The spirit of labor

LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

RIVERSIDE

The Spirit of Labor

'J'V II pi-^^-^^

The
Spirit of Labor

By

HUTCHINS HAPGOOD

Author of '^The Autobiography of a T7uef"

NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY

1907

Copyright, 1907, by
DUFFIELD & COMPANY

Published February, i^O^

The Trow Press, N. Y.

TO MY FATHER

CONTENTS.

Chapter Pac«

Preface 9

I. Early Youth 23

II. On the Road 35

III. Injustice and Love 54

IV. The Age of Reason 75

V. Trade-Unionist . 94

VI. Meeting the Employer . . . .119

VII. The Radicals 138

VIII. Organizer 167

IX. Delegate to New York . . . .189

X. Chicago Spirit and Its Cause . .210

XI. Social Amenities 220

XII. Argument With Boss . . . . . 235

XIII. An Anarchist Salon 262

XIV. Politics in the Federation . . . 293
XV. The Intellectual Proletariat . . 323

XVI. Some of the Big Men 348

XVII. Their Points of View .... 375

XVIII. A Ripe Letter 401

[7]

Preface.

On and off for eight months I looked about
in Chicago, for a man. I was more fortunate
than Diogenes, for I found a great many of
them. But it was a long time before I discov-
ered the one I was looking for, and when I
finally laid hands on him, I found him other,
though far more interesting, than what I had,
like the German metaphysician, evolved from
my inner consciousness.

I had had several previous experiences
with the "human document" ; and had, in jour-
nalistic and literary experiments, attempted to
present my material in such a way that the
type and the individual should be at once por-
trayed. For this purpose the autobiography
seemed the best form. In that way, a whole
class with its ideals and conditions might be
expressed, and at the same time a definite per-

[9]

Preface.

sonality vividly and sympathetically pre-
sented; the man and his environment could
thus speak for themselves.

This method seemed to work very well as a
means of expressing the world of crime, the
world of the stage, or any milieu not too com-
plicated and not too important. In my "Au-
tobiography of a Thief," the simple story, in
the first person, of a pickpocket's life, seemed
sufficient to give the reader a fairly complete
idea of the manners, customs and mental habits
of the professional criminal. The material of
professional crime is picturesque, in that it is
exceptional and comparatively unfamiliar.
It is also limited in scope. For all these rea-
sons, the very definite manner of the autobi-
ography is a vivid, central and adequate form
for the artistic expression of this material.

But when I became interested in the labor-
er, I found the problem a very different one.
At first, indeed, I thought the form of the
autobiography would be sufficient to suggest
the world of the workingman. I imagined

[ID]

Preface.

that I should be able to find a man who would
occupy a sufficiently typical position and who
would be sufficiently expressive to enable me
to convey, merely by telling his story, as far as
possible in his own words, an idea of the con-
ditions, the ideals and the broad humanity un-
derlying the labor situation.

It seemed to me that I should be more likely
to find such a man in Chicago than anywhere
else. In the democratic Middle West of the
United States the common man is probably
more expressive than anywhere else in the
world. Labor, there, is more self-conscious
and socially, if not politically, more powerful
than elsewhere. The proletariat of America,
and more especially of the progressive and in-
tensely vital Middle West, is no real prole-
tariat, in the dumb and crushed European
sense, but in its hopefulness and early activity,
in the breadth of its interests; in its mental
joyousness and vitality, seems to have the qual-
ity of a Renaissance.

In my search for a man who stood at the

[II]

Preface*

center of the labor world, I therefore went to
Chicago, the hot-bed of the Middle West, the
place where labor is most riotous, most ex-
pressive, where the workingman abounds in
his own sense and has formed an atmosphere
of democracy extending far beyond his own
class. There I at once came in contact with
so many vigorous personalities, that I was, for
a long time, swamped by the richness of the
human material.

I went to their saloons, T visited them in
their homes. I was astonished by their prac-
tical knowledge of mankind, I was fascinated
by their temperament and robustness and joy
in life, I was touched by their altruism and
feeling of human solidarity. I felt a kind
of class sweetness under their rough manners,
and also a class rebelliousness, a rebelliousness
which could not have arisen if they had not
been comparatively well-off, for the necessary
energy would otherwise have been lacking.
I saw how a new morality was forming on the
basis of a new public opinion different from

[12]

Preface,

the past public opinion upon which much of
present law is based. One rather disagree-
able expression of this new morality was the
suspiciousness with which for a long time they
regarded me. They saw that I was, in their
meaning of the word, a parasite: I did not
work with my hands. I was therefore a mem-
ber of the capitalist class, they felt, and would
bear watching. One night, early in my Chi-
cago experience, I was set upon in a saloon
and slugged by friends of Sam Parks, about
whom I had in all sincerity and friendliness
expressed an unfavorable opinion.

This little episode hurt my feelings at the
time, and, incidentally, changed the shape of
my nose. But, after a few months, when I
had come more sympathetically to understand
the feeling of the men and the difficulties of
the leaders, I saw that I was at least ignorant,
if not unkind, when I expressed an absolute,
unmodified condemnation of a man like Parks.
And, although even now, I do not approve of
the manner in which the men in the saloon

[13]

Preface.

expressed their sense of my unphilosophic nar-
rowness, I can realize that their action was
based upon some obscure feelings not entirely
unjust and brutal.

After a time, my friends became less sus-
picious, and pari passu more interesting to me.
But as the richness of the material grew more
apparent, the difficulties in the way of my task
became greater. The men with temperament
among them were intensely alive, so alive that
^*art" seemed to them a mere trivial excres-
cence due to the superfluous well-being of the
capitalist class : and since, in their feeling, lit-
erature, history, art, law and religion, as they
are to-day, had for the most part originated
on the basis of an unjust social order, so these
things tended to keep the proletariat en-
slaved: they tended to cradle the mind and
senses and make man ignobly content with his
bonds.

So that my scheme for a book did not inter-
est them in the slightest — not the real men
among them. They were too active to take

[14]

Preface.

the contemplative point of view : they thought,
but their thought had the unformed and frag-
mentary character of action. And then, too,
as I have said, they distrusted the moral and
social tendencies of "culture." They were too
genuinely interested in themselves and the
"movement" to be able to see themselves as a
whole. They lacked variety, and though they
talked extremely well about the things that
interested them, they became stiff, inexpres-
sive and conventional when I induced them
to talk about their lives and their personal
opinions. The vanity of a pickpocket, the
sense for self-advertisement of a soubrette, eas-
ily lends itself to the egotism of autobiogra-
phy. But the active impersonality and seri-
ousness of a laborer lacks the pleasure in sub-
jective contemplation and in the recherche
of the ego which is of prime necessity in auto-
biography.

The world of labor is so big — it has so
markedly not only the character of a great
human thing, but also connects itself so defi-

[15]

Preface,

nitely with history and politics, — it has so
many aspects, so many threads, that no one
man can possibly stand at the center of it.
That is another discovery, which, indeed, I
was rather slow in making, and another diffi-
culty in the way of my enterprise. I became
deeply interested in one man after another,
but in every case I found that either the man
was not sufficiently typical of what I imagined
the labor situation to be, or that he lacked an
interest in my work, or was not sufficiently ex-
pressive for my purpose.

At last, however, after being in Chicago for
several months, I did meet a man whose tem-
perament and character, and experience, both
as a type and as a person, seemed to combine
much that I wanted. I remember well the
occasion of our first meeting. It was at the
bar of the Briggs House. He stood, drinking
a glass of beer, and talking with energy and
rough irony to a couple of newspaper men,
about the teamsters' strike. I was immedi-
ately struck with his intellectual vigor, his

[i6]

Preface.

free, anarchistic habit of mind, and the rough,
sweet health of his personality. We had a
long discussion about Tolstoi's ideas of "non-
resistance," about labor, about life. I found
him wonderfully expressive: he excited me
most pleasurably, and I made an appointment
with him for the next day.

He was too busy for me to see much of at
that time. He worked in the shop every day,
and his nights were usually given up to trades-
union activities, or to "radical" meetings, of
one kind or another. Soon after, I left town
for the summer. While away, I wrote my
friend, told him what I wanted, described as
well as I could the work that I had planned,
and asked him for his co-operation. He
wrote back a good-natured letter of consent;
and on the basis of that I returned to Chicago
in the autumn and spent there three of the
most interesting months of my life.

He lived in Austin, a suburb of Chicago.
I went to a boarding-house near by, so as to be
near him and his family. He was busier than

[17]

Preface.

ever: he was a man of growing importance
in the Federation, he still actively worked in
the shop, his need of social pleasure was
strong and constant, and his "radical" friends
and activities were many. When I was with
him in the bosom of his family — where I was
received with the utmost hospitality, — or in
company with his trades-union co-workers, or
his "radical" friends, I found his talk always
expressive, significant and most interesting.

But I discovered to my disappointment that
I could not interest him in my work. He was
not at all interested in his autobiography or
in what I could make out of it; and it was
only when he thought himself working with
me that he was comparatively uninteresting.
He hated to commit himself to anything, or
to feel that, when once he was out of the shop,
he need do anything except enjoy his body or
his mind and temperament in the way he saw
fit. And no prospect of any material compen-
sation as a result of the work had any effect
upon him. I found him so thoroughly a man

[i8]

Preface.

of temperament, that by excess, it precluded
the artistic results of temperament.

But, although we did not "hit it ofif" very
well in what we called our work, we got along
extremely well together in life. I became al-
most a member of his family, and came to oc-
cupy an acknowledged place in the circle of
his radical friends. I grew to be so much
interested in many of his companions, male
and female, and so thoroughly absorbed and
fascinated, that the need of making use of it
all seemed very remote to me. My own fam-
ily, however, beckoned to me from distant
New York, and I finally tore myself up by my
acquired roots, and departed.

The total result of my Chicago experience
was to make me feel that in this work the
autobiographical form must be given up.
The man and the subject was at once too in-
teresting, too significant and too inexpressive.
I was compelled to choose the more circum-
stantial, comprehensive, if slower, less vivid
and less exciting form of biography; to tell

[«9]

Preface.

about the man, his life, his friends, often quot-
ing his words, but sometimes resorting to my
own. The looser and freer form of biography
had the advantage of enabling me to bring
into the book a good deal in Chicago and its
people which is influenced and determined by
the character of America's intellectual pro-
letariat; although not immediately belonging
to the world of labor.

[20]

The Spirit of Labor

[21]

The Spirit of Labor.

CHAPTER I.

Early Youth.

Anton, when I met him in the saloon of the
Briggs House, was thirty-three years old —
old enough to have experienced a great deal,
and young enough to retain the excited point
of view about life. He is a woodworker,
making the best wages at his trade, and has
been in steady employment for some years.
That fact, however, has not limited his energy
in other ways. Of late he has become an im-
portant man in Chicago labor circles, and last
autumn was the Chicago delegate to the In-
ternational Labor Congress at Pittsburg. He
is the President of his local union, and in
trades-union matters very active in every way.
He is an effective speaker, and enjoys an in-
tellectual bout on the floor with any man.
He now meets men of all walks of life and
[23]

The Spirit of Labor.

finds it interesting to measure his strength
with theirs. He derives keen mental satisfac-
tion from contact with local philosophers and
"radicals"- — and to their meetings he goes as
a relief from the more strenuous occupation
in trades-union matters.

The contrasts in the life of this working-
man have been marked. He began adult life
as a tramp, picked up a knowledge of his trade
on the road, and came in contact there, also,
with the injustice of organized society: this
made him think, and laid the foundation of
his later radicalism. Love for a girl came
in — he had his great adventure — and this took
him, eventually, away from the road. Chil-
dren came, and with them comparative fixity
of purpose, and the turning of the man's en-
ergy into the deepening of his social and in-
tellectual life. Many leaders in the labor
world, starting with sympathy for the "rank
and file," lose that sympathy when they be-
come leaders. But Anton has, at any rate
as yet, retained the essential qualities of the
workingman, although he is endowed with far
more energy and brains and character than the
average. This is partly due to the fact that
he still works in the shop, among the men,
[24]

Early Youth.

and partly to his steadfast refusal to become
a "politician" in the movement. In the Fed-
eration meetings he is a free-lance, bold, ag-
gressive, terribly frank at times, v^ith a youth-
ful pleasure in shocking his companions, but
of sterling honesty and a deep joy in the truth,
because it is the truth, the exciting truth, no
matter if it hurts, no matter though it be quite
out of place. To express what he deems the
truth, in season and out, is to him almost an
emotional dissipation. ^"

When I met Anton in the Briggs House, his
face and manner indicated his character and
his experience. He has the powerful body of
the young mechanic — not lithe or graceful,
but with the strength of a gnarled root. He
is short and thick-set, with stubbed and horny
hands; his head is a bullet, his brow broad,
his eyes large, deep, and kind; his voice big.
The lines in his face show a man who has
lived roughly: his life on the road was almost
as rough as they come. Yet his hard life has
not made his face hard. He is rough in man-
ner and in look; and his appearance shows
experience. But in spite of the many sordid
facts of his life, there is no suggestion of hard-
ness about him. He looks big and open, as
[25]

The Spirit of Labor.

he is. The sweetness and the roughness of
simple humanity are in his face. And he
meets men in this spirit — often with brusque
roughness, but always with the essential re-
spect for others that sweetness gives.

This man was born abroad: as is the way
with the typical American workingman. His
home was in Germany, in Schleswig-Holstein.
His father was a house-roofer, a jolly fellow
who liked to drink too much and who caused
his family much trouble. He was a fat, round
person, a great story-teller, and great as a
father, for he had twelve children, of whom
eight died, through neglect, for the mother
was forced to go out working, and the children
were left to themselves. She washed for the
farmers in the neighborhood, often not return-
ing home till 2 o'clock in the morning, and
going away to work again at 6.

When the father went to America, to find
a home for his family, the oldest sister was
glad to see him go. He was in the way, she
thought. The wife cried, when he went, and
Anton prayed, for Anton was the only earn-
est Christian among the children. "When
mother was out working," he said "I always
waited till she came back, no matter how late
[26]

Early Youth.

it was, so that I could say my prayers, before I
went to sleep. At that time I accepted every-
thing that the preacher said. I imagined that
his every remark was the essence of the Holy
Ghost."

He was a loving child, and by nature and
education had the patience and reverence that
is part of the laborer's character. "I was very
happy," he said, "when I could bring my
mother some pennies. I used to sing for them,
on the farms." It was the custom for the chil-
dren to stand at the back-door to beg for the
dinner that they were to take to school. In
the fall of the year, the farmers killed hogs,
and the children begged part of the meat, and
took it home. On New Year's eve the chil-
dren would go around the village, singing, for
coins and baked things. Anton was a favorite
on that night, for he was a good singer, and
had, as he said, "an unlimited amount of gall."

He went to the parish school where he
"learned religion," as he put it, and a little
mathematics ; also to swim, as that was a part
of the program of the government, to train the
boys for soldiers. He also learned to take a
beating with equanimity.

For the grown people in that village had
[27]

The Spirit of Labor,

many superstitions. One was a strong belief
in the need of beating little children. An-
ton's father, mother, sister and school-teacher
all beat him with great frequency. "My
father was good-natured," he said, "but bad
whiskey drove him to this brutality. In spite
of my religious tendencies, the slightest error
or mistake on my part would mean a sound
thrashing. The effect of the rod was to make
me want revenge, but not at that time so much
as later, for I thought I was born to work and
slave and be beaten — that was the fundamental
doctrine of the Bible, as it was conveyed
to me." 1

Another superstition was the universal be-
lief in witches. The parents "grafted," said
Anton, "on this superstition, using it as a club
to keep us indoors at night. I imagined I
saw witches everywhere, and used to turn it
to account by frightening other children. I
remember getting under the house and mak-
ing horrible noises. I didn't see why I should
not make use of the witches, if my parents did.
But they objected to my graft, and my sister
beat me with a soup-bone."

One of the most vivid memories from his
childhood was of the insufficient food. Many
[28]

Early Youth.

is the time he went hungry to bed, because
there was nothing to eat in the house. At
the best, the bill of fare was dry bread and
potatoes, salt lard and tallow in place of but-
ter. Once a year, "on Christmas, when the
birth of Christ was celebrated," he interjected,
satirically, "we had butter and white bread."
Meat was to be had only when the farmers
were killing. The mother used to go out
early in the morning for craw-fish, and would
also gather driftwood for the fires.

After the father had been away two years,
the family followed him to Clinton, Iowa,
where he had settled. They were only four
then ; the other children had died. The only
doctors in the village were the druggists and
the preachers, but probably the children would
have died anyway, from poor food and neg-
lect. "I was glad," said Anton, "to go to
America, for I thought I would not need to
beg there, and that I could get enough to eat."

"I enjoyed the trip across the ocean, for I
got extra food from the steward for doing
dirty work. The grub was awful filthy, but
there was enough of it. One day I went with-
out my extra rations, because I fell down-
stairs with a dozen bottles, and the cook
[29]

The Spirit of Labor.

thought he ought to discipline me. A boy
finds a moral teacher wherever he goes. This
world is said to be a bad one, but as for me I
find virtue everywhere, more's the pity.

"After nineteen days we reached New York,
very lousy from our steerage experience, and
landed in Castle Garden. The first thing I
noticed was a negro. I had never seen one
before, and I thought he was the devil. But
he told me his color was due to the climate,
and that I would soon be as black as he was.
As my youngest brother had been very ill on
the voyage, the doctor in New York sent him
and mother to a hospital for ten days, and the
other children to an orphan asylum. In this
place they put us through a course of gym-
nastics: we had all the exercises except stom-
ach exercises. The food, indeed, was little
and bad. Here, too, I got my regular beat-
ings. I began to think that I was owned by
the whole world and that everybody was good
but me."

When they reached Clinton, Iowa, they
found the father there doing much better than
he had done in Germany. He was driving
a beer wagon for a German brewer, and was
a great favorite with his employer, who
[30]

Early Youth.

weighed four hundred pounds and enjoyed
the father's jokes. "Father was naturally a
great jollier," said Anton, "and that kind of a
man gets along in America." The brewer
drank a keg of beer every day and soon "died
of avoirdupois." Anton's father then became
bartender and afterwards saloon-keeper, and
prospered, because he told good stories and
knew when to treat and when to extort pay-
ment.

In this American town Anton went to school
more or less for two winters; and acquired
there the reputation of a bad boy. "The spirit
of protest," he said, "which is now developed
to a considerable extent, began to stir in me.
Whenever the teacher asked me why I was
tardy, I told her the truth, and the other boys
lied. So I was beaten and the other boys were
not; and this seemed to me unjust. One day
the school-teacher beat my little brother, and
I attacked the teacher, and the stove fell over
on us. Father took my side, and rescued me
from this affair. A few months before Easter,
when I was preparing for confirmation, the
teacher and the minister asked me, with a view
to finding out the effect of the religious teach-
ing, what I would do with my wife, if she
[313

The Spirit of Labor.

were negligent in the household affairs. I re-
plied promptly that I would run away. On
another occasion I insisted there were witches
in the town. The teacher said there were not.
But as I had seen them with my own eyes, and
as my parents had told me these things existed,
I thought the teacher was a liar, and told
him so."

Finally the school became too warm for
him, and he left and went to work in a brick
yard at twenty-five cents a day. This was his
first experience as a workingman. He was
then twelve years old, and worked ten hours
a day, at turning and hacking brick, hurd
work, but he became the best turner in the
yard. He was a favorite with the boss, for
when work was slack he peeled potatoes for
the employer's wife. "I did this for a couple
of years, but my industry had no effect on my
boss. He took it as a matter of course.
Wasn't I getting twenty-five cents a day?"

Although Anton's father was working stead-
ily at this time, his mother still went out to
wash, and his sister worked as hired girl. He
had no holidays but Sunday, and so his life,
at twelve years of age, was almost all work.
"I don't think," he said, "that any one of my
[32]

Early Youth.

family enjoyed life ; I am sure I did not, as a
child. Perhaps my father did, for he drank
heavily, and always had a good story to tell."
The father was the only one of them who lived
the life of the temperament. At least, he be-
longed to the poor man's club, and often
J talked eloquently to the men in the saloon.

When he was fourteen, Anton went to work
in a sash and door factory, where every man
and boy had his place like a machine. He
worked there on and ofif for eight years, mak-
ing window frames and nothing else. It was
monotonous work, and he learned little from
it.R "If I had never run away from home,"
he said, "I would never have become a me-
chanic. The work there was too monotonous,
and the men took no interest in the boys and
did not teach them anything. I got fifty cents
a day for ten hours' work, and after six years
was getting only a dollar a day. But at that
time I did not think much about the wages.
I wouldn't have minded if it had not been for
the monotony of it. I became awfully bored,
which always happens to me when anything
lasts too long."

When Anton was sixteen, there was a strike,
under the auspices of the Knights of Labor.
[33]

The Spirit of Labor.

It did not involve his shop, but he at once felt
in sympathy with the purposes of the strikers.
It was a mob strike ; the strikers were not or-
ganized and they lost. This was the first
strike that came to Anton's attention. "But I
felt at once," he said, "that the other fellows
were in reality our enemies, and were trying
to get all they could out of us and give us as
little in return as we would accept. ^

"Under the circumstances, I felt justified in
killing as much time as I could without being
discharged. The monotony of the employ-
ment and the greed of the employer took all
interest away from the work. So I organized
a number of boys into a kind of entertainment
society. We built a watch-house in the shop,
and while one boy acted as the look-out, the
others played cards, during the work hours.
We kept this up for months, but I was finally
caught and laid ofif a day. My father threat-
ened to thrash me if I didn't get my job back.
At that time my father was running the saloon
and I sometimes used to tend bar for him in
the evening. I was to do so on that night, as
the old gent was uptown. Instead, I left
home without saying good-bye to anybody, got
in a box-car half loaded with shelled corn, and
in a few hours I was in Chicago. I was then
eighteen years old."

