do not belie them. In sharp 
 contrast to the somewhat militant aggressiveness and socia- 
 bility of other labor leaders who had at one time or another 
 taken the public eye (a type much later to be called "extra- 
 vert") his face revealed a curious combination of hopefulness 
 and strength. The eyes that looked out from his almost 
 swarthy face were not yet the eyes of the "prudent business 
 man" he liked to consider himself, nor yet were they the eyes 
 of the fiery evangelist, who loved humanity well enough to be 
 able to forget, for the moment of speaking, its weakness and 
 his own, and who aroused, awakened and stirred great crowds. 
 Not only Debs, but Gompers, who had not yet become the 
 publicly recognized executive of a going concern, had more 
 dramatic bearing than he. 
 
 In a way there was something brittle about him even now, 
 when he was only thirty-two years old. He had worked so 
 hard, life had had so few compensations, that the great quality 
 of humor, which has made life bearable to men greater than 
 himself and has prevented others from taking any cause, even 
 that of the disinherited, with the single-minded solemnity he 
 gave to it, was lacking. He was risking himself into worlds 
 where few men with his meager education ever arrived, chal- 
 lenging and meeting the great powers of the world, and it 
 brought to him an awareness of his own limitations, a per- 
 sistent mistrust of himself, which might have turned into 
 bluster but in his case had turned into modesty. The con- 
 
140 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 stantly reiterated need of his people for his help carried him 
 along. It was a responsibility, directly and intimately placed 
 on his shoulders by each of the thousands of miners he met, 
 a burden he could not shift to another. It was no laughing 
 matter. 
 
 In spite of the somewhat priestlike garb and mannerisms, he 
 was not religious in the commonly accepted sense of the word. 
 In that respect he differed somewhat from his people. Welsh 
 miners and Catholic immigrants alike, they had a God to 
 whom they could take their hopes in prayer, and a church 
 where their doubts could be dissolved. Many of the Welsh and 
 English-born mine leaders were preachers in addition to being 
 miners, and the meetings over which they presided had a de- 
 cidedly religious tone. Most of his best friends — Ryan and 
 Father Power, as well as Mitchell's own wife — were both 
 Catholic and religious. During those days whatever faith he 
 possessed was in the belief that oppressed men could rise to 
 regain freedom and a good life through the agency of the 
 union. 
 
 The life he was leading was not entirely that which he had 
 hoped for when, as a young and lonely miner, a man who had 
 boarded in this house and that, he came back to Illinois and 
 married Catherine O'Rourke. Now he was almost constantly 
 separated from her and the four children who were still alive. 
 He saw them only two or three times during the year. He knew 
 how short the life of a leader in the movement could be, and 
 the idea of uprooting the home, severing all the ties of friend- 
 ship for life in Indianapolis, where he was only present oc- 
 casionally, hardly seemed worthwhile. There were whispered 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 141 
 
 rumors of the same type which surround every leader who has 
 opposition, largely to the effect that the absence of his wife in 
 the anthracite fields indicated certain deviations from the de- 
 sired marital code. He avoided carefully what seemed to be 
 attempts to frame him with women. The only women he knew 
 were those with whom he could share his passion for the union. 
 He had no small talk, no ease for others. He had the senti- 
 mental American attitude toward wives and mothers — they 
 were on a pedestal. 
 
 Much more persistent was a rumor that he was often in- 
 toxicated, especially during the strike. Associates who have 
 been frank about his habits at other times have vigorously 
 denied that he drank at all during the strike. During some of 
 these days he suffered from insomnia and its exhaustive effects. 
 
 What amusement he did get was not often from books. 
 Intelligent, he was not intellectual nor a constant reader at 
 this time. Books like David Harum and Mark Twain's Joan 
 of Arc might interest him, but in the main he who could 
 memorize the terms of a mining contract on first reading, had 
 to put a mark on the chapter so that he would not read it 
 again. He enjoyed the theater, but in Scran ton and the other 
 cities where the business of the union was carried on, this 
 source of pleasure was limited. 
 
 He did like poker, one of the gambles of life where nothing 
 but money is at stake, and was joined in this by a group of 
 men outside the labor movement. Round-faced, jolly John 
 Loftus of Scranton, whom in later years Mitchell often vis- 
 ited, was one of them. Walt McDougall, then beginning his 
 career as a cartoonist, was another. Frank Ward O'Malley, 
 
142 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 who was later to become editor of The Sun, the daily then 
 most unfriendly to both Mitchell and Roosevelt in New York; 
 Dan Hart, actor and later mayor of Wilkesbarre, who twenty 
 years afterwards was to extend the freedom of his city to 
 miners after yet another anthracite strike, when they were still 
 fighting for complete and absolute recognition of the union — 
 these were all men with a large capacity for enjoyment that 
 Mitchell could appreciate and envy. 
 
 There was not much relaxation possible before the com- 
 mission opened its hearings. The miners were not by any 
 means satisfied with the personnel of the commission. The 
 operators were employing an imposing array of legal talent. 
 The public expected something more than a huge theater 
 piece. In many quarters there was high hope that some word 
 would be said, some clear call be uttered that would do more 
 than challenge the triumphant industrial feudalism of the day. 
 Their hope was that here and now some banner could be 
 raised and carried out to the steel mills, the railroad junctions, 
 the textile towns, the sweatshops of New York, the lumber 
 camps of Michigan, and be turned into bread which the op- 
 pressed workers could really eat. 
 
 The public had already judged the case, but the mechanism 
 of having its representatives bring some constructive effort to 
 the judgment was now to be gone through. The miners had 
 known their case so well that they had been willing to spend 
 every cent they had to fight those whom they considered their 
 oppressors. That struggle had resulted in the upset of the lop- 
 sided balance of power. Now the fluid quantity of public 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 143 
 
 opinion was being called in to redress the balance, in some 
 different way. 
 
 On the face of it, the commission before which Mitchell 
 appeared was far from being packed for him. The chairman 
 was Judge George Gray of Wilmington, a distinguished 
 jurist, a representative of the country at the Hague Peace 
 Conference — which had not brought peace. The recorder, 
 almost immediately made a full member, was Carroll D. 
 Wright, the United States Commissioner of Labor. The emi- 
 nent engineer required was General John M. Wilson. Bishop 
 John L. Spalding, added by President Roosevelt, was an emi- 
 nent Catholic prelate and scholar. Edgar E. Clark, the "emi- 
 nent sociologist," had been a union official. Edward W. Par- 
 ker, who was later to be editor of the operators' journal, and 
 Thomas H. Watkins of Scranton, who had been an inde- 
 pendent operator in his younger days, were generally held to 
 be hostile to the union. Bishop Spalding, Wright and Clark 
 were held to be sympathetic, although some labor leaders ob- 
 jected to Wright. Judge Gray and General Wilson were 
 somewhat unknown quantities. 
 
 Mitchell, whose appearance created a stir in the public 
 hearing, stepped right into the major argument. Without the 
 union the men would be bulldozed; any wage increases they 
 might gain would be taken away from them under cover, bit 
 by bit, for they would have no spokesman to defend them. 
 The essential thing, therefore, was recognition of the United 
 Mine Workers. This had been part of the controversy with the 
 operators ever since they saw that the strike was serious. At 
 
144 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 the first Washington meeting they had made it plain to Roose- 
 velt that Mitchell was out of their picture. Now they imme- 
 diately picked up the challenge which Mitchell made, attack- 
 ing the union as an alien organization, a means by which the 
 bituminous operators could disrupt the competing anthracite 
 industry. The frequent occurrence of local strikes in the bitu- 
 minous fields was held up to indicate the inability of the 
 union to discipline its own members, its lack of discipline 
 making it an untrustworthy and undesirable part to any 
 contract. 
 
 Mitchell did not get off the stand until he had undergone 
 four days of wracking cross-examination. In the course of this 
 he not only gave the logical case for the union to the country ; 
 his personality as well as his clear testimony was the em- 
 bodiment of the significance of that case. There was a sneer 
 in the question addressed to him: 
 
 "So that you are absolutely incompetent to inform this Com- 
 mission why we should be required to pay our employees $600 a 
 year except your sentimental opinion that a man ought to have 
 $600 a year. . . ." 
 
 They talked of liberty to a man who had known for the greater 
 portion of his life just how dependent people are on the em- 
 ployers. They asked : 
 
 "Do you mean to say that a father working in that line who 
 believes that he has a son that may be President of the U. S. — 
 and your father had a son that may be — is not at liberty to work 
 as long as he chooses in order to help that son to the position you 
 occupy today V 
 
 He retorted: 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 145 
 
 "Mr. MacVeagh, your company regulates that now by making 
 a day ten hours . . . There is no disagreement about having a 
 maximum of hours . . • We have disagreed as to what the maxi- 
 mum should be." 
 
 He showed an unexpected solemn wit. MacVeagh was 
 cross-questioning him on the crime of calling strike breakers 
 "scabs." "Having designated one as a scab, what else would 
 you do?' Mitchell smiled: "That is all." MacVeagh spoke 
 of a miner who owned forty thousand dollars' worth of prop- 
 erty. Mitchell answered that he "must have been one of those 
 who mined the miners." MacVeagh showed concern about put- 
 ting the cost of increased wages on the bowed backs of the 
 poor through a raise in the price of coal. Mitchell suggested 
 an alternative to the operators: "They might take it out of 
 their profits and so put it on the bowed backs of the rich." 
 
 After this, the examining counsel, who was described as a 
 "legal giant," remarked to him: "Mr. Mitchell, you are the 
 best witness for yourself I have ever faced in my life." 
 
 During the week of adjournment to prepare figures, the 
 counsel, Wayne MacVeagh, who had been attorney-general of 
 Pennsylvania, made an effort to have the operators settle with 
 the miners out of court. His attempt failed, according to 
 Lloyd, because George F. Baer wanted a "vindication" as well 
 as the opportunity to present evidence on violence and boy«» 
 cotting. 
 
 Then followed days and days in which the witnesses on 
 the miners' side, workers, wives, children, mothers of miners 
 testified. Maimed men who had never received a penny o£ d 
 compensation for their injuries — one of whom testified that a 
 
146 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 miner was not considered injured unless he lost an eye or 
 leg — let themselves be seen. They were followed by widows 
 of men who had been killed and who were now being charged 
 year after year with company house rentals. The case of An- 
 drew Chippie, twelve years old, whose meager pay of forty 
 cents a day was credited against the debt left by his father, 
 killed four years before in a mine accident, was as strong an 
 example of industrial servitude as that of James Gallagher, 
 who worked at one stretch for seventeen years and six months 
 without ever having drawn a cent of cash pay. The case of 
 Henry Coll, whose only offense in the eyes of the mine owners 
 was that he was a member of a relief committee for the strikers 
 of the philanthropic Mr. Markle, brought tears to the eyes of 
 the audience and the commission. He had been evicted with 
 his sick wife, his one-hundred-year-old mother and his four 
 children — one of them an adopted child whose father had 
 been killed in a mine accident. He himself had not a whole 
 bone anywhere in his body except his neck. The eviction re- 
 sulted in the death of his wife the night before he gave testi- 
 mony, and at the time he spoke he could not tell whether his 
 mother was living. 
 
 Men, women and children, of every nationality, skilled 
 miners, laborers, breaker boys, engineers on whom depended 
 the lives of the men underground (and who worked as long 
 as sixty hours at a stretch without sleep), witty Irishmen, 
 broken-spirited men — all appeared in procession. One child of 
 eight, who looked five, ^earned sixty-two cents a week, and be- 
 cause he was too young to know what would happen to him if 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 147 
 
 he did not tell the truth, was not allowed to testify. But his 
 childish figure made its impression. 
 
 So terrible was the testimony of the two hundred and forty 
 witnesses that the commission begged that the moving spec- 
 tacle of horrors be stopped. It is doubtful whether ever be- 
 fore or since, so striking a living picture has been presented 
 of the death toll of industry and of the misery of these men 
 and children who toiled and lived in darkness and cold. 
 
 Mitchell had, at the suggestion of Henry D. Lloyd, en- 
 gaged as chief of the miners' lawyers, Clarence Darrow of 
 Chicago, a man whose reputation as a defender of those who 
 challenged the existing social order was already in the mak- 
 ing, who eight years before had defended Debs in the Pullman 
 strike. Four years later he was to run up against William 
 Borah in the defense of W. D. Haywood, Moyer and Petti- 
 bone in Idaho. Darrow had some idea of attacking the whole 
 foundation on which rested the prerogative of the anthracite 
 owners. He went to Boston to see Louis D. Brandeis, later 
 appointed by President Wilson to the Supreme Court, then 
 one of the most noted proponents of competition in the coun- 
 try. According to Lloyd, lack of available evidence made an 
 attack on the trustification aspect impossible at the moment. 
 Later, according to one account, when Darrow, after watch- 
 ing the whole long procession of misery, wanted to show that 
 it demanded a new social order, Mitchell stayed his arm. For 
 him the immediate thing was the essential factor. He wanted 
 a case made for the miners, first, last and all the time. 
 
 George Baer, president of the Philadelphia and Reading, 
 still shining in the glory of the apostolic succession, had his 
 
148 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 chance to draw a picture in contrast to that which the miners 
 had painted before the public. The miners had shown what 
 happened to men's lives through the silent, undramatic vio- 
 lence involved when company officials had complete right to 
 say whether a man worked or not, how long he worked, and 
 how much he earned. Mr. Baer painted a picture of violence 
 inflicted on poor, honest men who had tried to work while the 
 strike was going on, of passions inflamed by union agitators. 
 Now people were beginning to tell the difference between 
 cause and effect. The miseries of the miners' lives almost ex- 
 cused and explained away some sharp gesture of retort. Mr. 
 Baer then tried the legal aspects of an industrial situation for 
 which no law had been drafted. 
 
 He spoke of the surrender of the rights of an individual in 
 joining a union; accused unions of restriction of output; spoke 
 of the men's violence ; took occasion to question Lloyd's knowl- 
 edge of the industry; referred solemnly, even as employers do 
 now, to the inevitable workings of the eternal law of supply 
 and demand, pointing to the surplus of men in the field as 
 proof of the attractive wages. According to Baer, the only 
 real monopoly in the coal fields was the miners' union. Alto- 
 gether he made the speech expected of the writer of the "di- 
 vine right" letter. 
 
 It was a bitter stinging attack on those who had challenged 
 the employers' rights to run what they considered their world. 
 It was a valedictory to the hired help. Let them know their 
 places; he knew his. 
 
 When the speech was over, while people gasped, Mitchell 
 stepped across and shook his hand. Was it a gesture for the 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 149 
 
 press and public? Had he learned already that people were 
 simple and remembered a gesture when a million words had 
 been forgotten? Was it an insult, a method of applauding 
 Baer as one might applaud the outrageous villain in the melo- 
 drama of the day, treating Baer as only a paid official, sub- 
 ject to the approval of the real owners of the industry, now 
 simply earning his salary? Was it something quite else, a tired 
 man's substitution of the wish for the fact, the almost Christ- 
 like desire that the wounds of battle could be healed by a 
 touch and then forgotten? Or did he see himself so close at 
 heart with Darrow and the men of the left, who felt that if 
 ever revolution were justified, it was justified now, that he 
 had to shake himself, definitely remind himself that too many 
 men trusted him for their immediate bread to allow him to 
 become a revolutionist, that he not only had to let the men 
 of the left but himself know by standing up and walking 
 across the room and shaking hands that he could not allow 
 himself the luxury of being one of them? 
 
 Years before, in the days in Spring Valley when miners 
 were offering themselves into slavery, Mitchell had heard an- 
 other president of the union say to his people, "You have 
 reached the limit of human endurance." But Mitchell had 
 lived on with the others, going without the meat, dividing the 
 bread. There was no limit to human endurance for him and 
 for the men he knew. For Darrow, for the middle-class pub- 
 lic who listened to the human wreckage of the industry, for 
 humanitarians touched by some great dramatic and messianic 
 dream, the limit of such endurance might seem to be rising be- 
 fore their eyes then and there. But to Mitchell the miracle 
 
150 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 was that he who had been nothing might give to these, his 
 people, even a few of the things that would make life more 
 desirable. The simple things that would help them were the 
 things he wanted to do. Anything that would help them was 
 what he wanted to do. He had appeared before the Commis- 
 sion saying that the interests of capital and labor were insep- 
 arably allied. Now he shook Baer's hand. The statement and 
 the gesture were both of a piece. 
 
 Darrow stood up. He had seen the handshake. What he 
 thought of it he told no one. ... A month previously, Lloyd 
 had written his wife: 
 
 "Darrow . . . does not like any more than I his (Mitchell's) 
 going to New York to attend the Civic Federation. The little fact 
 that for this visit to New York he bought a derby hat, discarding 
 the black soft felt hat by which he is universally known, illustrates 
 the tendency toward conformity resulting from such association 
 and likely to increase and in the wrong direction." 
 
 In later years, a radical newspaper traced Mitchell's "decline" 
 by the evolution from miner's cap to silk hat. Lloyd, secure 
 in the social as well as the economic world, and Darrow, 
 equally at ease and more reckless then as now of his appear- 
 ance, were puzzled by the purchase of the hat. They would 
 have been puzzled by his inner lack of ease at the formal din- 
 ners of the Civic Federation, at the White House, at press 
 banquets. In all probabilities it was Miss Morris, anxious that 
 every detail be correct, who had suggested the purchase of the 
 hat. . . . 
 
 Upon Mitchell's insistence, Darrow had already deleted the 
 most inflammatory parts of his summary to the commission. 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 151 
 
 What there remained in it of dynamite he did not squelch. 
 Baer he swept aside : 
 
 "If John Smith earned $300 a year, it is no answer to say that 
 Tom Jones murdered somebody in cold blood. . . . It is no answer 
 to say that someone's house has been burned. . . . The question 
 is what has he earned." 
 
 He showed that Baer's figures, analyzed for the commis- 
 sion, told that forty-nine per cent of the workers got less than 
 $200 a year; that nine per cent earned between that and $300 
 a year; and that only five per cent got over $800. He showed 
 that the laborers, taking the highest possible average, did not 
 get more than $333. (The final report of the commission gave 
 the average for all workers, including the "composite" miners, 
 as $377 for 1901 — a year of unusually high earnings.) Of 
 these laborers, for whom Mitchell had insisted that the union 
 be on an inclusive industrial rather than a craft basis, Dar- 
 row commented: 
 
 "The lawyers are in front of the miners, and the miners are in 
 front of the mine workers. Most of the people we have had on 
 the stand are contract miners. The poor devil who loads the coal, 
 we do not want to forget him. What has he been getting? He 
 works in the ground. The falling rock, or a stray car or a belated 
 blast will catch him the same as the experienced miner. His busi- 
 ness is almost as dangerous as the contract miner. More than five 
 out of every thousand of his craft are killed every year, to say 
 nothing of the maimed and the crippled and the blind, who are 
 turned out under the beneficent law of the state of Pennsylvania 
 ... to the almshouses and highways and byways . . . because 
 ... I believe there is not another state in the union where it is as 
 difficult to recover compensation as in this commonwealth of 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 "When I think of the cripples, of the orphans, of the widows, 
 
152 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 of the maimed who are dragging out their lives on account of this 
 business, who, if they were mules or horses would be cared for, it 
 seems to me that this is the greatest possible indictment of this 
 business that can possibly be made. . . . There is not any record 
 of how many accidents there are. ... An accident must be pretty 
 serious to be recorded. As our old friend Gallagher said, you do 
 not count it an accident in the mine unless you get half killed. . . . 
 
 "If forsooth, these poor miners are to have shorter hours or 
 more pay, nothing short of a calamity will overtake the industry 
 of the east. . . . 
 
 "If the civilization of this country rests upon the necessity of 
 leaving these starvation wages to these miners and laborers . . . 
 if ... it rests upon the labor of these poor little boys, who from 
 twelve to fourteen years of age, are picking their way through the 
 dirt, clouds and dust of the anthracite coal ... if it is not based 
 on a more substantial foundation than that ... it is time that 
 these captains of industry resigned their commission and turned it 
 over to some theorists to see if they cannot bring ruin and havoc 
 a good deal quicker. . . ." 
 
 During the four months of hearings which followed the five 
 months of strike, the miners held a victory convention at which 
 Mitchell was acclaimed by his own people. There was serious 
 talk of running him for the presidency of the A. F. of L. 
 He stopped it. He wanted no political combat. He was in the 
 work he loved. In the joint conferences that year the bitumi- 
 nous miners won another substantial increase. For the anthra- 
 cite miners it now became a matter of waiting. The fate of 
 the men was now no longer in their own hands, nor in Mitch- 
 ell's hands, but in the hands of those who represented that 
 quantity little known in the mine fields — outside public 
 opinion. The hearings were over, but the press was not closed. 
 A man could still say in public what he wanted the commis- 
 sion to remember. Mitchell went to Chicago on February 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 153 
 
 16th. Six thousand people swelled a reception at the Audi- 
 torium. Eleven hundred labor men were seated on the plat- 
 form. As he entered the band played "Hail, the Conquering 
 Hero Comes." Lloyd introduced him, "first in strikes, first in 
 arbitration, first in the heart of workingmen." Eight years 
 before Debs had been welcomed there by Lloyd, after leaving 
 jail for his leadership of the Pullman strike. A few years 
 later Chicago was to become one of the key centers of the 
 Industrial Workers of the World, men who declared that 
 there was no possible truce or compromise between the em- 
 ployers and the employed class. 
 
 To this audience Mitchell repeated that there was no ir- 
 reconcilable conflict between labor and capital. Righteous rage 
 against the coal operators was missing from his speech. As if 
 it were a question of absolutely killing any doubts in the 
 minds of his audience as to where he stood, he added: "We 
 are all poor simply because we cannot get rich honorably." 
 Even that they applauded. 
 
 What did he gain by swinging to the right so forcefully? 
 Did he think that what the workers needed most, next to a 
 little more food and freedom than they had, was such self- 
 respect as might come from the sensation of being considered 
 partners with the men who owned and ran the country? Or had 
 he been flicked on the raw by the accusations that he had been 
 flattered away from his original purpose? Or had he set his 
 face a little further ahead, hoping to make the romantic dream 
 complete, hoping to give in his own person an evidence that 
 the miners' place in the country was now changed for all 
 time? He was not unaware of what was being talked around. 
 
154 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Almost a month before this meeting the chairman had written 
 his wife : x 
 
 "I got a very important piece of news late last night from 
 Mitchell on the dead q.t. You must never breathe a word of it. 
 An intermediary has lately come from Teddy to Mitchell, telling 
 him he need not worry about the findings of the commission. The 
 President is worried by the talk of putting JM into politics. The 
 Democrats are actually proposing to give him the Vice-Presidential 
 nomination." 
 
 The Chicago speech did not make it impossible for him to be 
 considered in that way. But those who knew him accepted 
 his statement that he could think of no greater honor than to 
 be president of the miners' union. 
 
 The decision of the commission was announced on March 
 22, 1903. Was it victory? On the face there were some gains. 
 The union had asked for a twenty per cent increase on piece 
 rates, an eight-hour working day, the establishment of a stand- 
 ard of twenty-two hundred and forty pounds to the ton, no 
 discrimination for union membership, and an agreement with 
 the United Mine Workers providing for a method of adjust- 
 ment of disputes. The award provided for a ten per cent in- 
 crease in wages and a ten per cent reduction in hours (a nine- 
 hour day). It declined to fix the method of payment of the 
 standard for the number of pounds to the ton, but gave the 
 contract miners the right to elect and pay checkweighmen and 
 check-docking bosses to look after their interests — if a ma- 
 jority so desired. It contained provisions against discrimina- 
 tion in the distribution of cars and in other ways. It provided 
 1 Unpublished letter (courtesy of Caro Lloyd). 
 
BRINGING FEUDALISM TO TRIAL 155 
 
 for direct payment to helpers. It reestablished the sliding 
 scale, by which workers were to get increases in pay with in- 
 creases in the price of coal. In place of the express recogni- 
 tion of and dealing with the union, the award called for the 
 creation of a board of conciliation. This was to consist of six 
 persons, three to be the representatives of the organizations of 
 the majority of the workers in the three districts, and three 
 to be appointed by the operators from the three districts. If 
 these six could not agree, an umpire was to be appointed at 
 their request by one of the circuit judges of the U. S. Judicial 
 Court. It was this board and this umpire which were to take 
 up the many grievances and disputes which arose between 
 worker and operator — after an attempt had been made to ad- 
 just them between worker and employer directly. 
 
 Mitchell took what comfort he could out of it. He said: 
 ". . . The organizations of the three districts meant, of 
 course, the District Organizations, 1, 7 and 9, of the United 
 Mine Workers of America." The presidents of these districts 
 were appointed as representatives upon the board of concilia- 
 tion. The operators at first refused to recognize them, but 
 finally, after stoppages and stormy sessions and the confirma- 
 tion of the men's election by a special convention, the three 
 district presidents were recognized by the board. The award 
 was to continue for three years — to April 1, 1906. 
 
