When Miners March

by William C. Blizzard

  “Now, therefore, be it known that I, Henry D. Hatfield, governor of the State of West Virginia, in consideration of the premises, divers other good and sufficient reasons me thereunto moving, do hereby grant unto the said Dan Chain, alias Few Clothes, a conditional pardon, releasing him from further confinement in the penitentiary by reason of said sentence, and I hereby order and direct the warden of the penitentiary to immediately, upon receipt of this proclamation, release the said Dan Chain, alias Few Clothes, from further confinement therein.

  The Conditional Clause

  “This pardon is granted, however, upon these terms and considerations only, to be assented to hereon in writing by the said Dan Chain, alias Few Clothes: That if the said Dan Chain, alias Few Clothes, shall violate any of the laws of this state, or fail or refuse to conduct himself as a peaceable and law abiding citizen, or for any other reason satisfactory to the governor, the governor may cause him to be arrested and returned to the penitentiary to serve out the remainder of the sentence imposed upon him as aforesaid.

  “The governor reserves to himself and successors in office the right to determine when and whether the terms and conditions of this pardon have been violated.”

  “In testimony whereof I have hereunto signed my name and caused the seal of the State to be affixed.

  “Done at the Capitol in the City of Charleston, this 17th day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and thirteen, and of the State the fiftieth.

  “By the governor

  HENRY D. HATFIELD.”

  Let it be respectfully noted in passing that Dan Chain, alias “Few Clothes,” was a tall, rangy Negro, one of the fighten’st Union men on Cabin and Pain creeks.

  Guilty Before Trial

  Sometimes, in their zeal to rid West Virginia of the abhorrent UMW, the uniformed flunkies of the coal operators tripped over their own feet. One case is recorded in which Major James I. Pratt, a member of the National Guard, also a member of the military court, and, incidentally, an employee in the office of the adjutant general of the State of West Virginia disqualified himself by trying too hard.

  Two Union organizers and the editor of a Charleston labor newspaper had been arrested by the military. They fought for a writ of habeas corpus. It was denied and the matter was finally carried to the West Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals. Major Pratt, of course, did not want to release such valuable guests from his bullpen and he made a return to the writ as follows:

  “Respondents deny that the petitioner is wholly innocent of the charges against him, but on the contrary are informed and believe, and so aver, that the petitioner is guilty thereof.”

  Pratt signed his name to this, which meant that he was judging these people guilty before he tried them. If the habeas corpus was refused, the defendants had the melancholy knowledge that they would be tried by a judge who had declared their guilt before the evidence was in! By so signing his name, Pratt disqualified himself in the case.

  This incident merely points up the fact that the “trials” before the tribunal were quite unnecessary and in many cases did not even occur. When a miner was arrested by the military he knew that he was going to be found guilty on the testimony of a variety of loathsome stool-pigeons, or no testimony at all. And with no opportunity for defense, he simply wondered how long his sentence would be.

  Chapter Three: Bloody Bull Moose

  12/4/52 (Twelfth)

  The drumhead court at the mouth of Paint Creek was naturally much discussed, though only the Governor, who approved the sentences and the tribunal itself, knew its actual proceedings. There were in addition, two lawyers who had supposedly been designated to “defend” the accused, for the sake of form. The regular Union attorneys refused to recognize the tribunal as anything but an unconstitutional device for the railroading of Union men, and would not join the farce. Finally public opinion forced the opening of the “court” to the public gaze. This was during the third period of martial law.

  William Bruce Reid, a Charleston newspaper reporter, took advantage of the chance to see the military court in action. He saw 98 prisoners – including Mother Jones – tried in three days. And while trying to get a statement from Mother he was himself arrested! He was told to photograph nothing and to talk to no prisoners.

  Shortly thereafter Governor Henry D. Hatfield came into office and was supposed to review the findings of the commission. Most of the charges against the miners were for “conspiracy,” but it was never determined what the sentences of the third commission were. Hatfield did not make them public, but simply released the strikers in small groups – a tacit admission that the whole procedure had been extra-legal.