[34]

CHAPTER II.
On the Road. ^

Now began a period of wandering, often
interrupted by brief returns to his family in
Clinton. He became one of the large class
of nomadic workingmen, so to speak, who are
as much hobo as laborer; indeed, many of
them more so, as they work only in order to
earn enough money for a "front," a suit of
clothes, and then restlessly pass on.

On this first trip he was in Chicago only a
short time. He boldly pretended to be a me-
chanic, but was discharged for incompetency
a few days after finding his first job. He then
washed dishes in a restaurant for a night or
two, but dropped this for a magnificent posi-
tion on a railroad at $1.40 a day — high wages
for him, who lived at the time on 25 cents a
day. The old feeling of monotony inter-
rupted this lucrative work, and, after three
days, he quit — and did not get his money.

Beating his way to Burlington, he worked

The Spirit of Labor.

eight days as a woodworker, but was dis-
charged: he was not yet a mechanic. But
each time this happened, he was a little wiser :
knew a little more of his trade. Conditions
were slightly different in each shop, there was
greater variety than in the monotonous work
at Clinton, and, as time went on, he learned.

At Burlington he lost his watch, as well as
his job, and was "broke." Then he begged,
for the first time, and took another step to-
wards membership in Hoboland. Previously
to begging he had lived for two days on water-
melons that had burst and been thrown away.
At this time, he was very much discouraged.
He was willing to work, and saw the utter
lack of sympathy in the people he met. He
felt particularly the jealousy of the mechanics,
who refused to teach him anything. He per-
ceived that he was thrown entirely on his own
resources, and as he is naturally generous and
kind himself, he felt this coldness deeply.

He managed to beat his way in a box-car
to Cedar Rapids, and thence home, to Clin-
ton. His trip had not been a spectacular suc-
cess, but, when he reached home, he was, he
said, "as proud as a peacock." He felt he was
a hero and had been almost around the world.

On the Road.

But the good people of Clinton "gave him the
laugh" for coming back so soon. "I stood in
the saloon," he said, "and tried to brag to the
other boys, but they could not see it that way."

He had been away two months, and was
glad to get back ; but the ridicule of the boys
and the need of work sent him away again in
four or five days. Without saying anything
to his family, he boarded another box-car and
was off for Council Bluffs.

In the box-car he met a tramp with a philo-
sophic turn of mind. He was a mechanic and
had had some good jobs. After Anton heard
this man talk, he vaguely felt that his life in
Clinton had been a narrow one, and that he
had had no real opportunities there. Dimly
it seemed to him, too, that his misfortunes,
somehow, were more profound and radical
even than that. "I didn't know anything
about Socialism," he said. "But I liked the
talk of that tramp. He made me feel that I
had been deprived of opportunities, that I had
been denied the right to live. The spirit of
protest grew stronger within me, though I was
not clear yet about anything. Even as early
as this I began to think that Christianity was
a humbug and that I had been hoodwinked.
[37]

The Spirit of Labor.

This tramp talked to me about unions, and I
felt the leaders must be heroes, all spotless."

At that time Anton had never been to a
union meeting, had never read a book, not
even a newspaper, and had never had a real
companion. The first "intellectual" man he
met was this box-car friend of his — this hobo-
mechanic who had a sprinkling of Socialistic
ideas. The civilizing influence that "radical"
ideas have upon the entirely uneducated la-
borer is marked : a fact that will be abundant-
ly illustrated in the course of this narrative.

"This box-car," he said, "seemed to me
Paradise. My friend the Socialist talked like
an angel, and we sang the song 'Playmates
Are We.' He was a Carl Marx man, and was
friendly to unionism, for at that time there
was not so much antagonism between Social-
ism and trades-unionism as there is at present."
Anton traveled with the hobo for several
weeks: they beat, begged and worked their
way. When waiting for a train, they built a
fire, slept or talked, or fried steaks and pre-
pared coffee. The Socialist talked all the
time, and, although Anton has forgotten every-
thing definite that was said, yet he still regards
this man as his first friend.
[38]

On the Road.

"I remember," he said, "that he was neat in
his dress, and that he carried soap and towels
with him in the box-car — the only clean
tramp of my acquaintance. He also used to
beg often for a wash instead of a cup of
coffee." ^

Anton tried to find a job at Council Bluffs.
He dropped into the Universal Exchange, a
saloon, and after being cheated by the saloon-
keeper, got a tip which led to a $3.5o-a-day po-
sition. He hired out as a first-class mechanic,
"on my gall," as he put it. When the foreman
saw what he was like, he paid him only $2 a
day, but that seemed very big to Anton. He
held this job only a short time, as usual. One
day he was making hand-rails for fancy stairs,
and, being "not even a second-class mechanic,"
got excited when the boss was looking on, and
spoiled two feet of a rail. "The boss grabbed
me by the neck and took me to the office. He
was so mad," said Anton, "I thought he would
kill me ; but he had the kindness to pay me $5
for three days' work. So he did not cheat
me much."

The proprietor of a restaurant where Anton
ate had taken a fancy to him, and when he
lost his job in the factory, he got another as a
[39]

The Spirit of Labor.

waiter. Anton was a jolly singer and dancer,
and pleased the wife and daughter of the pro-
prietor, who offered him $8 a week and board
to stay with him. "It was easy work," said
Anton. "But it was monotonous, and the two
women, who were ugly, made love to me.
After a while, when they thought they had
claims on me, I found that monotonous, too.
So I juhiped on a box-car and went to
Omaha."

He took a trip South at this time, passing
rapidly from town to town, from one job to
another, from periods of begging and "bum-
ming" to brief periods of work. . If his nat-
ural restlessness was thus being intensified,
there was the compensation that he was rapid-
ly learning his trade. He was a quick, intel-
ligent boy, and he thinks he learned more
from these widely varying jobs than he could
have done through any careful system of ap-
prenticeship. During his wandering period
of seven years the longest stay he ever made
was four months, at Fort Worth.

Sometimes he was discharged because of in-
competence, more often because of his "inde-
pendence." Frequently he left because the
work became monotonous, and he desired to
[40]

On the Road.

pass on. When he had a few dollars in his
pocket and a fairly good suit of clothes, it was
hard to keep him at his job.

"You are better treated at the beginning,"
he said. "While a stranger you get more
recognition. They treat you with courtesy, at
first. But familiarity breeds contempt. You
wear out your welcome. When that stage
came, I generally moved. When I heard the
train whistle, my heart throbbed, and I wanted
to go. In the spring of the year I couldn't
sleep at night for thinking of the road, and
when the train pulled out, I generally got the
fever and went with it."

He came to know the "road" well, learned
to beg with skill, and met many hoboes and
"yeggs." What he learned from them helped
him to the art of handling men which he is
now turning to account in his trades-union ac-
tivity. "What one learns from the yellow and
the black will help you a lot with the white,"
he quoted.

Workingmen who are engaged in any un-
stable work, such as printers, bricklayers, and
those working at railroad construction, often
become hoboes. They are not the real
tramps, whose technical name is "yegg." The
[41]

The Spirit of Labor.

latter have concluded that it does not pay to
work. To do so is dishonorable. They
therefore despise the hoboes, and will have
nothing to do with them socially. They are
the aristocrats of the floating population —
more truly aristocrats than the aristocrats at
the top, for they can lose nothing: nothing
worries them, and they are more exclusive
than the Four Hundred.

Anton was often snubbed by these "swells"
of the road. From motives of curiosity he at-
tempted to become intimate with them, but
they would have little to do with him. Once,
when nearly starving, he met some yeggs sit-
ting about a fire and eating. They refused
to share their food with him. "Why don't
you go to work?" they asked, contemptuously.
Then they threw the victuals in the fire, de-
liberately.

"Those yeggs interested me," said Anton.
"But I never had a desire to be one of them.
I couldn't see their philosophy. They were
too cruel, too hard-hearted. They care for
nobody but yeggs. Solidarity among them is
absolute. They admire good thieves and
prostitutes, but even these are not admitted to
the inner circle. Their feeling of caste is aw-
[42]

On the Road.

ful. It is much worse than that of the capi-
talist class. Like the capitalist class, they are
careful of their manners, too. They will steal
if they get a chance, but they won't beg at the
back door. They won't take the hand-out,
nor apply for work; nor will they wash dishes
or saw wood for a breakfast or an old coat.
There is only one way that a yegg can honor-
ably beg. He may size a man up and tackle
him in the street for money. He uses the
money for a place to "flop," in a lodging-
house. If any is left over, he will buy alco-
holic stimulants, but not food. That is dis-
graceful, to spend money for food, in a city.
If he really needs a meal, he will try for a
"chase-in" ; he will beg a meal ticket, which is
much more readily given away than a piece of
money.

"The yegg will have nothing to do with
women. He prefers boys, and in this way,
too, he is like some aristocrats. Sitting
around their fires, or smoking their snipes (to-
bacco picked up from the streets and re-
rolled) in a lodging-house room, they talk of
the kids they have met along the road: praise
this one's begging powers, that one's crooked-
ness, another's strength as a hold-up man — or
[43]

The Spirit of Labor.

they tell of having met Phil Yegg in such a
place, Omaha Shin in another; and discuss
where the bulls (police) are most hostile.
They do not rush the can in the saloon, as the
hoboes do, but they sit together in the back
room of the lodging-house over a glass of beer,
and smoke their snipes. As long as there is
money in the crowd, there is no question of
who pays. As their taste for social pleasures
is identical in each one, there is no need of one
man having more money or spending more
than another. In this respect, they are Social-
ists or Communists.

"The yeggs are well taken care of by the
politicians. They go to places where they are
absolutely safe, such as some of the resorts pre-
sided over by Hinky Dink and Bathhouse
John, in Chicago; Bucket of Love, in St.
Louis; The Three Brothers, in New Orleans,
or Sailors' Home, in New York. Saloon-
keepers and politicians have no regard for
hoboes, but they know that yeggs are power-
ful because of their solidarity. A yegg never
forgets an affront, and his boycott is everlast-
ing and complete: it spreads like wildfire
throughout the world of the road."

One day I went with Anton to hear him
[44]

On the Road.

make a speech on tramps before the Social
Science League, a Chicago organization of
"radicals." After describing the habits of the
yeggs, he made the following interesting ap-
plication :

"Whether we like or dislike the tramp, the
fact is he is here and is just as I have described
him. His aim in life is to escape labor, to be
a parasite. He makes a profession of that.
It is as dishonorable for him to go against the
rules of his profession as it is for a preacher
to work in a factory, a lawyer on a farm, or
a doctor behind a saloon bar. The yegg
is very similar to these other professional men.
While the one is supposed to serve justice, the
second to uplift morals, and the third to pre-
serve the health, the percentage of those who
confine themselves to these principles is so
small that it is almost invisible. The spirit
of commercialism has been a most potent fac-
tor in prostituting these professions. The
spirit of commerce appears to me very largely
directed to reaping the benefits produced by
the labor of others. He who is the most cun-
ning among the lawyers is considered to be the
greatest. He among the preachers who can
spellbind the best, attains to the most salary;
[45]

The Spirit of Labor.

the doctor who can give the best reasons for
proving that artifice is better than nature, is
the most successful. The yegg has these same
characteristics. He is a cunning and shrewd
thief; and he plays on the emotions of others,
when he tells the wayfarer a hard-luck story;
the fundamental motive is always to escape
labor. The yegg very seldom criticizes the
methods of his fellow yegg. And this same
respect for the graft of the profession we see
in the ranks of lawyers, doctors and preach-
ers."

This speech was made long after Anton had
ceased to be a tramp. But he began, at this
early stage in his career, to form some of the
ideas which he was so fond of expressing at
a later time. He was not long on the road
before his religious ideas began to grow a lit-
tle vague; not that he had become definitely
sceptical as yet, but that this side of him re-
ceived no longer any nourishment. One sel-
dom meets a religious man on the road, or one
who has respect for the law. They feel the
necessity of opposing the law, because the law
opposes them.

While in the South, on this trip, our hobo
did meet one religious man, but his religion
[46]

On the Road.

took an industrial turn. He was called
Preacher Bill, and he was a confirmed hobo.
He would sit for hours and argue about poli-
tics and industrialism. He was a great agi-
tator, and was called "Preacher" because of
the enthusiasm and emotion he felt for the
cause of the workman and of the outcast.

These budding ideas, or rather feelings, for
tliey lacked the definiteness of ideas, made it
easier for him to beg and to lead a rather hard
life than it would have been otherwise. He
became a good "bummer," clever at getting a
dinner or a suit of clothes. I found out, from
my own intimacy with him and his associates,
that he certainly "has a way with women" ; it
is not a very gentle way, but it is effective, and
this served him on the road. One day he hid
his overcoat, his hat and his coat, and then
went to a house and begged for some clothes,
which he intended to sell. The good woman,
after a few minutes' talk, gave him a break-
fast, a suit of clothes, underwear, collar, ties,
shirt, shoes, and some money for a hat.

"Women like to be sympathetic," said An-
ton. "That is the way they get their graft."

After this good luck, Anton got a shave,
bought a hat, dressed himself well, and went
• [47]

The Spirit of Labor.

to see his chum, who did not recognize him.
With this new suit of clothes "as a stall" he
went to New Orleans, where, some circus men
having got into trouble, he on his arrival,
was rounded up as a stranger, and, in spite of
his good clothes, put in jail, and given only
half a bologna sausage to eat. But it was as
good sleeping there as in a box-car. The jail,
indeed, is one of the hotels of the hobo. The
next morning he was discharged by the magis-
trate, and with him a yegg, who had been
"rounded up" at the same time, and whom he
had met in jail. This yegg did Anton the
honor of liking him, and conducted him to
Houston, Texas, to a headquarters of hoboes
and yeggs. Here numberless hoboes were
controlled by a few yeggs, who spent the ho-
boes' money and ate their food, but gave them
nothing in return.

Then he and his friend the yegg went to San
Antonio, where they met a bricklayer, a care-
less hobo, who had a job at the time, at his
trade, and was making good money. He had
just drawn his wages — $35; it was Saturday
night, and as he liked the two strangers, he
took a box-car with them, and they all went to
Mexico. He and Anton treated the yegg as a
[48] .

On the Road,

king. The bricklayer gave him all his mes-
cal, a kind of whiskey, which the yegg liked,
but which Anton found better adapted for
"killing lice than for drinking." It was on
this Mexican box-car that Anton discovered
the true reason for the yegg's friendship for
him. It was a reason which made Anton use
a knife, in order to defend himself, and which
determined him and the bricklayer to separate
from their distinguished companion. ^ *-

They made their way to Laredo, and there,
as in other Mexican towns, they found that
a little bad whiskey would bring them what-
ever they wanted. For a drink, they could
get, in exchange, food and a bed so large that
it contained the Mexican's wife and daugh-
ters, as well as themselves. It was not neces-
sary to beg in Mexico. There the people are
so poor that they give whatever they have.

A man who comes from the States is well
treated in Mexico. It is known that he is a
better workman than the natives. So when
Anton arrived in Monterey, without a "front,"
thinking he would go to work, under favor-
able circumstances, he and the bricklayer sta-
tioned themselves before a restaurant. The
first man tackled was pleased with the young
[49]

The Spirit of Labor,

woodworker, gave him a meal, and a job at
$5 a day. The bricklayer obtained employ-
ment at $12 a day. This seemed like clover
to them both, and the bricklayer staid on. So
would Anton have done also, had it not been
for an accident. One day he was careless with
a machine and nearly killed a Mexican. He
realized the danger, jumped a box-car and
made for the States. He dropped off at the
first Texas town — Beaver — ran for the first
house he saw and was hospitably received by
a young widow, who in return for some gar-
dening, gave him money, clothes, and the best
of food. He staid with her four days, and his
motive for going was an indication of his pop-
ularity with the sex. "I didn't want to stay
there for good," he said.

"I never had much trouble with the
women," he remarked, not complacently, for
he is not given to that, but in his matter-of-fact
way. "I remember one time I was working in
Hammond for three weeks, because I wanted
a front to go to New Orleans. After I got
together a few dollars, I started, with a con-
tractor, for the big city. We struck the town
on the night of a masquerade ball; and we
went there on a lark. I was a good dancer,
[50]

On the Road.

and met a young girl who introduced me to her
friends. The contractor presented me as the
superintendent of the plant at Hammond.
We met the girl's five sisters, brother-in-law
and mother. I suggested a supper, but a com-
mon place was not good enough for me, so I
told them to take us to the swellest restaurant
in town. The contractor feared he would
have to pay the bill and sneaked away. We
went to a fine French restaurant, and I had the
meal of my life, with all kinds of expensive
wines. I didn't pay a cent. They insisted
that I was the guest. I made a mash on the
little girl, and escorted her home ; went to dine
with them the next day, and the old lady of-
fered me a job in her clothing store at $50 a
month. I nursed it along for a while, for I
was stuck on the little girl. But I couldn't
keep up the game, as I had no trunk, no re-
sources, and had to lie every minute. So I
skipped."

On virtuously leaving the young widow at
Beaver, he went to Corpus Christi, where he
arrived the day before Thanksgiving. In ac-
cordance with his general custom, he stood be-
fore a restaurant, for a "chase-in," and there
met a man who was justice of the peace and
[51]

The Spirit of Labor.

the leader of a band of minstrels. "When I
told him I was a theatrical man," said Anton,
"he was interested, and gave me a dollar. He
took me to the stage manager, whom I told I
had been stranded at Meridian. I passed my-
self ofif as a character singer and a black-face
comedian. 'Come up and rehearse,' he said,
and gave me shirts, collars and ties. At the
five o'clock rehearsal I was there, but as I
knew nothing whatever about music, I told
them I was very sensitive to my accompani-
ment, and that I must sing without music. I
passed the examination, and was engaged for
that night's performance. When the time
came for me to do my act, I went on and sang
without music. I had been introduced as a
stranded actor, and I took the house. I sang
*On the Bridge at Midnight,' and I had $14
thrown at me from the audience. After the
show, the minstrels crowded around me and
wanted me to stay two weeks, and would pay
my restaurant bills, washing, etc. The story
went around the town like wild-fire. They
more or less got on to me, and called me 'the
hobo-king.' That night we went around the
town serenading, followed by a big crowd. I
sang under a banker's window. He invited us
[52]

On the Road.

in, gave us drinks, cigars, and handed me a
ten-dollar bill. I sang at the theater every
night. A lady in town took up a collection for
me, and this brought me in $15. A printer
made 500 copies of my songs, and I sold them
for about $20. A little Spanish girl made
love to me and gave me a shell fan. I was a
hero, the town was off the main line, and that
is one reason why they liked my line of the-
atricals. That's the first time I ever was an
actor. I wish I had stopped then. But I
tried it once more, a few weeks after that, in
San Antonio. I was with a bum crowd of
show people. One of them ran away with
the money and the audience threw potatoes at
the rest of us. We had to run away without
our trunks, to avoid being lynched."

[53]

CHAPTER IIL
Injustice and Love,

It was not long after this theatrical experi-
ence that Anton was arrested for the second
time. It was this second arrest that filled him
with the bitter feeling of social injustice.
"Life on the road," he said, "with all its
chance meetings with many men and ways of
living makes one tolerant of everything except
tyranny." And in the case of this second ar-
rest, he felt he had come in contact with tyran-
ny in its ordinary and commonplace, and,
therefore, particularly damnable, form.

It was at Fort Worth, Texas. He had
worked in the town before, and was well ac-
quainted there, but as he was now on the
tramp, and accompanied by two other hoboes,
he did not want to be seen by his acquaint-
ances. He and his two companions were eat-
ing lunch in a lodging-house near the stock
yards, when a drunken man invited himself to
partake of the food. He fell into a stupid
[54]

Injustice and Love.

sleep, and while in that condition was robbed
of seven or eight dollars by the two hoboes.
A boy, who had been sent for some whiskey,
returned at the moment of the robbery, and
reported the affair to the police. Anton and
the two hoboes were arrested on a charge of
larceny. The boy had said that the two ho-
boes had taken the money, and that Anton had
had no share in it. But the police arrested
him anyway as an important witness, and they
also suspected that he was in with the others.
A religious man for whom Anton had worked,
and who regarded him as immoral but honest,
secured a lawyer for $25, money for which
Anton wrote a letter home.

"I was approached by the police," said An-
ton, "and told that if I would 'tell the truth'
I would be released. In that town they get
so much for every conviction ; and if the police
and prosecuting attorney could get my evi-
dence against the other two, they were willing
to let me off. But I didn't see it that way. I
considered it blackmail on their part to threat-
en me with prison for a crime I had not com-
mitted, unless I would peach on the others.
Besides, I did not think these two hoboes had
done anything they ought to be put in prison
[55]

The Spirit of Labor.

for. They relieved the drunken man of some
money that was doing him harm. It did not
seem to me as bad a crime as the authorities
were guilty of in their action against me."

The judge declared that there was not
enough evidence against Anton to indict him,
yet it would be well to hold him as a witness
against the others. This, too, seemed to our
hero an arbitrary and unjust proceeding. In
the meantime, he was in jail with his com-
panions. Money had come to him from his
family, and with this money he was to pay the
lawyer. The latter visited them in jail and
said the State's attorney had agreed to make
it a county fine; that if they pleaded guilty
they would only be fined ; if not, they would
be kept in jail until October, and then tried.
Anton and his companions therefore pleaded
guilty, and Anton paid all costs.

"It was very repulsive to me to do this," he
said. *'I was weak in letting them blackmail
me in this way, but I didn't want to stay in
jj».il so long and then have a good chance for
from two to five years in the penitentiary."

For three days before the money came, An-
ton was forced to work on the county road,
chained and guarded with a carbine. When
[56]

Injustice and Love.

he was released, they gave him nothing for his
three days' work. He went to Fort Worth
and tried to get the fine remitted. After he
had paid the lawyer and the costs he was with-
out money, and could borrow nothing from the
judge, the lawyer or from the women who had
performed religious ceremonies in jail. But
a negro loaned him $3 — which he afterwards
paid back — and with this he went to Weather-
ford, Texas, where he found a job and worked
hard to save some money, with revenge in his
mind. He worked ten weeks and saved $100.
During that period he did not spend a cent for
beer or smoking tobacco; for nothing except
the bare necessities.