 Criticism of the award was plentiful; men like Debs con- 
 sidered it proof of Mitchell's poor judgment. Mother Jones, in 
 later years, insisted that Mitchell had been carried away by 
 the honor and glory of being patted on the head by President 
 
156 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Roosevelt. The miners themselves, to judge by their mass 
 meetings, accepted the award with mingled feelings although, 
 on the whole, satisfaction was predominant. 
 
 The miners got some ready cash because the award started 
 from the day they went back to work. That helped. They saw 
 themselves for a little while as a great union, come through a 
 serious test with flying colors, able to boast of the "greatest 
 labor leader" of them all. 
 
 Was it victory? Had the clashing nationalities been 
 wrought into a workable league of nations? Had the conflict 
 between the craft workers and the unskilled been integrated? 
 Had leaders developed who could carry on when he went back 
 to the task which the union held for him throughout the scat- 
 tered bituminous fields? Or had he allowed himself to become 
 too great for them, not only a symbol that bound them, but 
 the only symbol that bound them? These were the questions 
 not only his opponents but he himself asked. In the five years 
 that followed, he was often discouraged by his belief that he 
 had failed here. It was only after his resignation in 1908 that 
 he saw the fulfillment of the promise the anthracite miners 
 had made to themselves and to him in 1900 and 1902. 
 
VIII 
 THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 
 
 MITCHELL did no great amount of basking in the 
 warmth of his own people's approval. At the end of 
 the anthracite strike he told Weyl, "I am almost afraid of 
 this victory. I can never be what the people will now expect 
 of me." He knew his own limitations and the limitations of 
 the situation. For the moment, however, he met the unprece- 
 dented expectations placed in him. At the Joint Interstate 
 Conference in February, 1903, a ten per cent increase was ob- 
 tained for the miners of the central competitive area, followed 
 by a like gain for the outlying unionized districts. This was 
 later said to bring their increases in the seven years since 1897 
 to sixty-six and two-thirds per cent in some cases. On the 
 average, it was certainly much higher than the amount granted 
 by the anthracite commission in that field. There were other 
 gains. Michigan, Tennessee and Central Pennsylvania suc- 
 ceeded in improving working conditions. Even West Virginia, 
 where the strike had been lost, showed gains in certain sec- 
 tions. The joining of the four southwestern states, Missouri, 
 Kansas, Arkansas and the Indian Territory, into an inter- 
 state joint conference such as that in the central competitive 
 area was hailed as an advance. In Alabama, Judge Gray, who 
 had been chairman of the Anthracite Commission, was chosen 
 as arbitrator and prohibited the employment of boys under 
 
158 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 fourteen. In Illinois, through the efforts of the union, the State 
 legislature set the minimum at sixteen. In Montana all the 
 miners were in the union. It crossed the lines over into Brit- 
 ish Columbia. Including the anthracite miners, there were 
 about three hundred thousand card-carrying men. 
 
 These men were scattered widely throughout the country 
 and any strength they might develop in obtaining better con- 
 ditions was dependent to a large extent on their success in 
 bringing into the union the remaining one hundred and ninety 
 thousand employed in the industry. It began to be a problem 
 in large scale salesmanship. Against the urgent advice of his 
 friends, Mitchell placed Tom L. Lewis who he knew wanted 
 to succeed him, in charge of the staff of sixty organizers who 
 had previously been under his direct supervision. 
 
 Then in 1903 a depression set in throughout the country 
 which affected the coal industry. By the beginning of 1904, 
 Mitchell was faced with the resultant problems. A strike be- 
 gun in Colorado was in a bad way. It looked as though the 
 moment had come when he would have to prove whether he 
 had ever been more than a fair-weather leader. In Boston, 
 Samuel Gompers was telling the convention of the American 
 Federation of Labor that it was the height of economic unwis- 
 dom for anyone to attempt to curtail the consuming power of 
 the masses and recommending that the working people resist 
 any attempt to reduce their wages. It became clear, as 1903 
 drew to an end, that the coal operators were going to ask the 
 union to take a backward step. They pointed to reductions 
 which a hundred thousand steel workers had taken, reduc- 
 tions in glass works and type foundries. From the miners let- 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 159 
 
 ters poured in that they would rather strike all winter than 
 accept a cut. 
 
 In this atmosphere the Joint Conference of the Miners and 
 Operators of the four central competitive states opened in the 
 last week of January, 1904. The miners this* time asked for no 
 increase in wages. They did ask for the extension of the pay- 
 ment on the run-of-mine basis to Ohio and Western Pennsyl- 
 vania, and further, that men mining coal by machine be paid 
 an additional seven cents per ton, so that they might earn as 
 much as the pick miners. 
 
 F. J. Robbins, of the Pittsburgh Coal Company, whose 
 company owned mines in all of the four states, and who was a 
 member of the National Civic Federation which had been in- 
 formed by Gompers that labor would resist all reductions, 
 acted as spokesman for the operators. The time, he said, had 
 come to call a halt. No arrangement was a good arrangement 
 which did not work both ways. There was disorganizing com- 
 petition from the non-union fields, much bankruptcy among 
 the operators in the central fields, depression throughout the 
 industry. The operators wanted a reduction of fifteen per cent 
 to last for two years. He announced that the operators meant 
 business when they presented this demand. 
 
 What was the responsible leader of the union to do*? His 
 name had everywhere been identified with success. What 
 answer could be made, he did make. It seemed to him a strange 
 philosophy that a reduction of wages would relieve an in- 
 dustrial depression. The operators themselves would not be 
 benefited by such reduction. The railroads would have imme- 
 diately taken away from them all advantages. The cost of liv- 
 
160 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 ing had not gone down. Why make the miners bear the brunt 
 of hard times ? Was there really a depression? Where the 
 claim had been advanced in the steel industry a few months 
 back, the furnaces were now operating at full blast. 
 
 To this he drew the retort from Robbins that the operators 
 would accept seventy per cent of their profits for the past 
 year if the miners would guarantee them, and the miners 
 should take everything over that. It was not accepted as a 
 great philanthropic bit of profit-sharing. Mitchell was curt: 
 "We will not, of course, accept any propositions of that kind." 
 Then he pointed out that Mr. Robbins' company had not only 
 paid a seven per cent dividend, but had accumulated a surplus 
 that was good for that same percentage for the next five years. 
 There was a wrangle about that. Meeting after meeting of 
 sub-committees, held in secret session, brought the operators' 
 demands for reduction down to twelve per cent. Then there 
 was deadlock, danger of a definite breaking off of relations. 
 
 Largely through the good offices of Mitchell's friend, H. N. 
 Taylor, the final break was averted and the conference ad- 
 journed until further call, with a special committee elected 
 to consider the matter. The miners held a special convention. 
 They were in no mood to take the reduction. The national 
 treasury contained a million dollars, the Illinois treasury three- 
 quarters of a million, the Iowa district had in two years accu- 
 mulated a hundred thousand, Ohio had still more. 
 
 Was there an irrepressible conflict, or was a working ar- 
 rangement whereby both employers and miners could be sure 
 of some existence the essential that could not be foregone? 
 It was again a presidential year. Much had been made of that 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 161 
 
 circumstance in 1900. Would the Democrats renew the rumor 
 begun in 1902, this time with the double threat of a Bryan to 
 carry the agricultural West and a Mitchell as team-mate to 
 carry the industrial East*? And would the man who was trying 
 to formulate a policy for the miners under these trying cir- 
 cumstances seriously consider such a possibility? When prof- 
 fered nominations in the past, he had always replied that he 
 could think of no higher position than the one he held. 
 
 It was not yet the day when people spoke or wrote at length 
 about the absence of a working class in the country. Mark 
 Hanna, a month earlier, after saying that organized labor 
 had come to stay and praising the miners' union in particular, 
 had written frankly what he considered the situation : "What 
 is the public? In our country it is made up of capitalists and 
 laborers. With the exception of a very few, every man in the 
 United States is an employer or employee." If there were only 
 two classes, was it true that there was a constant inevitable 
 conflict between them? There were men amongst the miners 
 who came to that conclusion. But early in February, when 
 Marcus Alonzo Hanna died, Mitchell requested the miners to 
 refrain from work on that day. It was a request which drew 
 forth considerable comment. The Wilkesbarre Labor Unionist 
 said : "At this writing one doesn't know how the miners will 
 take the suggestion as many of them are now laughing at the 
 irony contained in the proposition." Just what Mitchell in- 
 tended, whether it was a gesture of reward for Hanna's con- 
 siderable services during the anthracite strike, or whether 
 Mitchell had intended it to perform the same service in the 
 public estimation as his handshake with Baer, he never told. 
 
162 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 At the resumption of the sessions, one of the operators took 
 occasion to ask for "peace in the name of him who has gone 
 who would rather be the preserver of industrial peace than be 
 president." 
 
 The resumption of the hearings brought a more intense 
 repetition of every argument that had been gone over before. 
 There was little new. At one point Robbins asked for arbi- 
 tration. Mitchell was willing to arbitrate only the price of 
 machine mining. During the anthracite strike, in a moment of 
 depression, he had said: "Now there remains nothing but de- 
 feat, victory or arbitration." He knew that arbitration was 
 neither the first nor the second. It was a bad gamble, not to be 
 taken when the system of collective bargaining was made. He 
 showed that in 1903 the union miners in Ohio had earned on 
 an average only four hundred and thirty-six dollars. Mr. 
 Robbins remarked that that was because West Virginia was 
 paying wages which made it impossible for the Ohio operators 
 to compete. Mitchell replied that Robbins alone in the Pitts- 
 burgh district was producing twenty million tons to the total 
 of West Virginia's twenty-six millions. On the sixth day of 
 the resumed conference the Joint Scale Committee brought in 
 its report for a reduction of five and a half per cent. The 
 operators all voted for it. The miners' delegates, although 
 their representatives and officials had been on the committee, 
 voted solidly against it. 
 
 The delegates had voted. Some new force had to be called 
 into existence to break the hard-drawn line. In the anthracite 
 strike there had been public opinion acting through Roosevelt. 
 Here there was no strike and no aroused public opinion. The 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 163 
 
 miners went into session alone and decided to submit the ques- 
 tion to a referendum of the membership. For a second time, 
 Mitchell was going before the miners with a policy which 
 seemed to be against its wishes. In previous years, he had had 
 to confront a body of representative delegates, who also 
 elected him to his office. This time the vote went directly to 
 the membership. (This year too, at his own suggestion, his 
 election and that of the national officers was by direct refer- 
 endum.) He felt justified in explaining his attitude in a letter 
 attached to the call for the referendum. In that letter he was 
 joined by Tom Lewis, the vice-president, and W. B. Wilson, 
 the national secretary. 
 
 The letter is most interesting in the way, on the surface of 
 the matter, it denied practically all of the statements Mitchell 
 and the other officers had made in the public hearings of the 
 joint conference. It was affirmed that the union had never 
 been afraid to strike where there was a possibility of beneficial 
 results. But then it agreed that since 1897 the organization 
 had ridden on the crest of prosperity. Where Mitchell had 
 scoffed at the idea of depression the letter remarked: "It is 
 conceded ... we are slowly moving toward an industrial 
 depression.'' Where they had talked of the importance of 
 keeping up the consuming power of the workers to end a de- 
 pression, they now said : "The events of the past have shown 
 conclusively the fallacy of striking when the markets are going 
 down." Where they had said West Virginia was unimportant 
 because of its relatively small production, they now remarked : 
 "No chain is stronger than the strength of its weakest link. 
 We have some weak links in the chain . . . West Virginia 
 
164 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 outside the Kanawha fields ... the Irwin, Connellsville 
 and Klondike fields in Western Pennsylvania cannot be de- 
 pended upon to cease work if a general suspension is declared. 
 . . ." The fact that it was a presidential year they gave as a 
 reason against the strike as such years "are proverbially dull 
 because of commercial disturbances." The objection of their 
 own men that the decrease was to last for two years instead of 
 one was met by the statement that "two years will give you 
 time to organize in unorganized fields." It was also pointed 
 out to those who thought that in time public sympathy could 
 be aroused that "you would not have the sympathy of the 
 public in a difficult and prolonged strike." 
 
 There was truth in this letter and there had been truth in 
 what the officials had said to the operators. They could go 
 before the membership sure that it would be understood that 
 they had put up an honest and hard fight. This letter, which 
 bore only one side of the argument, went to each local. It ran 
 into a strong opposition which, however, had no official funds 
 to circulate the locals in its interest even if it should consider 
 that advisable. The official letter, which mentioned no action 
 by the National Executive Board, was seconded at length in 
 the columns of the United Mine Workers' Journal. It could 
 say what the officers could not well do themselves: "The man 
 has never drawn breath that can truthfully point to a single 
 tactical blunder of John Mitchell, T. L. Lewis, or W. B. 
 Wilson." 
 
 In the course of the argument, Mitchell's picture was turned 
 to the wall in his own home town and elsewhere. There were 
 men in the field who had known him for a long time and who 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 165 
 
 never spoke to him again after that, even when he entered 
 their own homes. His family as well as he felt the brunt of 
 his action. The fighting was carried from the local halls into 
 the saloons. 
 
 When the vote was finally cast, there were sixty-eight thou- 
 sand for the strike against any reduction, and one hundred two 
 thousand against the strike for the reduction. A switch of 
 eighteen thousand votes would have brought a strike. In Illi- 
 nois not only the Socialists but Mitchell's old friend Ryan, 
 who had led the opposition in the convention, rolled up a large 
 vote for the strike. In Mitchell's home town of Spring Valley, 
 only one man in sixteen approved of his position. Feeling in 
 Illinois was high against Mitchell for other reasons. Under 
 a peculiar arrangement in that state as in the southwest, he 
 acted as impartial chairman in disputes between the district 
 organization and officials. This was a role admirably suited to 
 his temperament; he was impartial and miners were puzzled 
 and angry to find their national president occasionally decid- 
 ing against their district officials. A man with whom Mitchell 
 had worked in the mines addressed him as "Mr. Mitchell." 
 Mitchell, hurt, insisted on an explanation and learned that 
 the man was doubtful about a leader who banqueted with cap- 
 tains of industry. 
 
 While the miners accepted the reduction as a bitter pill, 
 the public press lauded Mitchell to the skies, proclaiming it 
 the greatest act of his career, proving his sportsmanship, the 
 union's willingness to give and take, the wisdom that did not 
 balk at temporary defeat. But at the same time, other ex- 
 planations were evolved to account for Mitchell's attitude. 
 
166 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 One was very simple: there had been collusion between 
 Mitchell and the operators. Another was that the operators 
 and Mitchell's opponents in the union were combining to get 
 him out. According to this story the operators hoped for his 
 defeat in the referendum and the subsequent break-up of the 
 central competitive field; his opponents in the union hoped 
 to take advantage either of his recommendation or of his de- 
 feat in the strike to force him out, or to lead him to accept the 
 appointment as United States Commissioner of Labor which, 
 it was rumored, was to be offered to him. The fact that Lewis' 
 name had been signed to the letter, although the signature of 
 the vice-president was not requisite, seems to destroy the 
 force of this explanation or else to show that Mitchell forced 
 Lewis into an open stand. 
 
 The immediate results of the reduction were bad. In May, 
 1904, Lewis reported from the field that along with the re- 
 duction there was a great deal of unemployment. Strikes were 
 being carried on in Western Pennsylvania where certain oper- 
 ators attempted to go beyond the agreed reduction. Eight thou- 
 sand men were out in Ohio for the same reason. A reduction 
 on the same basis as the competitive field had to be taken in 
 the southwestern field, after a referendum in which thirty- 
 four hundred voted for a strike and fifty-nine hundred against 
 it. In Tennessee a seven per cent reduction had to be accepted. 
 
 A new feeling of doubt and hesitancy about his leadership 
 met Mitchell when he returned to the less dramatic and now 
 more difficult work of extending a union that had been widely 
 advertised as an organization willing to take a reduction with- 
 out anything more, apparently, than a fight of words. 
 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 167 
 
 One of the worst situations was developing in Colorado. 
 In the spring of 1903, Tom L. Lewis and the district presi- 
 dent, William Howells, had begun an organization campaign. 
 There were about eleven thousand men in the field and about 
 fifteen per cent were organized. Most of the union mem- 
 bership was in the small northern area. The more important 
 southern field where the Rockefeller company, the Colorado 
 Fuel and Iron Company, and the Victor Fuel Company, Gould 
 interests, controlled the production, was almost completely 
 unorganized. Conditions in the south were comparable to 
 those of feudal West Virginia and of the anthracite miners 
 prior to the 1900 strike. The operators controlled not only the 
 working conditions of the men, but owned their houses, the 
 stores where they were compelled to buy, the physicians for 
 whom they were docked, and the local police forces and courts. 
 
 In August that year a manifesto to the Governor and the 
 people of the state recited the grievances of the miners and the 
 refusal of the operators to meet with them. At a conference 
 only three companies from the northern field responded. The 
 southern coal companies paid no attention. In September a 
 district convention was called to formulate demands. Mitchell 
 was not there ; neither was Lewis ; but Charles Moyer, Presi- 
 dent of the Western Federation, addressed them and spoke in 
 favor of a strike. His organization which, over the protest of 
 the United Mine Workers, included some coal miners, was 
 known to be in opposition to Mitchell and his whole attitude 
 of conservative advance, and its denunciation, particularly in 
 the utterances of William D. Haywood, its secretary, was 
 couched in no uncertain terms. At this time it was conducting 
 
168 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 a strike of the metalliferous miners of the state and wanted 
 the coal miners out in support. 
 
 After the demands, similar to those in the anthracite field, 
 had been formulated and a vote favoring a strike taken, the 
 district officials traveled to Indianapolis to secure approval of 
 the strike by the National Executive Board. They insisted "the 
 time is now or never, and if you don't strike now in Colorado, 
 you will set back the work of the organization ten years." 
 The National Board deliberated, invited the two large south- 
 ern companies to a conference, receiving a refusal from the 
 Colorado Fuel and Iron on the ground that their men did not 
 want the strike and that the union did not represent them. 
 The Victor Fuel Company refused a conference but wrote of 
 raising rates from ten to twenty per cent. There was hesita- 
 tion. The industrial depression, of which the operators had 
 made so much a few months later, had already set in. Colorado 
 had always been a difficult state; it was hardly in the first 
 ranks of importance as to production and competition with 
 the main field, although the treatment accorded the workers 
 there had been a crying outrage for some time past. Perhaps 
 the Board might have counseled the miners to wait for a bet- 
 ter time, but their hand was forced. The Colorado State Com- 
 missioner of Labor arrived in town and requested permission 
 to address the board. He asked for an opportunity to avert 
 the strike and to secure an eight-hour day. He left the office 
 and, without any authority, wired to Denver that there would 
 be no strike. The National Board could not be put in the 
 situation of endorsing an agreement it had not made and of 
 being rushed over the heads of the miners in the district into 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 169 
 
 opposition to the strike. They endorsed the strike, and it began 
 on November 9, 1903. 
 
 The operators in the northern fields immediately hurried 
 into conference with the union officials and offered an eight- 
 hour day and a slight increase in pay, contingent upon the 
 miners' obtaining similar conditions in the south. The miners 
 saw no opportunity of doing that without a strike, and, on a 
 referendum, rejected the offer. Although the card-carrying 
 members were few, the unorganized workers poured out in 
 response to the call. The northern operators made another 
 offer, again rejected. The miners did not want to desert the 
 south. The district officials and organizers in charge, including 
 Mary F. Jones, already famous as "Mother Jones," were 
 against this offer. She was vehemently against it. Already in 
 her sixties, she had seen service in the West Virginia and 
 anthracite strikes, and was to come upon the scene of many 
 great struggles in the next twenty years, making perhaps her 
 last appearance years later at the side of President Coolidge, 
 whom she endorsed. Then a fiery agitator, called a "stormy 
 petrel of labor," mob leader by temperament, with a physical 
 courage and a vocabulary that awed men, she was an impor- 
 tant force at mass meetings, and men went far to listen to 
 her. She had expressed open disfavor with Mitchell's policies 
 at times, and while he did not agree with her methods, he rec- 
 ognized her influence and ability as an agitator and kept her 
 in the field. He had a capacity for appreciating people who 
 were unlike him, enjoying the hearty Falstaffian mirth of men 
 like Loftus and Taylor, admiring daredevils like Mother Jones 
 and Alex Howat, later to be expelled by another president for 
 
170 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 his wildcat strikes. Howat and Mitchell had grown up in 
 Braidwood together, and the shy, repressed boy never forgot 
 his envy of the wild youngster who would leap from a coal pile 
 no matter how high it was or how perilous the landing. He 
 bore no malice toward the employing class, but he could laugh 
 with the simple laughter of that boy when Mother Jones 
 or Howat told stories of having embarrassed or infuriated coal 
 operators. He could not bring himself to denounce or expel 
 them, even when his board demanded it, lest he give comfort 
 to that employing class. 
 
 A little later, on November 21st, the operators asked the 
 northern miners again to settle. The strike had been going 
 only thirteen days. The representative of the National Execu- 
 tive Board produced wires from the national office, urging ac- 
 ceptance of the offer, which was not now contingent upon sim- 
 ilar gains in the south. To Mother Jones and others it seemed 
 an outright betrayal of the southern miners. A vote taken at a 
 mass meeting showed two hundred twenty-eight for continuing 
 the strike, one hundred sixty-five for returning to work. This 
 was less than a third of the men on strike in the north alone. 
 The national office asked for a secret ballot, which, when 
 taken, showed a complete reversal: Four hundred eighty- 
 three voted to return to work, and one hundred thirty against 
 it. By the end of November the northern men were back at 
 work, every demand granted except the check-off. 
 
 A struggle in the southern fields continued, more bitterly 
 than ever. One of the northern local leaders, Robert Randall, 
 claimed at the 1905 convention of the miners that had the 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 171 
 
 northern miners stayed out, "it would have meant a victory 
 for both the coal and metalliferous miners of the West. . . . 
 The day the northern miners returned to work, the discouraged 
 southern miners were defeated, and the strike was lost. The 
 Denver Citizens' Alliance, the Victor Fuel Company, and the 
 Colorado Fuel and Iron Company, with the able assistance of 
 John Mitchell, won a victory over the miners of the West that 
 has forced them into a state of abject peonage and closed upon 
 them the door of hope for years to come." 
 
 Almost immediately the two large companies began evict- 
 ing strikers from their houses. The strikers set up their tent 
 colonies. Communication between them was made practically 
 impossible. Union men were jailed on entering a town and 
 escorted out by force. Wholesale arrests, forced marches over 
 the mountains, deportations, riots and killings became every- 
 day affairs in Southern Colorado. 
 
 The situation became so serious that on December 2, 1903, 
 Mitchell himself went to Denver to consult with Governor 
 Peabody. While there, he addressed the Chamber of Com- 
 merce at their invitation, outlining to them the purposes and 
 policies of his organization. Randall described the circum- 
 stances of the meeting: "Nineteen thousand men, women and 
 children, cold, hungry and dressed in gunny sacks (were al- 
 lowed) to wait encamped on the barren hills and in the deso- 
 lated canyons of Colorado, New Mexico and Utah . . . while 
 you discussed the labor question over the banquet board with 
 Civic Federationists and (the) Denver Citizens' Alliance. ,, 
 Before that meeting, Mitchell had stopped off in Trinidad, the 
 
172 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 center of the southern strike, and had, according to Randall, 
 said to the strikers : "Be peaceable, be law-abiding, and strike, 
 strike, strike until you win if it takes five years." 
 
 Mitchell's version of the Trinidad meeting was somewhat 
 different. "Delegate Randall says they all knew their cause 
 was lost when the northern men went to work. . . . How do 
 you suppose the men in Trinidad met me? . . . The train on 
 which I went . . . was five hours late. For these full five 
 hours, thousands of men, women and children waited at the 
 depot for the train to come in. Were you there? . . . Did 
 they receive me with clubs and guns? I have received about as 
 enthusiastic receptions as most men, but I never received a 
 more enthusiastic one than the people of Trinidad gave 
 me. . . . 
 
 "I said to them that while personally I favored other means 
 than strikes for the adjustment of grievances . . . that when 
 all these peaceful means failed, that I favored striking, and 
 striking and striking until they won. I never said they ought 
 to strike for five years. I am not in the habit of making ex- 
 aggerated statements. If I advised them to strike for five years, 
 that meant we would pay them to strike for five years." 
 
