The 19th Annual LaborFest
7 AugThe Present Is the Past: Occupying the Commons, July 30, The Green Arcade, San Francisco. Photograph by Steve Zeltzer.
It was fun and hard work for the Organizing Committee putting together nearly eighty events for the month of July. But the process is collaborative and many of these events are actually organized by individuals not on the committee. This year’s theme was Occupy, Past Present and Future: Lessons of the Past for Labor Today. Presenting on the last day of programming, the evening before the closing party, I spoke on three events from unemployment activism and labor history that show us precedents for the ways in which the present Occupy Movement has utilized public space for political redress: the industrial armies of 1894 marching on Washington; the Ludlow, Colorado tent colony during the southern Colorado coal fields strike of 1914; and, the Bonus March on Washington in 1932. It was standing room only at Patrick Marks’s bookstore.
One of the anecdotes I opened with involved a conversation between two people from Ukiah, California, who walked past the Occupy SF encampment on Market Street in front of the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco, a site in use since early fall 2011. Dan was engaged in a conversation using his cell phone about company projects. Alma, his wife, and I were accompanying him to a local stationery store to purchase office supplies for the project where I am temporarily employed. We passed the camp, which is separated from the bank by a pedestrian throughway along the sidewalk and metal barricades at the bank’s portico edge . One couple struck me especially, a woman who was topless being held by a man, both swaying gently where they stood. I later thought of Paul Cadmus’s egg tempera painting What I Believe (1947-48), based on E.M. Forster’s essay of the same title; “Love and loyalty to an individual can run counter to the claims of the state. When they do ― down with the state, say I, which means that the state will down me” (see http://weimarart.blogspot.com/2010/10/paul-cadmus.html). In this painted idyllic vision of humanity, an area is taken up by individuals in peaceful assembly; the heterosexual couple to the right just beyond the grave could have been the couple Alma and I spotted that morning.
The woman’s nudity shocked Alma. Once Dan was finished with his business call, Alma asked him if he had seen what we just passed. He said no and asked who these people were Alma described. Alma replied, I don’t know, some homeless people. If the two of them had known that they passed an Occupy site, Dan would surely have derided the camp and its inhabitants. In a conversation I had with a cafe owner in my neighborhood about the incident, Brian told me that homeless people do join the camp because they will not be harassed by the city’s recently passed sit/lie law. Brian probably speaks with some accuracy because he is host to a number of homeless people at his cafe, many known by name and present on a regular basis. He is a very generous person allowing people in whom other business owners would keep out.
The anecdote prompted some people at the bookstore slide lecture to defend the Occupy Movement. While the momentum of the movement seemed to peak as municipality after municipality across the country found ingenious ways to dismantle encampments situated in public space, the tactics have shifted. Thus, today, occupation is alive and well, such as the occupation of an Oakland elementary school by volunteer teachers, parents, and students following the closure of five school sites by that city. The parents were expected to ship their children to charter schools and they are not happy with that. Nor should anyone else be when it comes to privatization. Privatization is only the encroachment of corporate business in the public sector, rewarding a few individuals with captive markets.
The peace activist A.J. Muste observed in 1962: “We are now in an age when men will have to choose deliberately to exchange the values, the concepts of ‘security,’ and much else which characterizes contemporary society, and seek another way of life. If that is so, then the peace movement has to act on that assumption, and this means that the whole picture of our condition and the radical choice must be placed before people―not a diluted gospel, a program geared to what they are ready to ‘buy now.’ ” (quoted by Nat Hentoff in Peace Agitator: The Story of A.J. Muste [New York: The Macmillan Company, 1963]). I embrace ongoing political protest and the occupation of public space. The work is not over.
Tents I
13 JanJoanie Mitchell. Occupy Tents, 2011. Digital print, 26 x 18 in. (On view at Expressions Gallery, Berkeley, through March 2nd).