  The days of martial law were not yet ended, but with the senatorial investigation the eyes of the nation were on West Virginia, and house had to be cleaned somewhat. Even the military flunkies were sick of it. Adjutant General Elliott at Governor Glasscock’s farewell dinner on March 3, 1915, said “that if men, possessors of wealth and education and opportunities, would always have the same consideration for human beings as they did for bank mules we would have less trouble.”

  Governor Quotes Record

  But the record is not complete without quoting from Governor Glasscock’s official version of the matter. In his biennial message to the Legislature of 1913, he had this to say:

  “This military commission had much work to do and performed their duties fearlessly and impartially. During their term of service they tried and sent to the penitentiary and to jail something like one hundred persons for violation of law…. No such complaint was made after the military commission was organized…. It had been the great complaint of the people who had resided on these creeks that had had no law…. During the first reign of martial law the most of the violators were sent to jails and as was demonstrated by future events that did not seem sufficient punishment to cause these people to respect the law and I determined to use still more drastic methods than were used during the first martial law period…. Quite a number of people were tried by the last commission, the majority of who were found guilty and sentenced to the penitentiary.”

  The Governor does not say how many coal operators were sent to the penitentiary. None, of course, were even arrested. It does seem very odd that when you buy a coal mine you automatically buy virtue and that when you work in a coal mine you automatically acquire a criminal bent and may confidently look forward to a trip to the penitentiary.

  No Legal Equality

  It may just possibly be that there was no equality before the law. That is, if you were a miner, and carried a gun or pulled a trigger your chances of becoming a convict were excellent. But if you represented the coal operators – as did DE FACTO if not DE JURE, the Baldwin-Felts guards, the railway detectives, the variety of special police officers and the state militia – and carried a gun or pulled a trigger, your chance of getting a good salary, a promotion, and praise from the Governor, were excellent. Both sides in the struggle, certainly, used guns. But for one side there were penalties. For the other, none.

  Opinions at the time concerning Governor Glasscock varied, of course, depending upon the attitude of the opinion-bearing toward the coal miners. Certainly the miners agreed wholeheartedly with U.S. Senator Stuart Felix Reed of West Virginia, who said in reply to West Virginia Senator Nathan Goff’s remark that West Virginians tended to place their governor upon a pedestal: “Instead of stand upon a pedestal, he stands in the pillory. In my opinion he will stand there as long as men revere liberty in West Virginia.”

  The episode of the “Bull Moose” train is an excellent example of the terroristic methods of the operators – who were not only not punished but continued to live as solid “respectable” citizens. If, like Lady Macbeth, they later worried about the blood on their hands, and went around shouting “Out, out damned spot!” it is nowhere recorded.

  The Bull Moose consisted of an engine fitted with sheet iron to protect the engineer, and an ordinary passenger car, an armored baggage
car. It had been designed by the C&O Railway for the benefit of the coal operators. It was run into any spot in which there was trouble, but its main function was the transportation and protection of strikebreakers. There was a better-equipped armored train called the Woodrow Wilson, but the Bull Moose itself was formidable.

  The baggage car had thick iron plates on the inside across the doors for the protection of the occupants and was equipped with two machine guns and about 15 rifles. On the night of Feb. 7, 1913, when the most famous, or infamous, of the Bull Moose battles took place, there were 30 additional rifles on the train. Coal Operator Quinn Morton had just purchased them in Charleston from Lowenstein’s, a hardware store.

  At this time there was some confusion as to martial law – very understandable confusion. The first martial law had been lifted Oct. 14, and the second period instituted Nov. 15, 1912. Governor Glasscock had never officially ended the second period of martial law, as he wanted the miners to think it was still in effect, but there had been a verbal understanding between the Governor and his officers, and there was actually no martial law anywhere in West Virginia in February, 1913.