At the end of that time he bought a suit of
clothes ("you can do nothing with Christian
people without a front," he said) and returned
to Fort Worth. He went to the newspaper
office, and offered the editor forty dollars to
print his story of the arrest, and how the au-
thorities had urged him to plead guilty. But
the editor refused, of course. "This expe-
rience," he said, "pushed me on far towards
thinking. I began to believe that justice is a
farce, and worse than a farce."

Anton is very emotional about this episode,
[57]

The Spirit of Labor.

not merely because it formed a step in the evo-
lution of his social opinions, but because it
marked a very important step in the develop-
ment of his love affair. "It pushed him on,"
as much towards "the great adventure," as to-
wards "thinking."

Little Maggie had been in love with him,
as she admitted to me, since she was fourteen
years old. She was a house-maid in his moth-
er's family, a German girl, intelligent and ca-
pable, full of life. She has played a much
more important part in her husband's life than
falls to the lot of most women, great as that
part usually is.

"I loved him at once," she said to me one
night, as she and I were sitting over her excel-
lent tea, her three children playing happily
on the kitchen floor, and her husband away on
important Union business. "I used to pray
God to protect him while in those dreadful
box-cars. He never staid in Clinton long, and
while he was away other boys paid attention to
me, and I kept company with some of them.
But as soon as Anton turned up from one of his
tramps, I dropped them all and flocked back to
him at once. I certainly did like my tramp.
My mother tried to get me to make up with
[58]

Injustice and Love.

some of the respectable boys who wanted to
marry me. One of them was a Minister of the
Gospel, but I couldn't see him for long."

It seems that the vagabond did not violently
return this devoted girl's affection for a long
time. He was busy "seeing the world." But
when he was in jail at Fort Worth he fell to
thinking about his real friends, and little Mag-
gie came up in his mind and senses. He was
twenty-one at the time, and had often been
back home for a flying trip. During these
brief visits, he had seen much of Maggie and
had regarded her as his "steady." But now,
in jail, he fell in love with her, for the first
time. He put the case to me, as follows :

"When I was in jail I was very lonesome
and homesick. I grieved considerably, and
Maggie came up always in my thoughts. She
had been told by her family that I was a vaga-
bond. She thought she ought to suppress her
feelings for me and keep company with some-
body who was more polite and steady. She
had thrown over a good many, for my sake, but
she did try to like a young preacher who never
smoked or drank anything stronger than lem-
onade. I thought of this preacher, now, in
jail, and I did not like the idea of him. So I
[59]

The Spirit of Labor.

wrote Margaret an appealing letter. That
letter was a pathetic confession. I never
wrote that way to any one else, and never but
once to her. Jail and thinking had made me
tender. I wrote it with absolute feeling.
I felt it was a crime to be in jail, guilty
or not, for I was brought up that way.
So I wrote to her, really for sympathy. I
asked her to overcome the prejudice against
me, I promised to lead a better life and
asked her to be my wife, j

'When she got the letter she was sick in
bed with pneumonia. The preacher went to
see her every day and took her flowers. He
never swore, but he chewed gum. She was
so ill that she thought he was very nice and
kind. He had a good education, but no wis-
dom, executive ability, or originality. He
was a man, who, while very much in love
with Margaret, did not possess the strength
or wisdom to temper his feeling with modera-
tion. That is necessary if you want the wo-
man to return your love."

"He was anxious to run after me," explained
Margaret, interrupting her husband's narra-
tive, "and so he made himself less attractive."

Maggie is a psychologist, too.
[60]

Injustice and Love,

"She answered my letter," continued Anton.
"She did not know I was in jail, but thought
I was sick in a hospital. She wrote that my
letter had affected her deeply — so much so that
her mother and the preacher noticed it. I
think they read the letter, but she won't admit
that. Sick as she was, she wrote me, and
stated that she was keeping company with the
minister. While she couldn't love him, she
might learn to like him, and she would al-
ways be a dear sister to me. Her letter was
pretty strong, and it made me lose hope. I
suppose I did not know much about the
women, then. If I had, I would have known
that I could have butted in."

And he did "butt in" a few months later,
as we shall see. He was to go home for a
double triumph — the great one, that over the
minister, and a minor one over two fellow
workmen who had treated him badly when he
was working at Fort Worth, Texas, at a time
previous to his jail experience there.

There were two young men in Clinton who
had been schoolmates of Anton's and had
worked fourteen years in the shop where An-
ton had his first job in the wood-working line.
They had not been advanced in position or
[6i]

The Spirit of Labor,

wages, and were discontented, so they wrote
to Anton in Texas, and asked him to get them a
job. He wrote them to come, but when they
arrived, he found it was not so easy to secure
a job; for they were far from being good
mechanics. Anton had learned more about
the trade in two or three years of knocking
around than they had learned in fourteen years
in Clinton. He was then being paid $i8 a
week for nine hours' work a day, while they
had not even dreamed of a nine hour day and
their best wage had been $12 a week. They
knew that Anton had shown no marked abil-
ity in Clinton and they thought they would
do at least as well as he when they went to a
more favorable locality.

As he could find them nothing at Fort
Worth, he advised them to go to Dallas, where
the opportunities in the trade were much
greater. They did not have the nerve to go
alone : they were borrowing money from An-
ton at the time, and wanted to "stick." So
they asked him to go with them. "They were
home people," said Anton, "and so I picked
a quarrel with the foreman at my shop, and got
fired."

No sooner had Anton been discharged, than
[62]

Injustice and Love.

one of his friends tried for the vacant place!
"But he didn't know how to ask for anything,"
said Anton, "he was too shy. I balled him
out, but overlooked it and went with them to
Dallas."

At that city they tried for a job every day,
sleeping in the woods at night. Each man
covered a certain section of the city, and they
met to report at a certain hour. On the second
day Anton found positions for two men, one at
$2.50 and one at $2 a day. Both he and the
man who wanted his job at Dallas worked at
i the moulding machine, and these jobs there-

fore fell to their lot. His friend claimed the
job at $2.50 a day and Anton agreed to it.
It was with the understanding that he should
pay 25 cents a day more towards supporting
the third man than Anton paid. -

The two went to work in the cotton gin mill.
As Anton had had some experience in that
variety of work, he made an impression on
the foreman and soon succeeded in getting a
job for the third man at $1.75 a day. But this
other noble companion of Anton's was dissatis-
fied because he got less than Anton and wanted
to quit. So Anton fixed it with the foreman
so that his friend might have his own place.
[63]

The Spirit of Labor.

This was done, and Anton looked for another
job for himself, and soon found one at $i8 a
week. Then both of his friends became jeal-
ous at once.

In the meantime, they were writing letters
to friends in Clinton, boasting that they got
$i8 a week. Anton finally got tired of
his provincial companions and went alone
to Houston, and then to Galveston, worked a
week, and then back to Houston, where for a
time he was out of a job. Here he had an-
other experience with man's proverbial grati-
tude. He came across a person whom he had
met on the street months before in Palestine,
out of a job and "bumming" it. He was
ragged, "broke" and hungry. Antoii got
him a breakfast, a drink, and a job in the same
factory where he was working at the time.
This fellow was a good mechanic and he soon
showed the foreman that only one man was
necessary, so Anton was discharged.

When Anton met this man later at Houston
he (Anton) had no position and little money,
while the other held a good position. "I
thought I would test the man," said Anton.
"So I asked him to give me a supper and a
bed. He apologetically said I could have
[64]

Injustice and Love.

supper but couldn't stay over night. I went
to eat with him, but with the spirit of revolt
I insisted on paying for the supper. When he
saw that, he got friendly, and took me to a sa-
loon. I bought him whiskey and beer, and
then before a big crowd of hoboes and yeggs I
gave him a d — roasting, gave it to him good
and plenty, and he actually cried."

Anton wandered around several months and
after having his jail experience in Fort Worth
he returned to Dallas, where his so-called
friends were. One of them had lost his job
and they both wanted to go home. They did
not like the world, found it cold and forbid-
ding, and thought Clinton was big enough for
them. "And it was," said Anton.

He, too, longed to go home. He thought
he had lost Maggie, but he wanted to make
sure, and besides he had not seen his family
for a long time. So the three "bummed" their
way together. Anton wrote to his brother,
through whom he had learned of scandalous
letters his "friends" had written home about
him, and told him where to meet them. He
wanted someone to see these fellows in their
ragged shape, hoboing it, so that it might be
known at home how they had lied in their
[65]

The Spirit of Labor,

boasting letters. They met, and the brother
''balled them out for fair," and they were
disgraced in the town.

When Anton reached his father's house, he
found a conspiracy on foot to get him married.
His father was succeeding in the saloon busi-
ness, and as his mother's early experience with
hardship had made her a superb economist,
the family had saved some money and conse-
quently their ideas of respectability had devel-
oped. The thought of their son Anton lead-
ing a careless and godless life on the road was
disagreeable to these good people. His
mother had had her eye on little Maggie for
a long time as a good wife for her son. The
girl was very industrious and this represented
all the virtues in the eyes of the old lady.

Anton showed plainly that he had been "on
the bum." His clothes were "not nice," as he
put it. The first thing his mother did was to
give him a new suit. It was the 2nd of July,
and they intended he should make a good
showing at the Sunday School picnic on the
historic Fourth. So his father gave him $4,
his mother $2, one brother $2,and his other
brother $2. His sister also contributed $2.
With $12 and a new suit he felt he could make
[66]

Injustice and Love.

a. magnificent showing on the 4th. When the
day came, the entire family bundled into the
old carriage and rumbled ofif to the picnic.

Maggie was at the picnic, with her fiance,
the minister. Anton thought her more beau-
tiful and desirable than ever, but he felt she
was not for him. He was determined, how-
ever, to show that he was alive anjrway, and
that he came very near being "it," as he ex-
plained it. So he sang a German song, to
the great delight of the crowd, and then
proved himself the best talker in the place.
He had had a wider experience in life than
any of the others, and his anecdotes were full
of raciness, his jokes were lively and up-to-
date. Besides he was looked upon as a little
immoral by the German Lutherans, and this,
if nothing else, fastened the attention of every-
body upon him.

He addressed no word to Maggie, but he
soon perceived that she was listening. This
gave him confidence, and the show of in-
difference. He began to see that the feel-
ing she had had for him might be on the point
of coming back. Two or three little Ger-
man girls, who admired this man who was so
well-dressed, so generous in his way of treat-
[67]

The Spirit of Labor.

ing and so confident and varied in his talk,
asked him where he was going that night.
He replied in a loud tone, that he was going
to the German ball.

Maggie heard him, and decided to be there,
too. In the meantime Anton's mother had
given him an additional $2, so Anton turned
up at the ball, where the admission was $1 and
the beer free, prepared to make "an awful
showing," as he put it.

"I had a certain amount of wit," he said,
"was a good dancer and attractive to their
taste. The spirit of dignity would not allow
me to make any approach to Maggie."

He did, however, include her with several
other girls and fellows in a magnificent and
sweeping invitation to go with him to a wine
room; where, at Anton's expense, they had
beer and lunch.

"This made me a big fellow," he said. "It
overcame the tendency in the town to say that
I was broke. They guessed, when they saw
me spend the coin."

One of the girls passed the word to Anton

that Maggie was "all right." On this hint,

the young tramp asked Maggie for a dance;

and when they had returned to the hall and

[68]

Injustice and Love,

were waltzing, he asked Maggie if she would
write a different letter now from that she wrote
three or four months ago.

"The coquettish answer came so quickly,"
he said, "that I was surprised. She said she
did not need to write now, but could tell me
all about it. So I escorted her home from the
ball, and that settled it."

The next day, Sunday, Maggie had an en-
gagement with the minister. She kept it, but
brought him the sad news, and told him she
would be his sister. In the evening, Anton
called, and was received very coldly by her
father and mother, who preferred the man
who did not swear, drink or chew anything
but gum.

"But now," said Anton, with a touch of
pride, "they think I'm all right. When I
smoke in the house now, her old father says he
used to be just as bad, and when I drink, he
says, 'Boys will be boys — that was the way
with me.' Now they are interested in me,
they cannot see anything bad in what I do."

A few months later, Anton and Maggie
were married. When he went for the mar-
riage license, he did not have a cent in his
pocket, or anywhere else. They lived, at first,
[69]

The Spirit of Labor.

with his parents, but soon Anton had a chance
to go into the saloon business.

"A brewery was interested in me," he said.
"As I was talkative, and had met many men
and knew how to get along with them, they
thought I would make good, if I did not give
away too many drinks."

He started in a business that had been closed
up six months, and for which he had to drum
up a new trade. The first month he ran $20
behind, the second month he made $60 over
all, and the third month he cleared over $125.
He understood the tramps and rough element
and knew how to treat them. On the night
his son Alfred was born, there was a very
rough crowd in the saloon, headed by a desper-
ate fighter, a bull-headed Andrew. Anton
made them a little speech, told them about the
great occasion, and said he would treat them
to music, cigars and cock-tails until midnight,
with the understanding that if there should be
a row, they would abide by his decision.
They drank a gallon of whiskey and half a
barrel of beer and then began eating the
glasses. But there was no fighting.

"The news that I could manage a bunch like
that traveled like fire," said Anton. "I
[70]

Injustice and Love.

made an impression on the brewers, and the
biggest toughs in town began to respect me. I
had learned to deal with men on the road,
and it helped me in the saloon business just
as it helps me now in my trades-union ac-
tivity." >

A certain kind of rough delicacy is a qual-
ity marked in Anton's character. The brewer
was a stingy fellow who never wanted to treat,
and who insisted on having only his own beer
sold. That was a handicap to Anton, for he
often was forced to say that he did not have
the beer called for. One day this rich brewer
dropped into the saloon when there were fif-
teen or sixteen men there, drinking.

"He bought a bottle of beer," said Anton,
"and treated me. I felt sore that he didn't
call up the boys, so that I could introduce him
as a good fellow and help the business. So
I treated the crowd and said, sarcastically,
'Mr. — 's brewery cannot afford to buy.' This
galled him so that he spent ten dollars in treat-
ing, but when the boys were gone, he called
me down hard. But a friend of his, who was
with him, said I was right commercially."

Soon after the business was recognized as a
success, a young fellow, son of the widow who
[71]

The Spirit of Labor.

owned the saloon, wanted to get hold of it.
So his mother raised the rent on Anton, who,
understanding the reason for it, got angry and
refused to renew his lease. Repentance came
almost immediately, but it was then too late,
and he was again out of a job. And now he
had a wife and child. He had the satisfac-
tion, however, of knowing that the business
soon ran down and that the widow went bank-
rupt.

Anton was forced to go back to the old fur-
niture factory, at $1.50 a day. It was very irk-
some to him to work for so little, after holding
so much better jobs throughout the country.
It hurt his pride, but the man is not vain,
and he recognized it as a necessity. But when
summer came, and work was slack, he was laid
off. He then "got the fever again," heard
the whistles blow, and in spite of his wife and
child, jumped on a box-car and was off for his
last tramp. His father wanted him to pay
his way, but this seemed to Anton a pure waste
of money.

It generally takes a long time for a radical

change to come about in a man — if it ever

does. Anton loved his wife and certainly the

experience of marriage tended even then to

[72]

Injustice and hove.

make him steadier. But it needed more in-
terests than those of family life to hold him
closely in one place. Those interests came at
a later time in Chicago : and in this combina-
tion of activities which have made him an in-
tegral and useful member of his society, his
family plays an important and interesting
part. To be sure, he needed a job, but his
going South just then was perhaps due as
much to the remains of a vagabond tempera-
ment as to necessity.
I He left Maggie in a difficult and trying

i position. During the time that Anton was in
the saloon business they had lived in a little
cottage where Af red was born and where they
had had plenty. With her skill in manage-
ment, industry and intelligence, they had been
decidedly well off and quite independent.
But now she and her child had to live again
I with her husband's family. And she had the
proverbial difficulties with her mother-in-law.
g^ As Anton's father became more prosperous he
p grew steadier in his habits, and did not drink
so much. But Anton's mother kept up the
habit of parsimony even though it had ceased
to be a necessity. She was practical and help-
ful, gave Anton and Maggie the clothes they
[73]

The Spirit of Labor.

needed and met all her duties and the neces-
sities of life. But life had been so hard for
her, that she did not understand the pleasant
aspect of things : she was tyrannical and fussy
and gave in a way that brought no pleasure, as
Maggie put it. She was one of those unfor-
tunate women who do their duty so sadly and
constantly that they receive no affection from
their own children and incur the active dis-
like of all others who are connected with them.
Whenever Anton sent money to Maggie from
the road, his mother locked it up for safe keep-
ing and doled it out as necessity required.
She was determined that nothing should be
wasted. Her part is the part played by many
a poor man and woman who have been the
mainstay of a family but even thereby have
deprived themselves pathetically of most of
the lovable qualities.

[74]

CHAPTER IV.

The Age of Reason.

Anton's last trip on the road was in most
respects similar to its predecessors. He
worked at anything he found : waited at table,
washed dishes in boarding houses, worked at
his trade, gambled and "bummed"; spent a
night at ease in a Pullman car which was
empty, and had to jump in the morning when
the train was going fifteen miles an hour;
found many sympathetic ladies, and few good
jobs ; met yeggs and hoboes, and imbibed more
of the philosophy of the road. An anar-
chistic miner, with a gift of gab, made an im-
pression on him. But, at that time. Socialism
and anarchism were only names to him. The
words stirred his blood, but meant little.

A hobo always wants to move rapidly. He
has no engagements and no place to go, but
he is always in a hurry. So he sometimes
rides on the trucks of the passenger trains,
though it is dangerous and uncomfortable.
[75]

The Spirit of Labor.

In the box-cars, he is more comfortable
than the bloated millionaire travelling in his
parlor-car; for there the tramp can lie down
and smoke. But he is generally so restless
that he objects to the slow speed of the freight
train.

So Anton hurried on from place to place.
The thought of his family made him even
more restless than before. He was anxious to
get a job, but when once secured it did not
seem good enough for him. And, indeed, he
was now forced to take positions which he for-
merly would have sneered at. When a man
wants a place badly, he is generally paid
less than when he is indifferent. At New
Orleans he was hired at $1.50 a day, eleven
hours, by the same foreman who had formerly
paid him $3 a day; and now he was a skilled
mechanic.

"I was treated with this same generosity
wherever I went," he said. "You see, I was
not yet a Union man."

Yellow fever and the fear of quarantine
drove him from this job. While "on the
bum" he was introduced by a policeman to
an employer as a man out of work. The em-
ployer volunteered to give him a position at
[76]

The Age of Reason.

$1.50 a day, for 11 hours' work. He didn^t
dare to refuse, as otherwise the policeman
would have jailed him as a hobo.

"Certainly," he said, sarcastically. "It's
work I want, not wages, like all other men."

He turned up at the mill for work, "just
for curiosity," as he put it; worked twenty
minutes, went to the W. C. and forgot to go
back. On the street he met the policeman,
who thought he possessed a gift for gab. "I
jollied him along," said Anton, "convinced
him that I was a good fellow, and after I had
listened a long time to his wit, he advised me
to leave town. Instead, I went into a saloon
and began singing to a lot of steamboat men.
For this I was arrested as a disorderly char-
acter, and taken before the magistrate. I
made my plea straight, and so the judge felt
I was a hardened criminal, and sentenced me
to the stone pile. I ran away, but was caught
and served my ten days. The law doesn't like
music, apparently. But it is hard on a man
to have to remember that the law has nerves.
When I got out, I jumped on the night Flyer
and as we pulled out I saw four policemen
watching to see if there were any hoboes on
the train. I yelled the most insulting things
[77]

The Spirit of Labor.

I could think of ; we were going at full speed,
and had just turned around a block, and at the
curve was a house of ill-fame from the win-
dows of which two women of the town looked
down and enjoyed my jokes. They, too, hated
the police."

As the train passed through Whitecastle,
Louisiana, he saw the large sign of a sash and
door factory, so he dropped ofif, to try for a
job. The first man he met was an outcast
from the richest family in Clinton. *'He was
an aristocrat, and when at home used to run
around with the free element and drink," said
Anton. "But when he was thrown on his own
resources he quit the booze and with me at
Whitecastle, he drank only soda." Through
this young man Anton got a good job in the
sash factory and was enabled to send money
home, but after a few weeks, yellow fever be-
came general in Louisiana, and the factory
shut down. A shot-gun quarantine was in
force and Anton found himself out of a place
and unable to leave town.

Under these conditions, all he could do was

to amuse himself and wait. Books and even

newspapers were unknown to him. He did

not read at all. At a later time, he seems to

[78J

The Age of Reason.

have rejoiced in his ignorance of classical cul-
ture. "My mind was not prejudiced," he
said. "I was not mis-educated. I was not
burdened with a common school education. I
was unperverted and radical ideas could take
a firm hold on me."

What he learned, he learned from experi-
ence ; and his experience during the period of
quarantine was largely that of a town loafer.
He "hung around" the hotel bar and billiard
room and played pool, at which he was an ex-
pert. He worked about the hotel and that,
with what he could make at pool, gave him a
living. On one occasion he had instructions
from his backers to lose the game. At first,
he allowed his opponent to distance him, but
the boasting of the latter and the applause of
the crowd made him forget that his backers
wanted him to lose; and he won by a close
margin. In consequence, he received only
$2.50 out of the $50 stakes, and all the sports
were down on him. They thought he had
won because enough "considerations" had not
been offered him. He was unable to secure
another game during his stay in the town.
The proprietor of the hotel gave him, how-
ever, another chance, and put him in charge
[79]

The Spirit of Labor.

of a saloon that was patronized by negroes.
"There," said Anton, "I had a chance to make
ten dollars a day, but my sympathy got the
best of my judgment. It was easy to graft
there off the drinks, polo, lunch, showing
favors about the women, etc., but my lack of
courage and my sympathy for the coon made
it impossible for me to succeed, although I
was very anxious to send money home."