“The evils that are permitted to generate, unmolested in industry, must always, sooner or later, assert themselves in politics.” — Ethelbert Stewart to Louis Freeland Post, U.S. Department of Labor, November 21, 1913, Records of the Bureau of Labor Statistics, National Archives, quoted in Martelle, Blood Passion, page 33
Tents are intrinsic to the landscape of American history, especially its history of political redress. The Occupy movement continues the noble tradition of placing citizens’ concerns within a public dialogue through the bodily occupation of public space. It cannot be otherwise. The radical ideas under circulation at this time regarding social equity, public good, and material property can only be argued free from the restraints of preexisting structures. The goals of corporations are antithetical to the concerns expressed through this movement. The interests of non-profit centers can address these concerns in piecemeal fashion, but the broadly articulated critique on the ills of American society must be broached beyond the doors of any particular institution. The ideals of such a movement can be utopian, as we can see in Mitchell’s drawing of circles of discussion during an Occupy Oakland day. The utopian vision is reinforced by the cluster of tents at the top of the drawing suggesting a city of brotherly/sisterly accord. The makeshift dwelling of the tent is suitable to a people’s movement and symbolic of the loss of home epitomized by today’s failed home mortgage industry.
So it was in Ludlow, Colorado when coal miners struck in September 1913, that tenting and political redress merged. Ludlow was one of the sites in the southern fields of the state’s mining industry. Miners were paid by the ton of coal brought up from the mines, where they were often cheated at the scales. Often, they were not paid for the work required to set up excavation, such as bolstering underground roofs or laying tracks for coal cars. Mining companies ignored state mine safety laws. According to historian Scott Martelle, “organized mines, particularly those in states where unions dominated, had 40 percent fewer fatalities than nonunion mines, such as those in Colorado” (see Martelle, Blood Passion: The Ludlow Massacre and Class War in the American West, Rutgers University Press, 2007, page 19).
Here, towns were few and far between; many coal seams were remote from human civilization. As a result, mine owners established camps, where low-grade housing was erected, in the words of Martelle, “little more than shanty towns in some cases.” The structures were usually frame, while the more recent vintage were made from brick or concrete block. Martelle notes the closed economic system that a typical camp comprised, where workers “were paid in company scrip, forced to live in company houses (or at least on company land in jerry-built shanties), shop at the company store, worship in the company church to sermons uttered by the company-hired minister, and drink in the company saloon…” (Martelle, 27).
The United Mine Workers of America secured tents for the strikers evicted from company-owned homes. These tents were placed on leased pasture land, the strikers’ main settlement situated east of a railroad line connecting Trinidad to Denver, and north of Ludlow, a string of buildings that included a post office, saloon, store, and “a small cluster of houses” (Martelle, 68). Following a gun battle between mine owner’s guards and tent colony residents on October 7th, trenches were dug beneath tents and a “deep underground bunker” was dug for the purposes of providing a birthing chamber for the colony’s pregnant women (Martelle, 89).
Living conditions were harsh in the tent colony, given that winter had set in. But the residents made what they could of comfort. Union meetings were held outside in good weather. During rain or snow, a big tent with a potbellied stove in the middle was used for gatherings. There were makeshift picnic tables and clotheslines outside the tents. Old linoleum was used to cover cracks in floorboards to guard against the winter’s cold. There were tables and chairs for some, and orange crates in service as stands for storage.
According to Zeese Papanikolas, as many as 1,300 people lived in this colony (see Papanikolas, Buried Unsung: Louis Tikas and the Ludlow Massacre, University of Utah Press, 1982, page 83). To diffuse tension following an October 17th machine gun attack by men of the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency against a strikers’ tent colony at Forbes Junction, union man John Lawson organized Ludlow colonists into squads, with work organized around grounds, building, sanitation, and other useful preoccupations; a police force was organized with an effort to provide enough squad members who could service the 22 languages spoken in the camp (Papanikolas, 92). (Like a modern-day Academi, previously known as Xe Services LLC, Blackwater USA and Blackwater Worldwide, Baldwin-Felts was a private Virginia-based police force for railroads, mine operators, and other businesses, whose apparent purpose during the Ludlow strike was to provoke violence from the strikers in order to force the governor of the state to send state militia.)