 Mitchell had no success in the conference with Governor 
 Peabody, who instead insisted that the men who wanted to 
 mine coal must be protected. That very week two strikers were 
 killed by the militia. Two National Executive Board mem- 
 bers, sent by the national office, were assaulted on the train 
 en route to Trinidad and the recovery of one was considered 
 doubtful. That was only the beginning. In March troops were 
 sent in and a state of insurrection and rebellion declared. An- 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 173 
 
 other national organizer was severely beaten up, and another 
 striker killed. Every house was searched for firearms, and 
 very few were found, but helpless foreigners were thrown into 
 jail. Press censorship was established. The accusation was 
 made that two hundred thousand dollars had been subscribed 
 by the various coal companies for the carrying through of this 
 military regime. On March 26, 1904, four organizers, includ- 
 ing Mother Jones, were forcibly deported, and another eight 
 the following week for no reason other than that their "ab- 
 sence was better for the people." The beginning of the feeling 
 that brought the I.W.W. into the field a year later, that led 
 to the Ludlow killings in 1914, and the shootings in 1927, 
 was in evidence. 
 
 Meanwhile Mitchell had gone East again, had been in con- 
 ference with the operators, and had recommended the reduc- 
 tion. A little later he asked President Roosevelt if there was 
 nothing he could do to help. The President did send a special 
 investigating committee into the field, but it found no leverage 
 for Federal intervention. On June 2, 1904, after the strike had 
 been going on for seven months, a member of the National 
 Executive Board said that no further funds would be forth- 
 coming from the national office, that "close inquiry satisfied us 
 that the mines were being operated with reasonable success 
 and there was no possibility of winning the strike." It sug- 
 gested that the district call it off. The district tried to carry 
 on the strike for a few months more, but the heart and sinews 
 were out of it. 
 
 At the 1905 convention of the union, Robert Randall suc- 
 ceeded in making a scandal out of the conduct of the Col- 
 
174 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 orado situation. Mitchell had been to Europe and had come 
 back in the meantime, leaving directly after the National 
 Executive Board had come to its decision. This was used in 
 much the same way as the mine leaders used the absence of 
 Rockefeller from the field where his subordinates had carried 
 out what seemed criminal and illegal actions. 
 
 This was the first time Mitchell had had to stand up and 
 fight across the wreckage of an obvious disaster. His own 
 small failure in West Virginia had never drawn attack; it was 
 easily understood and lost in the record of his accomplish- 
 ments; it was more a personal matter with himself about 
 which he had felt badly. The reduction in 1904 had not led to 
 an open attack on him personally and now in the 1905 con- 
 vention it was hardly discussed, perhaps because in some sec- 
 tions the men had earned more money in 1904 than in the 
 previous year. 
 
 The main charges made by Randall were : first, that a policy 
 of sectional settlements in Colorado was a betrayal of the 
 strike; and second, that after the sectional settlement was 
 made, Mitchell further betrayed the southern miners by with- 
 drawing the support of the national office. The incidental 
 charges were embroideries on these themes: "Mitchell had 
 dined and wined with capitalists who were notorious labor- 
 baiters. He paid more attention to the desires of the Denver 
 Citizens' Alliance, a creature of the Colorado coal operators, 
 than to the needs of the strikers. He persecuted and drove out 
 Mother Jones because she would not submit to his policy. Five 
 days after the national office had withdrawn its support from 
 the Colorado strikers, Ee permitted himself to be the guest of 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 175 
 
 Frank Robbins (who had been so instrumental in the reduc- 
 tion) and of other employers at a sumptuous banquet at which 
 he was presented with diamond mementoes of esteem from 
 the employers. While the strikers starved, he went to Europe, 
 presumably as an elected delegate to the International Mining 
 Congress, but actually for his own pleasure and financial 
 profit. The Congress lasted five days and Mitchell stayed 
 abroad two months, writing, with the assistance of Dr. Weyl, 
 articles which he sold for two hundred dollars each, while he 
 was receiving a salary from the mine workers for the protec- 
 tion of their interests/' 
 
 Randall, who admitted openly on attack that he had de- 
 voted his time to collecting funds for the Western Federation 
 of Miners, and that he had gone back to work in the northern 
 fields following the disputed settlement, brought to the floor 
 of the convention some of the black and white emotional 
 quality of his organization. After telling the convention that 
 "Mother Jones' white-haired head will soon be laid at rest; 
 her voice so eloquent to plead the cause of the oppressed will 
 soon be hushed; her heart that beat so warmly in sympathy 
 for suffering humanity will be stilled in death. But when she 
 is laid forever in the grave, no one can ever say that she ever 
 betrayed, that she ever played false, the toiling and disin- 
 herited masses who are fighting the battle for labor's emanci- 
 pation." He drew a contrast between Mother Jones and 
 Mitchell, whom he called "the little tin labor god of the cap- 
 italist class," who dined and wined with "the man (Carnegie) 
 who has the blood of the Homestead men on his hands and 
 who had done more to crush American manhood and degrade 
 
176 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 American womanhood than any other man in the United 
 States," that "the time is coming when John Mitchell and 
 leaders of his type who have fastened themselves like car- 
 buncles {sic') on our organization will be scraped off." 
 
 There was argument back and forth as to the responsibility 
 and actual fact. Vice-President Lewis said that it was cer- 
 tainly not Mitchell who had insisted on or initiated the strike, 
 not he who was alone responsible for its conduct. Other men 
 showed that a greater amount was spent by the national office 
 for the eight thousand Colorado strikers than for the one 
 hundred fifty thousand men in the anthracite strike. They 
 charged the Western Federation of Miners with efforts to dis- 
 rupt the union. They denied, and the payroll substantiated 
 them, that Mother Jones had been forced out. Mitchell had, 
 in fact, kept Mother Jones on the staff in the face of serious 
 charges which she never denied, and over the protest of the 
 Executive Board. 
 
 Mitchell stood up solemnly to make his own defense. He 
 thought the settlement of the northern part of the state a good 
 one. He had not complete cooperation from the district. After 
 he had removed John Gehr, National Board member, for dis- 
 honesty in communicating information to the operators, the 
 district president had put him in charge of the strike. He de- 
 nied that he had spent twelve dollars a day on hotel bills in 
 Europe. He denied that he had stood in the way of the south- 
 ern strikers and then made the vote on Randall's accusations 
 of him an official vote of confidence. He said : "As far as my 
 present official position is concerned, I would be happy, in- 
 deed, gentlemen, if it were your wish to turn it over to-morrow 
 
THE FABIAN INTERLUDE 177 
 
 to someone else; happy, indeed, to go back to my home and 
 loved ones ... to have the pleasure denied me for seven 
 long years. . . . Do you suppose the salary I get here, good 
 as it is . . . compensates me for the loss of companionship? 
 . . . Do you think I crave this position? I wish to assure you 
 — and I defy any man living to contradict what I am going to 
 say — that from the first year after my election, I have never 
 asked, directly or indirectly, for any man's support or for a 
 single vote. I will admit that the first year I ran, I made a 
 contest for the office. But if I stay here one year or twenty 
 years, this office must come to me unsolicited and un- 
 sought. . . . 
 
 "Some of you have forgotten, but I never have, the con- 
 ditions you had when I first came with you. I do not claim 
 any part of the credit for the change, but I hope the time may 
 never come when my people must go back to where they were 
 some years ago, when I used to see in the daily papers through- 
 out the country . . . accounts of men and committees going 
 around begging bread for the miners; not miners on strike 
 but miners at work. . . . 
 
 "Statements made by Delegate Randall and by men like 
 him do me injury. Some men will believe such statements. A 
 lie uttered can never be taken back. . . . 
 
 "Now, gentlemen, if one of the charges this man makes is 
 true ... I say that I am utterly unfit to represent you; I 
 should be deposed and you should put in my place a man 
 whom you believe to be trustworthy. On the other hand if 
 these statements are untrue . . . then I say I have a right to 
 demand of you that you afford me protection. I cannot pro- 
 
178 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 tect myself against the scandalmongers all over America . . . 
 I cannot reach them all. . . . Unless I get them here or un- 
 less I can get into their locals I cannot answer them. . . . 
 Either this man or I should not be a member of this union." 
 
 The motion to expel Randall was made by a Socialist, one 
 John Walker of Illinois, and seconded by another, Wardjon 
 of Colorado, the latter stating that originally he had been 
 opposed to the northern settlement. Randall, who said he "had 
 not meant to attack Mr. Mitchell," was given a chance to re- 
 tract his charges. He refused it and the motion was unani- 
 mously passed by the convention. 
 
 Underneath the emotional cloud around this attack on 
 Mitchell, the rather simple attempt to claim a leader corrupt 
 because he failed or others failed, the desire of the delegates 
 to protect their leader from scandalmongering, the kernel of a 
 very important issue was exposed. The issue was not, as some 
 saw it, whether men who thought nothing ill of "dining and 
 wining" with the employers were proper persons to lead a 
 movement of the disinherited of the earth; it was, rather, to 
 what extent the union could extend its control of an industry 
 scattered over twenty-six states when its leaders showed this 
 willingness to make fragmentary and sectional settlements. A 
 year later the opportunism of such a policy became the main 
 problem facing the national union. 
 
IX 
 THE BROKEN HARMONY 
 
 IN 1906 three things came together: the agreement in the 
 central competitive field, the agreement in all the out- 
 lying districts including the southwestern field, and the an- 
 thracite award expired. The way was clear for unified nation- 
 wide action on April 1, 1906, and that action, to judge from 
 the stand of the operators, would have to be one of re- 
 sistance. 
 
 Mitchell faced the miners' convention in no high hopes. He 
 knew himself to what extent the prosperity of the country had 
 helped his leadership, to what extent his conservatism had 
 made the operators willing to deal with him and also, per- 
 haps, had made them sure that he would do anything to avoid 
 a fight. He knew to what extent his strength lay in the unified 
 force of the miners behind him, in his ability for some years 
 to keep factional disputes and differences from policy from 
 becoming public property. For the first time since he had been 
 president, the vote cast for him was less than that cast for 
 Lewis as vice-president. He had been hurt at the time by the 
 distrust expressed in the turning of his picture to the wall. He 
 had been wounded and angered by Randall's attack, he who 
 had tried to rule by affection rather than arbitrary power, to 
 make the men feel the loyalty to the union which he himself 
 felt. He was dismayed now at the open discussion of the ex- 
 
180 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 tent to which the known opposition of Lewis would influence 
 the complicated and none too rosy situation in 1906. 
 
 Personal troubles : the death of another child, a six-year-old 
 daughter of whom he was particularly fond, the loss of all his 
 savings of two thousand dollars in the failure of a local Illinois 
 bank — these too had their share in contributing to his anxiety. 
 
 He had gone to the anthracite field during the summer pre- 
 ceding the convention, and had rallied the men, discouraged, 
 in spite of increased earnings and a shorter working day, by 
 their treatment from the Board of Conciliation, their helpless- 
 ness in view of the umpire's decision that the operators' privi- 
 lege of dismissal could not be touched. They responded with 
 a new enthusiasm. In the Scranton district alone, ten thousand 
 men rejoined the union. Mitchell rode down the street at 
 President Roosevelt's side. There were Mitchell parades, 
 Mitchell songs, buttons, flags and babies. But now he was get- 
 ting to know the value of such acclaim, the fate both of men 
 who want leaders to worship and the leaders they worship. He 
 said: "John Mitchell can't save you unless you put forth 
 an effort to save yourselves. . . . 1906 will soon come around 
 and what are you going to do'? If you are not organized, I 
 won't work for you. You are not going to do with me as you 
 did with the lamented John Siney. ... I am not satisfied 
 with conditions here. The hours are too long and the wages are 
 twenty-five per cent lower than they are in the bituminous 
 fields." The fate of John Siney, anthracite leader of the sev- 
 enties and eighties, who died, desolate, rejected in a period 
 of depression by the miners whom he had organized, haunted 
 Mitchell. He himself, it was rumored, was no longer well. 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 181 
 
 His speeches that fall were marked by hoarseness and signs of 
 fatigue. In a few months, however, he regained some hope 
 from the fact that the anthracite membership had doubled 
 and was again over eighty thousand. 
 
 When he called the miners' convention to order on January 
 16, 1906, he looked tired. Stories of his illness had been going 
 around and he met some cynical smiles about it. The fact that 
 the three agreements terminated at the same time seemed to 
 the outside world a source of strength in case of strike. He 
 knew well enough that so far as negotiating three new agree- 
 ments was concerned, it meant a great deal of detailed work 
 and talk at the same time, with very few men doing most of 
 the work and carrying all the responsibility. 
 
 The convention agreed on ten demands for the bituminous 
 miners: the admission of the southwestern states and "all out- 
 lying districts whose operators are willing to participate"; a 
 twelve and one-half per cent general increase; a universal 
 run-of-mine system of payment; a seven cent differential be- 
 tween machine and pick-mined coal; uniform outside day 
 wage scale; abolition of employment of boys under sixteen 
 years "in or around the mines"; a yearly contract; an eight- 
 hour day; payment for at least two hours' work if the men 
 were required to report for work. So far as the anthracite 
 fields were concerned, the decision of the three districts had 
 been to leave the matter of negotiation in the hands of a com- 
 mittee headed by Mitchell. A conference with the anthracite 
 operators had been arranged for February 15th. Nothing 
 further could be done until Mitchell and the others had at- 
 tended that conference. 
 
182 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Since a fight seemed inevitable, it was decided that the dele- 
 gates from all the districts whose agreements expired March 
 31st were to remain in Indianapolis. In this way they could 
 meet with their delegates at the joint conference at the end 
 of each day and decide on further action. The anthracite dele- 
 gates were free to leave. The southwestern delegates were in- 
 structed to proceed with their joint conferences concurrently 
 with the central competitive field. 
 
 The battle began. The first demand — for the inclusion of 
 Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, Texas, Iowa and the Indian Ter- 
 ritory, in one joint conference with the central field — was 
 abruptly refused by the operators in the central field. The 
 miners were taunted with their inability to bring the West 
 Virginia operators to the conference. The operators had no 
 desire to have their own ranks split by the admission of small 
 well-unionized sections and operators. They knew that there 
 was much dissension in the union, and had no willingness to 
 give Mitchell even the paper credit of extending the influence 
 of the interstate agreement. 
 
 Mitchell, who was well aware not only of the dissension, 
 but of the fact that the period since 1904 had brought fail- 
 ures in Pennsylvania, West Virginia and Alabama, presented 
 the miners' demand for an increase very simply. The policy 
 of reduction, he said, had been of benefit neither to the miners 
 nor to the operators, no, not even to the public. As he had 
 predicted, the railroads and large industrial consumers of soft 
 coal alone had benefited. The prices on domestic coal to the 
 consumer had gone up rather than down. Nor had the reduc- 
 tion brought the increased amount of work promised. In short, 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 183 
 
 from every point of view, the policy of wage reduction had 
 failed in every respect, except in the sense that it had demon- 
 strated its own weakness. In the pig iron industry, which had 
 been named by the operators in 1904 as the barometer of in- 
 dustrial conditions, there had been an increase in wages. There 
 was prosperity in other branches of industry. The miners, it 
 followed, were entitled not only to the return of the 1903 
 scale, but to an increase over and above it. In connection with 
 the demand for the run-of-mine payment, Mitchell, in addi- 
 tion to the usual arguments for its essential fairness and prac- 
 ticability, turned the operators' guns on them by showing that 
 most of the local disputes which they mentioned as examples 
 of the lack of discipline, came from a failure to initiate such 
 a system of payment. 
 
 Robbins, who was again spokesman for the operators, gave 
 an answer equally brief and simple. He quoted from the union 
 Journal to show defeats and lower prices in partially organ- 
 ized fields such as Central Pennsylvania. He denied an in- 
 crease in coal prices. Competition from the non-union dis- 
 tricts made ridiculous the demands for run-of-mine and in- 
 creased differential for machine-mined coal. What he sug- 
 gested was the scale which would, according to him, permit 
 more work in the union fields. It was better for the men to 
 have lower rates of payment, more work and higher annual 
 earnings. "There is no buncombe in the position of the oper- 
 ators." He offered no guarantee of this increased opportunity 
 to work and drew Mitchell's retort: "As long as I have any 
 recollection I have Heard that old story. ... A few years 
 ago the miners were foolishly taken in by such a promise. We 
 
184 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 don't want steady work. We know that steady work is im- 
 possible. 5 ' 
 
 The conference went on, with a mutual measuring of 
 strength, for some days. The only agreement arrived at was 
 one prohibiting the employment of boys under sixteen under- 
 ground, and boys under fourteen for surface work. But even 
 this was not accomplished without the unprecedented move of 
 Patrick Dolan, president of the Pittsburgh district, who spoke 
 against this reform. But he stirred another and greater uproar 
 among the miners when, on the vote to continue the 1904 re- 
 duction for two years, he voted against the miners and with 
 the operators. It was not only treachery to his own delegation, 
 it was an open advertisement to the main operator in his dis- 
 trict, Robbins, who had moved the continuance of the reduc- 
 tion, that the split in the ranks had gone far. The record is 
 dramatic : 
 
 ". . . The miners of Illinois, Indiana and Ohio voted in the 
 negative. Mr. Dolan voted in the affirmative for the miners of 
 Western Pennsylvania but the other delegates from that district 
 voted in the negative. 
 
 "The Chairman declared the motion lost. 
 
 "Mr. W. D. Ryan : How did the Pennsylvania miners vote ? 
 
 "Mr. Dolan : The Pennsylvania miners vote 'Aye.' V 
 
 The other delegates from Western Pennsylvania again rose and 
 stated that they had voted in the negative. 
 
 "Mr. Ryan: I want to know how the Pennsylvania miners are 
 recorded as voting. 
 
 "Mr. Dolan : I have the authority to vote for the Pennsylvania 
 miners, and until they take that authority away I shall vote. 
 
 "A number of delegates shouted : Take it away. Take it away ! 
 
 "Mr. Mitchell: This convention yesterday, by a practically 
 unanimous vote, decided to indorse the action of the miners' scale 
 committee. Therefore the miners vote 'No.' 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 185 
 
 "Mr. Robbins : Mr. Mitchell has no right to cast his vote in that 
 way unless he is the dictator of the mining interests of this coun- 
 try. We are here representing states. . . ." 
 
 The Joint Conference ended in an uproar. It became clear 
 that if the operators were going to insist upon a continuance 
 of the reduction, there would be a nation-wide strike. When 
 the miners went into special convention by themselves on Feb- 
 ruary 1st, they knew, and the country knew, that they were 
 facing the most serious situation the union had met since 1897, 
 when the central competitive field had been established, and 
 that now they had much more to lose. 
 
 While the papers were headlining "Miners Declare for 
 War" and, a little later, "John Mitchell's Fall Predicted, ,, 
 Mitchell bent himself to reestablish the unity of forces neces- 
 sary no matter what the character of the final decision was. 
 The very first day W. D. Ryan introduced a resolution which 
 was passed, providing that "no contract be signed in any dis- 
 trict until we all get a settlement or go down in defeat to- 
 gether." 
 
 This done, the miners proceeded to clean out Dolan. The 
 delegates from his own district passed a resolution of con- 
 demnation. The national convention would have ousted him 
 at once had Mitchell allowed it. Dolan's fate was handed over 
 to his own district convention in Pittsburgh five days later. 
 Mitchell was requested to be present but was kept away by 
 the anthracite developments. The man he chose to send there 
 was the vice-president, Tom Lewis. No sooner arrived in 
 Pittsburgh than Lewis was quoted in the public press as hav- 
 ing "expressed distrust of Mitchell." Lewis did not run the 
 
186 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 risk of alienating the Dolan men. The result was that the dis- 
 trict convention too ended in an uproar. Mitchell was now in- 
 formed, as was the public at large, of the extent to which his 
 official family would support him. There was also a story cur- 
 rent that Ryan, his old friend and adviser, had split with him 
 on the ground that he had not been sufficiently aggressive. 
 This was denied, with considerable spirit, by both men. 
 
 While the press was reporting that Baer, the outstanding 
 power in the anthracite field, and Robbins, the leading oper- 
 ator in the bituminous field, were in conference in an ap- 
 parent attempt to solidify their forces, and the Indianapolis 
 News was repeating the story that the 1904 reduction had 
 been planned as a means of unseating Mitchell and suggesting 
 that the operators had since learned more telling tactics to ac- 
 complish that end, Mitchell and the anthracite delegates met 
 with the anthracite operators in New York City. This, the 
 first occasion on which the operators of the anthracite region 
 voluntarily met with representatives of the United Mine 
 Workers to adjust mine wage scales, seemed hopeful to 
 Mitchell. 
 
 Then the encouraging news came from Pittsburgh that a 
 second district convention, called to act on Dolan's betrayal 
 of his trust, had removed him from office. In that convention 
 Dolan had made Mitchell the issue. He pointed to the failures 
 in Colorado, in West Virginia, in Meyersdale, Southwestern 
 Kansas and Western Pennsylvania, after more than a million 
 dollars had been spent in these fields. It took "more than a 
 Prince Albert and a red carnation to make a leader," Dolan 
 said. Mitchell had been made by favorable circumstances. 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 187 
 
 Since the depression he had been proven to be a poor leader. 
 Dolan went further, and stated that at the convention of the 
 American Federation of Labor in November, 1905, Mitchell 
 had told him that he would take the 1904 scale rather than 
 risk a strike. To attack a leader in time of war met with no 
 approval. Deposed as district president, Dolan however still 
 remained a delegate to any special convention of the national 
 organization. 
 
 Shortly after this, Robbins, who had seemed bent upon 
 forcing Mitchell out of the situation, and on maintaining the 
 1904 scale, changed his attitude. Perhaps the outstanding in- 
 fluence in this change was the fact that the United States 
 Steel Corporation, with which he had his main contracts, 
 wished to avoid an interruption in its coal supply. Dolan's 
 defeat may have seemed ominous to Robbins. To some extent 
 he was influenced by H. N. Taylor, the Illinois operator who 
 was Mitchell's close personal friend. Taylor was convinced 
 that an interstate agreement was preferable to uncontrolled 
 competition. He knew too that the acknowledged militancy 
 of the Illinois miners and their large treasury would hold them 
 out until the bitter end, and that the unorganized mines of 
 West Virginia would probably replace Illinois as the second 
 largest coal producing state in the country in the event of a 
 long strike. He pointed out to Robbins that even in the event 
 of a defeat of the miners and a repudiation of Mitchell, the 
 spirit of unionism would not be dead. 
 
 There was, however, no excuse to reopen the joint confer- 
 ence which had been adjourned indefinitely. As a result of an 
 agreement to do so between Mitchell, Taylor and Robbins, 
 
188 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Roosevelt was asked to mediate. In answer to his letter, the 
 cause of which was not perhaps known to operators and 
 miners, the conference reopened on March 19th. Robbins now 
 moved to restore the 1903 scale, which meant an increase of 
 slightly less than six per cent. The operators in the states 
 other than Pennsylvania voted against his action, and took 
 occasion to question Robbins' motives and to depose him as 
 their spokesman. 
 
 At the same time that this conference was going on, there 
 were special sessions of the miners' delegates to decide on each 
 day's developments. While bituminous miners were beginning 
 to hope that if Robbins could stay in control there would be 
 a restoration of the 1903 scale, the anthracite operators an- 
 nounced a complete refusal of all four of the demands of the 
 anthracite miners. The only proposal they would consider was 
 a renewal of the commission's award. Robbins' deposal and 
 the action of the anthracite operators were blows to peace. 
 Now there were less than two weeks before April 1st when 
 the agreements and the award expired. 
 
 Dolan was not as yet completely disposed of, and many 
 delegates objected violently to his being seated in the con- 
 vention. They were reminded by Mitchell and Wilson that 
 he was entitled to his seat by the constitution, and that they 
 had no more right to violate the laws of the union than Dolan 
 himself. Mitchell pointed out that no one "in the convention 
 has reason to entertain more personal resentment against Pat- 
 rick Dolan than myself . . . yet I hope that I am big enough 
 and manly enough to lay aside personal feelings when the 
 question of the laws of the organization is brought into ques- 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 189 
 
 tion." The district was given the task of expelling Dolan as 
 a delegate, but the convention insisted on discussing its right 
 to expel him as a member. Walker of Illinois asked : "Would 
 it be a violation of the constitution for us to hang him'?" and 
 drew the rebuke from Mitchell, "The chair desires to say- 
 that such language may not read as well as it sounds. . . . 
 You cannot tell in reading whether such a remark is a joke or 
 in earnest." 
 
 The danger to Mitchell here was that Dolan, knowing that 
 his future in the union was over, would, so long as he was a 
 delegate, cause embarrassment to Mitchell by insisting among 
 other things on the original demand for a twelve and a half 
 per cent increase and a strict adherence to the Ryan resolu- 
 tion which provided for national settlements only. Mitchell's 
 action in not expelling him was interpreted to mean that he 
 had Dolan in a position where any action that might disrupt 
 the convention would lead to the end of tolerance. 
 