  Sheriff Gets Word

  About three or four o’clock in the afternoon of Feb. 7, Bonner Hill, sheriff of Kanawha County, got word from a company official at Mucklow that another battle was taking place between that town and the miners’ tent colony of Holly Grove. Hill had no way to get up there that he cared to take, but when he phoned Glasscock about the matter he was ordered to go. He thought immediately of the Bull Moose, which happened to be sitting at Cabin Creek Junction. The train offered a safe method of travel, so he went to the Ruffner Hotel to ask Quinn Morton to get it for him. Morton, it will be remembered, was the Paint Creek operator whose adamant refusal to negotiate precipitated the 1912 strike in West Virginia.

  Morton called the C&O and the C&O sent the Bull Moose down to Charleston to pick up Hill. The sheriff then had Morton make out a John Doe complaint, and a sheaf of John Doe warrants was typed up so that Hill was empowered to arrest anyone in sight. Then Morton went out and bought 30 Winchesters and the ammunition. The two machine guns and 15 rifles already on the Bull Moose were evidently considered insufficient.

  12/5/1952 (Thirteenth)

  Sheriff Hill did not go up Paint Creek alone. There were 15 or 16 men on the Bull Moose, all heavily armed. This included five or six special deputies. Quinn Morton, another coal operator named McClenahan, and George Lenz, who was a special policeman for the C&O Railway, trained in the use of the machine gun. The Bull Moose came to Holly Grove about 11 o’clock p.m. It was running slowly and it did not speed up as it shot its way through the town.

  There are many conflicting stories as to who shot first – whether the miners fired on the train and the train merely replied, or vice-versa. But Harvey S. Campbell, a C&O special policeman who traveled with “transportation", testified as to the general company policy: “I was ordered to shoot if there was rocks or any crooked moves made.” The C&O naturally left the definition of a “crooked move” up to “lexicographers” who were more at home with guns in their hands than dictionaries.

  Whoever shot first, it is clear that the men in the Bull Moose sat in comparative safety and turned loose a machine gun and rifles upon women and children. And the train continued its slow pace, spraying lead as it went.

  Coal Miner Shot

  Heavy armor protected the men in the train, and by a miracle there were few casualties in Holly Grove. In the wretched little shack of Francis Francesco the shooting was heard and he ran outside and was killed instantly. His wife, pregnant and with a child in her arms, ran into the kitchen with Francesco’s cousin, who was shot in the leg. A neighbor, Annie Hall, the mother of five children, was shot through both feet as she lay in her bed. The Bull Moose, meanwhile, pulled into Muck-low, where plans were made for the arrest of the miners at Holly Grove! It was taken for granted that shot-up miners had no legal redress. They were fair game for coal operators, sheriffs, and C&O policemen.

  This happened on a Friday, and on Monday the “arrest” actually turned out to be a pitched battle. Two of the operators’ men, named Vance and Bobbitt, were killed. The miners hauled away their dead and injured, so their casualties were not determined. Four days later Governor Glasscock issued the third and last proclamation of martial law.

  A few weeks later a new Governor, Henry D. Hatfield, took office. It might be noted that Glasscock was from Monongalia County, a coal mining area, and that he was a Republican. Hatfield was from McDowell County, another large coal producer, and was also a Republican. One might draw the conclusion that the election had changed matters little, for the coal operators, of course, were the ruling powers in both counties.

  Nevertheless, the demands of the miners could not be ignored forever, and Hatfield released a number of the men imprisoned under the Glasscock regime. He did not, however, lift martial law until June, 1913. Three days after he took office, on March 7, 1913, the last drumhead court was held at Pratt, the defendants being Mother Jones, Socialist leader John W. Brown, and other plain miners.

  Hatfield also made an agreement with the UMW national officials which became known as the “First Hatfield Agreement", in April of 1913. This settlement was evidently verbal at first, but its enemies said that it provided no increase in pay, no abolition of the mineguard system, and no recognition of the UMW.