This man never expresses ordinary snap-
shot condemnation of the ordinary immoral-
ity. It is in his eyes so closely connected with
property and the class-standards developed
from it, that moral indignation seems out of
place to him. But when it came to the point,
he was unable to do the human harm to some-
body that cheating or theft involves.

The morning after the first frost, the quar-
antine was raised. There was a general jubi-
lee and Anton sang songs and made a speech.
Then he took a train, on his way home, but
as he was broke and hungry, he dropped off
at the first town, for a bite. A woman put
him to work cutting wood ; he sawed wood for
lyz hours; she then called him to breakfast
which consisted of 2 biscuits, a cup of coffee,
and a little bacon.

[80]

The Age of Reason.

" I was mad enough to choke her," he said.
"She then asked if I had enough. 'Too
much,' I replied. 'Enough to last me a
week.' I avoided wood piles after that."

This lady was a Christian and wealthy.
The next morning Anton begged a meal, at
the house of some working people. The
woman cooked for him some sweet potatoes,
plenty of bacon, two eggs, two or three cups
of coffee, butter and biscuits. The contrast
impressed him. On the basis of a full stom-
ach he found a planing mill and began to
think the world was his again. The propri-
etor hired him at $2 a day. Anton worked
there three months and sent home $45 of his
wages. On Xmas day he spent two dollars
in fruit and candy and took the present to the
family of the working woman who had given
him so good a breakfast when he was in need.
He continued his way home, but at Belleville,
Illinois, came one of his most unpleasant ex-
periences. It was winter and the snow was
deep. He was sleeping in a rolling mill, over
the boilers. The men in the mill thought
they would have some fun, and took some
waste, saturated it with oil and lighted it.
The heat scared him and awakening suddenly
[81]

The Spirit of Labor.

he thought the whole building was on fire.
Without taking his shoes, which he had used
as a pillow, he jumped down, eight feet, and
rushed out in the snow, bare-foot. He went
into four different stores in the town, but they
all refused him shoes. Finally in another
rolling mill he secured some shoes and a place
to sleep. In the morning when the crews
were changed, he was discovered asleep by the
son of the superintendent. He and his father
landed on the sleeping hobo and nearly
pounded the life out of him, "for no reason at
all."

"I had a strong feeling," said Anton, "that
I ought to kill them. I started to do it twice,
but I thought of my wife and child. The
employees put me wise and I could easily have
settled them, but my courage failed me. I
ought to have done it. I am still sorry that
I didn't do it. When I got home, I told my
friends I had fallen off the train, to account
for my bruises."

That was Anton's last hobo experience. His
wife "seemed good" to him, when he returned;
and although, at times since then, he has heard
the whistles blow and his blood has been
stirred with the strange eloquence of the

[82]

The Age of Reason.

sordid road, the attraction has never been
strong enough to make him break loose.

"I returned to Clinton," he said, "a family
man and a sceptic, though not yet a free-
thinker. Hobo-life and experience with men
has taken the old faith out of me, but I had
not yet got any philosophy as a substitute."

His first duty was to find a job. He was
forced to "humiliate himself" by asking for a
position in the old factory where no boy could
learn a trade. The foreman referred him to
% the owner; he had been discharged so often
" and had made so much trouble that he would
not hire him on his own responsibility. The
owner gave Anton a lecture, told him that
since his father and brothers had worked there
he (Anton) ought to settle down. Incident-
ally, he spoke of his own brother, who was
running for congressman. Anton understood,
and promised to settle down. "I wanted a
job," he said, "but it didn't influence my
vote."

Maggie was overjoyed when she found that
Anton had a position in the town, although his
wages were only $1.35 a day. They moved
into a hut with a little yard where they could
plant their own potatoes. The floor in the
[83]

The Spirit of Labor.

kitchen slanted, but they paid only $3 a month
rent.

"I made it look cute ant! nice, anyway,"
said Maggie. And I can well believe her.
For the first time I had the pleasure of tak-
ing my Sunday dinner with her, Anton and
the children (there were three of them, then;
this was several years later than this point in
the story), I was at once struck with the
cleanliness and well-being of the entire house-
hold. Maggie had no one to help her; she
did all the cooking and house-work, kept her
children healthy and perfectly clean, the
house as neat as her snow-white apron, the
garden productive and attractive, and set as
good a plain table as has been my good fortune
to know. In addition to all this, she did out-
side washing and did it well (for this also I
can vouch, for she did mine !) . Her work did
not seem to oppress her in the least; she al-
ways had plenty of temperament left over to
take an interest in her husband, his friends
and affairs, and to do a little reading on her
own account. She often went out to socials,
and sometimes ran into the house of a neigh-
bor for a good gossip. So, when she told me
that the little hut in Clinton where the family
[84]

The Age of Reason.

lived for a year was clean and neat, I readily
believed her.

Anton worked steadily in the old shop for
a year. It was a happy, domestic time. A
little girl was born, and, on his small wages,
everything went well. The energy he had
saved from the strenuousness of life on the
road, went into more definite intellectual life.
"The spirit of protest" — a phrase of which
he is very fond, grew stronger in him. He
regretted that there were no unions in the
town, in his trade of woodworking, which was
the largest industry in the place. But his or-
ganizing talent had not yet developed; there
had been no opportunity for it.

There was an old man named Greenhill
working in the factory. Years before he had
met Robert Ingersoll in Chicago and had been
much impressed. IngersoU's clear, though
limited and narrow human scepticism, had
struck old Greenhill as the last word. With
this as a starter, he began to read "radical"
books. He subscribed to the Free Thought
Magazine and Truth Seeker, and Tom Paine's
Age of Reason was his Bible.

Greenhill saw that Anton was ripe for these
ideas, and at odd times in the shop, he under-
[85]

The Spirit of Labor.

took the younger man's education. The little
thing that started the ball rolling was a copy
of The Truth-Seeker. Greenhill dropped it,
in the ' W. C," "accidentally on purpose," and
Anton read it there. It contained a cartoon
attacking the principle of the Spanish- Ameri-
can War. As Anton was opposed to the war,
he subscribed to the magazine. In this way
it was that he discovered Greenhill to be a
"free-thinker," and their intimacy began.

"It was rather hard on Maggie, at first,"
said Anton. "All our folks were Lutherans,
and she thought I was going to the devil.
But she tolerated it. I got the magazine
every week and Greenhill began coming to
the house. We talked about astronomy and
Darwin, and it was exciting, I can tell you,
to begin to get some little idea of the way
things really are. Greenhill felt most people
were still monkeys. Finally he showed me
Tom Paine's Age of Reason. This was the
first book I ever read through, and I read this
book many times. I used to read it aloud to
Maggie in the evening, and she got as much
interested as I was. We referred to the Ger-
man Bible and found the absurdities and con-
tradictions that Paine pointed out. I loaned
[86]

The Age of Reason.

it once to a Catholic who liked it so much
that he never returned it. I wish I had the
old book now. My father thought it was
awful.

"I began to hate the Church and its doc-
trines. I never let an opportunity pass to hurt
the feelings of the people in that God-ridden
town. There was a young fellow in the fac-
tory who was studying to be a minister. He
ran his machine next to mine and we used to
argue while at work. He tried to argue me
out of free thought, but I had him skinned to
death. I laughed at him, and it hurt him.
I hated him because of my disappointment;
for it was a disappointment to have everything
go up in smoke. I told him it was the God-
idea that had kept the workers in darkness and
ignorance and poverty. Maggie followed me
in these ideas like a child." ^

"No!" said Maggie, indignantly, "I led the
way."

"The world," continued Anton, without
paying any attention to his wife's remark, "is
dominated by fear; and religion is its strongest
weapon. Tom Paine proves that. He goes
about it in such a mild way: it is grand. He
does not get excited, but he is uncompromis-
[87]

The Spirit of Labor. •

ing. *I believe in one God and only one,' he
starts out. ' I have hopes of happiness be-
yond this life.' As for me, I have hopes of
happiness in remaining dead. My hopes are
so strong that they overcome the fear of not
remaining dead. It is immaterial whether I
die soon, or late. I am all right as long as
the factory whistle doesn't blow; but when it
blows and it is time to go home, I am miser-
able."

"That is what he calls satire," said Maggie.

Whenever Anton talks philosophy, and he
does so constantly, he becomes merry. He
likes expression for its own sake. On»Mag-
gie's remark, he said, stroking his son's head:

"Alfred is not a sentimentalist, like Mag-
gie. He is cold-blooded and stands by his
father instead of his mother."

"My passion for investigation along eco-
nomic lines was strong at that time," continued
Anton, "and I became interested in Socialism.
I met a Jew who ran a second-hand shop — a
man who would rob his next door neighbor.
He was a Socialist soap-box orator. I used
to listen to him argue Socialism, for at that
time I was a listener and not a Butinsky. I
had very little to say, but I was very vindic-
[88]

The Age of Reason.

tive when I met a religious man. As a boy
I had been very religious, and now I was as
extreme in the other direction. The foreman
tried to lecture me and show me the evil of
my ways. Also, a young minister used to
advise me to read something useful, such as
bookkeeping, instead of Tom Paine.

"But I didn't care about them. I liked old
Greenhill, although he was a narrow-minded
man. His time was devoted to the interest of
killing God, and this tended to side-track him.
He was also a free-lover and a subscriber to
Lucifer. He had been married three or four
times. He was a good mechanic, and if he
had not had these ideas he might have been a
foreman. Foremen are generally ignoram-
uses. They know nothing about philosophy,
sociology, or economics. They feel it an
honor to be in the Church, and are nearly all
religious."

Anton, on being offered 30 cents a day
more, went to another factory in the same
town, and moved to another house, near his
new working place. He grew "more talka-
tive," as he expressed it, among the workmen.
He began to feel his intellectual superiority
to the rank and file, and tried to think, and
[89]

The Spirit of Labor.

to teach them something about the conditions
of labor. He soon had the satisfaction of
"breeding discontent among them," and the
foreman began to look upon him as a nui-
sance. One day he had a big boil on his neck,
and Maggie was ill with cramps in her feet.
So Anton did not reach the shop till noon, and
was discharged. This he felt to be unjust,
after they had induced him to leave his old
place and go to the expense of moving. He
realized his being late was only an excuse.
He had done his work well — he was now a
fair mechanic — but he talked too much
among the men. ^-^

Anton determined that he would have a
verbal understanding with his employer.
The desire to "ball people out" with whom
he had quarreled is very strong in this expres-
sive workingman. So one Saturday he waited
for the employer on the road, and, on meeting
him, insisted that he should explain the dis-
charge. He did not reply, but swore out a
warrant of assault and battery against Anton,
who was taken before an old justice of the
peace.

"The justice was satisfied," said Anton,
"that the charge of assault and battery was
[90]

The Age of Reason.

not justified. He sympathized with me, but
this man was a boss, and part owner of the
factory. So he made me sign a document
pledging myself not to molest the boss, and he
fined me $5 besides. My father was very
angry, and wanted me to prosecute the man,
but my respect for the law was already so low
that I gave the idea no consideration ; but the
next day I went by the employer's fine house.
It was Sunday, and he was sitting on his ver-
anda. I balled him out for fair. I talked
so loud that all the neighbors could hear. I
explained to him how he took the bread out
of the mouths of women and children. I told
him I was going to Davenport to work, and
that if he queered me there by a boycott I
would kill him. I am now boycotted in Clin-
ton. I could not get a job there to-day, be-
cause of my agitation years ago." c

After ten or twelve days in Davenport,
where he could obtain no satisfactory job, he
returned to Clinton, with the determination
to take his family to Chicago. That would
give him a larger field, and he knew that he
could get nothing in Clinton. It was excit-
ing, too, the idea of settling in the big city.

So it was decided, and this decision made
[91]

The Spirit of Labor,

Anton's mother very anxious that his little
girl should be at once baptized, before she
was beyond the reach of salvation, in distant
Chicago. Maggie wanted to please the old
lady, and so Anton consented, somewhat
against his principles, and he went to engage
the minister, a German Lutheran preacher.

"He invited me into his — studio, I believe
he called it. I told him my mission. He
asked me my name, place of birth, names of
parents, and what Church I belonged to. I
was quick and proud to tell him I belonged
to none. Why?' he asked. *I don't believe
in it,' I said. He was horrified and shocked,
arose and said he knew I must be a bad man.
I told him he had no reason to think so. He
said he had every reason. 'You are a damned
liar,' I said, in his own studio, where he
might have studied, if he had been so dis-
posed. Then he wanted to know why I de-
sired to have the child baptized. *I am more
tolerant than you,' I said. *I want it baptized
to please my mother.'

"I had started to go, but he asked me back

again and tried to argue with me. He turned

over many pages in the Bible, and I pointed

out the contradictions, as Tom Paine had

[92]

The Age of Reason.

taught me, and laughed. He was shocked,
but talked three mortal hours. I admired his
perseverance. He asked who was the god-
father, and when he found that Maggie's
father was a Christian Scientist, he objected,
but the objection was not sustained. At first
he refused to come, but when I said I would
get an English preacher, he consented to help
us out.

"The night of the christening there was a
little beer in the house, and the wife was on
eggs all evening for fear I would start an ar-
gument with the preacher. I wanted to stand
by the beer keg and drink as a protest, but
Maggie would do anything to avoid trouble.
After the ceremony, the preacher called me
out, for a talk. I gave him mother's money
for the christening — $3. He was pleased and
gave me a book called 'The Word of God and
His Enemies/ I suggested his taking along
with him Tom Paine's Age of Reason, but he
said he would just as lief have the devil in his
house. I remarked that the devil is more
tolerant than God, and always has been. I
was too prejudiced even to read his book."

[93]

CHAPTER V.

Trade- Un to n is t.

Immediately after the christening, Anton
went to Chicago alone, to find a job, and estab-
lish a home for his family. He took with
him his entire capital, consisting of one dollar
and thirty-five cents. He found employment
the first day at Carbon Brothers, Union and
Twenty-seventh streets. He was then re-
duced to thirty-five cents, had no money for
board or for tools. They put him on the
molding sticker, which is his favorite job.
Working next him was a Union man, who did
not ask him to join the Union, and paid no
attention to him. He was apparently afraid
that Anton would make a showing and was
jealous. This man, as Anton afterwards dis-
covered, was a prominent "lusher" in the
Union, and thought more of himself and of
whiskey than of the good of the cause. On
this, as on many other previous occasions, An-
ton had the opportunity to reflect on the lack
[94]

Trade- Unionist.

of initiative in so many Union men. Up to
the present point in the narrative, he had
never been asked, or in any other way influ-
enced, to join the Union. He is deeply im-
pressed with the need of awakening the work-
ers to their own interests, partly through dis-
sipating their narrow selfishness and cow-
ardice, and partly through general education.
Anton worked in a shop for several months at
$1.75 a day, and during all this time no Union
man approached him, although he desired to
join. He was bitterly anxious now to im-
prove his wages. He paid $4.50 a week for
his board, and sent $5 every week to Maggie.
This was just squeezing along, and he felt
that if he could get better wages and bring his
family to Chicago, life would be much richer.
An opportunity to join the Union finally
came. It was after a long strike, and a stick-
er-hand was needed in a South Chicago fac-
tory, which was a Union shop. He went to
work at $2.50 a day, with the understanding
that he should join the Union. His wages
were reduced to $2.25 by the foreman, as he
was not yet a first-class mechanic. He could
not have been reduced below $2 a day, as that
was the Union minimum. His first wages
[95]

The Spirit of Labor.

went as the entrance fee to the Union. Con-
sequently, he was very hard up for a week or
two, but from the start he was an enthusiastic
Union man. From that time to the present,
a period of about seven years — he has worked
with fair steadiness and at good wages, aver-
aging very much higher than anything he had
received before ; until now he has a job which
he has held for three years, at $3.50 a day.
The Union helped him in many ways, as we
shall see, but perhaps as important a way as
any was to help to steady him, to keep him
feeling a part of a society and not too much
of an individual. An increasing family and
greater circumspectness tended, of course, in
the direction of steadiness, but the Union was,
aside from the material benefit, an important
aid in his moral hygiene. '

As soon as possible, he called Maggie and
the children from Clinton to a little flat of
four rooms on Nineteenth street, which he
hired for $9 a month; and they became defi-
nitely a part of Chicago life, Anton at once
engaging with steadily increasing interest in
the affairs of the Union. At the same time
he became a more effective, if not for some
time a more peaceful, man in the shop. In
[96]

Trade-Unionist.

fact, his peaceableness has never been marked.
He can be very sweet and generous, but
neither in temperament nor in philosophy has
he the virtue of patience and endurance of
what he deems unjust or churlish.

He was assistant "straw" boss in the shop,
which, as he put it, "is next thing to nothing,"
but which nevertheless marked an advance in
his trade and the consideration with which he
was regarded. The foreman was "a con-
ceited Irishman, generally drunk." Once,
when he was off for two weeks, Anton was put
in charge of his department, at wages of $2
a day. Another department foreman re-
ceived $2.75 a day. "He was," said Anton,
"an obedient slave to the interests of the
concern. If a man went to the toilet he
would go after him and make him hurry.
He was not a member of the Union, and had
no interest in anything except the work and
his wages. He was a narrow-minded man.
I had no use for this kind of foreman, but I
had to deal with him when I was in charge of
the other department. One day he told the
superintendent that some things had not been
properly made, and put the blame on me. The
superintendent started to raise Cain, and I
[97]

The Spirit of Labor.

flew off the handle and swore. The superin-
tendent pulled off his coat, and I got out of
my overalls. Then he discharged me. But,
when he got down stairs, he was cooler, and
evidently wanted me to ask to be allowed to
come back. *You ought to apologize,' he
said ; but I could not see it that way. I told
him he ought to treat all men with considera-
tion, and that there was as much logic in mine
as in his. When he found I wouldn't stay,
he wrote me a good letter to a factory on the
North Side, highly recommending me. But
that shop had no Union scale, and was a ten-
hour shop. So I didn't go there."

He was out of a job for several weeks.
Every day he went to the Union headquar-
ters, looking for work. It was in the winter
time and he was very short of money. He
was compelled, like the vast majority of work-
ingmen, to buy coal by the basket, and thus
pay more for it than the rich man does. On
New Year's Day there was no coal in the
house, and it was bitterly cold. Fortunately,
the next day, when it was 8 degrees below
zero, he found a job and went to work in a
shop that was "open to the air, but closed to
the scab." In this Union shop he received
[98]

Trade- Unionist.

$2.25 a day for nine hours' work, good money
for him at that time, but he could not get
along with the boss, whom he described as
"an intolerant, brutal bastard," and left to go
into a non-union shop at $1.75 a day and ten
hours' work.

The immediate cause of his rupture with
the boss of the Union shop was a dispute about
extra wages. He had worked an hour and
twenty minutes overtime, but was paid for
only an hour. Anton kicked for more, and
the boss told him to go to the conventionally
hot place. 'Complain, if you like, to your
old business agent,' he said. I replied that I
would go to the Police Station instead and
have him indicted for larceny to the amount
of 50 cents. Then he got mad and threw a
half dollar at me, and said, 'Take it and git
out.' I sarcastically asked him to have a
drink. While I worked in that place I
thought the earth was not so big a Paradise
as some philosophers make out. Indeed, soon
after, this factory burned down."

Very unpopular factories sometimes have
this habit of going up in smoke.

In the non-union shop, where he was get-
ting only $1.75 for long hours, Anton did not
[99]

The Spirit of Labor.

feel himself much better off. "It was a rush
place," he said. "Instead of running 15,000
feet, I ran 50,000 feet on the machine. I was
too strong for that kind of a job and quit in
two weeks."

His brother married at this time, oppor-
tunely for Ahton, whom he invited to visit
him in Clinton, so Anton and Maggie and the
children made a trip home. Maggie staid on
for several weeks, but Anton was soon back
in Chicago, after a job, which he found at the
Union Headquarters. "The official head
scrutinized me, as he always did new men, to
see if I was a victim of alcohol. There are
many mechanics who drink, and they, of
course, are often laid off. The firm had sent
word through the walking delegate that they
wanted a sticker hand, and that job was of-
fered to me. The man whose place I got
was a drunkard. He had not showed up for
several days, and when he did come back to
the shop, he asked the boss to lend him a quar-
ter to get a drink. He was an excellent me-
chanic, but that was too strong, and he was
discharged."

The scale at this Union shop was $2 and
eight hours, and Anton, feeling well off,
[100]

Trade-Unionist.

wrote Maggie to come back. He arranged
to meet her at the train, but it was the night
when the district council met, and he was be-
ginning to be deeply interested in debates.
He gradually learned to take the floor. "At
first I did not have much confidence in my-
self. Since then I have accumulated too
much." On this particular night he was to
meet a business agent, a radical, courageous
man, whom he liked. So Maggie and the
children slipped his mind: if not, he thought
they could take care of themselves. When
he returned to the flat at ii o'clock he found
all Maggie's bundles in front of the door.
She did not have a key, and had to go with
the children to a friend's house for the night I

"Anton," she said, "is an interesting hus-
band. He is very fond of me and the chil-
dren, but he likes to talk so much at the Union
that it makes him sometimes forget every-
thing else."

It was perhaps just as well, for Anton, dur-
ing Maggie's absence, had quarreled with the
landlord, and on that night all the things were
packed up, ready to be moved the next day.
"He was a mean bastard," said Anton, "and
told me all the fault was with the Unions."

[lOl]

The Spirit of Labor.

So they moved to a little flat of four rooms
over a grocery store, for which they paid six
dollars a month.

From this time, which was in 1900, An-
ton's activity in the Union grew rapidly.
From the start, he assumed a critical attitude.
"I was always suspicious," he said, "of those
who had more authority than the others. I
was naturally an anarchist, in the sense that I
distrusted all authority, though I did not
know it, at that time. I had, however, begun
to call myself a Socialist. I was too emphatic
about it, and made enemies."

After he had been in the Union about six
months, he was approached by several mem-
bers and ran for the position of delegate to the
district council of the woodworkers.