 At this juncture, when stories were being circulated that 
 Dolan had in earlier times turned his union connections to 
 financial profit, Mitchell was suddenly and to his surprise ac- 
 cused, in a very minor way, of the same thing. In the joint 
 conference, the miners were bringing out the connection be- 
 tween the railroads and the coal companies in the bituminous 
 fields, and one of the operators' delegates was charged with 
 being purchasing agent for the Illinois Central. He retorted 
 that Mitchell had "seen the time when you were glad I was an 
 officer in the railroad company." On Mitchell's refusal to 
 let the remark pass, the man explained that Mitchell's family 
 had been given a pass over the railroad. It was not a very 
 
190 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 serious charge but Mitchell, who was nonplused, would not 
 let it go. He denied asking for the privilege and Ryan arose 
 to explain that he had done it without Mitchell's knowledge. 
 The chairman of the conference ruled that no reflection had 
 been cast on Mitchell's "integrity" but Mitchell was not con- 
 tent. In a statement, rather long for him, he said that the 
 chairman's ruling cleared him only personally, but not his 
 leadership. He wanted complete clearing of the record and 
 of his reputation "before the people of this country," as this 
 was the first time in all the years since he had risen from coal 
 miner to president of a union which had "grown from insig- 
 nificance to its present great and proud magnitude" that his 
 integrity had been questioned. A great industrial conflict 
 might emerge in the industry within the next few weeks and 
 it was important, he said, that the record of the miners' leader 
 be clear. He did not hesitate to insist that no one should have 
 the least opportunity in the struggle to link him in their 
 minds with any union officials who had lost the confidence 
 of their people through connections that could not be clearly 
 explained. Ryan took the blame, but while that closed the 
 incident officially, it was not closed in Mitchell's mind. 
 
 The net result of all the wrangling, the attempts at com- 
 promise, the accusations and counter-accusations, was that two 
 days before the expiration of all the agreements, the joint 
 conferences in both the central and southwestern fields broke 
 up without any agreement. The anthracite situation was drift- 
 ing. The miners went into session alone. They had to frame 
 some policy, if not on the duration of the suspension, at least 
 on the method by which settlements should be made. The Ryan 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 191 
 
 resolution had committed the union to a policy of national 
 settlements. The vote of Robbins and the Pennsylvania oper- 
 ators, the general attitude of many operators in Illinois, Ohio, 
 Indiana, and in the southwest since that time, suggested, how- 
 ever, that they were willing to settle on the miners' terms. 
 That was a new development, and it raised the issue again 
 sharply: Should the policy of national settlements only be 
 followed? Or should it be modified to apply to only one of 
 the two industries ? Or were district settlements and individual 
 offers to be considered? 
 
 At this moment the new chairman of the operators, John 
 H. Winder of Ohio, asked President Roosevelt to secure arbi- 
 tration. Mitchell, knowing how all the miners felt about arbi- 
 tration since the anthracite award, wired the president to as- 
 sure him that more than fifty per cent of the tonnage was 
 willing to pay the 1903 scale and that no arbitration was 
 necessary. Then, without any previous discussion with Mitch- 
 ell as to its wording or the advisability of introducing such a 
 resolution at this time, the president of the Illinois miners, 
 H. C. Perry, moved that the convention authorize its national 
 and district officials to make two-year agreements with any 
 individual operators who would restore the 1903 scale. This 
 meant the repudiation for the time being, no doubt, of the cen- 
 tral competitive field, of the nine-year-old policy of the union 
 of holding their men together until all the operators of the 
 central field were willing to sign. 
 
 With the national suspension one day away, this resolu- 
 tion met with a warm response. Ryan was one of those to sup- 
 port it. He was sure that the Illinois operators would be 
 
192 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 forced to sign. His own resolution calling for a national sus- 
 pension and national settlements had, he said, done its work 
 by making the operators give up their demand for a reduc- 
 tion, thus "raising the ante," and bringing to light those men 
 who were willing to settle on the 1903 scale. Every argument 
 against the Perry resolution was used by Ryan for it. Dis- 
 trict abuses, such as the non-union mines owned by Robbins 
 himself in Pennsylvania, could be more easily settled on a dis- 
 trict basis. Although he did not say it, district advantages such 
 as the more favorable machine differentials in two of the 
 states, Illinois and Indiana, and the run-of-mine system in 
 Illinois, could, the delegates felt, be better assured through 
 district settlements than through forced arbitration. Ryan 
 was very frank on the subject of arbitration: "I would rather 
 go out to-morrow and fight any kind of a fight than to become 
 a party to placing you in a position where you have to arbi- 
 trate. I never did believe very much in arbitration and I don't 
 want to arbitrate anything unless I know I am going to win. 
 I don't want your affairs to get into the hands of a commis- 
 sion that will not relieve any more of your complaints than 
 our brothers in the anthracite fields were relieved of, and I say 
 that with all due respect to those who handled the anthracite 
 affairs. . . ." Ryan remembered that one of the members of 
 the commission did not even know the meaning of the term 
 "buddy." 
 
 Notably in opposition to this change of policy were two 
 men from Ohio : Tom Lewis, the vice-president, and William 
 Green, who was later to become secretary of the organization, 
 and then, on the death of Gompers, president of the American 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 193 
 
 Federation of Labor. Were they influenced by the fact that the 
 Ohio operators were most bitter against the return to the 1903 
 scale? Another severe critic was Adolph Germer, one of the 
 most outspoken of the Illinois radicals. 
 
 Mitchell would not be a party to the closing of the discus- 
 sion, and finally gave his opinion. Although he had not pre- 
 viously seen the Perry resolution, he believed it was possible 
 for the union to divide and conquer. He added, "I know how 
 popular it is sometimes to appeal to sentiment ... in favor 
 of a general strike, but I know too, from years of experience, 
 how different it is when passions cool off." He spoke of the 
 suffering in the anthracite strike; he had never forgotten the 
 terrific burden of the miners' woes. He then offered the men 
 their choice of his policy or his resignation. In 1902, when 
 the anthracite convention had voted for a strike over his ad- 
 vice, he had made no such attempt as this to have their vote 
 turn around him as a leader. What had happened in the in- 
 terval? Here he said: "Just as soon as I fail to have the con- 
 fidence and the sincere respect of the miners, not only as to my 
 personal integrity, but also as to my judgment as to what is 
 best for them, then I ask you men to relieve me of my re- 
 sponsibility." Was this an attempt to force the delegates? 
 Was it simply a sign of his own very deep, but until that day 
 unexpressed judgment? Did it indicate a complete lack of any 
 desire to retain in his hands the reins of power? Was he dis- 
 couraged at the lack of harmony within the administration, or 
 was it a means of having the miners force a unity on officials 
 who would not give it themselves? In spite of the results 
 of a similar policy in Colorado, of the long difficulties with 
 
194 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 West Virginia, where union and non-union men worked in 
 adjacent valleys, did he really believe that a national settle- 
 ment only at this time would mean the loss of such advance 
 as the miners had made? Or was he overawed and lost at the 
 magnitude of the situation before him? In the course of the 
 next two years, there were to be hot answers to each question. 
 
 Those who thought the interstate agreement the first essen- 
 tial disclaimed any personal motive in the attack on the Perry 
 resolution. Green of Ohio said: "Two years ago one of the 
 strong reasons advanced why we should accept a reduction 
 was in order to secure the expiration of all the contracts in 
 the country at the same time . . . and now we are going to 
 take another position. We cannot afford to divide our forces. 
 The proper thing for us to do is to stand together and wait 
 until the time when reason and moderation will possess the 
 minds of the operators of this country." He pointed out that 
 if Mitchell's claim, that fifty per cent of the tonnage was 
 willing to sign the agreement now, were based on fact, it 
 would become a matter of time only, with the continuation of 
 the nation-wide suspension, before the remainder would sign. 
 
 For the first time in many years, Tom Lewis made a public 
 stand on policy in diametrical opposition to Mitchell. He was 
 fundamentally opposed, he said, to the policy of individual 
 and sectional settlements. His twenty-two years of experience 
 in the service of the miners, with the many national organiza- 
 tions which had come and gone, had proven to him that it 
 was precisely the sectional settlement method which broke 
 the back of the 1 894 suspension. It was the omission of West 
 Virginia in the 1897 settlement, opposed at the time by Ryan 
 
THE BROKEN HARMONY 195 
 
 as well as by himself, which had resulted in the West Virginia 
 problem of 1906. He pointed out the many unorganized dis- 
 tricts, eighty thousand non-union men in Pennsylvania alone. 
 He doubted Robbins' sincerity, asking as its test that the 
 Pittsburgh operators sign a contract that would apply to all 
 their mines, union and non-union. So far as the winning and 
 maintenance of public sympathy was concerned, that was part 
 of the task of leadership. He pointed out that the anthracite 
 mine workers were going on suspension anyhow — or at least 
 so he had read in the press without any direct information 
 from his superior officer — and he urged that this could be a 
 help to the bituminous miners. He probably knew that he 
 was not going to win in this fight against Mitchell's policy, 
 but he wanted to go on record this time. When the vote was 
 taken, Mitchell won, but not before he had given notice to 
 still another group in the union that his underlying philosophy 
 and tactics were at variance with theirs. 
 
 He had judged the situation of the moment better than his 
 opponents. By the middle of April the majority of the oper- 
 ators in the unionized fields had signed the 1903 scale. By the 
 middle of July, the last of the die-hard operators in the union 
 fields had submitted. West Virginia operators had made con- 
 cessions even to unorganized workers. In the anthracite field, 
 however, the only triumph was a slight nominal one : the mine 
 workers' officials, as representatives of the three anthracite 
 districts, attached their names to the agreement. There was 
 no other gain. 
 
 The union was becoming something quite different from 
 what it had been in 1898. The young leader, who had been 
 
196 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 put in because old leaders had killed themselves off with their 
 failures and quarrels, was no longer free from sharp criticism 
 and entangling relationships, and factions were again com- 
 plicating the task of leadership. He had already stayed in 
 power four times longer than any of the earlier presidents. The 
 movement had grown tenfold in power and in membership, 
 although often that had to be revived by sheer force of offi- 
 cial effort. It had not gone as rapidly as he had hoped; per- 
 haps not along the lines others had expected. The union was 
 still the greatest in the country in point of size, but it was far 
 from bringing to its men the sort of life he had in those young 
 days hoped he could bring to the miners. It had wrested a 
 larger share from the gilded age than any other union — but 
 not large enough. His rise had been sudden. Some men had 
 said it had been far too fast for his own good. Now, in the 
 summer of 1906, morale was low. All his associates knew that 
 Mitchell was unhappy and worried. His intimate friends knew 
 that while the foundation of his unhappiness lay in the union 
 situation in which he had played his part, one could not say 
 whether the fact that John Mitchell was now drinking, was 
 cause or effect of his unhappiness. 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 
 
 MITCHELL had begun drinking after the anthracite 
 strike, according to a friend, as a cure for his in- 
 somnia. His serious drinking did not begin, however, until 
 1906. As a youngster he had been called a "sissy" for refus- 
 ing to drink with the boys of his own age. His abstinence 
 was even more striking in these early days as a local union 
 leader, for then the saloon was the cradle and the refuge of 
 the union men, who were denied the privilege of meeting else- 
 where. He had not accustomed his system to alcohol, and it 
 developed that a very little put him under. When he did take 
 it up, it was not beer but stronger stuff, not sociability but 
 escape. Most of his associates drank and many of them were 
 heavy drinkers and frank about it. It struck them as odd that 
 Mitchell should be so concerned once he had begun drinking. 
 His life was somewhat that of a traveling salesman in the 
 , sense that he was at home or at his office only a few weeks of 
 each year. He needed companionship badly, but partly be- 
 cause he was naturally reserved, and partly also because other 
 men were somewhat reserved with him on account of his posi- 
 tion, it was difficult for him to make friends. He could be 
 easy of companionship across the poker table, and that helped. 
 He was not a man with wide interests — his work and his tem- 
 perament limited him. He also needed relief from the heavy 
 
198 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 responsibilities of his task. In the early days he had found re- 
 lief in the religious exaltation of his feeling of service and 
 accomplishment in the cause. Now, in this time of disap- 
 pointment and breaking harmony, he sought another type of 
 relief and escape. The relief and escape were short, and the 
 depression which followed a drinking spell of long duration. 
 To him it meant a loss of self-control, a weakness, a surren- 
 der of his earlier self-dependence, for which he was not able 
 to forgive himself. It irked him to the point of desperation 
 when he could himself see that it interfered with the execution 
 of his responsibility. In 1906, some operators had him drunk 
 and playing poker for high stakes at the moment when their 
 spokesman was secretly sending out the telegram to Roose- 
 velt asking for arbitration. Warned by a reporter, Mitchell 
 sobered up quickly and managed to check that move. It was 
 the only time that he had ever been drunk on duty, but he 
 could not forget it. Essentially he was a sensitive, introspec- 
 tive person, lacking a certain robust matter-of-factness about 
 the world and about himself, feeling his responsibility to such 
 an extent that when he saw his picture in a striker's home 
 enshrined next to that of the Virgin Mary, he exclaimed, 
 "My God, how can I ever fail them?" It was his attitude 
 toward his drinking, rather than the habit itself, which was 
 his problem. Other men, including his own people, could be 
 tolerant of his failing; an excess of family devotion might 
 have stood more in the way of his single-minded pursuit of 
 his task. He could not be so tolerant with himself. 
 
 His drinking was really what he called it, an illness. He 
 tried to cure himself. The cures were unsuccessful. He tried 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 199 
 
 to keep it from the outside world as well as from his family. 
 He began to think of it as an hereditary curse on him, some- 
 thing naturally beyond his control, but most of the time he 
 was ashamed of himself. 
 
 During the year 1906 Mitchell seemed convinced that ne 
 would never get the habit under control as long as he was 
 with the union, that a change in his living habits, a relief 
 from the responsibility and the strain might help him in this 
 personal problem. But in 1906 he could not retire, cheerless 
 though the prospect was, because not even his "illness" was 
 enough to make him willing to retire under attack. 
 
 The attack this time was not a personal one on him. No 
 one had found him affected by his illness at any of the mo- 
 ments when that would have been disastrous. The miners, 
 who practically always chose their officers on a purely per- 
 sonal basis, with very little regard to their statements of poli- 
 cies, would have been the first to resent an accusation on the 
 floor that the personal life of a successful leader was a mat- 
 ter to be discussed in public. They were not puritans. Far 
 from being a crime in their eyes, drinking meant sociability 
 and sociability meant democracy. 
 
 The attack, when it came at the 1907 convention, was on 
 a leader who had been willing to give up the principle — that 
 a whole industry, no matter how scattered it was throughout 
 the country, should be dealt with as a unit — for what he con- 
 sidered a more practical position. To some extent, this attack 
 was voiced by men who had, in contrast to Mitchell's ap- 
 parent opportunism, what might be called a "philosophy of 
 unionism'' to which they felt obligated to adhere. To some 
 
200 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 of these, the more vocally assertive leadership of a Debs or 
 a Haywood, even though its results were meager in immedi- 
 ate increases, or in the improvement of conditions of labor, 
 or even in the gain of union membership, might seem more 
 successful because they believed it would lead in the long run 
 to the spreading of the gospel of the revolutionary function 
 of unionism. By others, men like William Green, whose fun- 
 damental concept of unionism differed very little from that 
 of Mitchell, the objections to Mitchell's policy were made on 
 the ground of more immediate results. 
 
 There was little way of telling at that moment to what 
 extent the attack on Mitchell's policy screened a pure and 
 simple personal ambition to succeed him. Later, after Tom 
 Lewis had been in office three years, it became clear that in- 
 stead of a firm policy of his own, his outstanding quality was 
 a desire to stay in power, and to create, as Mitchell had never 
 done, a political machine that would keep him there. 
 
 The five hundred delegates who filed into the convention 
 hall in January of 1907 were themselves visible proof of the 
 somber days the union was facing. Usually twelve hundred 
 crowded the room. But now after a year of unemployment, 
 nation-wide strike, loss of morale, probably even half of this 
 meager delegation would have been refused places if the dues 
 records from their locals had been strictly examined. Only in 
 one respect did Mitchell minimize the unfavorable events of 
 the year. By contrast with all the threats and warnings spoken 
 by the opponents of his policy of local and district settle- 
 ments, the existence of the union as such seemed a source of 
 keen gratification. He had made another tour through the an- 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 201 
 
 thracite field, and found in the union only thirty-two out of 
 every one hundred and fifty workers, and was unable to ac- 
 count for the cause of the apathy. To some extent he was will- 
 ing to blame it on the spies who infested the whole region and 
 "whose business it was to create discontent and dissatisfaction 
 among the idle employees — conditions no doubt known to the 
 operators." The I.W.W. had made some inroads on the feel- 
 ing of the men toward the union. The slow financial pay- 
 ments from the local and district organizations to the na- 
 tional office were also disheartening. Only in retrospect from 
 the inception of the union to date did some claim that the 
 wisest policy had been pursued seem possible. The only other 
 alternative was that the union, which now included somewhat 
 less than half the men in the industry, would have been 
 forced into a more disadvantageous national settlement by the 
 prolongation of the strike. To Mitchell it seemed that in spite 
 of the unfavorable outcome of strikes in Alabama, Tennessee 
 and the Meyersdale district of Pennsylvania, "we have dem- 
 onstrated that although an organization of peace, we have the 
 ability to fight." 
 
 After the president's report had been concluded, the vice- 
 president arose to give his. He did the unusual thing of 
 launching forth, at the end of his official comment, into a 
 criticism of the policy of 1906. He had been against it then, 
 and he wanted vindication now. He claimed not to be making 
 a personal fight, although there were few who believed him, 
 but to be taking the opportunity of a convention where no 
 agreement was to be formulated, where no plea of unity in 
 the face of the enemy could override him, to say that the 
 
202 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 policy had already been tried and found wanting. The union 
 had not only lost membership in the unionized fields, because 
 the men were dissatisfied with the terms of settlement, but it 
 had somewhat lost the power of being successful in the still 
 unorganized areas. A great opportunity had been passed by. 
 All the contracts had been carefully dated to end on April 1st, 
 1906, an arrangement for which he claimed and was conceded 
 some credit. He painted a picture of the strike that might 
 have been, with the central districts of Pennsylvania (Irwin 
 and Connellsville) joining with the workers of West Vir- 
 ginia, portions of Ohio, the unsuccessful strikers of Alabama, 
 and the defeated miners of Colorado in a national agreement. 
 He raised also the question, interesting in view of the na- 
 tional panic that was to take place that very year, "If we 
 are not able to establish . . . our right to organize with the 
 present prosperity existing in this country, what can we ex- 
 pect when industrial depression takes place and take place it 
 will." Then he read the record of conditions lost through the 
 policy of sectional settlements, a long list. 
 
 His report with this attack went, together with Mitchell's 
 report, to the Committee on Officers' Reports. Its attitude to 
 this remarkable situation of being presented with a choice be- 
 tween its two main officers (and a repudiation of the policy 
 which the delegates had adopted at the last moment when it 
 was clear that the operators in the union field were divided), 
 was awaited eagerly by the delegates on the floor. They knew 
 that there were enough opponents of Mitchell on that com- 
 mittee as well as on the committee on resolutions to make a 
 fight very possible. Would it be a fight? 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 203 
 
 The committee stood behind Mitchell. Rebuking the vice- 
 president in one sentence, it spoke in the next of "the de- 
 moralized condition of our joint forces." Some of them 
 probably meant that Lewis had been responsible for this de- 
 moralization (in view of his unwillingness to stand out 
 against Dolan when sent as Mitchell's representative to the 
 Pittsburgh convention). Others probably stated it as a mat- 
 ter of fact, without placing blame on Lewis or on Mitchell, 
 who had a veto power over the acts of the other officers. 
 
 Then Mitchell rose to defend himself and his policy. He re- 
 gretted that the press had made much of the presence of the 
 two factions. He suggested a solution of that difficulty, if it 
 did exist, a little more inclusive than his statement in other 
 years about his own willingness to retire: "If, in order to 
 maintain that unity and solidarity, it becomes necessary that 
 the vice-president and myself step aside and take our places 
 in the ranks, then it is your solemn duty to see that we do 
 step aside, and it is his duty and my duty to step aside with- 
 out complaint/' That was not at all the kind of solution 
 Lewis desired. 
 
 Mitchell tried to meet the attack on policy. Was it his 
 policy alone ? Practically all of the delegates had voted for 
 it. Was it opportunism? "I have had enough experience in 
 the labor movement to satisfy me that there is no hard-and- 
 fast rule that can be laid down for the government of a labor 
 union that can be applied successfully under all and every 
 circumstance." He was not committed against national strikes 
 in the future. Had the national strike of '97 been a success? 
 In parts of Illinois, miners had to stay out seven or eight 
 
204 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 months, and then the settlement secured was not national; it 
 was only a four-state settlement because only half the miners 
 of the country had responded. In that strike, the miners had 
 nothing to lose at its outset; in 1906 they had already much 
 to lose. It was doubtful that the Pittsburgh district would 
 have joined a strike in 1906 due to the situation there. In 
 any event, not a single district agreement had been made by 
 himself or the district officials which had not been confirmed 
 by a convention or by a referendum. Were the locals dissatis- 
 fied with their national president^ For the first time in three 
 years, the vote cast for Mitchell as president had outrun 
 Lewis' vote as vice-president. This he did not say so directly. 
 He looked forward now to the reestablishment of the inter- 
 state joint agreement, the recapture of lost membership. This 
 time he was emphatic in asking them to place another man in 
 his position if he could no longer serve them as they desired. 
 He tried to explain himself to them: "They say I am con- 
 servative. Some of my friends and some of those who are not 
 my friends say that Mitchell is too conservative. I am not 
 conservative. I am impatient and restless for advancement. 
 There is not a man in this country who spends more sleepless 
 nights, worrying and fretting because we do not go forward 
 with more rapidity. ... It is true that I am temperate in my 
 statements; it is true that I do not believe that the interests 
 of the workingman are to be advanced and promoted by my 
 standing up and calling every employer an exploiter and a 
 robber and a thief. 
 
 "I am trying as best I can to promote a feeling of friendly 
 business relations between the employers and ourselves; but 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 205 
 
 my desire and my efforts to promote friendly reciprocal busi- 
 ness relations do not detract one iota from my impatient de- 
 sire to see the mine workers of this country among the best 
 paid, the most humanely employed, of all the workers of this 
 land." 
 
 Lewis and Green renewed the attack. A nation-wide sus- 
 pension, they said would have saved the interstate conference. 
 The bill of particulars covering the failures in the sectional 
 agreements should be answered, not ignored. Other leaders 
 rose to the defense. Things were different now and compari- 
 sons difficult. In 1897 an organizer could go through the 
 length and breadth of West Virginia freely, but now, "about 
 the time you leave Cincinnati going up there you would get 
 a pretty able bodyguard to attend you." The officers of Cen- 
 tral Pennsylvania claimed that they had gained in member- 
 ship, and in conditions which included a defacto check-off. 
 Dolan's successor in Pittsburgh, Feehan, was sure his district, 
 which contained many non-union men, would have been wiped 
 out under a national strike; the operators in his district had 
 hoped for such a strike. Had Lewis always worked, as he 
 claimed, for the harmony of the organization? A letter was 
 read to the convention written by Lewis during the suspen- 
 sion to one of the Pittsburgh delegates criticizing the admin- 
 istration and putting himself on the side of the Dolan people. 
 
 There was ugly feeling about this. Mitchell took the occa- 
 sion to show that he at least had not played Dolan's game, 
 whatever it was. In a dispute about an advance for day la- 
 borers, he had declared to Mr. Robbins and another official 
 of his company that "by the eternal they would pay that 
 
206 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 price or I would close every mine the company owned. . . . 
 My action was repudiated and protested by the officers of the 
 Pittsburgh district at that time." The delegates had tacked 
 Lewis to Dolan, and he linked Dolan to something very un- 
 savory. He had learned that the union, which had seemed to 
 him a cause men would be willing to support with every ounce 
 of energy in them and find some starvation a small praise for 
 it, no longer offered that appeal. In West Virginia particu- 
 larly, where every union strike had helped the non-union 
 miners, he found out and now told the convention that the 
 men there "will not be organized at all, strike or no strike, 
 unless we are able to support the men in those fields from the 
 first day they lay down their tools." Moreover in 1906 he had 
 found that "the West Virginia operators were so much afraid 
 of their men becoming involved in a strike . . . that they 
 maintained a lobby in the city of Indianapolis to encourage 
 such a strike." 
 
 The work in which Mitchell found himself had turned out 
 in many ways to be much more encumbered with the meaner 
 passions of men, less full of the zest, pioneer courage and 
 selflessness which he had known in its earlier days, and which 
 he still hoped it would regain. He knew now that although 
 the Lewis attack was voted down on the floor, there was no 
 real prospect of peace within the union or outside of it. The 
 lost joint interstate agreement would involve a long and often 
 unsuccessful struggle with the operators, and for every fail- 
 ure, he would meet the taunts and the "I told you so" of men 
 who wanted him to be gone, who said it was for the good of 
 the union that he should get out of their way. 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 207 
 
 When spring came that year, not even those who had 
 sneered at rumors of his illness before, could deny now that 
 he was a very sick man. In April he had two operations, one 
 for appendicitis and one for trouble he had incurred working 
 in the mines long ago, recurrent hernia. From the end of 
 April until the middle of June, he lay in the hospital in 
 Spring Valley, slowly recovering. At moments he lacked com- 
 pletely any belief in his own recovery. Much of the time he 
 suffered from complete nervous exhaustion, inability to sleep. 
 His faithful secretary, Miss Elizabeth Morris, who had taken 
 charge of his affairs and carried on his correspondence, was 
 writing hopefully in May that he was beginning to sleep a 
 little. In June he felt strong enough to leave the hospital and 
 travel west to Montana and Wyoming on organization work. 
 