  From extant historical records it would seem that the miners themselves didn’t like the agreement, for they continued to strike, off and on, for some little time. They were not willing to surrender without concessions after more than a year of grueling hardship. Other “Hatfield Agreements” followed until finally both the Paint Creek and Cabin Creek miners went back to work in late July, 1913.

  A letter from East Bank of August 6, 1913 had this to say: “The terms of the settlement, if carried out faithfully, will be a slight improvement on the old system, but the workmen have little faith in the sincerity of their greedy masters and that is what prevents the signing up at all the mines.”

  What Was Won?

  In the belief that miners may be interested in just what was won after this major struggle, it will be noted that the UMW was recognized as bargaining agent and that the mine-guard system was ameliorated, if not abolished. As a matter of comparative and historical interest the pay scale which the miners finally had to settle for on Paint Creek is reproduced herewith: “Mining, 29 cents a ton; machine runners, $2.25 per day of 9 hours; machine runner helpers, $2.00 per day; motor men, $2.25; motor men helpers, $2.00; track layers, $2.43; team drivers (two mules) $2.16, (one mule) $2.05; pump runners in mine, $2.10; all other inside labor, $2.00; drum runner’s helper, $1.95; slate and timber men, $2.22; car repairmen, $2.50; blacksmiths, $2.50; tipple men, $2.05; helpers, $1.85; trappers, $1.00; driver boss, $2.50; oilers, $1.08; common labor, $1.75.

  It was not, after such a battle, a large victory. And neither coal operator nor coal miner believed that their little war was over. On September 19, 1913, a group of operators met in Huntington and formed the “Coal Operator Protective Association” with a capital of one million dollars. The first plank in its platform was “to oppose the spread and growth of Socialism", just as the first plank of reactionary organizations of today is allegedly to oppose the spread and growth of Communism.

  In actuality the Coal Operator Protective Association was formed to continue the battle against the Unionization of the coal miners. The miners, in their turn, rested from the fight and nursed their grievances.

  In Europe a vast storm was about to break, a mighty conflict, which was to dim all lesser struggles: A world war was in the offing. And the miners had a contract that was supposed to last until April 1, 1916.

  12/6/52 (Fourteenth)

  The Senatorial commission to investigate West Virginia mining conditions sat in Charleston and Washington, D.C. and heard a great deal of evidence. They learned, for instance, that Pratt, the little town near the mouth of Paint Creek where the military
trials were held, was named for the firm of Charles Pratt & Co., organized in 1901 with headquarters in New York City.

  Charles Pratt testified that he owned about 21,000 acres of coal lands in West Virginia, which he had bought not for the development of coal, but “I should say, broadly, for speculation.”

  Part of this property was leased to the operators involved in the 1912-1913 strike: The Paint Creek Collieries Co., the Imperial Colliery Co., and the Standard Splint & Gas Co. Pratt, living in Brooklyn, received 8 cents a ton royalty for every chunk of coal dug on his property, an average of about $60,000 a year. With part of this money from West Virginia miners he built the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, where 3,000 children were taught to earn their livings.

  Senator Kenyon told Pratt that part of the trouble in West Virginia seemed to be that men of great wealth put in money, collected royalty, and considered their responsibilities ended. Pratt answered that he thought he was doing “a very kind and sensible thing” in leasing his property and added: “I do not suppose that the children of the class of people who are doing this hard work as miners are prepared for any such kind of work as we are doing in Brooklyn.”

  Writer Is Irked

  In other words the children of West Virginia miners, according to Pratt, are too stupid to learn anything! Let it be noted that the writer of this series, the son of a coal miner, was born not many miles from Pratt only three years after Charles Pratt uttered these silly, defamatory words. And the writer resents the hell out of his statement! It is a terrible irony that coal miners of West Virginia broke their backs to educate children of other states, while their own offspring suffered from lack of schools. Even in 1952 West Virginia ranks not very high in the national scale as regards educational facilities.