The Daily Worker Newspaper, April 16, 1927, Page 7

Hell’s Coal Bin The vast valley of South Fork lay enveloped in amiable tranquility. Only the gurgling of a creek, winding along the outskirts of the town disturbed the quiet. The waters, lined on both sides by trees, flowed swiftly on; breaking off into a water-fall under the old fork bridge. It was still dark, the dawn was beginning to creep thru a mass of grey colored vapor before which darkness ascended like a giant curtain. The air, usually suffused with coal dust was then clear and cool. It rained during the night and. the ground was still moist. In the distance smoke emanating from the locomotive of a passing train dimmed temporarily the strip of blue sky,@which * was slowly breaking thru the horizon. On the. main road, running parallel with the creek moved a straggling column of men, They walked in silence, casting a dark silhouette against a slop- ing hill. First faintly and then more distinctly the line appeared. Soon it could be distinguished that. they were miners on their way to the collieries where they worked. Their faces were still obscure, but it was evident from their behavior that they were uneasy. More figures crept stealthily out of their homes, and hurried down side streets to join the early morning procession. Single -file, sometimes two abreast they walked, interrupting their silence only by an occasional “Hello there.” The marchers seem- ed to be in a depressed mood. Their arms holding dinner buckets swung in uneven strides. While their eyes, peering from behind half shut eyelids scanned the faces, of those nearest to them, fearful lest they be seen by unknown. The saucer-shaped valley of South Fork lay like a huge bowl in the midst of Pennsylvania’s central competitive coal area. Half a mile from the resi- dential quarters were the bituminous coal ficlds belonging to“the Terminal Coal Company. The ground was everywhere strewn with pieces of coal, lying on a blanket of black dust. Running from the drift mouths of the many mines was a maze of railroad tracks, some of which disappeared in the distant hill sides. Around the vicinity were red brick power houses, and blacksmith shops. A low fence partitioned off the stables where mules and horses were quartered. In one of the company-owned houses, known as the “bullpen,” a familiar game of chance was going on. It began the evening before and lasted thru the night. Here a number of men were grouped about in a semi-circle. One of them was shaking a pair of dice in his cupped hand which he let roll to the floor, Spontaneously, snapping his fingers and grunting “Come you seven.” Sleep laden eyes fol- lowed the ivory dotted cubes which showed a “three” and a “five.” “Eight’s my point,” he gasped, stifling a lazy yawn. The player laid some bills on the floor. “There’s six bucks open.” He looked about him. “Come on who’s gonna fade mie.” Another player deposited the called for amount. The dicer kept tossing the dice until a loud “there’s the seven” stopped him. After which he gave them to another, ~ and preceeded to count his winnings. The game continued. “Hey, turn those lights out, damn you’sé, I wanna get some sleep” sounded from the corner of the room where rows of cots lined the walls. Upon them men fully dressed, slept, having removed only their shoes. No one paid any attention. Elsewhere in the same room, poker was being played. A hand swept stacks of chips off the table. “You dirty whore, you’re cheat- in’.” Chairs edged closer. “Shut up, give me those ecards and pass a drink.” A half empty bottle of gin changed hands. bee E i : r ? Lake stot fe HeElz i eat eee By ALEX JACKINSON Mrs. Rhin Ccerous Lectures on How to Live on $15.00 a Week. a single prop meant being buried alive. A not un- known occurrence to the miners. A gang of men were digging on the main drift. Shovels buried into a pile of coal and emptied into ears which sweating men pushed along tracks. The miners’ backs began to twingle from constant bend- ing. Noses inhaled the odorous air, and sneezed. A canary churped. Glimmers of mine lamps cast shadows of light across the jet black hole. . . Everywhere rats scurried about which the miners did not mind. Some refused to work without the rodents being about, as they oft times warned them of impending danger. Continuous murmuring of the coal breakers, drift- ed occasionally into distinguishable talk. “Py yin- go I wude like to get out of ’ere,” chanted one, in. an attempt to start a conversation. Nobody an- swered. Some minutes later he tried again. “Ow long you tink’ dis strike’ll lest, eh Burke?” A dis- gusted grunt was the only reply. “Vot you med fer eh—I fex you later.” The steel pick bit harder into earth. The same person again broke into un- desired speech. “Py yiminy”—A coal smeared face turned around. “Shut this Swede up somebody, or T'll split his head open.” Silence followed angry looks. The tension tightened as fists clenched and unclenched, Another miner addressed Burke, “What the hell are you sore about?” For answer Burke spat against the shagged wall. “He’s peeved be- cause it’s the first day he’s scabbing, poor bloke, an’ he ajn/t used to it yet, God blast ’em,” another chimed in. “Shut your bloody trap,” yelled Burke, “or