 The trip West was a breath of hope. He was able to nego- 
 tiate an agreement for which the miners were more than thank- 
 ful. In October he was back in the hospital again, and he 
 knew now that it was all over for him in the union. This time 
 he stayed there a long while, nervous, sleepless, thinking of 
 all that he might have done with his life, all that he would 
 never do, remembering all the men whose confidence he had 
 so wholeheartedly, seeing his successes as molehills, his fail- 
 ures as mountains, tired, eager for peace which seemed impos- 
 sible in this world, unable to bring himself for a long time to 
 the point where he wished to recover. But people needed him. 
 His wife and children were not alone in letting him know 
 that. Messages of appreciation and condolence were coming in 
 all over the country. He was reminded that he was loved and 
 trusted, that no matter whether he had to leave the union or 
 
208 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 not, he would live with them always. In the face of so much 
 reassurance he slowly gathered strength to believe that he 
 would recover. It was the turning point. 
 
 Again he tried to get back to work, attending a preliminary 
 conference with operators' representatives from the four cen- 
 tral states in Indianapolis, and going to New York. But at 
 Christmas time he was in the hospital at La Salle, near Spring 
 Valley, because of a second relapse. As he was speaking be- 
 fore the conference on the 20th of December, he was suddenly 
 stopped in his speech by acute pain, which turned out, how- 
 ever, to be only a bursting of the adhesions. Believing that 
 he was dying, he said: "I believe my time is at hand. I do 
 not care. I am half glad that it is almost over. If I do not see 
 the men again tell them for me that whatever success I have 
 brought for them has not been for pecuniary benefit. It has 
 been because I love them." They took him back to his hotel, 
 and there he reached out and sought for some peace which 
 he was unable to give himself. He asked his friend Ryan to 
 send for a priest and to be allowed to join the church of his 
 family and many of his friends. He did not die. He lay again 
 in the hospital at La Salle, discouraged with himself. Outside 
 the hospital room, the work of the union went on. He was 
 unable to attend the various district conferences and conven- 
 tions. In October he had told the miners that he could not 
 again be a candidate for the office he had held ten years. Now 
 they were balloting for other men. W. B. Wilson was running 
 against Tom Lewis; his friend Ryan was running for secre- 
 tary. His withdrawal had not lessened the factionalism. It 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 209 
 
 was not heartening to think about the union now when an- 
 other agreement had to be made. 
 
 There were some things, of course, about which he could 
 think with less mixed emotion. The district agreements and 
 joint conferences still gave the miners the terms they would 
 have obtained under an interstate conference. The reports as 
 to the growth of the organization were again optimistic in all 
 except the anthracite fields. In his ten years of service, the 
 real earnings, as well as the rate of payment of the miners, 
 had increased far more than in any other unionized or non- 
 unionized industry. The cut of the working day from ten to 
 eight hours in the bituminous field, from ten to nine hours in 
 the anthracite field, were gains that could not be eaten up by 
 the increasing cost of living. Miners all over the country were 
 freer to live and to buy where they wanted to; much of the 
 industrial serfdom had been done away with. The miners like 
 Mitchell, theorized little about "industrial democracy" but 
 could oppose some very effective controls of their own over 
 measurement and discipline to the sovereignty of the oper- 
 ators. In the union districts death rates from accident were 
 lower than in the other districts. The union had broken the 
 tradition of defeat and kept it broken. He had taken his part 
 in awakening the workers, not only to a sense of the injustice 
 of their position but to a feeling that within their ranks they 
 held the power to abolish that injustice. He had helped break 
 down the barriers of racial prejudice and craft jealousy. His 
 union had been outstanding in a successful answer to the chal- 
 lenge of the machine; the machine had been accepted but in 
 
210 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 such a way that the workers and their union were not men- 
 aced. Unemployment and low annual earnings, due to excess 
 production in the industry, to inefficient and superfluous 
 mines, had not been eliminated, but the percentage of unem- 
 ployment and over-expansion was lower in his day than ever 
 before or after, except during the World War. The day when 
 it became a test of the union's ability to eliminate over-expan- 
 sion and inefficiency lay fourteen years ahead. He would have 
 welcomed the findings of technicians and analysts but none ex- 
 isted, and he was busy union building in the days when the 
 very existence of a union was a miracle. Of all the industries 
 in the country, the coal mining industry was, even after the 
 disasters of 1904 and 1906, most strongly organized. 
 
 When the convention opened, in the middle of January, 
 he was able to appear again and looked better, somewhat 
 stouter and healthier than before he had gone to the hospital 
 for the third time. It was a Mitchell convention from the first 
 day. An Illinois delegate presented him with a loving-cup. 
 Later a delegate from Montana and Wyoming said he did 
 not have a silver loving-cup, but "we came with love in our 
 hearts . . . and $2,700 in money, the check for which I now 
 present to him." The simple speech brought tears to the eyes 
 of many delegates. Mitchell, who did not know what he was 
 going to do to earn his living once his tenure of office termi- 
 nated, was touched. He said: "I don't know what to do— 
 I don't want the money. If I could ask you to take it back and 
 give it to the men who sent it here, and feel sure that they 
 would know I appreciate their confidence as much as if they 
 had given me as many millions as they have hundreds, I would 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 211 
 
 feel better about it. I know how kindly their feelings must 
 have been when they sent it here. I am sure I do not know 
 what ought to be done, but I shall ask either that the money 
 be returned to the men, and my thanks given to them for it, 
 or that it be given to my wife who has probably made more 
 sacrifices than I. 
 
 "The ten years, or nearly eleven years, I have been away 
 from home have been a period of alternating joys and sor- 
 rows. When the men did well, when they got something more 
 than they had, I was happy and exuberant, and when the men 
 lost something they sought or yielded something they had, it 
 made me sad and depressed. During all those times I tried to 
 maintain as impassive a countenance and appearance as it 
 was possible for a man to do ; and yet, much as I feel that I 
 have suffered myself, I know that at my home there has been 
 greater sacrifice made. ... I have been away most of the 
 time, seeing them two or three times a year, never more than 
 three or four days, except when I was in the hospital. 
 
 "I prefer that you take the money back, but if you cannot 
 do that without danger of giving offense to the people who 
 sent it to me, then send it to Mrs. Mitchell and let her use 
 it to educate our boys." 
 
 The miners proceeded to business. Mitchell read his report. 
 Membership had increased, but not enough to make up for 
 the losses of the previous year. Trade union sentiment was 
 strong and the "I.W.W. and other malevolent agencies" had 
 not been able to "pervert the minds of the mine workers." In 
 the far west, in Washington, Montana and Wyoming, there 
 had been a phenomenal growth; excellent agreements for the 
 
212 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 miners had been secured. The fate of the interstate movement 
 in the central fields had not yet been determined. Mitchell did 
 not mention a rumor that there would be no meeting until 
 after he had gone, though a conference had been set for Janu- 
 ary 30th. He spoke, as usual, on the necessity for observing 
 contracts. He set before them the solemn figures on accidents 
 and deaths in the mining industry and urged them to put for- 
 ward more strenuous efforts in the matter of new legislation 
 and in the enforcement of existing legislation. The employ- 
 ment of boys in the bituminous fields of Pennsylvania was 
 still a problem. The critical matter of determining the wages 
 and conditions of the machine miner, who more and more 
 was replacing the pick miner, was before them. 
 
 It was perhaps in the spirit of leaving behind him a con- 
 structive memorial for the old, the wounded and the helpless, 
 that he proceed to propose an insurance plan for accident and 
 death benefits along the lines "followed so successfully by the 
 railroad brotherhoods." He was glad to report that relation- 
 ships with the Western Federation of Miners were improving, 
 though there was much still to be done on conflicting provi- 
 sions in the laws of that organization. He stated his opposi- 
 tion emphatically to a proposal for the consolidation of the 
 two unions. 
 
 Then he gave what can only be termed a valedictory. He 
 reviewed the phenomenal growth of the membership, the im- 
 provement in the wages and conditions of the mine workers. 
 For these he did not claim credit, he took only the pleasure 
 of partnership. 
 
 His relations with the district and sub-district officers, with 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 213 
 
 few exceptions, had been harmonious. Indeed, "to have con- 
 tinued in the service of the miners and to have contributed 
 further to the amelioration of their working conditions" 
 would have been an "honor and a delight." But his health 
 would not permit it. He pointed out the grave responsibili- 
 ties of office and asked for his successor — and he did not as 
 yet know whether it would be Wilson or Lewis — the loyal co- 
 operation of the organization. He thanked his colleagues and 
 prayed "that wisdom may guide your pathway in the future 
 and that God's blessing may rest upon our movement." 
 
 After the other reports from Lewis and Wilson, came a 
 flood of resolutions: one from a Texan delegate suggesting 
 two years' salary ; another from Kentucky that an educational 
 department be founded in the union with Mitchell at its head ; 
 another from a Kansas group that he be retained as special 
 adviser to the organization; finally, one which provided six 
 months' salary until he had recovered his health. Mitchell 
 asked the rejection of all of these, but the last. Of this, with 
 its expression of appreciation, he said it would be kept "as 
 the proudest and most honored legacy of my life." He felt 
 that his own happiness and contentment justified him in de- 
 clining to accept any reward in the shape of remuneration; 
 the organization had paid him from year to year all that he 
 would accept from them. He would even refuse the money in 
 this last resolution, which would give him an opportunity to 
 travel and have medical attendance were it not for one fact : 
 "It has been charged — and unfortunately it is true — that in 
 the years of the past the champions of the workingman have 
 received their reward in kicks and blows. Scattered over our 
 
214 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 country ... lie the bones of men, gone and forgotten, who 
 rendered to our great cause as much service and made greater 
 sacrifices than I have done. 
 
 "I wish it were possible for the spirit of the great John 
 Siney as well as the spirits of Dan McLaughlin and those 
 champions who fought and gave their lives without reward, 
 who went to their graves — hungry in some cases, starved in 
 others — not with the love of the people they unselfishly 
 served. They had to die and a long time passed before they 
 got the honor they deserved while they lived. And were it not 
 that this stain might be removed from workingmen's organi- 
 zations of our country, I should ask you to defeat the resolu- 
 tion you have now under consideration." 
 
 The delegates might show their appreciation of him by a 
 rising vote while these gifts were made, by tumultuous ap- 
 plause, but the convention was not to adjourn before Mitch- 
 ell was to be faced from the same platform with a sharp 
 challenge of everything he stood for and almost everything 
 he had accomplished. "Big Bill" Haywood — still secretary of 
 the Western Federation of Miners for a few months before he 
 was let go because of his continued affiliation with the 
 I.W.W. after his union, which had once sponsored that body, 
 now condemned it — had just come out of prison, in connection 
 with the accusation against Moyer and Pettibone and himself 
 for a part in the murder of Governor Steunenberg of Idaho. 
 Where Mitchell was of middle height or less, dark, a quiet 
 speaker, a conservative leader, sentimental, dramatic in a som- 
 ber way, Haywood was burly and big, over six feet high and 
 heavy, a gigantic Cyclops, melodramatic and picturesque. 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 215 
 
 Both were union leaders, leaders of miners. The contrast in 
 their physical appearance was no greater than in their phi- 
 losophy. One came from a sick-bed, the other from an impris- 
 onment considered unjust. One was the leader of a successful 
 industrial union which had restricted itself to unionism, 
 which believed in law and order and the sacredness of con- 
 tract. The other was the leader of a revolutionary, rather un- 
 successful union which had participated in the socialist move- 
 ment, in the founding of the I.W.W., only now to depart 
 from that path for the one of "business unionism." The coal 
 miners and their leaders, much as they may have disagreed 
 with the three accused men — incensed as some of them were 
 at the role played by the Western Federation with regard to 
 their union — rallied to the defense of Moyer, Haywood and 
 Pettibone, and were the largest contributors to the defense 
 fund as well as to the public spirit aroused in their behalf. 
 
 Haywood's speech was a long indictment. He recounted the 
 history and vicissitudes of his union in a rambling, often 
 vague, but always picturesque fashion, taking random shots as 
 he passed at capital, at the government, at the sham called 
 "law and order." He reminded the coal miners of their woes 
 in common with the metalliferous miners, telling them of the 
 1903 strike in Colorado, which happened to be a sore point 
 with Mitchell: "I recall one instance when eighty of them 
 (coal miners) were gathered together and driven like cattle 
 for twenty miles. Some of them fell prostrate on the way. 
 Others were beaten as they traveled, beaten up by Cossacks on 
 horseback who were driving them. These are your brothers! 
 When they arrived at Trinidad they were driven up to a horse 
 
216 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 trough and watered like cattle. . . ." It was a bitter, power- 
 ful speech of the resentment of the outlawed and the op- 
 pressed. 
 
 He pleaded to the coal miners for a different state of af- 
 fairs, when labor, united in one organization, would resist 
 its exploiters. Specifically he pleaded for consolidation of the 
 two organizations so that "it will be impossible for the smelt- 
 ing companies to operate their smelters because the coal miners 
 will not mine coal to be used as scab smelters. The railroads 
 will see the necessity of refusing to fire their engines with 
 coal mined by scab coal mines, and the general result will be 
 the organization of labor extending over the industries of this 
 nation." It was the dream of the nation-wide sympathetic 
 strike of all industries. He appealed to the miners whose con- 
 vention, he said, was the "most important gathering without 
 any exception that meets in the United States" which "can 
 wield a greater influence for weal or woe than any other or- 
 ganization ... be it labor, religious or political, to consider 
 all these questions "from the workingman's standpoint." 
 
 He went on : "Do not enter into agreements that are going 
 to bind you up for a period or make it impossible for you to do 
 anything else for yourself or for anybody else. Leave your 
 hands free so that you can fight whenever a fight becomes 
 necessary." He asked them to include a clause in their con- 
 tracts, "as the coal contractor does," freeing them of the con- 
 tract in case of strikes: "If it is wrong for an individual to 
 enter into an agreement, and likewise wrong for the local 
 union to enter into an agreement, I say that it is wrong for an 
 international to enter into an agreement unless that interna- 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 217 
 
 tional takes into consideration the interest of the working 
 class. . . ." 
 
 When he sat down, he had challenged three things sacred 
 to Mitchell; respect for contracts one had signed, the unity 
 of all labor regardless of industry, and the respect of law and 
 order. He had said, furthermore, something which Mitchell 
 did not touch on : that unless the oppressed of the world had a 
 battle cry, and a great, almost unobtainable objective, they 
 could never move forward at all. All this called for an answer. 
 Mitchell did not go outside the field he had learned to know. 
 He reminded the miners of the time when they had no con- 
 tracts. "Our contracts are not perfect, our system is not ideal, 
 but there is not a man whose memory runs back ten short 
 years who would go back to the system then prevailing if he 
 could. . . . We had not the contract and we had only half 
 as much wages. I say only half, and we worked longer hours." 
 Contracts might not represent an ideal state of affairs, but he 
 would think cautiously and measure well before he returned 
 to the time when he could strike as he wanted to — and the 
 operators could strike back as they wanted to. These were 
 the times when miners' wives went from city to city, begging 
 bread for men at work." 
 
 Now that he was leaving, he felt himself free to say some- 
 thing a little stronger than he had ever done before: "I am 
 going to make one reservation. ... I believe there is a time 
 which comes in the history of peoples and nations when 
 treaties should be abrogated . . . when men should rebel 
 . . . overthrow their government and change the whole sys- 
 tem under which they live ; and I believe there are conditions 
 
218 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 of industry that make sympathetic strikes not only proper but 
 highly advisable." If the time should come when, in his opin- 
 ion, a sympathetic strike would aid both the coal and metalli- 
 ferous miners, he would advise it. Did he forget he was retir- 
 ing? He ended on the note of hope for the continuation of the 
 friendly relationships that had replaced the time when he and 
 Haywood had "misunderstood each other." So far as a con- 
 solidation of the two organizations was concerned, he had ex- 
 pressed his views clearly before. An industrial union in the 
 coal industry should include all coal miners, anthracite as 
 well as bituminous, precisely because anthracite coal competed 
 often with bituminous coal. The industrial union followed the 
 market and not the craft, and therefore could not include 
 miners of silver, gold and copper. He believed however a plan 
 acceptable to both sides could be worked out. 
 
 On the final day of the convention, the election results were 
 announced. Lewis had won by a two thousand majority out 
 of almost one hundred and forty thousand votes. John P. 
 White of Iowa, who was later to become president, was elected 
 vice-president in the only uncontested office. Ryan had de- 
 cisively beaten John Fahy for the office of national secretary- 
 treasurer. Wilson, who may have been beaten because of the 
 fact that he had already been elected as a member from Penn- 
 sylvania to Congress and would have been forced to hold down 
 two jobs when Mitchell had collapsed from the strain of one, 
 was asked by Mitchell to present the President-elect to the 
 convention. In later years, it was charged that there had been 
 fraud in the counting of votes. Lewis addressed the conven- 
 tion insisting again that he, Mitchell and Wilson had never 
 
THE BREAKING MAN 219 
 
 had any personal differences, and shook hands with them in 
 proof of his statement. White and Ryan spoke, and then 
 Mitchell made the final oration, wishing his successors good 
 luck: "If there be one man in the union who imagines that I 
 would feel gratification at the failure of my successor, I hope 
 he will dispel from his mind that false and infamous 
 idea. . . ." 
 
 Mitchell concluded : "And now . . . may I ask that if, un- 
 consciously or inadvertently I have in my life done aught to 
 wound or injure any man, he will give me his forgiveness, just 
 as now, as I pass from the limelight into the shadow, I for- 
 give any man who may have done wrong to me. I ask you to 
 favor me by demanding, if any man charge me with wrong 
 when I am no longer here to speak in my defense, that he 
 face me." 
 
 He had not said his last farewell. His office still had three 
 months to run. During that time there were vain attempts to 
 revive the interstate conference. When that failed, a special 
 convention was again called to consider the policy for the fu- 
 ture. It was at this time that the Indianapolis News com- 
 mented that Mitchell was "still the masterful and foreseeing 
 general' ' the wisdom of whose Sick Man of the Bosphorus 
 policy in 1906 was justified and proven by Lewis' advocacy 
 of it in the 1908 situation. 
 
 The time came for the last farewell. On March 19th, 1908, 
 the delegates passed him in file and said good-by, tears stream- 
 ing down their cheeks. "God bless you, John," they said, and 
 Mitchell answered: "Hold up the hands of your officers. A 
 pat on the back, a word of good will does more good than all 
 
220 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 the criticism you may give him. ... I say to you now, gen- 
 tlemen, may God bless our movement. May he look down 
 on it with that favor, with that grace He has given it so far 
 as I have been connected with it. Gentlemen, you are going 
 back to our people. Encourage them to carry out this policy 
 . . . even though in detail it may not meet your views as a 
 whole. 
 
 "My boys — and I will call you my boys even though some 
 of you are nearly twice as old as I am, I regard you as my 
 boys — be as good union men now and in the time to come, 
 as you have been while I was directing your affairs. God bless 
 you again! I am leaving this movement, not because I want 
 to leave you, but because I have to leave you." 
 
 There is a story that this last speech was made after the 
 convention had already adjourned, with the singing of 
 America. Mitchell had left some time before, in low spirits, 
 and had gone to a nearby barroom. The failure to revive the 
 joint movement, Lewis' succession to the presidency, his ill- 
 ness, the fact that he was completely at loose ends as to his 
 own future, the strain of the whole proceedings had unnerved 
 him and he sat alone, drinking. He was not quite sober when 
 Ryan arrived with the news that the delegates had refused to 
 leave until they expressed to him once more their feelings of 
 appreciation. They felt the greatest of their leaders was going, 
 and they wanted to hear from him once more. He mounted 
 the platform in tears himself as he brought tears, by the sen- 
 timental, but moving speech, to the eyes of his people. His 
 life — or the best part of it — was leaving him. He was not 
 ashamed of his tears. 
 
XI 
 THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 
 
 WHAT would John Mitchell do now? He was only 
 thirty-eight years old, and in a sense, his life was 
 still before him. He had the responsibility of a large family; 
 of six children born, four were still living, all of them needed 
 protection, the education he had not had himself. In order to 
 take care of them, his first concern had to be the regaining of 
 his health. A rest was made possible by the six months' sal- 
 ary allowance voted him by the convention. But after that? 
 
 He could not go back to his craft, to the job of coal mining, 
 because of his hernia. There was also a widespread feeling that 
 the labor movement needed him in some way, if not as an of- 
 ficer, as an editor, as founder of a labor school, or as ambassa- 
 dor to the general public. He had acquired knowledge and 
 gained experience and public confidence that neither he nor his 
 friends in the labor movement wanted to have lost. Could not 
 the American Federation of Labor utilize a man of his train- 
 ing and ability? There were few, if any, who were his su- 
 perior. Then, too, he had for some time lived on a social and 
 financial scale approximating that of the small business men 
 of the country, and it seemed natural to him to continue the 
 march upward. He had a keen sense of having neglected his 
 family in spite of the fact that they may have enjoyed the 
 bread that miners' children could not eat. Even that was en- 
 
222 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 dangered now, for he had no savings out of his salary, which 
 had been $1,200 up to 1903, and $3,000 thereafter. 
 
 He was a broken, or almost broken man, and his passive 
 disposition might have led him to be happy in a quiet retire- 
 ment were financial cares not so pressing. His family, too, was 
 not ambitious for him in a worldly way, though his friends 
 might be. 
 
 What had happened to other presidents of the miners' 
 union which might guide his choice? During the six months 
 after he had stepped down from his office, and while he went 
 from one cure to another, this question gave him something to 
 think about. John B. Rae had built up a small business for 
 himself. Phil Penna had become commissioner for the coal 
 operators' association in Indiana. John McBride had, after 
 one year as president of the American Federation of Labor, 
 become labor reporter for an Ohio paper. Michael Ratchford 
 had retired for an appointment on the United States Indus- 
 trial Commission and had later become Industrial Commis- 
 sioner for the state of Ohio. Lesser officials had had similar 
 experiences — either they had become commissioners for the 
 operators or had held some political office. On the whole, most 
 of the miners seemed to bear comparatively little bitterness 
 toward their leaders for entering such positions. This was, of 
 course, only in those instances in which the commissionership 
 was in districts where collective agreements with the operators 
 existed, and when their former leader in his new office gave 
 them what they considered a square deal. They realized that 
 in such cases his knowledge of their methods and aims might 
 even be to their advantage. He did not for a moment think 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 223 
 
 of following Penna before him, or setting a precedent for Tom 
 Lewis after him, by going across the line and becoming an 
 agent for the operators. Not only was he still second vice- 
 president of the American Federation of Labor, but he carried 
 with him into his retirement a great sense of the dignity of 
 the office he had held for ten years and a pride in the name 
 he had kept for himself. Whenever any union leader did cross 
 the line there were, and Mitchell knew it, always some who 
 would sneer that he was now where he had belonged all the 
 time. Not only that, but men like Penna were expected to earn 
 their salaries — which meant that they were forced, whether 
 they liked it or not, into opposing many of the aims of organ- 
 ized labor. The miners might not always see the conflict as 
 sharply as a sensitive man put into such a false position would 
 see it and be troubled by it. 
 
 The other possibility was a political appointment. The 
 miners, who often played a great deal with local and state 
 politics, had some feeling of awe for the national govern- 
 ment. Appointments by the President of the United States, 
 even when given for obvious political purposes, were held in 
 high respect. Mitchell had been spoken of for Congressman 
 or Governor of Illinois in 1902 and 1906. At one time, in 
 1904, before the Democrats had decided they could oppose 
 what seemed to be the radicalism of Roosevelt with the con- 
 servatism of Parker, Mitchell had been mentioned as a very 
 logical nominee for the vice-presidency. Election to Congress 
 had been achieved by one of the anthracite leaders and by 
 the secretary of the national organization, W. B. Wilson, 
 who later became Secretary of Labor under President Wilson. 
 
 J 
 
224 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Mitchell's district might well have elected him. There also 
 were rumors that he might be appointed United States Com- 
 missioner of Labor to succeed Carroll D. Wright. There were 
 now rumors that President Roosevelt, who was known to ad- 
 mire and who had already appointed him to an honorary post 
 in connection with the award to him of the Nobel Peace Prize, 
 would make him member of a commission to supervise the 
 labor problems connected with the building of the Panama 
 Canal. In March the newspapers interviewed him concerning 
 a rumored nomination for Governor of Illinois. 
 