As much as the strikers tried to keep peace, their efforts did not stop a state militia from being formed to command the strike zone under undeclared martial law. And before the year ended the same militia broke the governor’s promise to keep the mining companies from importing labor during the strike. The state would draw down militia forces, but within this vacuum was formed a local troop, a “hastily-assembled collection of mine guards and pit bosses armed and paid by the [mine] companies…one hundred and thirty men or more, unorganized, without uniforms, scarcely drilled.” Additionally, a Lt. Karl E. Linderfelt, already relieved of militia duty, remained with 34 men, “nursing his anger at his superiors and the ragged foreigners in the tents” (Papanikolas, 211).
On April 20, 1914, following orders from a Major Pat Hamrock to send troops to the tent colony, an all-out attack ensued in which machine guns ripped through tents during a ten-hour gun battle. Under orders from Linderfelt, tents were burned while militia men ransacked strikers’ property. Eight men died in the battle. The next day, the bodies of two women and eleven children were found in a trench below a burned tent, having asphyxiated during the marauding fires set above them. The seven-month strike remains one of the bloodiest capitalist-labor battles in our history. Little was accomplished following the strike. At least John D. Rockefeller, Jr., unlike his father, paid attention to the costs of the struggle by developing a “company union” for Colorado Fuel & Iron Co., which sought to put in place a model that would preclude the need for worker-organized unions. The model became popular enough, and workers would wait until the 1935 Wagner Act established the National Labor Relations Board, banning company unions and protecting workers in their choice to join independent unions. Rockefeller also hired Ivy Ledbetter Lee to present the company’s version of strike events at Ludlow, who created what may have been the first “major public relations spin campaign” (Martelle, 214).
While worker-organized unions remain viable today, despite sustained attempts by capitalists and their paid political representatives in Congress, the courts, and the executive branch to eviscerate the power of the working class, so does the deceptive spin issued from advertising offices via corporate media. The battle is not over, no matter what lessons were learned.
The Past Revisited
27 OctIt is axiomatic of American thought that the past will always be forgotten when speaking about the present. Next year will mark the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the “Bread and Roses” strike in Lawrence, Massachusetts on January 12th. I will be curating a local exhibition to commemorate that long, brutal strike. And just as today’s Occupy Wall Street movement focuses on the 99% and 1%, the truth of 1912 was that 1% of the richest Americans owned 50% of the country’s wealth. Conducting a difficult eight-week struggle during the dead of winter against “Textile Trust” mill owners, banks, state militia, police, clergy and local government, this strike involved thousands of immigrants, nearly half women, fighting for justice and human rights, a watershed moment in the history of American labor struggles. LaborFest will be commemorating this event with a cultural and arts event at ILWU Local 34.
Spinning Room, Mechanic’s Mill, Fall River, Mass. Stereoscopic card. Kilburn Brothers, Littleton, New Hampshire, date unknown. Kilburn Brothers No. 617.
Immigrant Anna LoPizo was shot dead on the street, a crime local authorities unsuccessfully tried to pin on Joseph Ettor and Arturo Giovannitti for the words these labor organizers used to embolden workers to fight for better conditions. A young Syrian immigrant named John Rami died from a wound inflicted by a militiaman’s bayonet. (Read Bruce Watson’s Bread and Roses: Mills, Migrants, and the Struggle for the American Dream, Viking, 2005, or visit, http://www.breadandrosescentennial.org/node/77). And yesterday, Iraq veteran Scott Olsen was hospitalized with a fractured skull and brain swelling after possibly being hit by an Oakland Police Department tear gas canister (see http://www.baycitizen.org/occupy-movement/story/iraq-vet-critically-wounded-occupy/ or http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2011/10/25/18695124.php). Please add your name to a petition asking for an investigation, even though an announcement has been made that an investigation will take place: http://org2.democracyinaction.org/o/5966/p/dia/action/public/?action_KEY=8589
It seems we will never stop the use of physical force. Whether Ludlow, Hiroshima or Vietnam, physical force has been the desired catalyst for change throughout our history. When I unearthed the post-World War I cartoon that appears below I was stupified. Of course, our dictates are reasoned when leveled by Uncle Sam. And so on down the chain of command.
“America Looks At Neighbors,” New York World-Telegram, 1932 (Rollin Kirby, artist).