"I was willing to be a delegate," he said,
"yet I felt I could do more good by being
closer to the rank and file and remaining free
to criticize. I had a suspicion, like a good
many other members, that the district council
was not too honest. This was largely a mis-
take, and was educated into me as it was into
all Socialists by the Socialist press and propa-
ganda. At that time all Socialists' papers
bitterly attacked all labor leaders and called
[102]

Trade-Unionist.

them grafters and fakirs. In my enthusiasm
I thought the Socialists could not be wrong;
and so I suspected the honesty of the central
organization. But I thought I might be of
service, though not very popular, in the coun-
cil, and so I ran for the position and was
elected by an overwhelming plurality. For
weeks I had attended the meetings regularly.
The men saw in me a peculiar, rough hon-
esty, and workingmen like that. I knew men,
and felt instinctively that it was best to ap-
peal mainly to the manhood in a man. Any
injustice, no matter how small, seemed to me
of the greatest importance and to constitute
a big question for consideration. This atti-
tude, natural to me, was popular with the
rank and file, and so I was elected.

"I felt very important for some time, and
thought I would make them all Socialists. I
understood nothing about politics, at that
time, and did not know how to scheme. I al-
ways acted extemporaneously, and the next
meeting, perhaps, I wanted to retract what
I had said or done. I did not go to the cau-
cuses, but I learned from experience. I was
so fierce and bold and frank that I was looked
upon as a danger to machine rule. I was
[103]

The Spirit of Labor.

under no obligations except to the rank and
file who elected me.

"After I had been a delegate for some
time, I discovered that a large majority of the
delegates were as honest as I, but I also saw
that they were more or less helpless. Some,
indeed, were unscrupulous at times, not know-
ing whether to advance their own interests
or the interests of the majority.

"There were two prominent walking dele-
gates who represented two very different
kinds of men, and there are many of both
kinds in the Unions. They were always
fighting each other. One was a crafty poli-
tician without any convictions, except the
need of holding his job and feathering his
nest; and the other was a man who believed
in the rights of man, who loved men, and who
worked for them. He was an anarchist.
This man had been chased out of Germany,
where he had been in the Reichstag, and in
New York had spent a year in Sing Sing be-
cause of a speech he made at the time of the
hanging of the Chicago anarchists. He was
a vigorous, positive character, and never
spoke in the council without success. He
was, and is, physically and mentally strong.
[104]

Trade-Unionist.

I liked him for his hearty way, his courage,
and his love for men.

"The politician, his rival in the council,
was a thin fellow physically and mentally,
though very clever. He was also a positive
character. He was a cunning dodger who
sometimes believed in resorting to the jack-
knife. I was informed by the anarchist that
this politician went to the Bohemian district
and made a speech in favor of a certain judge.
I was disappointed to think that a man who
claimed to be a Socialist, and was active in
the trades-union movement, would support a
Democratic judge. As I was in doubt as to
the correctness of the story, I went to him di-
rectly and asked him point blank if the story
was true. He admitted that he had made the
speech, and wanted to know who told me. I
finally told him that my informant was the
walking delegate, his rival in the council.
Then the politician told me how it came
about. The judge in question had been very
lenient in cases involving strikers, pickets, vio-
lence, etc., and in the matter of fines, and
there were reasons to believe that he would
continue this favorable attitude, if our walk-
ing delegate would speak for him and solicit
[105]

The Spirit of Labor.

for him the political support of the working-
men. So the judge's friends had first gone
to a man high up in the affairs of the Inter-
national, a man deeply respected and admired
by all parties. He had refused to make the
speech — or, in fact, to make a speech for any
judge. This thin politician was then ap-
proached, and he consulted the respected
leader who had refused. 'Do as you please,'
was the reply. 'I am not Anthony Com-
stock.' He then consulted his rival, the an-
archist, who said: 'It is more important for
you to use your own judgment than to do
right.'

"This was a very characteristic reply of
this anarchist member of our council. Every
woodworker knows this man. I love him.
He is a positive, heroic man, who does not
like graft and theft, but who knows there are
worse things. And that the kind of honesty
that is harped upon by the reformers is often
the most insidious wrong to the workingman.
This man refuses any undue luxury: he will
not drink champagne because it is too expen-
sive and unnecessary. He has high ideals,
and is an extensive reader along his line. He
never went to an English school, but he knows
[io6]

'Trade-Unionist.

how to say *I give a damn' in the most ex-
pressive and independent way. He can go to
any strange town and arouse an ordinary
meeting with more lasting enthusiasm than
any man of my acquaintance. Once I heard
him, when a general organizer, .make a
speech at a town in Wisconsin. Previous to
his speech, he had read the town's directory,
picked out the names of the men whom he
thought could be reached, and wrote them
postal cards. The character of each man he
judged largely by his nationality — Swede,
Pole, Irish, German, etc. He represented on
the postal cards that the meeting was social
and involved no responsibility to join the
Union, and no fear of losing their jobs.
Then at the meeting he picked out the men
he could use. He had been attacked in one
of the local papers as an anarchist, and in a
speech to the meeting he said, in reply :

" 'They call me an anarchist. I give a
damn for that. I admit I be an anarchist.
The only question is, what kind of an anarch-
ist. The Mayor of St. Paul — am I dat kind
of an anarchist? Mr. Rockefeller — dat kind
of an anarchist? Mr. Big Business Man,
who buys the law to help his business — dat
[107]

Trade-Unionist.

kind of an anarchist? If I am dat kind of
an anarchist, dey ought to chase me out of
town. But den dey can't, for den I have too
much influence. But do dey mean anodder
kind of anarchist? Do dey mean by anarch-
ist a pioneer in de labor movement? Is dat
de kind dey mean? If so, den I am an an-
archist, and glad of it.' _

"That's the man who replied to the thin
politician that it was more important for him
to act independently than to ask advice about
something he ought to know. The thin man
thought that his rival, when he told me about
the speech supporting the judge, ought to
have given me the reasons ; and he wanted me
to speak against his rival in the council. But
I refused to do so. I told him, however, that
if the opportunity came I would roast him
(the thin delegate), and that would give him
an opportunity to explain his position. He
had to be content with that. I got this op-
portunity at a later time, as we shall see."

I myself have met this labor politician,
whom Anton speaks of above. And the dif-
ference between him and Anton is remark-
able. It does not lie in the latter's nature to
change fundamentally. No matter how
[108]

Trade-Umonist.

"wise" he is becoming about political and
other methods, he remains at heart a work-
ingman. This is much more than can be said
of many of the other leaders. They are, as
he said, roughly divided into two classes —
the enthusiast and the politician.

I was impressed over and over again, when
living among the mechanics, with a certain
kind of altruism, of a fairly wide-spread emo-
tion of solidarity, akin to the religious; for
when men band together in an effort to attain
things which they deem necessary to their
deepest material and spiritual welfare, they
are not far from conceiving of the movement,
at least in moments of self-consciousness, as
being from one point of view religious. The
point, indeed, always comes in the affairs of
men where selfishness, when the interests in-
volved are of the deepest moment, becomes to
a certain extent altruism. If we strive to at-
tain small things for ourselves, our action
seems selfish ; but if we strive for the highest
good to ourselves, our deep egotism is sympa-
thetically called altruism and assumes an emo-
tional relationship to religion.

The best men in the rank and file of the la-
borers have this feeling partly unknown to
[109]

The Spirit of Labor.

themselves, and they make many sacrifices to
it. In the case of the leaders, however, the
situation is different, in large measure, and
not so inspiring. I have no doubt that many
of them are honest men — most of them are
honest as far as money is concerned — but some
of them still seem to be workingmen at heart,
with an emotional interest in their class. An-
ton is one of these, and so is his friend, the
anarchist agitator.

Corruption is a subtle thing; one not al-
ways easily recognized by the uncasuistic
man. To keep clear of wrong requires intel-
ligence of a high order, as well as good will.
And the labor leader is subjected to tempta-
tions of a kind not easily seen as temptations.
By virtue of these he often becomes far less
fundamentally attractive than the class he
represents.

Several sets of circumstances bring about
this degeneration, for it is degeneration, of
the labor leader. As he acquires the feeling
of power, he tends to adopt some of the worst
methods of politics, and encourages the
growth of a public feeling often extra-if not
anti-legal. Several men in Chicago have
said to me things which indicated an apolo-

[IIO]

Trade-Unionist.

getic, or even exculpatory, attitude towards
leaders convicted of bribery and other forms
of graft — a kind of sentimentalism, rather
than sentiment for the cause. They often ac-
quire a rather unscrupulous willingness to
adopt the unjust methods of their opponents.
Demanding fairness and charity, they are
often inclined to show little of these qualities.
I have seldom met a class of men who are, in
some ways, as narrow-minded and as preju-
diced as the typical labor leader of the "po-
litical" type.

But this is not the worst. Narrowness, sus-
piciousness, an eager tendency to accomplish
good results unscrupulously, if necessary, this
is natural enough to men of little preliminary
training and not often of the best natural
quality — for the best men do not, as a rule,
come to the top. And the essential justice of
the cause outweighs mere money dishonesty,
if the spirit be otherwise right.

But, worse than all these in its results, is
the moral change due to a different standard
of life. The labor leader lives well. He
spends well. He drinks, and develops the
luxurious needs of the class he is combating.
"I must spend 50 cents for my lunch, at the
[III]

The Spirit of Labor.

very least," said an admirable carpenter to
me. He gets in a habit of mind where he
will no longer work at his trade, even if he
gives up a position which ought to be merely
temporary. He becomes a "professional"
leader. Like the "professional" politician,
he tends to become inferior morally. He
loses sympathy with the class from which he
has sprung. Living no longer as they do, he
no longer genuinely feels their needs. On
the contrary, he is likely insensibly to attempt
to live still better, insensibly drifts in feeling
into the class supposedly hostile to the class
he officially represents.

He loses seriousness, temperament. I have
often talked with men in the rank and file who
fascinated me with their idealistic earnest-
ness, their simplicity and pathetic honesty;
but among the leaders temperament and seri-
ousness are more rare. I find the easy, good-
fellowship characteristic of the small politi-
cian, but little that suggests the virtues of the
laborer. There is nothing Millet-like about
many of them.

The importance of the laborers' representa-
tives remaining laborers at heart is obvious.
Otherwise, the organizations would become in

[112]

Trade- Unionist.

time as aloof from the real interests of the la-
borers as the bureaucracy of Russia is aloof
from the interests of the peasants.

I have seen on many occasions a crowd of
labor leaders standing before a bar and spend-
ing money recklessly for drinks — many dol-
lars would be spent by each man in the course
of one evening in this way.

They have the false ideals of drinking,
"treating," of doing things on a "big scale,"
characteristic of the rich young college
buck or man-about-town. This is hardly
the spirit which tends to preserve what is
idealistic and humane in the labor move-
ment.

It is a case similar to what has, in the mat-
ter of the Russian-Jewish idealists, frequently
come under my notice in New York. These
people, many of them, came to America with
the finest ideals, with devotion to the cause of
humanity, with a love for Tolstoyan doctrines,
and with vividly "temperamental" expressive-
ness and earnestness. Soon, however, when
they began to "get up" in the world, they lost
their interest in the "movement," and men
who had been simple or prophetic workers
for a cause became merely practical and per-
[113]

The Spirit of Labor,

sonally ambitious, in a small manner. It
seems the way of the world.

No one condemns this kind of labor leader
as bitterly as do the real workingmen,
whether they belong to the rank and file, or
whether they are themselves leaders, but lead-
ers still emotionally devoted to the "move-
ment"— men like Anton and his friend, the
anarchist walking delegate and organizer.
They do not condemn the "politician" so
much because of any "graft" he may be guilty
of. This is not so common as is generally
supposed, although being spectacular and sen-
sational it is what usually is emphasized in
the newspapers and in novels which are de-
pendent on the exceptional, the bizarre, on
"high-lights" for their effects. They rightly
feel that occasional theft is not so important
as the emotional backsliding from the cause.
They realize that men like Parks may be good
men, in the sense that they keep warmly dis-
posed to the interests of their class; and the
fact that such a man might be inclined to
"steal" from the class whom they regard as
robbing the workingmen in general, does not
seem to them to be of any great moral mo-
ment.

[114]

Trade-Unionis

The great virtue is the virtue of fidelity to
one's constituents. And that is, indeed, the
origin of all social morality — to live up to the
best public opinion with which you have come
in contact — ^whether that public opinion be
with or against the existing law.

One night I met in Chicago a man who
well illustrated the deepest morality of a cer-
tain class. He was a criminal and an outcast
from every society except the society of thugs
and vagabonds — no man in any class would
tolerate him. But he had been brought up
as a member of the working class, and, al-
though he had lost his position in that class,
yet he had retained the most essential of its
virtues, its feeling of organized solidarity and
its hatred of the "scab."

At first I was inclined to think that this
Chicago criminal was the worst human being
I had ever known; and my acquaintance
among people officially labeled "criminal" is
considerable. He talked about his deeds in
a natural, off-hand way. One could see that
the opportunity to talk pleased him, though
it was against his sense of form to show any
undue exhilaration or emotion.

At first, he seemed a little doubtful, a little

The Spirit of Labor.

hesitant, not having made up his mind
whether I could really appreciate him or not.
But when he had hazarded a few bolts, and
found that I was apparently unmoved, he
launched complacently forth in a description
of his acts. He poured them out imperson-
ally, calmly, yet with obvious pride.

He had originally been a workingman ; and
even now he takes a job when there is nothing
more lucrative to do. And he still has
friends among the honest laborers, who, al-
though they do not approve of his ways, some-
times use him, according to his account, to
"smash" a scab or two. He has been very
useful to some of the violently inclined among
the labor unions. But this, although there
was some money in it, was after all a labor
of love. It enabled him to function natu-
rally, and also to do a good turn to society. It
seemed a small thing, even to me, who at that
time was unfamiliar with a certain set of eth-
ics, in comparison with some of his other ex-
ploits.

These exploits are largely unmentionable.

His mode of life has not been "nice" at all.

He has not only "done" people openly in

broad daylight on State street and other thor-

[ii6]

Trade-Unionist.

oughfares, but he has been effective in the ex-
pedition of other people, men and girls, to
another world. His treatment of the women
in this and other respects has been abomina-
ble. In this connection, a certain method of
making money which he has occasionally
adopted does not look well, even when merely
thought of.

He told me these things with great assur-
ance, without enthusiasm, without circumlo-
cution. He did not seem to feel the necessity
of delicacy in expression. His countenance
is open and frank, and his blue eyes are inno-
cent and he talks right on.

At first I had been guarded in what I said
to him. I did not wish, for several reasons,
to imply any disrespect. I knew that there
was such a thing as honor among thieves, al-
though personally I have found it only with
the help of a microscope. I am convinced
that it represents what the German thinkers
call "a vanishing moment," only. However,
after he had revealed pretty thoroughly his
ways, I felt it was no longer necessary to be
guarded. Here, apparently, was a man
whom it was impossible to insult. He prob-
ably had no sensibility.

[117]

The Spirit of Labor.

So, among other things, I asked him if he
had ever been a "scab" or had worked for the
corporations. For a moment he looked as if
he would strike me. But all he did was to
throw up his hands, and say in a deeply hurt
tone:

"Oh, no. I may be bad, but I'm not as bad
as that. That is against my principles."

I pacified him as soon as possible. I said
I did not understand. Even yet, I had not
fully realized the strength of the social law;
"Thou shalt not be a scab." Public opinion
that can so deeply influence the code of a man
like that is indeed a real thing. To him it
was the first and only commandment. With-
out that he would have been utterly lawless
and utterly lost, utterly without principle.
His morality was the deepest morality of his
early companions. They, of course, had
other virtues, but only the essential virtue re-
mained with him. And to that he seemed
true.

[ii8]

CHAPTER VI.

Meeting the Employer,

A STRIKE, which had been on, over the
eight-hour day, for several months, gave An-
ton the opportunity he had been looking for,
to bring before the council the matter of the
thin politician's speech. At that time the
eight-hour day held in thirty-two of the Chi-
cago shops, while in the fourteen unorgan-
ized shops the working time was nine hours.
The employers of the thirty-two eight-hour
shops felt they were competing at a disad-
vantage with the nine-hour shops, and sent a
request to the Union to appoint a conferring
committee. They desired the men to send a
committee of six, to talk the matter over with
the employers' committee of the same num-
ber, and see if they could not arrive at a set-
tlement, and stop the strike.

The men, at the meeting of the council,
passed a resolution to appoint a committee to
meet the employers; and the thin politician
[119]

The Spirit of Labor.

and Anton were two of those elected to
serve. Anton at once arose, and protested
against the thin politician being on the com-
mittee.

"He is unworthy," said Anton, in his speech
before the council, "of serving on such an im-
portant committee. He, at one time, in his
official capacity as walking delegate, made a
speech in favor of a certain judge in the
Democratic party."

The thin politician was on his feet imme-
diately with a sweeping denial, and a demand
for the name of Anton's informant.

"I gave the name," said Anton, "and
then he and the anarchist, who was present,
thrashed the matter out. There is more to
this later on, but for the time the thin politi-
cian was sustained as a member of the com-
mittee. I had satisfied my conscience, how-
ever, and had kept my promise."

The strike of the woodworkers had begun
several months before the conferring commit-
tees had been formed. The trade agreement,
entered into two years earlier, provided for a
nine-hour day, $2 minimum scale of wages,
absolute closed shop, apprentice system, and
the inauguration of the eight-hour day on
[120]

Meeting the Employer.

February ist, 1900. All the factories, with a
solitary exception, had agreed. The men de-
manded a ratification of this agreement, but
the bosses insisted on going back to the nine-
hour day. They were willing to pay for the
extra hour, but the men felt it was important
to maintain the principle of the eight-hour
day. The employers felt themselves stronger
than they had been, for at that time there was
going on a building trades lockout, and it
looked as though the men would be defeated,
and if the trades were defeated it would be
a blow to the woodworkers.

Anton worked at the time just previous to
the strike in the sash and door factory of C,
E. Petersen, who was "a monument in the
Employers' Association," and he was also ac-
tive in politics. A little while before the
strike, Petersen called a meeting of his men
and made them an address, an account of
which is thus given by Anton :

"He told how much the trade had lost as
the Unions had got more privileges, but he
did not tell how he had been able to build his
factory larger and larger. He told how he
had charitably built homes for his employees,
but he did not dwell on the rent he charged
[121]

The Spirit of Labor.

them. He did not fail to tell them that in
case of a strike he had the power to put them
out of their homes, but that he was too good
to do so. At the close of his lecture he said
he liked his men and would love to pay high
wages and maintain the eight-hour agreement
and keep closed shop, but that, unfortunately,
if Bryan was elected business would be para-
lyzed and he would be unable to keep his
agreement. He asked the men to give an
opinion. They all sat silent, as the rank and
file always will, so I spoke up and informed
him that all of his men had voted in favor
of the old agreement, which provided for an
eight-hour day, at a certain date. I told him
that all of the men were satisfied with their
employer and their wages; that Bryan's elec-
tion was almost impossible, and that, if he
were elected, it would make no material dif-
ference, that the political parties were all
alike.

He had referred in his speech to the busi-
ness agents as 'the hoodlums downtown.' I
assured him the men had not listened to the
'hoodlums,' but if they had they would have
accepted the nine-hour day instead of being
against it. As it was, they had taken the reins

[122]

Meeting the Employer.

in their own hands and voted against the nine-
hour day.

"Petersen did not like my attitude. He
thought I was a Butinsky. He started to go
away, and met the thin politician, who had
been in the meeting and had heard himself
referred to as a 'hoodlum.' But Petersen ex-
tended his hand cordially, and so did the
walking delegate, and I set them both down
as hypocrites. I used this to advantage when
the strike came on in impressing the men."

At the beginning of the strike, Anton had
been made captain of the pickets. "I was
fearless," he said, "and I also had enough dis-
cretion for the position. My duty was to tell
the rank and file of pickets what to do. They
were to watch the shop, inform all scabs that
a strike was on, and show them what their
obligations to the community were. They
must persuade these men by peaceful means,
if possible; but they must be persuaded: they
must see the light. Often the only way to
make them see the light was to make them
fear something more than they feared going
hungry."

The strike in Anton's shop lasted only a few
weeks: the men lost, and when Anton ap-
[123]

The Spirit of Labor.

peared for work, he was politely informed
there was no place for him ; but when wanted
he would receive a postal card. He knew
he would never be wanted.

It was after the strike in the shops remain-
ing out had lasted several months that the em-
ployers had called for the meeting with the
men's committee. Petersen, Anton's employ-
er, was there, and a Mr. Von Flatten, who
said the first word for the employers.

"We feel," he began, "that as the strike has
lasted so long, and as some of the shops have
accepted the nine-hour day, our shop cannot
grant the eight-hour day; if we did, we could
not compete in the trade. We should have
to close our mills and get out of town."

"I got up," said Anton, "and made for Mr.
Petersen. I remarked that I, as one member
of the committee, felt no confidence in the
committee of the employers ; that I questioned
their sincerity, and their honesty. At this
one of the bosses, a good man named Lock-
wood, grew very indignant, and said his hon-
esty had never before been questioned. I was
waiting for a little incident like that, so I
apologized and said that perhaps my remark
was too sweeping; that I, as a matter of fact,
[124]

Meeting the Employer.

referred to one member of the committee, Mr.
Petersen. I then balled him out. I told the
committee that I had been in his employ be-
fore the strike; that he had had a meeting
with the men and had told them he was satis-
fied with the attitude of the organization, and
would keep his agreement, but that he now
wanted to break it. Mr. McKinley had been
elected, and Bryan defeated, and now there
was no reason why Mr. Petersen should not
keep the old agreement, according to his own
statement. While I was speaking Mr. Peter-
sen was nervous and excited, and the other
bosses were tickled. Petersen said I had mis-
understood and misconstrued him. I said:
'Mr. Petersen, it is too late now. Your men
voted for Mr. McKinley. If they had known
how you would act, they wouldn't have voted
as they did.' This incident gave me great
satisfaction.