 Then, in May, a boom was begun for him as vice-presiden- 
 tial nominee on the Democratic ticket. His old friend, John 
 Loftus, in an interview in Scranton, stated that while Mitch- 
 ell would not make an effort to secure the nomination, he 
 might consider it were it preferred. It was generally known 
 that Mitchell was not a regularly enrolled Democrat. No defi- 
 nite action was taken until July. His name was brought up by 
 an Illinois delegate to the Democratic national convention 
 and it was said he had the backing of New York. But Mitch- 
 ell let it be known that he did not wish his name considered. 
 
 Samuel Gompers, who years later was to suggest W. B. 
 Wilson as the official nominee of the Federation for the posi- 
 tion of Secretary of Labor when President Wilson himself 
 had Mitchell in mind, and who still later was to help Mitchell 
 in an appointment on the New York State Industrial Com- 
 mission, made a comment on this affair in his autobiography 
 which was not without its stinging quality : "Rumor persisted 
 that the desire of a large number of delegates to the conven- 
 tion was to nominate John Mitchell. . . . His deeply senti- 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 225 
 
 mental nature had caught the fancy of a large number of 
 people. He had emerged from the successful leadership not 
 only of the bituminous but of the anthracite miners' strike. I 
 am sure that Mr. Mitchell did nothing to encourage or dis- 
 courage the movement, and of course my associates and I and 
 the other members of the Executive Council could take no 
 action to further his nomination. I have fully explained why 
 Mr. Mitchell's name was not mentioned in connection with 
 the nomination in the convention, but it was rumored that 
 because Mr. Mitchell was so great an admirer of President 
 Roosevelt and under such obligations to him, he could not 
 become known definitely as a member of or an adherent of 
 the Democratic Party. However, for some reason that has 
 never been explained, Mr. Mitchell's name was not presented 
 to the convention." 
 
 Nothing came of any of these rumors. President Roosevelt 
 was retiring from office, and Taft, who had different sympa- 
 thies, was being nominated to succeed him. In August, Mitch- 
 ell solved his difficulty by accepting the position of Chairman 
 of the Trade Agreement Department of the National Civic 
 Federation. This was a department particularly created to 
 promote the growth of collective bargaining between employ- 
 ers and unions of workers. In this work John Mitchell be- 
 lieved that he could help to bring about a better understand- 
 ing of the aims and methods of trade unionism on the part of 
 employers. He was aware, of course, of the opposition to the 
 Federation by a group within his own union. The position 
 paid well, $8,000 a year. Moreover, it required no extensive 
 traveling and, for the first time in ten years, Mitchell hoped 
 
226 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 to be together with his children, of whom he had seen so 
 little and for whom he was passionately ambitious. He was 
 as conventional in his desires for them as any other good 
 father. He wanted them to have comfort, a good education, 
 the companionship of both parents, and a far easier life than 
 he had himself known. 
 
 This was not exactly, as many thought, an evasive way of 
 crossing the line to the employers' side. Many of the big in- 
 dustrialists were members of the Federation and not all of 
 them followed anything approaching a union policy in their 
 dealings with their labor. On the other hand, Samuel Gom- 
 pers, James Duncan, first vice-president of the Federation, 
 Mitchell himself and many other labor men, were also mem- 
 bers. Where some of the labor leaders and editors might dis- 
 trust Mitchell's judgment of men and their motives, and con- 
 sider the Civic Federation simply a luxurious emasculation of 
 the unwary, the presence of Gompers, who always managed 
 to convey the impression that he knew very well what he was 
 about, disarmed some of the comment on Mitchell's choice of 
 a livelihood. Hanna had been an important member of it and 
 had apparently tried to make his union views prevail there. 
 He remembered that during the anthracite strikes the Civic 
 Federation had helped to secure some settlement at a time it 
 was needed badly. It had also helped secure recognition for 
 traction workers in New York City in its early career and had 
 aided other organizations. He had never in his life been averse 
 to gaining for labor any of the things that could be gained 
 for it by showing the employers that labor leaders were rea- 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 227 
 
 sonable, decent human beings, even though others might doubt 
 the relevancy of such an appeal. 
 
 For the next two years his life was comparatively quiet. 
 Perhaps the change in his mode of life, his confirmation in the 
 Catholic Church, had helped him at last to overcome the 
 habit. According to friends, until a period shortly before his 
 death, for some ten years, Mitchell was free of what he 
 thought his particular cross in life. 
 
 The work was a let-down; no big things were given him to 
 do. He had a suspicion that he was being sidetracked. He 
 wrote Gompers, himself a member of the Civic Federation, on 
 August 9, 1910, giving instances in which his work, through 
 his influence with employers and with banking interests, had 
 brought results. This was really the work of the conciliation 
 department, which was concerned with the settlement of 
 strikes. "To be perfectly candid I am not entirely satisfied 
 with the service I have been able to render. In the well-or- 
 ganized trades the representatives of the union and the em- 
 ployers in interest have been able to work out their own 
 problems, and it is much better of course that they should do 
 so than that there should be an intervention on the part of 
 outside forces ; but in the partially organized trades in which 
 unions are not strong and in which the officers are not thor- 
 oughly experienced, I am handicapped because employers in 
 these industries usually contend for the open shop and it is 
 well known among employers that I am in favor of the union 
 shop." 
 
 Because of his very prominence as a union leader he had 
 
228 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 often been rejected as a go-between. When his services were 
 requested, it was in cases of strikes which were practically- 
 lost. 
 
 In spite of its advantages in domestic comfort and peace, 
 the position with the Federation was a spiritual decline for 
 this man who was still young. He was a member of his union 
 and a delegate from his local in Spring Valley to miners' con- 
 ventions. From the moment Lewis took office, the official jour- 
 nal of the union began to reprint newspaper items which car- 
 ried insinuations that "the gentleman in New York" would 
 hinder the new administration, and for that reason Mitchell 
 was very careful. Present at a convention of miners in the 
 anthracite fields in October, 1908, he was introduced by Lewis 
 with the statement that the two had always been on friendly 
 terms. The stenographer who took notes of the speech, tells 
 of the meeting: "Mr. Mitchell stood alongside, gravely re- 
 garding him, then turned his somber face to the audience. 
 'You have just heard what Mr. Lewis said. I want to take 
 this opportunity, I want to say right here in the presence of 
 this gentleman, in the presence of you men here who are most 
 vitally concerned, that this organization can never be built 
 up by tearing me down.' This was said so earnestly, so dra- 
 matically, so triumphantly that the miners jumped to their 
 feet and shouted. 'This organization cannot be destroyed by 
 any one man. It is not I, or Tom Nicholls, John Fahy or 
 Tom Lewis who builds this organization and keeps it going. 
 It is the man at home, the man who is never heard of, the 
 man whose picture is never seen. 
 
 " 'When I was a young man, I used to think that if I could 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 229 
 
 be President of the United Mine Workers, I'd use all my 
 power to put the employer where he belonged. The time came 
 when I was President of the United Mine Workers, when I 
 had all the power possible, not given me by any laws but by 
 the affection and confidence you men reposed in me.' Again 
 the impassioned, triumphant voice brought the miners to their 
 feet. 
 
 " Tor ten years I was president but I did not revolutionize 
 the industrial world. I did not solve the labor problem. It 
 will never be solved. We only hope to gain little by little 
 more and more of our proper share of what we produce. The 
 men coming after you will not solve it. After us will come 
 other John Mitchells, Tom Nicholls and John Fahys who 
 will help you along, but who cannot accomplish much unless 
 you give them your support. Be loyal to them as you were to 
 me.' Coming down from the platform, Mr. Mitchell was sur- 
 rounded by the miners, many of them kissing his hand in their 
 wild enthusiasm, several Italians embracing him as they ex- 
 claimed, £ Oh, Johnny de Mitch.' " 
 
 The test of the sincerity of these men's loyalty to Mitchell 
 and of his own loyalty to the miners' union came two years 
 later, at the 1911 convention of the union. 
 
 In the intervening years, there was much done to "tear 
 down" both Mitchell and Lewis. Violent objection to Lewis 
 from many sources resulted in the conversion of the Mine 
 Workers' Journal into a campaign sheet for him for forth- 
 coming elections. It was charged that Lewis kept the larger 
 portion of the organizing force in unionized districts, as a 
 power to squelch any opposition to him. When Socialist lead- 
 
230 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 ers, Duncan McDonald amongst them, for whose vote Lewis 
 had made bids previously, opposed him, they were discharged. 
 W. D. Ryan resigned his office as national secretary-treasurer. 
 John Walker in 1909, and William Green, Lewis' former 
 ally in 1910, almost defeated him for the presidency, and 
 would have done so, it was charged, if not for fraud in the 
 counting of the votes. In this opposition to him, Lewis in- 
 sinuated Mitchell had a hand. Lewis did not accept with grace 
 the fact that Mitchell was still retained as second vice-presi- 
 dent of the American Federation of Labor. The reason given 
 for this continued election was that Mitchell was now under 
 sentence in the famous Buck Stove and Range injunction 
 case. Mitchell, as presiding officer of the 1908 miners' con- 
 vention, which had passed a resolution asking for the boycott 
 of the Buck product, had been held in contempt of an in- 
 junction already issued against such boycott. He had received 
 a sentence of nine months in prison, Gompers one year, and 
 Frank Morrison, Secretary of the American Federation of 
 Labor, for six months. Appeal was taken, but meanwhile, for 
 the sake of public standing, Mitchell was reelected as second 
 vice-president. Another reason might have been that the Ex- 
 ecutive Council mistrusted Lewis and believed he would not 
 last more than one term in the miners' union. 
 
 Apparently Mitchell himself gave no cause for Lewis' feel- 
 ing until 1910. Late that year a special convention was held 
 in Indianapolis to fight out a serious revolt of the Illinois dis- 
 trict against Lewis. The Illinois officers to a man charged that 
 Lewis and certain members of the National Executive Board 
 had made an agreement for the district, without consulting 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 231 
 
 the district membership or officers, on terms far below what 
 the district would have accepted. When a referendum was 
 forced by protest, the operators, it was said, sent agents 
 throughout Illinois to persuade the men in their locals to ac- 
 cept these terms. The referendum was against Lewis and he 
 refused to have it counted. A special convention was called, at 
 which Mitchell was present as a delegate from Spring Valley. 
 He declined to speak, despite wild applause from the delegates 
 followed by Lewis' invitation. He said he was a delegate 
 only, without any preconceived notions of the situation. 
 
 At this convention, there was much talk of having a new 
 president, to which Lewis retorted, ". . . You'll not have a 
 new president." Delegates shouted, "Let someone else do some 
 talking." The conventions of the past two years had been free- 
 for-all fights. At one point, when the fighting almost broke up 
 the session, it was Mitchell's plea for order which permitted 
 it to go on. 
 
 Finally, on the seventh day, Mitchell, by request, made his 
 statement. He explained that he had doubted the wisdom of 
 his coming and that only the seriousness of the crisis made 
 him decide to do so. He commended the national officers but 
 lined up with Illinois in its objection to having a scale made 
 by a National Executive Board on which no single Illinois 
 member was represented. (Frank J. Hayes, the Illinois rep- 
 resentative, who was later to become president, had on election 
 to the vice-presidency been told summarily that that office 
 was no longer at national headquarters and his function as 
 head of the organization work abolished.) Mitchell referred 
 back to the history of the organization to show that no action 
 
232 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 comparable to that of this National Executive Board had ever 
 been taken. Lewis' action was repudiated and the district 
 negotiated its own agreement. Mitchell's action lost him, for 
 a good many years, the friendship of Harry N. Taylor, who 
 was hit by the action of the Illinois miners. Taylor had com- 
 plained in past years that Mitchell leaned over too far back- 
 ward to prove that the friendship did not influence his judg- 
 ment. Now Mitchell was out of office, why must he use his 
 influence in this way? Mitchell was amazed and hurt at Tay- 
 lor's attitude. He did not forget it, for he was attached to 
 this large, jolly, burly man who could make him laugh. He 
 had done his duty, that was all. 
 
 In the 1911 elections Lewis was finally defeated for the 
 national presidency and announced his intention of going 
 back to the "picks," giving an unsolicited promise never to 
 sell his services to the other side. 
 
 But Lewis, as presiding officer over the 1911 convention, 
 had his revenge. When the convention met in Columbus, a 
 telegram was received from John Mitchell, saying that he 
 could not be present as delegate. It was necessary for him to 
 be in Washington in connection with the arguments in the 
 Buck Stove and Range injunction proceedings before the 
 Supreme Court. 
 
 After election returns were in, a bombshell was exploded in 
 the report of the Committee on Resolutions. Under the head- 
 ing of "National Civic Federation" it considered several reso- 
 lutions, some condemning that body and asking for approval 
 of that condemnation to be carried to the American Federa- 
 tion' of Labor, as several international union presidents were 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 233 
 
 members of the former body. One resolution, signed by sev- 
 eral men from the anthracite district, made no reference to 
 action by the American Federation and provided merely for 
 the immediate expulsion of John Mitchell, who was the only 
 member of the miners' union holding membership in the Fed- 
 eration. The report of the Committee on Resolutions accepted 
 the latter resolution. 
 
 A minority report was signed, protesting on the ground 
 that the Civic Federation was a voluntary organization, sep- 
 arate and apart from the labor movement, acting only in an 
 advisory capacity, although admittedly it "had not fulfilled 
 the expectations of friends and members of organized labor." 
 However, it was said, since John Mitchell was the only mem- 
 ber of the union connected with the Federation, and since he 
 was at the moment sentenced to jail because of his services to 
 the labor movement, the action of the Majority Report would 
 be construed as an attack on him rather than on the Civic 
 Federation. 
 
 For two days thereafter, the convention discussed the course 
 of procedure ; some delegates argued that it was not the func- 
 tion of the Resolutions Committee but of the Constitutional 
 Committee to recommend such changes; others charged that 
 it was a personal plot against Mitchell. The condemnation of 
 the Civic Federation was not a new issue. As far back as 1904, 
 some of the more radical delegates had brought in resolutions 
 condemning it, but they were reported on unfavorably by the 
 Resolutions Committee of the time. In 191 1, however, the con- 
 vention delegates were bankrupt, bitter and defeated. They 
 had listened to an account of a failure of a strike in Northern 
 
234 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Colorado, in Nova Scotia, in the Irwin fields, and elsewhere; 
 they had been burdened with assessments. 
 
 On the first day of the convention Mother Jones in her 
 speech had made a bitter attack on the type of men represent- 
 ing the "public" in the Civic Federation, and on the purposes 
 and aims of the Federation, which she said were to chloroform 
 any real revolt or radical change in the labor movement. It 
 is pretty safe to say that in 1911, although the Civic Federa- 
 tion was not exclusively concerned with attacks on Socialism 
 as it is to-day, it was no longer influential in bringing together 
 employers and unions in important situations as it had been at 
 the outset. 
 
 Strangely enough, in 1911, the old leaders of the radical 
 wing were opposed to the report of the Resolutions Commit- 
 tee. Duncan McDonald arose to protest that since only one 
 member of the union was involved, he should be present to be 
 given a chance to defend himself. The answer was given that 
 when the saloon keepers and mine bosses were excluded, they 
 were given no such opportunity. McDonald felt furthermore 
 as did Walker, that the matter was one to be brought before 
 the American Federation of Labor, since only one delegate 
 of the Mine Workers was involved, but many officers of the 
 American Federation of Labor were active on the Civic Fed- 
 eration. He felt the issue should be one of the Civic Federa- 
 tion and not of a single man. He insisted on the point, against 
 the statement of Lewis as chairman of the convention, that it 
 was not an issue of Mitchell but of the Federation. 
 
 Some delegates argued that the large vote cast for John 
 Mitchell that year as delegate to the American Federation of 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 235 
 
 Labor — he had received 1 13,285 votes, the next highest being 
 Walker with 85,887*4, Hayes with 77,175, John P. White 
 with 75,982, and Lewis with only 69,503 — showed the real 
 feeling of the miners for Mitchell. The answer made to this 
 was that had the miners known the real nature of the Federa- 
 tion and Mitchell's connection with it, they would not have 
 cast such a heavy vote for him. Still others who spoke for the 
 resolution said that John Mitchell was too valuable a man to 
 be sitting in idle banquets with Belmont and Carnegie and 
 other enemies of organized labor — that he ought to be on the 
 lecture platform, acquainting the country with the aims and 
 ideals of organized labor. Lewis himself spoke in favor of the 
 resolution and one of its movers stated that he drew it at the 
 request of the "administration." 
 
 The report of the committee finally was left undecided be- 
 cause one of the signers of the resolution was accused of hav- 
 ing been a strike breaker. 
 
 On the eleventh day, this attempt of the Resolutions Com- 
 mittee having failed, the Committee on Constitutional 
 Changes added to a resolution providing for the withdrawal 
 of a member when he became a mine boss, a similar provision 
 for a member of the National Civic Federation. This gave 
 Mitchell the opportunity, at least, of making a choice. On 
 this resolution 443 votes were cast for, and 378 votes against. 
 This vote was not accepted, and another vote was taken the 
 next day on roll call, which resulted in 1,213 votes for the 
 report and 967 against. 
 
 Some of the delegates had forgotten the applause with 
 which they had greeted Mitchell's request, in 1908, that if he 
 
236 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 were ever accused, he would be given an opportunity to de- 
 fend himself. 
 
 Word was sent to Mitchell, now in New York, by friends, 
 of the action of the convention. Mitchell's son recalls the fam- 
 ily anxiety at this time, with Mitchell under sentence in the 
 Buck Stove and Range case, with his own organization against 
 him, and the well-ordered little world he had established for 
 his family at Mount Vernon threatened with ruin. The family 
 opinion seemed to be that he should not resign his post with 
 the Civic Federation. 
 
 What was a man to do? His growing family, his new scale 
 of living, his inner conviction that even if he were doing no 
 great amount of work for the Civic Federation, it was not 
 bad work in the sense that it harmed labor. The opinion of 
 many of his friends, all led him to be inclined to keep his 
 office. What was there against it? The vote, large in fact, but 
 which would obviously never have been taken if Lewis had 
 not been interested in securing revenge for Mitchell's part in 
 the repudiation Illinois had administered to him, was that of 
 a union he had left as officer. True, he was still its representa- 
 tive on the executive council of the American Federation of 
 Labor. True, he still faithfully kept his union card in the 
 Spring Valley local, but he also knew though other men feared 
 it was not so that he had no desire to return to the fighting 
 involved in any attempt to resume leadership in the union. 
 The large vote against him proved not only what he knew 
 already, that men demanded almost impossible success from 
 their leaders and remembered that success but a short time. 
 The delegates of the anthracite districts where he had been 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 237 
 
 hailed and acclaimed as nowhere else had been almost unani- 
 mously against him. He could take what comfort there was 
 out of the fact that Illinois voted four to one for him. Why 
 not get out of the union? Did it have anything more to give 
 him? 
 
 The feeling that now he was earning a salary, but that the 
 best days of his life, his highest dreams and hopes had been 
 and — for his own sake — must always be attached to the union, 
 brought him to a swift decision. His standing with those men 
 was more to him than success now could be. He was trying to 
 remember himself as a young man, before he had been beaten, 
 trying to put away obstacles between himself and that pic- 
 ture, eager to see himself still within the dynasty of his early 
 promise, eager to have others see him there, too. 
 
 He resigned his position with the Civic Federation at once. 
 He wired the delegates that he submitted to their wishes but 
 would "live in the consciousness that the men and women at 
 home for whom I worked so many years will not concur in 
 your conclusion." That remained his hope — that the quick 
 judgment passed upon him without hearing could only be the 
 result of political manipulation, that the men at home not 
 caught up in it would be more willing to do him the honor of 
 believing that he would have accepted no dishonorable em- 
 ployment. He was somewhat heartened at the many letters of 
 protest and requests for a referendum sent in by locals 
 throughout the country, and the long discussion of a protest 
 movement in the anthracite region. All this came to nothing, 
 partly because he did not lead any fight for his own vindica- 
 tion, partly because his resignation from the Civic Federation 
 
238 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 had settled the matter in one way, and partly because men 
 really needed some whipping-boy for their piled-up defeats 
 and were willing to let the Civic Federation feel some of the 
 lash. 
 
 Samuel Gompers suggested that he make a fight on the 
 forces in the union back of the resolution, and offered him the 
 columns of the American Federationist for "a service to the 
 cause of labor and justice, for which no like opportunity might 
 present itself in a decade." Mitchell said that he could not 
 write the story without reflecting upon some of the men in the 
 miners' union, and preferred to do that within the realm of 
 the union rather than through an outside paper. But when, 
 after Lewis was out, he did write three articles for the Mine 
 Workers' Journal^ it was not the kind of fight Gompers ex- 
 pected. No old scars were opened up. He did not set himself as 
 a target for retaliation, as a ball for the muddy feet of men. 
 When he finally wrote, it was only a denial of the claim that 
 the Civic Federation had ulterior purposes that tended to 
 chloroform labor into helplessness and an outline of its help- 
 ful activities. In his letter of resignation to the Civic Federa- 
 tion, he regretted that it had been a subject of gratuitous at- 
 tack and said that it had stood consistently as an advocate of 
 righteous peace. 
 
 Mitchell's choice was probably the one which a sincere 
 trade unionist could make under the circumstances, despite its 
 loss of a position which now paid $10,000. It is difficult to 
 judge what might have occurred had he stayed with the Civic 
 Federation, because of the change in the nature of its activi- 
 ties shortly afterwards. An official of the organization com- 
 
THE PROMISE OF HIS YOUTH 239 
 
 mented unfavorably on Mitchell's lack of initiative in the 
 attack against what that official considered the Socialist men- 
 ace. Somewhat later, in this connection, when Mitchell was 
 on a lecture tour and was asked to insert in a Milwaukee ad- 
 dress a few words of attack on Socialism, he refused to do so 
 even though it might have meant a cancellation of the lecture. 
 Once again then, in 1911, at the age of forty-one Mitchell 
 was footloose and casting about for a position in which he 
 might, in his way, be of service to labor. His very caliber and 
 standing made the creation of any post within the miners' 
 union or the American Federation of Labor difficult, even if 
 he would have wished it. He was not a man who could be 
 made a subordinate, and few leaders were willing to retire in 
 his favor. 
 
XII 
 THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 
 
 THE dilemma which Mitchell faced in 1911 was per- 
 haps the same one which confronts all ex-presidents. 
 He faced it younger than most ; he was only forty-one. All his 
 experience, instead of preparing him for the best years of ac- 
 tivity, had hampered him. The miners' cause was the situation 
 he knew most intimately. Lewis was out but he knew that no 
 miners' president could appoint him, even if he should wish 
 to accept a humbler post, to a position where his very presence 
 might seem to challenge the administration. There seemed to 
 be no place for him in the American Federation of Labor out- 
 side of the honorary post he held. Other unions had their own 
 leaders. There was very little opportunity for a trade union 
 leader to function unless he did so within the unions them- 
 selves. What about the balance of the labor movement in its 
 more radical, political phases^ He was unacceptable to the 
 radicals, and he was no radical. He was confronted with the 
 difficulty which had in his day also confronted many men 
 outside of the labor movement who saw in it the cause for 
 hopeful change and yet had found no way of working with it. 
 Mitchell, through the initiative and management of Miss 
 Morris, spent the next two years lecturing to the public at 
 large. In these lectures, he was still the man who had told 
 the anthracite miners in 1908 that he had not solved the labor 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 241 
 
 problem and that it would never be solved, but that the union 
 was their only safeguard against a return to the days of 
 greater suffering. He had too long been a responsible leader 
 to become a crusader now, a man with some new flaming 
 vision or word with which to stir others. He had learned then 
 that a responsible leader, with wage negotiations always in 
 the offing, cannot say reckless, even if glorious things, because 
 his own people would then judge him by his own avowed 
 aspirations or condemn him for a radicalism greater than their 
 own, and because the employers were always eager to seize on 
 the pretext of radicalism. All this had made crusading a lux- 
 ury or even a vice. 
 
 When finally he was free from responsibility, both to the 
 miners and to the Civic Federation which had employed him, 
 his lectures were dignified statements of the moderate and 
 humane aims of unionism, its ameliorative social function. It 
 was what he believed. If it was not exactly a rousing call to 
 a new order, neither was it what was later to be called busi- 
 ness unionism. It was a program of progressive modification 
 of the existing order, and not a glorious gesture to be remem- 
 bered and to rally one on to the overthrow of that order. His 
 did not stir the occasional listener who might have responded 
 with enthusiasm to the evangelism of a Debs or an Emma 
 Goldman. To the large masses of the common people who 
 flocked to the Chautauquas, or the average student who heard 
 him at the universities, he brought a revision of the then 
 common belief that the labor movement was a purse-stealing, 
 black-jacking, bomb-throwing raid on American institutions, 
 but made them understand it as an essential to their own wel- 
 
242 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 fare as well as to that of its membership. To many through- 
 out the country to whom labor was anathema, who would not 
 admit Gompers into the circle of respectability until after he 
 had proved his patriotism in full, but who could be roused 
 to enthusiasm by Roosevelt's rally at Armageddon, he brought 
 the simple statement that the progress of the human world 
 was made by small but continual gains, and this, in spite of 
 his own somewhat romantic personality. 
 