they'll Be one guy less in this world.” More profanities and again the silence that comes of fear swept over the strike breakers. In the valley below life began to stir. On Maine * Street, shop keepers had already opened the stores. Life began to give forth an odor. The low dwell- ings seemed suddenly to wake up from. sleep. Shades began to rise and men and women walk out of doors. In the streets broken strings of people began making their appearance. They brought with them a smell of coal with which their clothes were heavily greased. Women whose dresses were not complicated by style shuffled along with baskets under their arms. Their faces were drawn and their heads covered with red shawls. In and out of stores they went searching for someone willing to sell them food. Near a butcher shop a woman recognized the wife of a scab. She gave her a piercing look, followed by an oath in Hungarian. A constabulary patroling. the street, arrested her. On a private plot of ground were set up rows of canvas tents which served as homes for the evicted miners. Here too life assumed color. A more sombre hue than elsewhere. Mothers sent their children grass while they busied them- duties. A distant camp-fire fave it an outward appearance of picknickers on vacation. South Fork is one of the many eastern mining towns where men are not themselyes, but mere past six a, m. i A large crowd was beginning to gather in the street. Passers-by stood before the front of shops, gazing at the ever-increasing throng. Up and down the streets uneven columns of men moved. On cor- speed. Boos greeted its appearance and disappear. ance. In groups and pairs miners and s athizers came from all sides to weld in with the compact mass. In this evowd were men of all nationelities, united under the banner of solidarity. Hard, rugged faces of Slavic extraction bobbed in and out of each other’s gaze. Men with shirts unbuttoned ai the neck and dressed in saggy trousers greeted thos: they recog- nized as friends. Their voluble*talk was confined for most part to yesterday’s clash with the mine operators’ gunmen during which a number of min- ers were badly beaten. After instructions from union leaders, the line began to move steadily towards the mine district. Those in the foreranks carried placards bearing “We want no sliding scale—it always slides down.” “Organize the non-union mines,” “Workers! Strike together.” Up the main street they wended, gain- ing momentary impetus as more and more people fell in line. Within the hour they appeared at the mine gates. A detachment of the coal and iron police met the advance guards., Neither side took heed of the other. A police sergeant stepped ahead “Go on break this up or you'll be kissed by a bullet up your behind.” Strike orders were given by Sheriff Braun of the Alleghany district not to al- low any picketing. His instructions were being obeyed. The “police” drew their guns. “Give it to ’em,” commanded the sergeant. As the miners drew closer, the police- man nearest to them levelled his rifle and shot. Others waded inio the swafming crowd, and tore down the banners. The miners stirred by bad liv- ing conditions to rebellion were gripped with strong anger. One of their number fell with a bullet in his chest. Pools of blood formed, into which mov- ing feet stopped, leaving specimens of footprints on the ground. The long lise surged unevenly from side to side. A desire to break thru the barrier of guns was heard everywhere, Down below the non-union miners were startled by the shots. A natural intuition informed them what happened. They dropped their tools and those on the upper drifts darted out of the pit to see what it was. A minute later the men were grouped about in bunches. “What happened Jed?” “Ther’s hell doin!—looks like some strikers were shot.’ The angry shouts of the miners were heard in hell!’s coal bin. A sense of shame altered the expression on their faces. A miner broke the silence by shout- ing, “I’m thru with this lousy game. Who’s got the guts to follow me?” Hurried. glances were ex- changed. “We’re with you,” they chorused. After a brief consultation, they disregarded the pleas of the mine formemen, and decided to quit work. Every one picked something up, knowing that they would have to fight the police to get thru, and piled into the cages. The miners were steadily retreating before the onslaught of the police, Suddenly a ery of “Look boys. They’re coming up,” turned their gaze. Men stood on tip-toes to watch the non-union miners emerge from the pits. One after another the former scabs awakened by an innate class consciousness, came to the ground. When they reached the surface they brushed the carbid® from their unlit lamps, and pressed together. Only the pumpmen remained underground, - “An accident must have happened,” sounded from the midst of the strikers’ ranks. “No, they're join- ing us,” said another. Their temporary anger was forgotten by the unexpected turn of events. The non-union miners adyanced in a bedy towards the gate. “Welre with you boys,” they shouted, “Hur- rah for solidarity,” escaped another’s lips. A barrier of drawn guns, with fingers held against the triggers separated the two cheering groups which momentarily drew closer and closer,