"The result was that our committee made
out a report recommending a nine-hour day.
This I refused to sign, as I had been so in-
structed by my local. Yet I felt the position
of the bosses was peculiar, because of the nine-
hour day being already accepted by some of
the shops. When, in the meeting of the
[125]

The Spirit of Labor.

Union, they applauded my opposition to the
nine-hour day, I got up and foolishly said
that, while I voted in accordance with their
instructions, I wanted no applause, for I
thought they had better accept the inevitable
and consent to the nine-hour day. There was
a storm of disapproval at that. It was far
from popular, and was the beginning of my
internal fights in our Union."

The issue was left to a general referendum
vote, and the nine-hour day accepted by a
small majority; and so the strike was lost to
the men. The nine shops which had been
lost went back to ten hours, and, as always
after a lost strike, the membership of the
Unions dwindled and there was pretty gen-
eral discontent. All the officers who had
been in power during the strike were defeated
in the next election, except the thin politician,
partly because his local was the biggest in the
city, and partly because he had trimmed suc-
cessfully during the fight.

The anarchist organizer had, during the
strike, been outspoken against the folly of
holding out at this time for an eight-hour day,
when the conditions of organization did not
warrant it. He was therefore very unpopu-
[126]

Meeting the Employer.

lar. After the men had returned to work, a
charge was trumped up against him — that he
was short $24 in paying out strike funds. He
handled, during the strike, from $2,000 to
$5,000 every week. For this man to steal
$24 seemed to any one who knew his character
an utter impossibility. But the rank and file
are extremely suspicious of their leaders.
Sometimes they have good reason to be, but
they are generally unreasonable, even when
right, and in this case they were unreasonably
wrong.

A trial board of five was appointed to try
this burly, honest and vigorous man. But the
board did not have the courage to find either
for or against him: they were afraid to ac-
quit him, because of the popular prejudice,
and they were too fair to find him guilty.
So they recommended that the council should
decide. Anton made a vigorous fight against
the cowardice of this trial board; and the
council re-committed the decision back to the
board, which again showed an incapacity to
decide. The council then discharged the
board and elected another. When the an-
archist was summoned before this second
board, he did not appear, knowing that the
[127]

The Spirit of Labor.

proceedings were out of order. He made as
an excuse his being absent from the city on
the business of prosecuting three Union men
for scabbing. The board tried him, with him
and his witnesses absent, and brought in a ver-
dict of guilty. Anton, in the council meet-
ing, fought vigorously against the illegitimacy
of these proceedings. The President of the
council left his chair to state on the floor his
belief in the insufficiency of the evidence on
which the conviction rested. In spite of that,
this President voted, when it came to the roll-
call, in favor of sustaining the decision of the
board. Only four or five members of the
council had the courage to go in the face of
popular feeling and vote against a decision
that was unjust and irregular. The power of
the crowd is strong enough in the country's
politics, but this case would indicate an im-
mediate reference to popular passion in the
affairs of the Union that is quite as strong as
anything in our general politics.

The defendant appealed from the Wood-
workers' Council to the General Council,
which reversed the decision and ordered a
new trial. A trial board of three, one se-
lected by the Woodworkers' Council, one by

[128]

Meeting the Employer.

the General Council, and the third elected
by the two appointed, found the anarchist or-
ganizer innocent of the charge, and he \yas
acquitted.

Anton has a great deal of sympathy for the
rank and file. He thinks their emotions can
be trusted, but not their intelligence. The
unscrupulous demagogue or the hypocritical
reformer can lead them with ease, if he is
willing to observe their unreasoning passions.
Here was a splendid man, who had for years
labored in their interests, and yet whom they
suspected of having stolen twenty-four dol-
lars!

He had, indeed, early in his American ca-
reer, refused to have anything to do with
trades-unionism: he was a fiery Socialist, and
always spoke from a soap box or in the shop.
But when he gave up Socialism, because of
its "intolerance," and became a theoretical
anarchist, he started in to work for the
Unions, with the "general strike" as his slo-
gan; and knocked fiercely at the ballot and at
the efforts of the Socialists to get hold of the
Unions and lead them into politics. He made
one of the most important speeches against
the Social Democratic party: a general atti-
[129]

The Spirit of Labor.

tude that has now become the slogan of the
American Federation of Labor, where the
Socialists are very unpopular.

This anarchist was a splendid organizer;
he organized the first interior finish shop in
America, and being in New York when the
woodworkers started to organize in Chicago,
they sent to New York for him. Three years
later, the same Union that sent for him wanted
to run him out of town, because they thought
this devoted man had misappropriated $24!
At an earlier time he had resigned as busi-
ness agent, because of the hostility of the Ger-
mans, whose clannishness he had opposed.
Immediately after his resignation the Union
lost 2,000 members by a foolish strike. They
went out when they were not strong enough.
It was, as Anton put it, "a strike of enthu-
siasm. They struck just because their cause
was just — and that's no reason to strike at
all."

After that strike, this anarchist organizer
made a proposition to return to Chicago and
take hold and help the Union to recover its
membership, but on the condition that he be
placed in a position of absolute autocracy.
The organization would not accept that. "I
[130]

Meeting the Employer,

also opposed it," said Anton, "though I ad-
mired the man immensely."

"I admired him especially because he was
a fire-brand, and yet because of his usefulness
and originality was tolerated in the Federa-
tion. He never takes the floor till he is ready
to fight. I have heard him shout, over and
over again, to the President: 'You must do
this. You shall do this.' He is an autocrat
by nature, but he hates injustice and intoler-
ance. He bluffs the ordinary workingman.
The crooked man is afraid of him. Yet he
does not expose the politicians if they help the
work of organization. That is the main
thing. But they fear him because they know
he has only one purpose. It may seem queer
that an anarchist should be so much of an
autocrat. But this man is an individualist,
and that is why he is an autocrat and an an-
archist. In organizing he would prefer to
pay one man $ioo a week than ten men $io a
week, if the one man was active. He works
for the mass, but he does not believe you can
work with the mass. I have not met a strong
man in the trades-union movement who would
not admit anarchism as an ideal — and yet
every strong man is an autocrat.
[131]

The Spirit of Labor.

"Sometimes I love to see a machine or a
man working hard. And I love to see this
man talk. When he is speaking he sweats
like a Polar bear in mid-summer. He calls
his wife 'Mike.' She is an old German
woman who cannot speak English. He is
very kind to her, gives her money regularly,
and won't look at another woman. Yet she
feels she is a martyr, because he is away on
the road so much, organizing. He consoles
her by pointing to his victories: how, after
many years' struggle, he always comes out on
top. He thinks this ought to satisfy her. He
will never forgive you if you step on his
corns. He will only talk about trades-union-
ism or anarchism. Maggie likes to have a
man talk to her, or at least look at her, but he
won't. You can generally trust a man like
that. No man on earth can get a secret from
him. His great object is the movement. He
never votes, always says 'damn the rank and
file,' but really works for their benefit."

Anton was rapidly losing his interest in
Socialism. He was probably influenced a
good deal by the general spirit in the Unions
which was averse to making the movement a
political one, based upon a distrust of politics
[132]

Meeting the Employer.

in general. It is likely, too, that the striking
and picturesque figure of this anarchist organ-
izer made a deep impression on him. One
of his deepest passions is an abstract love for
toleration, and this he seemed to see in the-
oretical anarchism. His growing experience
in the actual affairs of organizations had made
him distrust government, and at the same time
feel the necessity of it. This tended to give
him that balanced, psychological attitude that
is never consistent, but usually intelligent, and
which he associates practically with philo-
sophical anarchism. He saw that politics
was too likely to determine the actions of the
leaders and folly that of the rank and file.

"At this time," he said, "I was still a So-
cialist, but a rather uncertain one. My So-
cialist friends were surprised because I felt
I could not endorse a man purely and simply
because he was a Socialist. He must have
unionism and manhood and good-fellowship,
too. They could not understand my motives
for doing things. They thought I ought to
look on Socialism as something holy. They
were so narrow that I began to question their
philosophy. I began to be sceptical about
Socialism, just as I had been sceptical about
[133]

The Spirit of Labor.

religion and politics. I saw that Socialism,
too, was political, and liable to the same nar-
rowness. I championed the anarchist organ-
izer before I knew him, and when I came to
meet him, his ideas took a strong hold on me.
My attitude for justice hurt me with the
Union, for a time. After the fight in the
council I found considerable opposition. I
invited great disfavor because I was foolish
enough to stand for only what I knew to be
right, and for a time I lost ambition in that
direction. I had assumed that the central or-
ganization was capable of greater things, but
their treatment of this sincere man sadly dis-
appointed me.

"I saw that politics were more predominant
than reason. I saw that the central body was
controlled by politics and the rank and file
by sentiment and emotion. I had more tol-
erance for the sentiment than the politics. So
I stuck to the man and went to every meeting
and was again elected as a delegate. By de-
grees I came back to my old standing, but I
came back a sceptic, not trusting anything, but
hoping for everything. One incident that
made me so as much as anything was a deal I
learned of, proposed by the thin politician to
[134]

Meeting the Employer,

my friend the anarchist. I will not say what
it was, but it was a proposal not altogether
honorable. The anarchist told him that un-
der no circumstances would he be willing to
do anything of that kind; that while he was
as much dissatisfied with the damn rank and
file as anybody, yet it was the only thing
worth working for. The other man felt
cheap to have made a proposition which as-
sumed that the anarchist was as corrupt as he.
I got wind of the matter, and, as on a former
occasion, I went to the thin politician and told
him that I could not sit as delegate in a coun-
cil representing the rank and file unless every
delegate knew this story about the chief busi-
ness agent, in whom the rank and file put its
trust. I insisted that he should tell the coun-*
cil, and he promised to do so, but many
months passed and he did not do it.

"There came an election of business agents
and I was a candidate. I was defeated. I
stood purely and simply on the emotional
side, thinking at that time that honesty and
good-will were all that were necessary to be
business agent. The thin politician was re-
elected, and I waited patiently for him to
make the statement I had required of him.
[135]

The Spirit of Labor.

But he did not do so. So, when the board of
business agents reported that they had selected
this man as the chief business agent, I got up
in the council and protested, and objected to
his being chief business agent until he made
a statement to the council about a story that
had been circulated. You could have heard
a pin drop in the council that night.

"He got up and told the facts, partly ad-
mitting that he had been guilty of a breach
of confidence towards the organization; but
he made a kind of threat to me. He said I
had used my knowledge of the affair as a
knock against him in the election, and that if
I undertook any such knock again he would
knock me, threatening physical force. I
wouldn't stand for the bluff ; I got up and said
that I had been absolutely fair with him: I
had gone to him directly with the story and
not to anyone else. If he had heard that I
was 'knocking' him, he ought to have come
directly to me, and asked if it was true. He
then grew angry and said if I did not keep
my mouth shut something would happen. I
then informed him I was his superior, both
mentally and physically. There was no man
in the council, I said, who could make me
[136]

Meeting the Employer.

keep my mouth shut by reason of a threat.
I branded as a lie the charge that I had circu-
lated stories about him, and challenged him
to produce a single witness in evidence of the
truth of what he had said."

These experiences tended to disgust Anton
with political organizations, and the Social-
ists, of whom one was the thin politician,
seemed to him to be as ready for deals as any
one else; not that he so much objected to a
deal practically, it was rather a matter of
temper and mind with him. He wanted
something more admirable and attractive, less
small and sordid. He saw that these organi-
zations of workingmen had some of the same
drawbacks that obtain in the larger organiza-
tion of society with which he had come in
disagreeable contact as a tramp.

[137]

CHAPTER VII.

The Radicals.

It was at this time that Anton came in con-
tact with the Chicago Liberal Society. It
was composed of atheists, free-thinkers, "rad-
icals" of all kinds. The word "radical" is a
common one in Chicago. In it a great deal
of what is most significant to-day of the Mid-
dle West of the United States, and of what
is most progressively American, is embodied.
It is a vague word, implying extreme democ-
racy, implying also an attitude of criticism
towards many of the institutions founded on
a capitalistic order of society. It is a much
more "respectable" word in the Middle West,
or at any rate in Chicago, than in the East.
Not only in labor circles and in out-and-out
of Socialistic and anarchistic groups does one
often hear this word used with approval, but
also in the university set, in the social settle-
ments, even in business and professional life.
The newspapers, to a limited extent reflectors
[138]

The Radicals.

of the people's temper, show in a hundred im-
plicit ways the degree to which the radical
ideas of the common people have affected all
grades of society.

Wherever there is a lack of cultured train-
ing combined with vitality and vigor of feel-
ing and thought, there are likely to be socie-
ties half-baked and on one side ridiculous in
character — pseudo-scientific, spiritualistic,
— based upon a strong but not definitely
worked out spiritual life. In Chicago there
are innumerable clubs and societies of this
kind. Masonic Temple is supposed to be the
seat of a hundred religious or emotional, sci-
entific or social faiths. The basis for all these
faiths is the labor situation. Most radicals
are either working people or else persons who
have come in contact with the feelings and
ideas evolved by the laboring class, and have
come to express them.

The Chicago Liberal Society was a society
of this kind. Anton was thoroughly in a
frame of mind to enjoy a gathering of this sort
— it gave an opportunity for the emotional
needs of the workingman to assume an intel-
lectual and scientific shape, no matter how
crude and imperfect. Ih the Unions it was
[139]

The Spirit of Labor.

all business or definite struggle of one per-
sonality against another; it was good to escape
from these inexpressive, serious gatherings
and go to hear a lecture or some philosophical
aspect of the labor or social situation. An-
ton, with his keen senses, his keen intelli-
gence and his love for debate, thoroughly en-
joys himself in these gatherings. In them
there are, of course, many of the "long-
haired, anaemic, over-gentle sort. Into these
Anton likes to stick pins. He sympathizes
with many of their ideas — he feels that
through them he and his class are being ex-
pressed, and he enjoys thoroughly the more
intelligent ones among them, but he sees
their limitations. He is keen in the detection
of shams, and when he finds himself dealing
with a tender imbecile of the "radical" variety
he is like a bull in a clover fidd: his voice
becomes loud and his words are rough. Mag-
gie cautions him not to break loose — but she
wouldn't love him so much if he didn't!

One of the first of Anton's experiences with
the Chicago Liberal Society was a lecture by
Clarence Darrow. Anton immediately per-
ceived that here was a man voicing many
of the sentiments and "protests" that he had
[140]

The Radicals.

vaguely felt. In another field this tended to
have the same influence on his critical faculty
as the reading of Tom Paine's Age of Reason.
Darrow, indeed, is a man wonderfully typical
of one aspect of the life of the Middle West
to-day — dreamer, practical man, lawyer, poli-
tician, friend of labor, friend of women,
friend of literature and of experiment! A
rich personality, often distrusted, generally in-
consistent in all but humanity, too complex
to be philosophic, but a gathering point for
all the "radical" notions of the time. Signifi-
cant, indeed, it is of Chicago and of the Mid-
dle West, that a man like this can flourish and
occupy a position of respectability and prac-
tical importance. In some communities he
would be merely laughed at; in others he
would be forced to become an out-and-out Bo-
hemian. But'in Chicago this interesting man
is pretty nearly appreciated at his proper
value; for, although he is regarded as "dan-
gerous" by the ultra-conservative, and as
"crooked" by the pure idealists, and as "im-
moral" by the inexperienced ladies of blue
stocking tendency, he occupies, nevertheless,
a position of suflicient respectability to enable
him to work and live to the best advantage.
[141]

The Spirit of Labor,

Interested as Anton was in these gatherings,
it did not prevent him from exercising his crit-
ical faculty. A little before the lecture which
meant so much to him, a member of the local
Union of which Anton was the President,
died, leaving a widow and six children in ab-
solute destitution. While he was ill, he re-
ceived $4 a week benefit for thirteen weeks
before his death. His widow received $75
for his burial. This was barely enough for
that purpose. She asked Anton to assist her
in raffling of¥ her husband's tools. In the
Union meeting he, as chairman, called for a
voluntary committee for this work. The re-
sult was $87.75 for tools worth about ten dol-
lars. Then Anton went to the shop where
the deceased had worked, to try to get some
money from the employer. He himself had
worked there soon after his arrival in Chicago
and had been discharged, so it was with some
pride that he introduced himself as the Presi-
dent of Union 67. The employer recognized
him and was at first inclined not to give him an
audience.

"But I knew he was a Jew," said Anton,
"and I immediately branched into philosophy
and put in my opposition to Christianity. So
[142]

The Radicals.

he wrote me out a check for $25 for the
widow. I went to her with this money and
also the raffle money; found her in three lit-
tle miserable rooms in Halsted street. The
six children were lying and walking all over
the floor, and the baby was in a chair along-
side the tub where the mother was washing.
She cried when I gave her the money.

"While I had been engaged in selling the
tickets, I appeared at the Masonic Temple
one night where a lot of the bug-house cranks
and free-thinkers had got together to expose
their irreligious matters in a religious way.
[Anton himself often talks in a way that
makes him subject to his own satire.] It was
the Chicago Liberal Society, now dead, and
was composed of men and women of Lofty
Ideals. I felt sure that these people would
assist me in such a worthy cause. The Church
would not, though the widow had been a mem-
ber for years. She had neglected to send the
children to Sunday School regularly, for the
Sunday School does not want children who
have not good clothes. So poverty kept the
children home and when the father died, the
Church would do nothing.

"The Free-thinkers, however, I thought
[143]

The Spirit of Labor.

would do something. I had been a member
of the Society for some time, had taken part in
the discussions and was known. I spoke to
the President and the trustees and asked them
to let me have the floor to explain the circum-
stances and ask the audience to contribute.
That was a more effective way than to ask
each one separately and would save time.
The President ran a book store, and that was
really the reason why he was a member of
the Liberal Society. He wanted them to buy
his books liberally. That was the only lib-
eral thing about him. So he told me that he
would like to accommodate me, but there were
other things more important. They would
not let me have the floor and I was horribly
disappointed. My spirit of protest became
aroused again, and I wondered if there was
anything right anywhere. I went around
among the members and sold about twenty
tickets. I waited for an opportunity to make
an expose of their hypocrisy. They made a
display of being opposed to the Church be-
cause it enslaved humanity, but when it came
for them to show any superior feeling, they
failed to make good."
Anton perceived another instance of human
[144]

The Radicals.

weakness and self-interest in this matter of the
tools. An affectionate Irishman won the raf-
fle. He was a common laborer, not a member
of the Union. Finding that most of the im-
portant tools were missing, he thought he had
been "done" and went indignantly to Anton,
and scolded him: said he had thought better
of the Unions than that. Anton went to the
woman, who cried, and said that a member of
the Union Committee had picked out the best
tools and intended to keep them. They were
fortunately still in the house, and Anton, after
telling the woman not to let the tools be taken
away, went to the man who had tried to steal
them. This man was always suspicious of the
honesty of the Union officials.

"I balled him out," said Anton, "and told
him I would prefer charges against him in
the Union, if he took the tools. Then I went
to the Irishman from whom I wished to hide
the guilt of our member, in order not to dis-
turb the man's sympathetic inclinations to-
ward Unions. I told him a mistake had been
made and he would find the tools at the wom-
an's house. He was tickled to death. I did
not expose our member in the Union meet-
ing on account of his wife and children. He
[145]

The Spirit of Labor.

was an awful ugly fellow, a brutal shaker-
hand. He was so meek morally that he im-
agined he was strong and tried to roast every-
body else on the score of dishonesty."

The lecture of Mr. Darrow's which made
so great an impression upon Anton was on
"Crimes and Criminals" and seemed to the
workingman to be much nearer the truth than
the current ideas on the subject. After his
lecture, Mr. Darrow announced the coming
of Prince Kropotkin, who was to lecture be-
fore the Society; he was to speak on Modern
anarchism. ^

"I was still a Socialist," said Anton, "but a
wavering one. I had a strong appetite to
understand anarchism, and I was eager to hear
this lecture. But yet I could not resist the
opportunity to protest. Mr. Darrow re-
quested that a certain woman present should
sell tickets for the event, and the chairman put
the request before the Society. I arose and
forced recognition from the chair and said :

"Mr. Chairman, while I have no objec-
tion to granting the request of Mr. Darrow
for a purpose of this kind, yet I feel inclined
to protest against this manner of granting spe-
cial privileges. When I requested the priv-
[146]

The Radicals.

ilege, a few weeks ago, of saying a few words
to the Society, to induce them to help a poor
woman, the floor was denied me. I feel cer-
tain that my mission was far more urgent and
necessary than the intellectual luxury of hear-
ing Mr. Kropotkin; although it would not
have brought as much honor to the Society.
I stand here and say that I think our President
is as much a hypocrite now as ever.'

"Then came the gavel, but I continued, and
said : * I'll be glad to hear Kropotkin, and,
although I desire to expose the hypocrisy of
the President of the Liberal Society, I am still
capable of being unselfish enough to hope that
he will remain President as long as he is en-
gaged in the book business.'

"He blushed. I was so unruly and crude
and unrefined that it put him in a difficult and
peculiar position. After the meeting I went
to the secretary and told him to take my name
off the list of membership. I told him I was
opposed to the Church because of its hypoc-
risy; and that if I belonged to a Society that
had a hypocrite for its President, I too
would be a hypocrite. A man is a man, after
all, whether he is the President of the United
States or only the President of the Liberal So-
[147]

The Spirit of Labor.

ciety. They are very much alike. The So-
ciety is dead now; it broke up because of being
split into factions and everybody seeking
places of honor, money and graft. The So-
ciety was like the Unions, the Churches, and
everything else. It is the same old story."