 While he had originally been conservative because he had 
 been very rapidly and suddenly thrust into situations which 
 made him aware of their limitations and of his own, he re- 
 mained conservative because, like most of the miners of the 
 day, he accepted the lingering American traditions. His neigh- 
 bors and fellow members in the union had no philosophy 
 which radically challenged these. He had been a small-town 
 man and he remained sensitive to the opinion of his neighbors. 
 While he could say immediately after the grueling hearings 
 of the anthracite commission that "the average wage earner 
 has decided that he must remain a wage earner," in his own 
 life he had seen evidence of the ability to rise to success. Al- 
 though he knew he was something of an exception, he did not 
 want to feel himself alienated from other miners, to see him- 
 self as an isolated exception. He saw none of the irreconcil- 
 able conflict which the I.W.W. were preaching. He wanted 
 to believe in peace because he was essentially hopeful that 
 strong union organization carried with it progress. The people 
 from whom he had come found in their neighbor's eyes a re- 
 spectability through peace, ostracism through violence. To 
 this, although he was doubtless unconscious of it, was added 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 243 
 
 the fact that many of the people he admired were successful, 
 wealthy, such as Hanna and other men in the Civic Federa- 
 tion, who wanted industrial peace badly and believed it pos- 
 sible, without any great change in the character of the labor 
 movement. His essential conservatism had not been modified 
 by the history of radical efforts. He had seen the Socialist 
 Labor Party and the I.W.W. rent by factionalism, unsuccess- 
 ful in organizing any but the migratory workers of the West, 
 flaring up in the Lawrence strike of 1912 only to leave the 
 workers without any permanent organization. He had seen 
 tired radicals, and liberals for whom unionism was not suf- 
 ficiently progressive, turn from one solution to another, only 
 to dissipate themselves in theoretical and factional disputes. 
 
 During these two years he asked himself again the question 
 that constantly haunted him — to what extent, judging from 
 the developments since his retirement, had he failed the peo- 
 ple who trusted him and failed himself? 
 
 He might have drawn some comfort from what he saw. 
 After the slump which had lasted from 1906 till 1911, the 
 miners were again going ahead. His old opponent Lewis had 
 been defeated and later had gone over to the operators' side 
 in the non-union fields of West Virginia, taking with him of- 
 fice records which the operators later used. In that year the 
 anthracite districts were again rebuilt and the miners were 
 given the long-needed machinery of mine committees to pro- 
 tect them. In 1913 membership gained over one hundred and 
 ten thousand in spite of losses in Cabin Creek and other por- 
 tions of West Virginia. The Ludlow massacre in Colorado 
 was still a year in the offing. Could this be failure? He knew 
 
244 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 that while in the soft-coal fields he was one of many leaders, 
 in the anthracite district he remained to many "the great- 
 est labor leader the world had ever known" — peacemaker at 
 home, a valiant warrior against the enemy. He knew that 
 while for years men had cursed the awards of the anthra- 
 cite commission, they now had the mechanism of local pit com- 
 mittees by which they could protect themselves. While he 
 had been in office, there had been ever-present the danger 
 that the non-union fields — notably West Virginia — would 
 break the union hold. That danger remained and was grow- 
 ing. He had never tried to do there what he had tried in the 
 anthracite field. There had been over-development of the in- 
 dustry. There still was. To some extent the efficient and high 
 cost mines might have been closed down or kept from opening 
 up by a uniform wage scale throughout the central competi- 
 tive field. When he entered office, labor was bearing the en- 
 tire burden for inequalities in costs of production so that every 
 operator could sell his coal in the market. Instead of forcing 
 upon the central competitive areas a wage scale which would 
 have eliminated all of the over-development of the industry, 
 the union had found it necessary in 1898 to compromise on 
 the "principle of competitive equality," which had resulted in 
 the elimination of many mines and since then he had been 
 forced to divide his time and attention to protecting it from 
 low-cost competition of non-union mines in the outlying dis- 
 tricts. He had given up the interstate agreement, and eight 
 years were to elapse before it could be won back. Twenty 
 years after he left office, the over-development of the industry 
 was to result in giving up the agreement in the central com- 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 245 
 
 petitive fields for the second time. The over-production that 
 was to come in part through machine mining still lay in the 
 future. Its great influence on the union was a matter to be 
 charged up to the leader succeeding him. Meanwhile he did 
 have to his credit a record of higher wages than those obtained 
 in other industries, of lower hours obtained, and a record of 
 negotiations honorably conducted. It had become, with the 
 building trades, the backbone of the American Federation of 
 Labor. His influence on American trade unionism, through his 
 success with collective bargaining, had been inestimable. 
 
 It was a not unimpressive record. While developments and 
 changes in the industry were to make some of his omissions 
 and failures seem of great importance later on than they did 
 now, he could truly go before the country, not only with sin- 
 cerity and almost unchallenged integrity, but with a record 
 that very few other men — if any — who had taken up the 
 cause of the weak could boast. 
 
 In these four years, Mitchell himself had developed intel- 
 lectually. In 1903, with the very substantial collaboration of 
 Walter Weyl, He had written Organized Labor which, 
 though it was a record of accomplishment for a period in 
 which labor had had few historians and fewer analysts, was 
 too guarded and factual an account to reflect the man him- 
 self. In 1913, he published a second volume The Wage 
 Earner and His Problems. It showed a careful study and 
 an understanding of labor legislation. It revealed a more 
 questioning attitude toward the fundamental righteousness of 
 the political and economic order of the day. His belief in 
 American institutions did not blind him to the value of con- 
 
246 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 tinental experiments along other lines. The vogue of the Tay- 
 lor system provoked a careful, though not technical analysis, 
 of the wastes of management and of capital. 
 
 During this time he retained his connection with the ex- 
 ecutive council of the American Federation of Labor. It was 
 the one possible bridge back to the career which had made 
 him a name. He retained that office only because he had been 
 indicted with other A. F. of L. officials on the charge of boy- 
 cotting the Buck Stove and Range Company, and the accident 
 that the Federation leaders did not seem to want Lewis to 
 take his place on the council, and White had refused to accept 
 an eighth vice-presidency. Could something be made of this 
 chance ? 
 
 At this moment, a great opportunity came his way. Early 
 in 1913 the newly elected president, Woodrow Wilson, was 
 choosing a man for the position of Secretary of Labor. It was 
 known that he had John Mitchell in mind. A little pressure 
 by Mitchell's friends, a word spoken by the Federation lead- 
 ers, would doubtless have confirmed him in his choice, for he 
 saw no one else on the horizon of Mitchell's caliber, and sup- 
 posed that the labor leaders of the country would agree with 
 him. There was no one who brought this pressure to bear, and 
 Mitchell still held to his feeling that, even where there was 
 competition for honors and offices, they must come to him un- 
 solicited. It was then that the American Federation of Labor, 
 apparently unaware of President Wilson's intention, and un- 
 approached by Mitchell himself or his friends on the sub- 
 ject, recommended another man. 
 
 This was a blow. It was true that he had several ideas about 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 247 
 
 unionism which conflicted with those held by Samuel Gom- 
 pers and others in the Federation. On one of these, the neces- 
 sity of industrial unionism in the mines, he had fought and 
 won. Gompers had seen him withdraw from the struggle to 
 become vice-presidential nominee on the Democratic ticket in 
 1908. He had seen him withdraw from the Civic Federation 
 without making the sort of bitter attack on his opponents 
 which Gompers had recommended to him and for which he 
 had offered Mitchell the columns of the labor paper. He had 
 been irritated by Mitchell's objections to his public state- 
 ments at the time of the first decision in the Buck Stove and 
 Range case. Mitchell then had suggested many modifications 
 in Gompers' language and had lectured him to the effect 
 that "Dignity and proper restraint are at this time as essen- 
 tial as courage and candor." 
 
 To Gompers all this seemed confusion between the dignity 
 of labor and its virile militancy. Himself a man with a robust, 
 uninhibited enjoyment of life, a shrewd political ability, a 
 sharp verbal resourcefulness, and a live hatred for his op- 
 ponents both in the employing and in the Socialist ranks, 
 Mitchell's somber reflectiveness seemed provincialism; his self- 
 control and tolerance seemed to Gompers more fitting for an 
 impartial chairman than for a man who might, it was hoped, 
 really fight effectively labor's battles in the cabinet. He passed 
 over Mitchell and recommended — which made the preference 
 more striking — another miners' leader, W. B. Wilson. He 
 had been secretary of the union while Mitchell was president. 
 It could be said in his behalf that he was an enrolled Demo- 
 crat who had had Congressional experience. Even after that 
 
248 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 recommendation had gone in, it would have been possible for 
 Mitchell to have had his friends bring pressure to bear on 
 Gompers to recommend him as well. This he did not do. He 
 went further. He begged his friends to support Wilson. 
 
 A few months later, at the Seattle Convention in 1913, a 
 movement was set on foot by many in the American Federa- 
 tion of Labor to have him succeed Gompers, who was then 
 sixty-three years old. There was a large group which felt that 
 Mitchell, as the younger man, had not only greater potential 
 energy, but was more acceptable to the public. Had Gompers 
 accepted the proposition that he should retire and be given 
 the post of honorary president and the editorship of the 
 American Federationist, Mitchell would have been willing to 
 run. But Gompers did not feel himself to be an old man and 
 refused to retire; he finished his life in the saddle. Mitchell 
 would not oppose him, nor was he any man for Mitchell, who 
 had always tried to avoid the exigencies of a struggle for 
 power, to challenge. Mitchell felt that his own dignity and 
 that of the Federation was at stake. Perhaps if there had been 
 some issue which he saw as vital to the welfare of unionism in 
 the country, he might have pocketed this sense of dignity or 
 pride. The issue against craft unionism did not present itself 
 to him as a challenge. Years before, after he had successfully 
 fought the battle of industrial unionism for the miners, he 
 told John Walker who wished to introduce a resolution for 
 its introduction in other industries, that "we are too young to 
 advise." It would certainly have been a hopeless issue to go 
 with before an organization that was founded on the sover- 
 eignty of these crafts. Although he did not feel as bitterly 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 249 
 
 opposed to the Socialist Party as his associates on the execu- 
 tive council — he made a distinction between it and the other 
 two political parties — still he was outspoken in his belief that 
 the labor movement was not to be made the tail of any politi- 
 cal "kite." He had no fundamental fight with the Federation 
 on its political policy. 
 
 That was the closing of a chapter. From now on, though 
 he might stay on the fringes of the labor movement, the 
 bridges that might have carried him back were down. He 
 could not go on lecturing indefinitely, for lecturing at its best 
 was a pause in the life of a man of action during which he 
 tries to bring people up to the place he has reached. Perhaps 
 at this moment he might have gone into business. He was 
 casting around still at loose ends, when Governor Sulzer of 
 New York State appointed him Commissioner of Labor, after 
 the Senate had twice vetoed his appointment. Even that went 
 out from under his feet, for Governor Sulzer was shortly 
 thereafter impeached and removed and the appointment nulli- 
 fied. But now friends were stirring and in March, 1914, Gov- 
 ernor Glynn, Sulzer' s successor, chose Mitchell for a four- 
 year term as member of the Workmen's Compensation Com- 
 mission. In June of 1915 he was transferred and appointed 
 Chairman of the Industrial Commission of New York State, a 
 post he held till he died. 
 
 It was a position which drew largely upon his ability to see 
 both sides of each case, to secure the slow progress possible 
 through legislation. He took particular interest in the cases 
 dealing with compensation to workers for industrial accidents, 
 and often, instead of delegating to deputies the task of hold- 
 
250 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 ing the individual hearings, attended them himself. This type 
 of legislation was then new in New York State. His especial 
 interest in its fair enactment had its permanent effects not only 
 in New York but in other states. He thought many times of 
 the great number of his fellow-craftsmen dead and crippled 
 each year in the great toll of life taken by the mining industry. 
 
 His new work also involved a certain amount of concilia- 
 tion of industrial disputes. He brought to them the same es- 
 sential appeal of his personality which had marked his con- 
 duct as a labor leader, the appeal of a decent man who 
 expected to find the same quality in others. During one hot 
 summer there was a strike in an industrial town in northern 
 New York. It had been going on for some time, and there 
 seemed to be no possibility of an amicable settlement, the em- 
 ployers steadfastly refusing to meet with a committee of the 
 workmen. The employers, most of whom had formed into an 
 association during the strike, represented the respectable, staid, 
 long-established element in the community, controlling not 
 only the industrial but the financial life of the city. The work- 
 ers were despised foreigners, underpaid and overworked. Con- 
 tinued refusals to meet with the strikers had, it was rumored, 
 aroused a desperate spirit in them and there was talk of dyna- 
 mite being stored in town. Unable to make any headway, 
 Mitchell's associate left for Albany with a threat of an in- 
 vestigation. It was August and the members of the Commis- 
 sion were due for a vacation, but instead they were sum- 
 moned to come to the town to make the required investiga- 
 tion. His associate told the story: 
 
 "The day of the proceedings was hot and sultry. Everyone 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 251 
 
 was irritated and tense, as worker after worker was called and 
 gave the same desperate story, and employer after employer 
 refused, on advice of counsel, to give his version of the strike. 
 Mr. Mitchell, slow, deliberate, was in the chair and he seemed 
 to be the only one who could keep his temper. Even those 
 commissioners who were supposed to be friendly to the manu- 
 facturers' side had become incensed at the attitude of the em- 
 ployers. 
 
 "Finally one of the younger employers was called to the 
 stand. I sent word to Mr. Mitchell that this was the only man 
 in the employers' group in whom I had any hope. Mr. Mitch- 
 ell proceeded with the regular questions. What was the man's 
 name, his firm's name, how long had he been in business, the 
 number of his employees, etc. 
 
 "When he came to the question: 'Will you tell us what 
 you know of this strike?' he received the same irritating an- 
 swer: f On advice of counsel I have nothing to say.' The case 
 seemed hopeless. 
 
 "At this moment, Mr. Mitchell asked the witness, 'Are you 
 
 a member of the same association as Mr. (an employer 
 
 who had gone to Canada to avoid examination) ?' He received 
 an answer in the affirmative. Then Mr. Mitchell, slowly, dra- 
 matically, deliberately and earnestly said, T am going now 
 to perform a most unpleasant duty but one which I believe 
 necessary under the circumstances.' 
 
 "Then he read into the record a letter from Mr. , the 
 
 absent employer, obscene and vituperative, in response to a 
 request from a committee of his workers to meet with them. 
 The whole matter took but a few moments, but it seemed 
 
252 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 longer because of Mr. Mitchell's low, deliberate reading. The 
 air was very tense in that swelteringly hot room and there was 
 hardly a sound until the witness cried out: c My God, I can't 
 stand it any longer. I've always been respected in the com- 
 munity, respected by my employees. I've lived here all my 
 life and I'm sick to death of all this.' 
 
 "I leaned forward and urged Mr. Mitchell to take advan- 
 tage of the opening made. But to the surprise and dismay of 
 the other commissioners, Mr. Mitchell adjourned the hearing 
 at the moment for the next day without further explanations. 
 Next morning there came a committee from the employers to 
 meet with the workers' committee and eventually a settlement 
 was made. 
 
 "It was a dramatic episode — spontaneously dramatic. Only 
 a good man, himself clean, would have known how to ap- 
 peal to the decency of the man on the witness stand." 
 
 Into work of this type he settled with some half -satisfac- 
 tion. It was good work, useful work, there could be no chal- 
 lenge of the kind that had accompanied his work with the 
 Civic Federation. He settled down into it and grew stout. His 
 family was growing up in his Mount Vernon home, his chil- 
 dren getting some of the education he himself had needed 
 badly. Now he was out of the clamor and strain of the labor 
 movement, passing, in the name of the public, judgments on 
 the social value of its aims. He himself was part of the pub- 
 lic which Hanna had said was either employer or employee. 
 To remind himself, to keep himself from forgetting all that 
 had once been close pain to him, and was now perhaps in dan- 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 253 
 
 ger of being lost among the papers of legality and the dust 
 of office routine, he made a point of going to the East Side of 
 New York City in order — by seeing the swarming, dirty 
 streets, the crowded, sour-smelling tenements — not to lose the 
 consciousness of poverty and misery and unemployment. Once 
 a week it was his church. 
 
 His associates were mainly fellow officials and some few 
 union leaders. His social contacts with the four hundred were 
 very slight. He remained a lonely man. At heart his interests 
 were far away. He once said: "I have good friends there, I 
 like them, they like me. But we have so little in common. 
 They know nothing of mining. You can't know what it means 
 to fall in with some old mining friends and talk over old 
 days." Whenever old acquaintances from the mine fields came 
 to New York, he was insistent that they should visit him, and 
 for some of them, these visits became pilgrimages to Mount 
 Vernon. Occasionally he managed to get down to Scranton 
 and see his friend, John Loftus, and feel the warm beat of 
 approval that came up to him from the mining districts on 
 Mitchell Day. He decided that when he died it was there 
 that he wanted to be buried. 
 
 When the war came, and other labor leaders were being 
 called in on the determination of national labor policy, he 
 continued to serve rather as a representative of the public. He 
 found scope for his organizing abilities as chairman of the 
 State Food Commission, of the Federal Food Board for New 
 York, of the State Council of Farms and Markets. From a 
 distance, he could see the miners' union grow, its membership 
 
254 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 prosper, the A. F. of L., whose conventions he still attended, 
 grow to a membership of five million. Labor acquired a recog- 
 nized status in the country. 
 
 During these years and especially those before America 
 entered the war, he had found a new vocation. In his early 
 career he had been distressed by the loss of all his savings, 
 two thousand dollars, in a bank failure. He had known in- 
 security of employment throughout his youth, and twice after 
 his success. In the conversation of the men with whom he had 
 associated at the Civic Federation, there had been frequent 
 talk of the market. He had begun to invest his savings on 
 some of the tips. The market became to him a puzzle like 
 life that could be solved, a puzzle like his own life which had 
 to be solved. He began studying it carefully. It was the poker 
 he had always liked, but on a large scale, magnificent, some- 
 times appalling scale. It became his drink. In his earlier years 
 he had been willing to gamble on the number of cars passing 
 a given corner, on races between raindrops, on the color of 
 horses appearing on the street. To some extent it was sheer 
 excitement, to some extent an attempt to beat a game. About 
 his own success in life he had his opinions. But the stock 
 market might be a game where he could win. It was a curious 
 passion for a man who had no love for luxury, who practi- 
 cally never used the automobile he purchased for his family 
 in the last years of his life, who had never been concerned in 
 his days as union official with the size of his salary. During 
 the war, there were many industries which profited, whose 
 stocks rose sharply. Mitchell was acquiring wealth. But the 
 war which brought him prosperity was the last blow for this 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 255 
 
 weary man. He was patriotic enough, his sons all served in 
 the war, but his patriotism lacked the belligerent joyousness 
 of other men. He could believe with Wilson that it was a 
 war for democracy, but death and combat saddened him. He 
 did not even feel useful any longer, not even necessary to his 
 family who were now well provided for. His term of office 
 would soon draw to a close and he could retire. Then what? 
 In his weary despair, he turned again to drinking and to the 
 self-disgust which accompanied it. During the war there were 
 many industries which profited, whose stocks rose sharply. 
 
 When the war came to an end in France, the miners tried 
 to free themselves from their obligations not to strike during 
 the war and to obtain wages that would allow them to keep 
 up with the high cost of living, and their officers met the situ- 
 ation by saying, "We cannot strike against the government," 
 and men in his home state of Illinois retorted, in a special 
 convention, that the war had been over a long time and that 
 they had been sold out, Mitchell was taken to a New York 
 City hospital for an operation. It was not an important opera- 
 tion. Nobody worried about it. It seemed a success. But after 
 it was over, pneumonia set in, and on September 10, 1919, he 
 died. He was only forty-nine years old. It was the day on 
 which Calvin Coolidge, Governor of Massachusetts, settled 
 the Boston police strike. 
 
 The hearty body, the prosperous man, had at last been suc- 
 cessfully betrayed by the weary, gentle eyes which had seen 
 enough and grown tired eleven years before they finally closed. 
 In the last week of his life he showed the same lack of de- 
 
256 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 sire to live that had characterized his illness twelve years be- 
 fore, in 1907. 
 
 While many had been caught up in the industrial develop- 
 ments of the war, in the changing status of labor, had seen the 
 officers of the railroad brotherhoods sitting with a stopwatch 
 in the gallery of Congress, threatening a national railroad 
 strike if the eight-hour law were not passed, had seen revolu- 
 tionary unionism in Russia, unionism compromising a revo- 
 lution in Germany and new figures and faces taking the place 
 of older ones, Mitchell's death was a reminder of days past, 
 of a struggle eclipsed in the changing structure of the world 
 in which labor was expected to have a great, if not dominant 
 part. That was 1919. 
 
 Others saw him as a man who had served supremely well 
 according to his abilities. Louis F. Post wrote in The Public: 
 "John Mitchell is dead. His body is laid at rest in Scranton 
 and the crowds of simple-minded folk who thronged the cathe- 
 dral are ample testimony that John Mitchell lives. The value 
 of men like Mitchell to the nation lies in their ability to com- 
 municate the spirit of democracy to others. It transcends any 
 mere material contribution to society. 
 
 "A newspaper in commenting upon John Mitchell's career 
 compares his services to society favorably with those of a cap- 
 tain of industry preceding him by a few days. Somehow the 
 spirit instinctively rebels from such a comparison. After all, 
 what services has any duke of steel or prince of anthracite 
 rendered which entitles him to the thanks of the world. The 
 most that can be said of him is that he has striven for a great 
 prize and has obtained it. The fact that he has attained emi- 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 257 
 
 nence may be a proof of ability. But ability is a common 
 enough virtue. We smother enough of it annually in the slums 
 to make hundreds of captains of industry. . . . Not so with 
 Mitchell. . . . 
 
 "John Mitchell came out from the coal mine as Lincoln 
 came from the cabin. John Mitchell somehow won through 
 these adverse artificial circumstances. While he was still alive 
 his voice was always lifted to make it easier for others, to 
 break through the hard crust that shuts out opportunity. We 
 can honor his memory best by making it easier for many to 
 serve as he served." 
 
 To the surprise of many it developed, when his will was 
 offered for probate, far from being a poor man, he left an 
 estate of almost $250,000. For a moment, the first eulogies 
 written of his death were forgotten among those doubts which 
 always surround money of labor leaders: Had it been ac- 
 quired honestly"? 
 
 His estate consisted of: Bonds, $71,900; Notes, $2,266.66; 
 Stocks $156,000; Bank Deposits $14,129.99. The bonds and 
 stocks were held in such corporations as the Armour Com- 
 pany, the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, the Chicago Rock 
 Island and Pacific Railroad, and the New York Central Rail- 
 road. Curiously enough, in the last speech Mitchell ever made 
 — before the state convention of the New York State Feder- 
 ation of Labor — for the first time in his life, he had commit- 
 ted himself to government ownership of the railroads. A later 
 accounting showed an increase in the value of his estate to 
 $347,151. It listed shares of the Texas Pacific Coal and Oil 
 Company, and eighty-seven shares of the Peabody Coal Com- 
 
258 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 pany of Illinois, the latter valued at $21,897.90. The will, 
 later declared invalid on some legal technicality but the pro- 
 visions of which were carried out, provided for equal division 
 between his wife and children of all but $10,000, of which 
 $5,000 was to go to Miss Morris, and the other $5,000 to be 
 distributed between two half-brothers and a cousin. 
 
 To those who had all along regarded Mitchell as being too 
 conservative, the very existence of this fortune was in itself 
 all the proof they wanted of the fact that John Mitchell, as 
 president of the miners, had not been honest. Others wondered 
 how such a large fortune had been accumulated in so short a 
 time. 
 
 According to intimates of Mitchell, when he left the union 
 in 1908, he was a poor man. He had lost his savings of $2,000 
 in 1905 and his illness had eaten up any possible further ac- 
 cumulation. The six months' salary given him by the miners, 
 the fund of the western miners turned over to his wife, and 
 $3,500 which represented the proceeds from the sale of his 
 Spring Valley house, were his total assets — altogether about 
 $7,500. His salary at the National Civic Federation was 
 $8,000. His family lived modestly in Mount Vernon and 
 Mrs. Mitchell was slow to give up the housekeeping habits 
 of a miner's wife, doing her own housework for many years 
 and living well within his salary. 
 
 As far back as 1903, Mitchell had begun investing in 
 stocks with the first proceeds from his book and from his 
 articles. He continued investing with the savings from his 
 Civic Federation salary. He had not made very profitable in- 
 vestments, however, until 1911. With his resignation from 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 259 
 
 the Civic Federation, he had begun his study of the stock mar- 
 ket. Frequent turnovers as a result of close study of the mar- 
 ket, and the use of values during the war pyramided his hold- 
 ings, it is said. On the whole he kept clear of the mining in- 
 dustry or of anthracite-carrying railroads. The stock in the 
 Peabody Coal Company, a corporation in the organized fields 
 of Illinois, according to accounts, was given him in exchange 
 for the stock of a non-mining company which was absorbed 
 by the Peabody Company as a subsidiary. To show his scrupu- 
 lousness in this respect, friends relate that when he took of- 
 fice during the war with the Food Commission, he sold his 
 holdings in the Sheffield and Borden Milk Companies. These 
 are the explanations, so far as they are obtainable. 
 
 Mitchell was, in these years after he left the active leader- 
 ship of the miners' union, interested in the accumulation of 
 wealth as most men are, primarily for the sake of his family. 
 He did not profess to be a radical or to consider the invest- 
 ment in stocks and money-making evil in themselves. His 
 union had invested its funds in stocks and bonds and had 
 thus increased its financial strength. It is doubtful that he 
 would plead for himself that the individual is helplessly and 
 intricately bound up with the whole capitalistic system. He 
 had, as far back as 1903, said that in his opinion it was no 
 crime to be rich. He had said with equal emphasis that his 
 leadership had no basis of pecuniary ambition. 
 
 In every sense, this quarter of a million was a tragic waste. 
 He had no capacity for enjoying wealth; it was in itself to 
 him a mark of the decline of his career. Mrs. Mitchell died 
 shortly after lie did, and one wonders whether the four chil- 
 
260 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 dren derived sufficient advantage in education and comfort 
 from the money to compensate for the doubts it cast on their 
 father. In his success in the financial field, his success in the 
 union field is often forgotten, especially by men outside the 
 labor movement who knew little of it and so were willing to 
 suspect the worst. 
 
 There has been no proof given, either directly or in the 
 retrospective interpretation of Mitchell's leadership, that 
 any act of his had contemplated remuneration from the em- 
 ploying class after he had retired. The miners stood by him. 
 Their confidence was unshaken. They had seen no act of 
 Mitchell's which had given them cause for suspicion. They 
 usually were stirred to no vehement indignation when their 
 leaders withdrew to the employers' side. Even this Mitchell 
 had not done, and as soon as he had been accused of it, he 
 had met the test by giving up ten thousand dollars a year in 
 return for the honor of remaining a member of their union. 
 They had no objection to men of wealth. They wanted to 
 believe that men from their ranks could succeed. It pleased 
 many of them to know that not only when he had been with 
 them, but after he had left them and become an official repre- 
 sentative of the miners to the nation, he was a success. 
 
 Five years later they thronged from all over the country 
 to unveil a monument which they paid for by contributions 
 in a public square of Scranton, the city of his greatest triumph 
 and his final place of rest. Powderly had been mayor in the 
 eighties, but Mitchell was remembered as the great tribune 
 and the first American labor leader to be honored by such an 
 unanimous throng and such a monument. 
 
THE RESIGNATION TO SUCCESS 261 
 
 On the monument is his statue, and the statue does not 
 look as he did. All through the coal valley there live men and 
 women who have eaten the bread and tasted the freedom he 
 fought for with their fathers. In their minds they keep a warm 
 memory of him — and that memory may be a myth of what 
 the man was. In the marble of the monument is graven, 
 "Champion of Labor — Defender of Human Rights, 5 ' and it 
 stands there for all to see in the center of the city. A mile 
 away he lies under a stone as unpretentious as himself. He had 
 tried to do what he could for the men and women with whom 
 he had worked and suffered. He had not always succeeded. 
 But there had been moments in all his weariness when he knew 
 and could be happy in the thought that his work and his mem- 
 ory would make it more possible for others to bring about for 
 his people a fuller and richer life. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 A. BOOKS AND ARTICLES BY JOHN MITCHELL 
 Books 
 
 "Organized Labor ; Its Problems, Purposes and Ideals," by John Mitchell, 
 
 American Book and Bible House, Philadelphia, 1903. 
 "The Wage Earner and His Problems," P. S. Risdale, Washington, D. C, 
 
 1913. 
 Articles 
 Autobiographical article, The Circle, June, 1909, Vol. 5, p. 330. 
 "Recognition of the Union," The Independent, Vol. 53, 1895, Aug. 15, 
 
 1901. 
 Articles on travels abroad, included in United Mine Workers Convention 
 
 Proceedings, 1905. 
 
 B. MAGAZINE ARTICLES ON JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Morris, E. C, "John Mitchell, the Leader and the Man," The Inde- 
 pendent, December 25, 1902. 
 
 Steffens, Lincoln : "Labor Leader of Today," McClure's, August, 1902. 
 
 Warne, F. J.: "John Mitchell, the Labor Leader and the Man," Review 
 of Reviews, Nov., 1902. 
 
 Weyl, W. E. : "The Man the Miners Trust," The Outlook, March, 1906. 
 
 Weir, Hugh : "John Mitchell," Human Life, October, 1908. 
 
 "Mitchell the Man Who Kept His Head," Current Literature, April, 
 
 1912. 
 
 "Appreciation," The Public, Sept. 20, 1919. 
 
 C PUBLICATIONS OF INDUSTRY 
 
 Union 
 
 Proceedings of Annual Conventions of United Mine Workers, 1898-1911. 
 
 United Mine Workers' Journal, 1891-1925. 
 
 The American Federationist, 1891-1925. 
 
 Proceedings of American Federation of Labor. 
 Publications of Trade 
 
 Coal Trade Journal, weekly, New York. 
 
 Fuel, Chicago. 
 
 Black Diamond, weekly founded 1886, Chicago. 
 
 Coal Trade Bulletin, Pittsburgh, Pa. 
 Joint Proceedings 
 
 Joint Interstate Conferences of Coal Miners and Operators of Illinois, 
 Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania, 1899-1908. 
 
 D. GOVERNMENT AND OFFICIAL PUBLICATIONS 
 
 United States 
 
 Report of Commission on Industrial Relations, Washington, 1916. 
 
 Report of U. S. Industrial Commission, 1901, Vol. 12, Report on Mining. 
 
 Investigation of Wages and Living Conditions in Coal Mining, Hearings 
 on H. R. 354, 64th Congress, 2nd session, 1917. 
 
 Investigation of Wages and Working Conditions in the Coal Mining In- 
 dustry, Hearings on H. R. 11022 before Committee on Labor of H. R. 
 
 67th Congress, 2nd session, 1922, Testimony of P. H. Penna. 
 
264 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Report on the Anthracite Coal Strike of 1902, U. S. Anthracite Coal 
 
 Commission, 1903. 
 Hearings before Anthracite Coal Commission of 1902, Testimony, 1902- 
 
 1903. 
 Bulletin No. 43 of the Bureau of Labor, Report of Carroll D. Wright 
 
 to the President on the Anthracite Coal Situation, June 20, 1902. 
 Report on the Labor Troubles in the Anthracite Regions, 1887-88, 50th 
 
 Congress, 2nd session, H. R. No. 4147. 
 Coal in 1919, 1920 and 1921, by F. G. Tryon and Sidney A. Hale, Report 
 
 of U. S. Geological Survey, Part II. 
 State 
 A Report on Labor Disturbances in Colorado, 1880-1904 (58th Congress, 
 
 3rd session Senate Document 122). 
 Statistics of Coal in Illinois, Supplemental Reports of State Bureau of 
 
 Labor Statistics, 1881-1905. 
 Report of Special Committee on Northern Illinois Coal Strike of 1889. 
 
 E. GENERAL WORKS 
 
 Beard, Charles and Mary: "Rise of American Civilization," Macmillan 
 
 Co., 1927. 
 Bishop, Joseph Bucklin : "Theodore Roosevelt and His Time," New York, 
 
 Scribner's, 1920. 
 Bruere, Robert W. : "The Coming of Coal," New York, The Association 
 
 Press, 1922. 
 Buchanan, Joseph: "Story of a Labor Agitator," New York, The Out- 
 
 look Company, 1903. 
 Commons, John R. : "Trade Unionism and Labor Problems," Boston, 
 
 Ginn and Company, 1905 edition. 
 Croly, Herbert: "Marcus Alonzo Hanna; His Life and Work," New 
 
 York, Macmillan Co., 1923. 
 Evans, Chris: "History of the United Mine Workers of America," 
 
 1920. 
 Gompers, Samuel : "Seventy Years of Life and Labor," New York, E. P. 
 
 Dutton and Company, 1925. 
 Goodrich, Carter: "The Miner's Freedom," Boston, Marshall Jones, 1925. 
 Hamilton and Wright: "The Case of Bituminous Coal," Institute of 
 
 Economics Studies, New York, Macmillan Co., 1925. 
 Hoxie, Robert F. : "Trade Unionism in the United States," New York, 
 
 D. Appleton and Co., 1917. 
 Hourwich, Isaac : "Immigration and Labor," New York, B. W. Huebsch, 
 
 Revised edition, 1922. 
 Jones, Mrs. Mary : "Autobiography of Mother Jones," Chicago, Charles 
 
 H. Kerr Co., 1925. 
 Justi, Herman: "Organization of the Employing Class and Other 
 
 Papers." 
 Korson, George H., ed. : "Songs and Ballads of the Anthracite Miner,'* 
 
 New York, 1927. 
 Leiserson, William M. : "Adjusting Immigrant and Industry," New York;, 
 
 Harper and Brothers, 1924. 
 Lubin, Isidor : "Miners' Wages and Cost of Coal," Institute of Economics 
 
 Studies, McGraw-Hill Co., 1924. 
 Lloyd, Caro: "Henry Demarest Lloyd, 1847-1903," New York, G. P, 
 
 Putnam's Sons, 1912. 
 Lloyd, Henry D. : "The Strike of Millionaires against Miners" (The 
 
 Story of Spring Valley), Chicago, Belford, Clarke Co., 1890. 
 
 "The Lords of Industry," New York, G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1910. 
 
 "Men, the Workers," compiled by Anne Withington and Carolina 
 
 Stallbohm, Doubleday, Page & Co., 1909. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 265 
 
 McDougall, Walt: "This is the Life," New York, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 
 
 1926. 
 McNeill, George E., ed. : "The Labor Movement, the Problem of Today," 
 
 1886. 
 Merriam, C. E. : "Introduction to H. Gosnell's 'Boss Piatt and the New 
 
 York Machine/ " University of Chicago Press, 1924. 
 Powderly, T. V. : "Thirty Years of Labor," Columbus, Ohio, 1890. 
 Perlman, Selig: "A History of Trade Unionism in the United States," 
 
 New York, Macmillan Co., 1922. 
 Randell, Robert : "John Mitchell Exposed," New York Labor News Co., 
 
 1905. 
 Roy, Andrew : "History of the Coal Miners of the United States," Co- 
 lumbus, Ohio, 1907. 
 Roberts, P. : "Anthracite Coal Communities," New York, Macmillan Co., 
 
 1904. 
 
 "The Anthracite Coal Industry," New York, Macmillan Co., 1901. 
 
 Raushenbush, H. S.: "The Anthracite Question," H. W. Wilson Co., 
 
 New York, 1924. 
 Roosevelt, Theodore: "An Autobiography," New York, Charles Scrib- 
 
 ner's Sons, 1921. 
 Savage, Marion D. : "Industrial Unionism in the United States," New 
 
 York, Ronald Press, 1922. g 
 Suffern, Arthur E. : "Conciliation and Arbitration in the Coal Industry 
 
 of America," Houghton Mifflin Co., 1915. 
 "The Coal Miners' Struggle for Industrial Status," Institute of 
 
 Economics Studies, Macmillan Co., 1926. 
 Sullivan, Mark: "Our Times, The Turn of the Century," New York, 
 
 Charles Scribner's Sons, 1926. 
 Wallas, Graham: "Human Nature in Politics," New York, Alfred A. 
 
 Knopf, Inc., 1921. 
 Warne, Frank J.: "The Coal Mine Workers," New York, Longmans, 
 
 Green & Co., 1905. 
 Welbourne, E. : "Miners of Northumberland and Durham," Cambridge, 
 
 England, 1923. 
 Wolman, Leo : "Growth of American Trade Unions, 1880-1923," National 
 
 Bureau of Economic Research, 1924. 
 
 F. MAGAZINES AND PERIODICALS 
 
 "The Weekly People," organ of Socialist Labor Party, 1901-1908. 
 
 "Social Democratic Herald," Social Democratic Party, 1901-1908. 
 
 "Miners' Journal," organ of Western Federation of Miners, 1901-1908. 
 Convention and Joint Proceeding Comments 
 
 Indianapolis News, 1900-1908. 
 
 Pittsburgh Press, 1899. 
 
 Columbus Dispatch, 1898. 
 Strikes of 1900 and 1902 
 
 Chicago Record Herald. 
 
 Philadelphia North American. 
 
 New York Times. 
 
 New York World. 
 
 The Outlook. 
 
 Review of Reviews. 
 
 The Independent. 
 
 Digest of Hearings before the Anthracite Strike Commission, reprinted 
 by Scranton Tribune, 1903. 
 
 Scranton Republican, May 30 and 31, 1924. 
 
 Coal Issue of The Survey Graphic, New York, April, 1922. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Altgeld, Governor of Illinois, 128 
 Amalgamated Steel and Iron 
 
 Workers, 91 
 American Federation of Labor, 12, 
 27, 30, 31, 57, 87, 92, 101, 
 130, 135, 152, 158, 221, 223, 
 240, 246 
 Anthracite Coal Fields, organiza- 
 tion of, 66, 67 
 
 early strikes, 69 
 
 ownership, 69-70 
 
 strike of 1900, 74-83 
 
 union in 1906, 180-181, 190 
 Anthracite Coal Strike of 1902, 
 102-135 
 
 anti-trust prosecution, 105 
 
 attempt to avert, 99 
 
 bituminous mines' cooperation, 
 103-109, 118-119 
 
 conditions in, 93-95 
 
 preliminary conference, 96-100 
 
 public aid, 119 
 
 state troops, 104 
 
 strike vote, 101 
 
 ended, 133 
 
 violence in, 110, 114 
 
 White House conference, 121- 
 125 
 Anthracite Coal Strike Commis- 
 sion, 131, 137-156 
 
 decision, 154 
 
 members of, 143 
 
 testimony, 145 
 
 Bacon, Robert, 130 
 
 Baer, George F., 96-99, 106, 111, 
 
 113-114, 118, 121, 123, 126, 
 
 129, 130, 145-151 
 Bellamy, Edward, 20 
 Belmont, August, 235 
 
 267 
 
 Bituminous Coal Fields, confer- 
 ences, 15, 33-34, 36, 42, 55 ', 
 56, 64-65, 156, 159, 179-196, 
 212 
 
 Black International, 13-14 
 
 Borah, William, 147 
 
 Brandeis, Louis D., 137, 147 
 
 Breaker boys, 94 
 
 British miners, 3 
 
 British Miners' Federation, 132 
 
 Brooks, John Graham, 105 
 
 Bryan, William J., 23, 26, 33, 75, 
 114 
 
 Buck Stove and Range Case, 
 230 
 
 Canada, union in, 158 
 
 Carnegie, Andrew, 22, 235 
 
 Cassatt, Alexander, 127-130 
 
 Child labor in mines, 184 
 
 Civil War, 3 
 
 Clark, E. E., 131, 143 
 
 Clergy and miners' union, 72-74 
 
 Cleveland, Grover, 23, 128 
 
 Colorado Strike of 1903, 158, 167- 
 
 177, 215 
 Colorado Fuel and Iron Co., 167 
 Commons, John R., 104-137 
 Cooke, Jay, 117 
 Cortelyou, U. S. Secy, of Treas., 
 
 124 
 Coxey's Army, 23-24 
 Curran, Father J. J., 73 
 
 Darrow, Clarence, 114, 147-152 
 Debs, Eugene V., 30, 139, 147, 
 
 153, 155, 200 
 Depression of 1903, 158 
 Diamond Mine Disaster, 8 
 
268 
 
 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Dolan, Pat, 40-42, 50-53, 58, 89, 
 
 184-196, 203-206 
 Dougherty, Miles, 67 
 Duffy, Thomas, 123 
 
 Easley, Ralph M., 115 
 
 Factional fighting and elections, 
 
 39 51-53 89 
 Fahy, John, 40, 67, 112, 123, 218 
 Free silver issue, 20, 32 
 Frick, Henry C, 22 
 Frontier, exhaustion of, 12 
 
 Gates, John W., 99 
 
 Germer, Adolph, ^5, 193 
 
 Gilded Age, The, 32 
 
 Gompers, Samuel, 11, 31, 57, 87, 
 92, 115, 128, 139, 158, 192, 
 224, 227, 238, 247-249 
 
 Gobin, General, 115 
 
 Gray, Judge George, 143 
 
 Green, William, 192-195, 200-207, 
 230 
 
 Hanna, Mark, 26, 38, 39, 78, 81, 
 82,94,99,100,115,120,121, 
 126, 161 
 
 Hayes, Frank J., 85, 231 
 
 Haymarket Riot, 14, 33 
 
 Haywood, William D., 147, 167, 
 200, 214-218 
 
 Hart, Daniel, 142 
 
 Hearst, W. R., 105-106 
 
 Hoban, Bishop, 73 
 
 Homestead Strike, 22, 33 
 
 Howat, Alex, 170 
 
 Howells, William, T67 
 
 Illinois, Miners, 3, 103-105, 107, 
 109, 118-119, 156, 231 
 
 Immigrants, in coal mines, 68-70, 
 
 71-74 
 Industrial Unionism, 86, 87, 216- 
 
 218, 248 
 Industrial Workers of the World, 
 
 153,201,211 
 Interstate Joint Conferences and 
 
 Agreements, 15, 33-34, 36, 42, 
 
 55-56, 64-65, 156, 159, 179- 
 
 196, 212 
 Ireland, Archbishop, 99 
 
 James, John, 8 
 
 Jones, Mary F. (Mother), 30-31, 
 107, 132, 155, 169-177, 234 
 
 Knights of Labor, 12, 19, 30, 31, 
 
 87 
 Knox, Philander G., 105, 223 
 
 Labor movement in United States, 
 13, 14, 22, 23, 243, 256 
 
 Labor party, 248 
 
 Lattimer Massacre, 79, 86 
 
 Lewis, T. L., 41, 50, 51-53, 58, 
 63-64, 84, 85, 158, 163, 184- 
 185, 192, 200, 213, 218, 228, 
 231-233 
 
 Lloyd, Henry D., 18, 105, 137, 
 147, 150, 153 
 
 Lodge, Henry Cabot, 120 
 
 Loftus, John J., 73, 141, 224, 253 
 
 Low, Mayor Seth, 117 
 
 McBride, John, 22, 27, 52, 222 
 McDonald, Alex, 12, 85 
 McDonald, Duncan, 85, 230-234 
 McDougall, Walt, 141 
 McKinley, President, 38, 39, 75, 
 
 78,93 
 McLaughlin, Daniel, 8, 12, 15, 
 
 213 
 
INDEX 
 
 269 
 
 MacVeagh, Wayne, 145 
 
 Mahon, W. D., 30 
 
 Markle, John, 77, 118, 123, 126, 
 
 146 
 Michigan, organization of, 102 
 Mine life, 7-8-11 
 Miners' leaders, 222-223 
 Mining industry, 1912-1917, 243 
 Mitchell, John, boyhood, 3-15 
 
 local leadership, 20 
 
 marriage, 21 
 
 salary, 86, 222 
 
 personal repute, 138 
 
 religion, 140, 208 
 
 in politics, 26, 154, 166, 223- 
 225 
 
 European trip, 175 
 
 friendliness with employers, 
 178, 204 
 
 illness, 180-181, 207-209 
 
 failures, 186-187 
 
 bribery charge, 190 
 
 and national strike, 193-195 
 
 drinking, 197-200 
 
 attack on policy, 200-215 
 
 resignation, 208 
 
 summary of accomplishments, 
 209-210 
 
 and Socialism, 239, 249 
 
 lecture tour, 241 
 
 philosophy, 241-245 
 
 writing, 245-246 
 
 proposed as Secretary of Labor, 
 246-249 
 
 proposed as President, A. F. of 
 L., 248 
 
 member N. Y. State Industrial 
 Commission, 249-261 
 
 war-time record, 253 
 
 stock market speculations, 254 
 
 death, 255 
 
 fortune, 257 
 
 memorial, 261 
 Molly Maguires, 23, 104 
 Morgan, J. P., 77, 82, 99, 100, 
 114, 121, 130 
 
 Morris, Miss E. C, 58-60, 81, 91, 
 
 207, 241, 258 
 Moyer, Charles, 167 
 
 National Civic Federation, 78, 84- 
 85,97-98, 100, 115, 150-159, 
 225-228, 258 
 strike in 1902, 115-U6 
 Mitchell in, 225-230 
 resolution, 235-236 
 National elections, influence of on 
 
 union, 161 
 National Federation of Miners, 
 
 12 
 National Progressive Union, 19 
 National Strike, possibilities of, 
 103-107, 178 
 1906, 191-197, 200-207, 216 
 Nationalization of miners, 117 
 Nicholls, T. D., 120 
 Northern Securities case, 105, 120 
 
 O'Connell, James, 30 
 "Organized Labor," 245 
 
 Pana Virden Massacre, 29, 48-49 
 Panic of 1893, 21 
 Peabody Coal Company, 259 
 Pearce, W. C, 87 
 Penna, Phil, 27, 222 
 Penrose, Senator, 117, 129 
 Perkins, George W., 1T5 
 Phillips, Father, 73, 77 
 Piatt, Senator, 117, 119, 129 
 Populist Party, 22, 26, 33 
 Post, Louis F., quoted, 256 
 Potter, Bishop, 99 
 Powderly, T. V., 260 
 Power, Father, 20, 72, 105, 112 
 Pullman Strike, 22, 33, 153 
 
 Quay, Senator, 117, 129 
 
270 
 
 JOHN MITCHELL 
 
 Racial antagonisms, 11, 68 
 Radical opposition, 84, 86, 134, 
 
 165 
 Rae, John B., 222 
 Randall, Robert, 170-177 
 Ratchford, Michael, 28-31, 39-42, 
 
 49 51-53 222 
 Robbin's, F. j!, 159-167, 175, 183, 
 
 195 
 Roosevelt, Theodore, 93, 105, 106, 
 
 119-136, 173, 191 
 Root, Elihu, 127, 130 
 Ryan, W. D., 17, 24, 35, 39, 46- 
 
 47, 107, 140, 165, 184, 185- 
 
 191, 208, 218, 230 
 
 "Sacredness of contract," 57, 109, 
 
 216-218 
 Sargent, Frank P., 115 
 Schaffer, T. J., 92 
 Shenandoah riot, 111 
 Siney, John, 69, 180, 213 
 Southern mines, organization of, 
 
 51 
 Southern Illinois miners, 29-30, 
 
 45-46, 47 
 Southwest Territory, organization 
 
 of, 51, 60, 156, 182 
 Social Democrats, 32 
 Socialist Opposition, 229-231 
 Socialist Party, 117 
 Spanish-American War, 38 
 Spalding, Bishop, 132, 143 
 Stone, Governor of Pennsylvania, 
 
 117, 119, 120, 127 
 Strauss, Oscar, 115, 127 
 
 Tanner, Governor of Illinois, 31 
 
 Taylor, H. N., 57, 107, 160, 187, 
 233 
 
 United Mine Workers' Organiza- 
 tion: 
 
 forerunners of, 9, 12, 17 
 
 formation, 19 
 
 membership, 62, 63, 86, 185, 
 201 
 
 conventions, 19, 22, 38, 53, 62, 
 89, 97, 158, 173, 179, 200, 
 210, 229 
 
 strikes, 27, 31, 60 
 
 extension of organization, 43, 
 61, 86, 103, 163, 194, 201 
 
 agreements, bituminous fields, 
 33, 41, 56, 158, 188 
 
 Vanderbilt, W. K., 77 
 
 Wage Reduction of 1904, 158- 
 167 
 
 Walker, John H., 8, 85, 175, 189, 
 230 
 
 "Weekly People," 94 
 
 Wellman, Walter, 107, 118 
 
 Western Federation of Miners, 
 130, 167, 175, 212, 214-218 
 
 West Virginia, attempts to organ- 
 ize, 31, 44-45, 60, 102, 117, 
 156, 163, 182, 194, 205 
 
 Weyl, Walter, 105, 137, 15S, 175, 
 245 7 
 
 White, John P., 218 
 
 Wilson, William B., 88, 163, 188, 
 208, 213, 218, 223, 246 
 
 Wilson, Woodrow, 246 
 
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