Anton, however, was very anxious to hear
Kropotkin, and to have the workingmen hear
him, so, one evening coming from work, he
went to Mr. Darrow's office and asked him
for tickets. Mr. Darrow was interested, gave
him twenty tickets and asked him to try to get
the workingmen to go to the lecture. ''Sell
them if you can," he said; "if not, give them
away. No need to make an account." An-
ton succeeded in interesting several Union
men, and when the night of the address came,
the laboring world was well represented. An-
ton's account of the lecture is as follows :

"Mr. Darrow introduced Kropotkin with
the remark: 'In Russia they exile their
prophets. In this country we hang them.
[This was in reference to the execution of the
Chicago anarchists.] He then gave an ac-
count of Kropotkin's life, said he had been of-
fered the world if he would suppress his in-
clination to champion the masses against the
[148]

The Radicals.

classes. He was of the aristocracy of Russia
and could have been prominent in the govern-
ment, but he preferred to cast all this aside.

"Then the old gentleman spoke, to a packed
house, in every chair there being a copy of
Free Society. I vs^as terribly interested, for
he dwelt on something new and very sympa-
thetic. He told of the waste of energy there
is in labor, more wasted than profitable labor.
He emphasized strongly the great waste of
labor in making the implements of war, which
is government murder. He spoke of the prin-
ciples of anarchism and socialism and
sketched the history of the struggles of the
working classes in Europe. He stated that
the American workingman ought to be thank-
ful for the opportunities here in land and tim-
ber and natural resources ; that the soil seemed
to contain all that was necessary for life, vigor
and happiness. He thought that if the work-
ingmen in America were as energetic in ef-
forts for freedom as they were in Europe,
they ought here to be more successful. If the
American workingmen failed, they them-
selves would be largely responsible for it, he
said. He made a strong point against the
British government because of the war with
[149]

The Spirit of Labor.

the Boers. Here the applause was great, and
Mrs. Potter Palmer and other conservative
people who were there clapped their hands.
But right after the applause, he made a similar
remark about Uncle Sam's treatment of the
Philippines. The audience continued to ap-
plaud, but with not so much vigor. He then
said it was very easy for Americans to criti-
cize the government of Russia ; but when you
attack the government in the land in which
you live, you are then regarded as an anarch-
ist. This speech made a deep impression
upon me, and I became far more interested in
anarchism.

''I took home with me a copy of Free So-
ciety. I was interested in it, and decided to
investigate. Kropotkin's lecture had been so
great a contrast to what I had heard of an-
archism. I thought anarchists were all red-
handed devils. I had the common concep-
tion. I saw advertized in Free Society Jean
Grave's Moribund Society and Anarchy and
I went to the editor of Free Society, Mr;
Isaak, and bought copies of this book to dis-
tribute among my friends. I went by the
house several times before I got courage to go
in. I thought there might be bombs in the
[150]

The Radicals.

house. Finally I went in and met Isaak's son,
who is hard of hearing. I imagined he might
only be pretending deafness, and that he was
dangerous. He invited me to go up-stairs to
see his father, but I was suspicious, and
thought it was a trap. So I bought twelve
copies and went away. I found out after-
wards that they were much interested that a
workingman should come voluntarily.

"I took these twelve copies of Grave's book
to the Union meeting and distributed them.
They began to call me an anarchist. I was
rather proud of it. At that time I was
President of my local and had to sign a
document favoring the building of battleships
by Union men. This act was repulsive to
me even then, even from a Socialist stand-
point.

"A member of the Machinists' Union, an
anarchist, asked me why I signed it, if I didn't
want to. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't ex-
plain my position to him, any more than I
can explain life. I was President of the
Union and it was important to extend Union
principles everywhere. Life is so made that
nothing can be consistent it seems.

"Yet if we never try to be consistent, we are
[iSi]

The Spirit of Labor.

certainly no better than grafters; not that
grafters are necessarily very bad."

Anton now began to attend the meetings of
the Philosophical Society. At first he was al-
most afraid to say "good evening" to them,
as he thought they represented an astonishing
amount of learning and intelligence. But, as
he gradually took part in the debates, he found
it a good school. It helped him in the Union
meetings, to make his points. In these phil-
osophical meetings, he felt he was learning
something; while in the meetings of his Union
the main considerations were practical and
warlike — measures by one class against anoth-
er. Maggie always insisted that Anton went
to the Unions to have a good time. This is
only partly true; I have often seen him in
a position where he gave up the opportunity
of going to the Masonic Temple and exciting
himself temperamentally and intellectually in
debate, for the calmer, more business-like and
generally quite unexciting Union meeting,
which he regarded as his duty.

A few months after Kropotkin's talk, An-
ton became what he calls "an anarchist."
With him, this faith is an attitude of mind,
the expression of general class unrest, rather
[152]

The Radicals.

than definite affiliation with a group or any
definite philosophical tenets. In this respect,
Anton is typical of a great many of the more
intelligent and active laboring men. The ex-
tent to which emotional anarchism obtains
among the mechanics is very great. Many
men who occupy a conservative and impor-
tant position in the Unions are at heart what
they call anarchists. One of the high officers
of the American Federation of Labor took oc-
casion, during the meetings of an International
Labor Congress, which took place some time
after the period of this narrative, to reprove
Anton because of the boldness with which he
gave expression to anarchistic principles on
the floor of the meeting. "We are all anarch-
ists," he said, "but what's the use of shouting
about it?"

A few nights following the death of Presi-
dent McKinley, Anton was attending a meet-
ing of the Union. After the meeting, Anton
and several other officers went, as usual, to a
saloon. They talked about the assassination,
Anton, an enthusiastic Socialist, and a sceptic-
al Scotchman who never committed himself.
While they were talking and drinking, a stran-
ger who seemed to be under the influence of
[153]

The Spirit of Labor.

liquor came up to them and asked a pointed
question as to what they felt about the assassi-
nation. The Socialist, who was a Swede,
said; "Well, I don't know. I sorry he dead,
but I sorry he capitalist." The stranger then
asked the Scotchman, who replied: "My
God, I was just going to ask you. What do
you think?" Then the stranger put the ques-
tion to Anton, who "was rather sceptical as to
the justification of his butting in." But he
replied: "I would have as much and per-
haps more sympathy for my neighbor if he
were killed than for McKinley. I should
feel sorry for his wife and children."

This reply did not suit the stranger, and he
cried out that Anton was an anarchist. There
was great confusion in the saloon and it
looked like a fight, until the Scotchman gave
the stranger the signal of the Masonic Order,
and then it was all right.

Anton had become sufficiently known as an
anarchist to make Maggie nervous about
what might happen to him, in the excitement
following McKinley's assassination. So she
burnt up the copies of Free Society, Jean
Grave's book and some Socialistic papers;
fearful that her husband might be arrested,
[154]

The Radicals.

Anton "was disappointed," as he expressed
it, at this, for at that time, in the first flush of
his anarchistic faith, he would have welcomed
arrest. At a later time — now — he is much
cooler about all theories. Now that he is
more of an anarchist, in the sense of being
more of a sceptic, he is far less of a propa-
gandist. He is now as sceptical about an-
archism as he is about any other system of
running the world's affairs successfully.

Even at that time he felt the logical diffi-
culties of his faith; for with him it was a
faith, just as his early religion had been. "I
had difficulties," he said, "in calling myself
an anarchist and yet not being able to justify
my position theoretically. I saw that system
and force were necessary: that we had to em-
ploy both these things in the Union, and yet
it did not affect my feeling. Anarchism cap-
tured my fancy for it seemed the strongest
protest against economic and social injustice.
It seemed more humane and sympathetic than
anything else."

Vague as his anarchism was, it seemed to
get him into trouble; first with his family;
then with the law, indirectly.

"I was lacking in tact," he explained, " told
[155]

The Spirit of Labor.

my position to a young man from Clinton
who was visiting in Chicago. When he went
back to Clinton he told everybody I was an
anarchist. My brother wrote me I would
soon be a victim of the hangman's noose, and
he appealed pathetically to me to change my
ways. He had no effect on me, whatever, for
I felt I was far above him in every way.
Mother, too, wrote me. She seemed to think
that I would be in the pen and that this was
the logical result of a hobo's career. I was
very sorry that mother thought I was an an-
archist, according to her conception of the
word. As for my brother I wrote him and
showed him where he got off at. I gave him
several quotations from the Bible and told
him that if he carried these out he would be
an anarchist, too. They felt sorry for Mag-
gie, had it all fixed that I would die a dog's
death, but it has as yet failed to materialize.

"At this time, I was always out with my
neighbors. I was always discussing union-
ism, socialism and anarchism. I used to bore
people terribly and they didn't like me. I was
brutally frank, and the police, at this time,
as before and since, were disagreeable to me.
One afternoon I saw a large crowd at 59th
[156]

The Radicals.

Street and Center Avenue and I discovered
three policemen roughly arresting two young
fellows. One of them was intoxicated and
used rough language, but this did not seem
to me sufficient cause for arrest. I said
sarcastically, * It seems to require three po-
licemen to arrest two kids.' One of the po-
licemen, who was drunk, grabbed me and
said: 'Come along and I'll teach you a lesson.'
So they put me in a patrol wagon and would-
n't let me notify the wife, and took me to the
police station. The crowd held an indigna-
tion meeting but it came to nothing through
lack of organization. I noticed, when in the
police station, that one of the young fellows,
who was the son of a State Senator, received
a great deal of consideration. He was not
booked, but was sent home. I was booked for
disorderly conduct, and I and the other fel-
low were put in jail.

"I finally got telephonic connection with a
Union saloon-keeper and asked him to get
me out. In the meantime, my wife was won-
dering what had become of me. About ii
o'clock at night a policeman rapped with his
club at her door and hollered: 'I'm a police-
man come to tell you your husband is in jail
[157]

The Spirit of Labor.

and wants you to come and get him out.'
This was typical of the delicacy of the or-
dinary cop. It was a shock to her, as she
thought I had been arrested as an ordinary
anarchist. She went to the saloon-keeper and
then they came to the jail and bailed me out.

"I got busy, and found the man I had made
the remark to. He promised to appear as a
witness in the trial on Monday. But the po-
liceman was busy, too. He laid the law down
to this Swede, my witness, and told him not
to come down to testify. Before the trial
came up on Monday I met the young fellow
who had been arrested with me. He had a
card addressed to a detective in that precinct.
The card came from a rich coal-dealer and

said: 'This young man, Mr. ^ is all

right.' The detective told him what to do,
to plead guilty and look sorry. I, however,
would not plead guilty. I was too indig-
nant. When the case was called the police-
man made a mild charge against the young
fellow, and he was discharged. When I
came up they handed me a jury- waiver. I
started to read it aloud. That was awful.
The young fellow and the detective pulled my
coat, to no avail. I wouldn't keep quiet. I
[158]

The Radicals.

signed it, when I had read it. Then the po-
liceman made his charge, stated he had told
me to go home three times, and had then ar-
rested me. I pleaded not guilty. The prose-
cuting attorney asked me if I meant to in-
sinuate that the officer of the law was telling
a falsehood. I said, no, that was not my in-
tention, but I had noticed, I said, that on that
night the officer of the law was not sober, and
his memory therefore might not be entirely
accurate. What I said was received with
scorn, but the Judge said, as I didn't look
like a tough, he would only fine me $5 and
costs. I asked him if I was fined because I
wasn't tough. He said if I didn't keep still
he would fine me $25. They took me away
and put me in the Bull Pen. I was indig-
nant and the spirit of protest arose in me. I
got to the telephone, and reached the Union
Headquarters. The business agent came and
paid the fine.

"I went to the saloon-keeper who had
bailed me out, and told him the story. He
was indignant and said he would fix the po-
liceman, who was under obligations to him.
When I applied for work, I was discharged
for not appearing on Monday. I had lost my
[159]

The Spirit of Labor.

job, had paid a fine, and Maggie was dis-
couraged, all because I had said a sarcastic
thing to a policeman. Suppose some capital-
ist had said the same thing to a cop. Do you
think the cop would have arrested him? Not
on your life! But a workingman is different.
Maggie roasted me for fair; said I could
never hold a job because I was too blunt and
aggressive. She also said some hot things
about the copper.

"The next time the policeman went to the
saloon, my friend raised Cain with him;
told him I was the President of the Union
and a thoroughly honest working man. The
policeman said I was to blame for insulting
the integrity of the Court by making a de-
fense. But he was sorry, for the saloon-
keeper had influence, and that night I met the
policeman in the saloon. He said he was
very sorry and would get me my job back.
He took me to my old employer and told him
a lie and the employer said we would have to
see the foreman who had discharged me.
The foreman ' had it in ' for me. He had
formerly been a member of the Union and
was a great grumbler. When he got the po-
sition as foreman he withdrew from the Un-
[i6o]

The Radicals.

ion. When he asked to have his resignation
accepted, I had roasted the living life out of
him. I said I was sorry that a man of such
independence of character, such an unsuc-
cessful grumbler, should take the position of
foreman and therefore lose an opportunity of
using his w^onderful talents against the em-
ployers ; he couldn't grumble any more with-
out losing his job: what a hardship I

"So when I came to work under him he
took the first opportunity to discharge me.
But now, thinking the employer, the police-
man and the saloon-keeper (three great pow-
ers) were for me, he re-instated me in my
position. Then I went to the foreman and
called him every name in my vocabulary, and
quit. I needed a job, but the spirit of re-
venge was strong in me and at that time I was
all revolt. I knew Maggie would roast me,
but I could not help it. ^

"The policeman was now very friendly and
said he would try to get my money back. He
called on Maggie and apologized. But the
wife gave him her opinion of him, and pic-
tured to him the hardship he had caused.
He had a wife and three children and he
started to cry like a child. While the wife
[i6i]

The Spirit of I jab or.

was satisfied with that, I was not, and started
to propagate some of my ideas on him. So I
asked him if a police officer ought to make
any distinction between one man and another,
except the criminal and the law-abiding
classes. I asked him if he didn't think that
I and other law-abiding citizens were unsafe
on the streets as long as there were two or
three policemen who did not know them.
He admitted that if he had known me, he
wouldn't have done it. He grasped at my
meaning for he said : ' The socialists are all
right, but there are not enough of them.' He
arranged to meet me the next night at the sa-
loon and take me to where I could get my
money back. We met there a Swedish sa-
loon-keeper, political boss of the Swedes in
that neighborhood, who immediately took ad-
vantage of the situation in order to get my
political support.

"Why didn't you tell me about Anton,'
he said to the policeman. 'I have known
about him for years, though I have not had
the pleasure of meeting him.' I had been
his invisible friend, so to speak. The police-
man, at the Swede's suggestion, took me to
the house of a man who was the boss of the
[162]

The Radicals.

County Central Committee. When I met
him I recognized him as a former President
of the Building Trades Council during the
lockout of 1900. He was a delegate to the
Chicago Federation of Labor and knew me —
knew me not so much as a woodworker as
in my character of Socialist and a man who
knew something of the inside working of the
political machine. He was afraid of me, and
said if the fine had not been recorded, the ac-
tion could be rescinded by the same Judge.
He was very guarded and made arrangements
to meet me at the saloon. There he treated me,
but said he could do nothing. He sprung 25
tickets on me for the Carter Harrison Mas-
querade Ball, at 50 cents apiece. The Union
I belonged to was largely composed of Scan-
dinavians, and this Swede boss thought I
might be of use, so he gave me the tickets.
He said he thought Unions could do more
good if they were in politics. I was to get
a job as garbage box inspector at $4 a day,
if I worked for the cause. I took the tickets
to the next meeting of the Union. I told the
story before a crowded meeting, told them the
politician's game, and tore up the twenty-five
tickets, that went around the ward for four
[163]

The Spirit of Labor.

or five months. The policeman thought I
was unwise, but whenever he met me, he in-
sisted on shaking hands, and on buying me
a drink."

*'That winter I became a candidate for
business agent. I was all emotion and enthu-
siasm. I had a certain amount of courage
and a little scattering of information. I still
thought all that was needed was to be honest
and sincere. If I had known more about the
movement I would have known I had as much
chance to be elected as the Lord himself."

All these events strengthened Anton in his
emotional anarchism, but also tended to make
him see that, when it came to action, it was
necessary to make use of the machinery there
was at hand. But even then, when he was
President of the Union, had a wife and three
children and had had much experience with
men, he still permitted himself the luxury of
losing his job in order to satisfy his tempera-
ment. It was about this time that he ac-
cepted the offer of a job in Oak Park, rented
a house in the neighborhood, and when he
went to work, was told another man had been
hired in his place.

''I was taken aback and nonplussed at
[164]

The Radicals.

first, but recovered myself, took my overcoat
off, and told the employer I thought he was a

and I could lick him. He said he

would give me $5 extra for my inconvenience.

I told him to go to , packed my tools, and

asked him how he would like to be in my po-
sition. I said if I didn't have more sympa-
thy for my wife and children than he had for
the men, I would blow his brains out. I
called his attention to the fact that he went
to Church every Sunday, was opposed to ly-
ing and yet would place a man in a posi-
tion where he was forced to lie or go hungry.
When I should apply for work in another fac-
tory the first question asked me would be,
'Where did you work last?' If I should act
according to the Sunday School I would have
to tell the truth. The next question would
be, Why did you leave?' I, being influ-
enced by your religion, would have to say,
'fired for incompetency.' While most of you
employers like a truthful man, nearly all of
you would let him go hungry under these cir-
cumstances.' I made an impression on his
daughter, who was in the room. She was a
pretty girl and when she looked at me she
blushed.

[165]

The Spirit of Labor.

"He finally gave me a letter of reference,
which I used against him. I asked him, in
front of the girl, if that was his signature.
He said yes. I said, 'that signature means the
calling of a strike in your own shop. I will
present it to the Woodworkers' Council and
demand a strike, as you have discharged me in
favor of a non-Union man, without other
cause, as this letter proves.' He flushed and
charged me with ingratitude. He had the
nerve to do that, but I went to the next meet-
ing of the Union, told my story and requested
them to instruct their delegates to the Coun-
cil to authorize the walking delegate to de-
mand from the employer a re-imbursement or
re-instatement, and I put my bill at $25. It
was carried, and taken to the Council, which
voted unanimously in favor of it. The next
Monday I and the business agent went to Oak
Park, and interviewed the employer. The
business agent pointed out that the agreement
provided for no discharge without cause, and
that the employer's letter showed there was no
cause. The employer refused to re-imburse
me, and then the business agent said he would
call the strike. Whereupon the employer
shelled out the money and I accepted it."
[166]

CHAPTER VIII.

Organizer.

This temperamental play on Anton's part
meant no work for several weeks, and often
nothing in the house to eat. But he was a
strong, young fellow, and his wife a strong,
young woman, and very competent, and the
children were as robust and strong as young
oaks, and they all liked to buck the world.
And the feeling of solidarity is so great in
the Trades-union World, that they knew they
had the sympathy and if need be the material
aid of thousands behind them. Then, both
Anton and Maggie liked so much to talk
and talk to one another, that every event,
untoward or favorable, gave them food for
expressed thought. They are remarkably
frank and honest to one another — think aloud.
"I could not live with Maggie," said Anton,
"if in the long run I could not tell her
everything that ever happened to me." And
Maggie, for her part, said, "I could not live
[167]

The Spirit of Labor.

with Anton if he were like the men they call
good husbands, if he always staid home at
night, and did not need to work and live
and have pleasure among many men and
women; when he is home, there is always
something interesting to talk about. He is
so full of life, always something doing. It is
good to live with him."

So the idle time passed without too much
hardship, and Anton's next job was an inter-
esting one. One day he saw an advertise-
ment for a "sticker-hand" in West Chicago,
which was at that time "a hot-bed for
scabs."

There was not a Union shop in the town.
Maggie at first objected. She saw that in
this "scab" town Anton would agitate and
probably get into trouble. So, previous to
taking the job, he had a talk with the foreman.
He explained that he was a Union man, and
that while he was willing to do his duty dur-
ing work hours, he insisted, after the whistle
blew, on talking to his fellow men, in the way
he thought was right. The foreman ap-
proved of Anton's position. He was in favor
of Unions himself, though he did not dare to
tell the men so. He liked Anton, and offered
[i68]

Organizer,

him $3 a day, the largest wages he had yet re-
ceived.

So he moved his family to West Chicago,
and began his first important work as an or-
ganizer, in a town that knew no union prin-
ciples and had no Union shop, in any trade.

"An organizer," said Anton, "must under-
stand human nature ; and particularly the lim-
itations of human nature. He must be an
expert in the art of getting men together with-
out their suspecting why. He must over-
come the Idea of 'I-will-if-you-will.' He
must be a good speaker, a good fellow and
have unlimited patience. He must speak
clearly and to the point and inoffensively."

During work and after work and in the
evening, Anton talked Unionism to the men
in this non-Union shop. He had not been
there two months before he began to make an
impression.

"I made such good headway," he said,
"that I received the earnest opposition of the
German Lutheran preacher. One of the firm
in my shop was a director in the Church and
a large contributor. When he and the
preacher saw what my views were and that I
was agitating for the Union, they quietly told
[169]

The Spirit of Labor.

such of the men as were Church members to
be shy of me."

Anton's first convert was the young fellow
who worked as his helper. He had been in
that shop seven years and then was not a me-
chanic. The man who had had Anton's place
had taught this young fellow as little as pos-
sible; and the boy felt it. Anton, however,
showed him every thing about the trade he
could ; but while he taught him the business,
he also taught him Unionism and Socialism.
"I could not go as far as anarchism with a
young fellow like that," he said.

The German Lutheran preacher, however,
had fewer scruples than Anton, for, perceiv-
ing that this young man was being influenced
by the agitator, he gave the young fellow a
book "The Greatest Enemy of God Is The
Labor Movement." This book was written
right after the Haymarket Riots, and was only
one of a number of books and pamphlets
which represented the Labor Movement as
the Arch-enemy of Mankind. The boy im-
mediately took the book to Anton, who read
it and "showed the kid the inconsistencies and
the abundant fallacies it contained, and gave
him other antidotes."

[170]

Organizer.

In the meantime, Anton had been working
systematically with the other men in the shop.
"I got them all to agree with me, individually.
Then I got up a discussion at the noon-hour
and no one opposed my arguments ; for if they
had, I could have exposed them, as they had
agreed with me individually. After about
three months, I called a meeting at my house,
but did not tell them why I wanted them.
Nine of them came that night. I opened a
case of beer and told them my mission.
'There is no use hiding the thing any longer.
There is nothing to be ashamed of. I have
talked to every one of you and you all agree
in the necessity of a Union. All sign your
names and give me a dollar.'

"They were speechless, but after talking it
over for an hour, and Maggie bearing her
share in the talk nobly, one of them finally
signed, and then the others did. I immedi-
ately sent to Chicago for a charter; so that
the Minister would have no show. I made
all arrangements for a meeting on Sunday,
and in the meantime got the signatures of the
other nine men in the shop — there were eight-
een in all. I went to the Mayor and asked
him to let us have the City Hall for a meet-
[171]

The Spirit of Labor.

ing. I jollied up the Justice of the Peace who
wanted money and needed to make friends
with everybody. He helped me with the
Mayor, but his Honor said the council would
have to act on it. I went to the Postmaster,
who was a politician, who promised to get
us Oddfellows' Hall, and we made arrange-
ments for Monday night.

"When I went to the shop Monday morn-
ing I found the Preacher had been at work.
He had called a meeting of the Church
directors and trustees for that night. Three
of my men were trustees in the Church and
in this way he intended to prevent them at-
tending our meeting. They came to me, and
I told them we would put off our meeting
till Tuesday night; I encouraged them and
told them the Preacher would not oppose us
after we were successful; that is the way of
the Church. We had our meeting and I was
elected President and a skunk named Jones
Secretary. Dues were placed at 50 cents a
month.

"This was the first Union ever formed in
this town, and the news spread like wild-fire.
The Secretary wanted the back-room of a sa-
loon for our regular meeting place, but I was
[172]

Organizer.

opposed to this ; it was not dignified enough.
So we hired a nice place at $2 a meeting.
Tom Kidd, a big man in our International
Union, wrote and congratulated me on form-
ing the Union, and asked me what my ex-
penses for organizing were. I was tickled to
death to get this endorsement, and wrote him
that my bill was nothing, but if he were so dis-
posed, he could send us two Union-made gav-
els, of black ebony, one of which I wanted to
give to the Oddfellows for lending us their
hall and one to the Brotherhood of railroad
trainmen, whose good-will we desired. The
railroad men were indifferent, but the
Oddfellows let me make a speech of presen-
tation, in which I explained the purposes of
Unionism."

The effects of organization were almost im-
mediate. It was a ten-hour day shop, but as
there were no lights, it had been the custom
to work only nine hours in the winter time.
A few days after the Union was formed the
employers announced a uniform nine-hour
day. The men had made no demands, but
they already occupied a position of greater
prestige. Anton's next step was to get the
men to appoint an agreement committee.
[173]

The Spirit of Labor.

His difficuties in teaching the men to act for
themselves are thus described by him :

"In the meeting I expected some one to
make the motion to appoint the agreement
committee. We had talked it all over before-
hand. Not a single man took the floor or
moved in that direction. I did not feel quite
justified in stating the thing from the chair,
and when no further business came up, I ad-
journed the meeting. Immediately every-
body wanted to know why the committee had
not been appointed. I replied that no one
had made the motion. One was afraid of the
other and wanted me to bear the burden of
responsibility in case of the bosses' discrimi-
nation against them. 1 told them they would
have to call a special meeting, as otherwise
it would be too late to lay our demands be-
fore the employers at the time we had ex-
pected. This they did, in the same hall, on
the same night. When this meeting was re-
convened I pointed out the difficulties in the
way of wage workers bettering their condi-
tions, and showed them that their own actions
had demonstrated that they were not as free
as some of the politicians told them they were.
The fact that they feared losing their job was,
[174]

Organizer.

I said, a compliment neither to them nor to
their employer, as their only crime was to act
for a shorter work day. I suggested that
some one make a motion to appoint the com-
mittee, not because I feared to take the re-
sponsibility of doing so, but so that we could
be sure it was the unanimous choice of the
meeting. That was done, and when they
came to nominate their committee, it was a
foregone conclusion that I should be chair-
man. The Secretary of the Union was a great
dollar and cent man. He thought more of a
dollar than of human life. He emphatically
declined to serve on the committee, for a rea-
son that I afterwards discovered. I pointed
out to him that he could not constitutionally
decline. He appealed and I refused to recog-
nize his appeal, on parliamentary grounds;
informed him he could not appeal from the
Constitution. He was elected by one vote,
and had to serve on the committee, much to
his disgust."

The men wanted Anton to "break the ice"
in the demand they were about to make —
namely that the nine-hour day with the same
wages as obtained in the ten-hour day should
be adopted. One day, after he had eaten his
[175]

The Spirit of Labor.

lunch, Anton went to see the employer, leav-
ing the men "on eggs" in the shop. He pre-
sented his credentials, "sat on a chair with-
out an invitation," and said that though the
boys had formed a Union, it was not a sign
of discontent with their employers; that he
thought organization would be for the benefit
of both employer and employee. The em-
ployer replied that he had no objection to
Unions as a principle: he realized, he said,
that there ought to be a shorter day, but he
pointed out the injury done by strikes, and
"pictured the gloomy side in general." An-
ton replied that while it was true that strikes
often did harm, the employers were frequently
responsible for them; that this Union was
organized to strike only in the last resort and
consequently a meeting with the employer
was desired by the committee. To this the
employer readily consented.

At the meeting the demand of the commit-
tee for a nine-hour day with the same wages
they had received under the ten-hour day was
readily granted by the employers, but they
thought that the few men who were paid as
high as 30 cents an hour under the ten-hour
day, should receive 33 cents instead of 33 1-3
[176]

Organizer.

cents an hour under the new arrangement, and
that the 1-3 cent an hour should be added to
the wages of the men who were paid the least.
Anton objected, on the ground that in that
case it was really the more highly paid men
who were paying the others, rather than the
employers. Jones, the man who had objected
to serve on the committee, sided with the em-
ployers, and said this proposition ought to be
laid before the Union. This was done, but
in the meantime Anton discovered that Jones
was getting higher wages than was known to
the Union and his objection to serve on the
committee and his sympathy with the employ-
ers was thus explained. The men voted to
accept no reduction of wages in any case ; and
then the employers maintained that if they in-
creased the scale of wages all around they
would be paying more wages than the shops
in Chicago, on account of the expense of haul-
ing the material.

Anton determined to investigate and see if
this contention was true. But Jones again op-
posed him and this time Anton lost his temper
and said that if Jones let it leak out that An-
ton was making this investigation he would
use physical force, that it was the only thing
[177]

The Spirit of Labor.

to do with such a selfish coward. He then
went to Chicago, and ascertained that the
West Chicago shop was paying less rather
than more than the other shops. He had the
figures exactly and with these he was soon able
to get what he wanted from his employer.
It was a complete victory for the men.

The general effect of this victory was
marked. There came to the town a general
demand for Union made goods. When An-
ton first went to West Chicago there were no
Union made cigars in the place. After the
Woodworkers Union was organized, every to-
bacco store had Union made cigars. Anton
was a great man in this city of 2,000. The
men were grateful to him for the extra hour
of leisure in which they could till their gar-
dens or develop their social natures.

For example, there was an old German
common laborer, who got $1.40 a day. He
was very religious, and when Anton began his
activity, was much opposed to him.

"He was a good old fellow," said Anton,
"but he thought I was lost to Paradise. He
was afflicted with rheumatism and as his work
was to carry large planks I had to help him.
I had charge of the lumber and on rainy days,
[178]

Organizer.

when his leg pained him, I arranged for him
to work inside. He was very economical.
For lunch he had a couple of crusts, a soup
bone, or a piece of bologna; and a cup of
coffee. Whatever crumbs were left he would
wrap up in the same paper and take to his
chickens. He thought I was wasteful be-
cause I did not save all my bread, so I used
to give him my crumbs, to take home to his
chickens. After I had succeeded in organiz-
ing, the old gent could go home an hour
earlier to his chickens. He saw that I was re-
sponsible for the change, and began to think
well of me. Then I told him how the minis-
ter of his church had opposed the forming of
the Union. He was dumbfounded at that,
and sorry, but told me with tears in his eyes
that I was all right and no matter what the
minister said the result showed for itself. My
object in calling his attention to the act of the
minister was to secure his influence in
strengthening the unionism of his two
nephews, who were not sufficiently in doubt of
the infallibility of the Bible and who there-
fore showed signs of luke-warmness to our
organization.

"One of these nephews had been injured
[179]

The Spirit of Labor.

while working for the N. W. R. R. company
so that he was laid up for ten weeks and his
efficiency lost for life. The minister made
the settlement between him and the company
— $200 when it ought to have been $5,000.
After paying his own doctor's bill he was $90
in debt at the end, and unable to get a job.
This is what the minister of God did for him.
I showed up to the old uncle the hypocrisy of
ministers and the greed of corporations when
I heard of this injustice. I also went to
Chicago and consulted Mr. Darrow, and
asked if the matter could not be re-opened.
He said the claim was outlawed, but he made
use of the case in his articles in The American
on the injustice of the great corporations and
their puppets the lawyers. I was a great ad-
mirer of these articles : they were so sarcastic :
he always took a dig at the lawyers, although
he was a lawyer himself."

In the fall, following the victory of Anton's
Union, there was a State election for gov-
ernor, and also a village election, and the poli-
ticians started after the Labor vote. The man
who ran the railroad station lunch counter was
an alderman.

"One day," said Anton, "this man came to
[180]

Organizer.

the factory in a buggy with a salooti-keeper
who was also a deputy-sheriff and the prince
of gamblers of West Chicago, and cunning to
obtain the dollar. They sent in a box of
cigars to the foreman and asked him to pass
them around to the men, with their compli-
ments. I was opposed to politicians of that
kind, and I also noticed that there was no
Union label on the cigar-box. I went to the
boys, who each had received a cigar. Their
minds had been sufficiently agitated against
non-Union goods and also against the cheap-
ness of the politicians. I pointed out to them
the fact that their intelligence had been un-
derestimated, and each man took his cigar and
nailed it on the wall.

"That went like wild-fire all over the town.
It was their own idea, that's the beauty of it.
Their political opponents made good use of
this story. The next day the candidate for
Mayor came to the factory with Union made
cigars, and boasted of it. When I told him
we were opposed to politicians, he said he
gave the cigars not to get votes but just to
meet the boys. The following Saturday, just
before election, the saloon-keeper came
around, to get our good-will in favor of his
[i8i]

The Spirit of Labor.

candidate for Mayor; told us how kind the
man was and how much he had done for the
laboring class. I told him I was not con-
vinced that this man was friendly to the work-
ing men, but that if he could prove it, I would
acknowledge it. So I and three of the bo)^
met the alderman in the gambler's saloon.
Mr. Alderman was half -drunk, bought drinks
and cigars and started to apologize for his
blunder in the matter of the Union cigars.
He thought I was 'it' and that he had to con-
vince me. When he was through with his
talk I said it was difficult to believe that a
man had such an awful strong feeling towards
the workers and so seldom showed it, and
when he did show it, did it just before
election. I asked him if he did not think
the Unions had done much towards raising
the standard of living for the workingmen,
and in abolishing the sweat-shop, etc. He
answered, 'most assuredly, of course, most un-
doubtedly,' and put about fourteen emphases
on it. The sheriff was on to my game, but
he could not butt in. Then I asked the can-
didate if he did not think Union labor rep-
resented the certainty of greater cleanliness
in the material than non-Union. This he ad-
[182]

Organizer.

mitted frankly and with tremendous drunken
emphasis.

" 'Then,' said I, 4f you really sympathize
with the cause, why is it that you didn't assist
the Workers by purchasing Union made
cigars?'

"He thought I had reference to the particu-
lar cigars that were nailed on the wall, and
started to apologize again, but I interrupted
him and said that I was willing to admit it
was only a mistake provided he could take
us to his lunch counter and show us one box
out of the twenty-four that bore the Union
label.

He realized partly that I had him, but
he was so drunk that he took us to the lunch
counter. Sure enough he did not have a sin-
gle Union label cigar.

" 'As far as I am concerned,' I said, 'I am
not convinced that you are over-burdened in
your interest for the cause of the wage-work-
ers.'

"When election came he got the lowest
vote of anybody on the ticket. The City
Mayor who had refused to let us have the
hall was also badly defeated. He would not
speak to me fof months. I was tickled to
[183]

The Spirit of Labor.

death and filled with glory. The friends of
the defeated shunned me."

Anton, although he is a trade-unionist, felt
that the interests of the workingmen were op-
posed to the interests of the employers: al-
though to a certain extent he felt that the
labor situation was the crux of a class strug-
gle, yet he has never carried this feeling as
far as the Socialists. He oftens makes fun
of the "class conscious" man and is as fully
alive, or almost so, to the weaknesses of the
workingman as he is to those of the employer.
Though he is belligerent and fiery, he can see
good in a man, even though he be an em-
ployer. This was shown during his life at
West Chicago, when he was apparently the
big man of the town.

One of the employers of the shop where
Anton worked, the shop he had organized,
was told by his doctor that he would have
to live on a farm, on account of his health.
One day, at the lunch hour, he went to the
men and told them he was going away.

"He was a kindly man," said Anton, "and

he began to cry. He told about how hard

he had worked to build up the business and

said that if the men had not treated him so

[184I

Organizer.

well, he could not have been so successful.
His emotion touched the feelings of the men.
They could hardly make a reply. After work
I called a shop-meeting of the boys and we
arranged a surprise party for the employer,
took up a collection and bought a diamond
stud as a present. We had enough money
left for beer and cigars. Then we all
marched together to the man's house. He
was completely surprised and much moved.
I had been appointed to speak, and I said:
'Mr. Toastmaster and friends: No one is
more responsible for our presence here to-
night than you, Mr. Skinner. Therefore I
shall direct my remarks to you in particular.
Neither the millions* of a Rockefeller nor the
wisdom of a Shakespeare coupled with the
experience of a Darwin could obtain for any
man that feeling of fraternity that bounds
within the breasts of all who are here, for
you, Mr. Skinner. Neither was it because
you were an employer, for employers have
gone out of business before and the men have
been glad of their departure, but rather be-
cause your daily avocation in life and your
attitude towards your fellow men were con-
sistent with that principle that is so lofty,
[185]

The Spirit of Labor.

equal rights to all and special privileges to
none. Whether consciously or unconsciously
you have demonstrated the philosophy of
Tom Paine when he said : 'The most formid-
able v^eapon against error of all kinds is rea-
son.' We are pleased to have worked with
you, to have associated with you and I feel
sure that your spirit of toleration will ever re-
main an influence with all of us and make us
more considerate to our fellow men. Though
you have risen far above the average in the
industrial world, yet you have always ab-
stained from that dignity clothed in hypocrisy
which fails to have any sympathy with those
who perhaps are more unfortunate. We have
never known you to discriminate against any
man because of his religious beliefs, nor be-
cause of his political affiliations, and it is
men of your character and temperament who
are the forerunners of the ideal society, where
man's inhumanity to man will be reduced to
the minimum and human happiness elevated
to the maximum. This has ever, in all ages,
been the song of the poet and the dream of
the philosopher. You can rest assured that
while we regret to have you leave us, yet it
would be extremely selfish on our part not to
[i86]

Organizer.

be cheerful under the circumstances, since it
is better for you to go. As an evidence of
our appreciation we give to you a small token
of our affection; may it be a sign to you and
to your friends and family, when you have left
this village, that they who knew you best,
your employees, can say truthfully: *He has
gone, but he was a man.' "

"He cried like a child before I got half
through. Then we sang songs and drank
beer. I really loved that man. He was ex-
actly what I said. My speech was printed in
the West Chicago paper and went all over
town. Maggie was as proud as a peacock
when she saw it in the paper, and sent it
home to Clinton. Then they thought in Clin-
ton I was not so much of a hobo after all.
Everybody thought it was a fine speech to be
made by a man who worked in a factory.
The Woodworker printed a mere statement
that I had presented a diamond stud to the
employer and my radical friends in Chicago
were horrified at the thought that I had
turned a complete summersault in my attitude
towards the bosses. The radicals are in some
ways as narrow-minded as the majority of the
capitalists."

[187]

The Spirit of Labor.

In that little gathering at the employer's
house a great deal of humanity was repre-
sented. There were Germans, Swedes, Irish,
Scotch, English, Americans, Bohemians,
Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, Baptists,
Congregationalists, a Salvation Army man.
Democrats, Republicans, Socialists, People's
Party men and an anarchist. The anarchist
was Anton, the most important figure on that
occasion, and the most tolerant. They all
differed in everything except in the need of
Unionism, and even the employer agreed with
them on this point; and in the essential feel-
ings of kindness and of human solidarity.

[i88]

CHAPTER IX.

Delegate to New York.

"Nothing on earth," said Anton, "could
stop the workers, if they were active in their
own interests. Only about thirty per cent of
them are organized, and of this thirty per
cent only about four per cent are active ; and
of these four per cent only about one per cent
are really aggressive. If one-third of those
who are now organized were active, the eight-
hour day would be universal in four years.
It would be as irresistible as an earthquake."

Anton's feeling for the need of activity ac-
counts for a good deal of his anarchistic, as
well as of his general trades-union agitation.
The laboring masses, he feels, are inert and
need constant prodding and pricking. The
great thing is to make them morally uncom-
fortable, if not with the truth then with ex-
aggerations of the truth; to rouse them to a
sense of their opportunities and excite them
with a prospect of more abundant life. I
[189]

The Spirit of Labor.

often found him in a mood when he would
express himself very one-sidedly and ex-
tremely and unjustly; but it was due quite as
much to his desire to "get a rise" from the
phlegmatic mass as to his balanced conviction ;
for in calmer moods he would think and talk
more justly. He never seems, however, to
enjoy himself so much as when he throws a
moral bomb, so to speak, either at a conserva-
tive capitalist, a politician, a minister or a
timid or slow-going laborer.

He was, apparently, especially aggressive
during his West Chicago experience. "In
the meetings," he said, "I went the limit.
I used to attack government on every occa-
sion. I wanted to take away the deadening
of the routine. When a man has worked in
the shop all day, turning out with the help
of machinery something that does not interest
him, that has no variety in it, he wants a
change when he gets out: he wants to express
himself, he wants to express anything that has
feeling, whether it is logical or not.

"One night I took the insane asylum as my
subject. A man was present who was a heavy
drinker, a non-resisting character and very re-
ligious. It was right after the expose of the
[190]

Delegate to New York.

Kankakee asylum outrage, where the warden
had made an insane woman pregnant. This
religious drunkard was so touched by my re-
marks that he began to weep like a child.
He felt that he had been partly responsible
for his own daughter's insanity. I had tried
in my speech to show what the asylum would
be in a state of free society where the insane
were treated for the benefit of the insane, and
not locked away so as not to interfere with
money-making and other noble interests of
the sane in a state of free society. He induced
me to meet his minister, whom he represented
as a kind of Christ. So the next Sunday night
I went to Church, as I did not feel like going
to the Saloon. I was conspicuous in the au-
dience, because my sense of honesty prevented
me from rising when the others rose, or kneel-
ing when they kneeled, for I did not want to
deceive them.

"After the meeting, the minister shook my
hand, and asked me if I was a Christian. I
said I would like to answer by asking him a
question. 'Are you a Christian?' I asked.
I saw by his face and the faces of the women
that my question was considered improper.
He said he was a Christian, and then I re-
[191]

The Spirit of Labor.

plied: *I am a Christian as far as society per-
mits me to be and perhaps to a small: degree
further.' I called his attention to what he
had said in his sermon: he had prayed that
there be none within the sound of his voice
who would gather in dens of the devil and
under the influence of sinners.

" *It is a little unkind of you/ I said, 'to
insist that anyone who associates with sinners
is very different morally from the people in
the Church. I am not aware that you are
running a boarding-house. There are many
who have to stop in boarding-houses and
hotels which are filled with sinners. I my-
self have slept in box-cars, and I find the
classification there is the same as in hotels,
boarding-houses and churches. Will you sug-
gest to me where I may stop to-night, as my
family are not in town and I am staying at
the hotel, which is full of sinners. Don't you
think, sir, that every man and woman is con-
trolled to a very large extent by their environ-
ment? To what extent can a common labor-
ing man who receives from $1.50 to $2 a day,
and has a family of from two to six children,
to what extent can he choose the locations of
his home? Is he not forced to live in a locality
[192]

Delegate to New York.

of so-called vile people, or infidels or unortho-
dox? It is a question of rent, of making both
ends meet. Therefore the income determines
largely the child's environment. It is very
hard for me to accept a religion or a creed
that overlooks these things, and when a child
grows up in such surroundings, the Church
condemns and criticizes it and society sends
it to jail or makes it work for small wages,
because it has not learned anything. The
course of this child in life is sufficiently pain-
ful, but after the end of this miserable ex-
istence, the Church sends it to Hell. It is
impossible for you, sir, even faintly to imagine
the great satisfaction I feel in being absolutely
certain that this is mythical, pure and simple.'
That settled him and the audience, too. He
told me to go to the hotel and think it over.
I actually felt like telling him that if most
Church people had to choose between clean
beds and sinners on the one hand; or lousy
beds and Christians on the other hand, they
would take the sinners every time. But I
didn't want to embarrass him too much; es-
pecially as I began to see, and had for some
time, that nobody in West Chicago was inter-
ested in my line of thought; except the work-
[193]

The Spirit of Labor.

ing people. I could explain to them and they
were sympathetic, because they felt my pas-
sion for human solidarity in all my talk. But
otherwise I was very much alone. Even the
more belligerent of the workingmen some-
times joked me. 'The anarchist,' said a Pol-
ock once, in the meeting, 'will never get
elected.' He reminded me of the policeman
who told me he liked the Socialists, but that
there were not enough of them."

He "took a fall," too, out of the County
Commissioner of Charities. He raised in the
Union a subscription of $50 for a laborer
with a bad leg, and then went to the com-
missioner with a petition. That functionary
looked glum, and said that the board of chari-
ties took care of those cases. Anton replied
that the board evidently overlooked some peo-
ple who were in need. "I have come to the
conclusion," said Anton to him, "that if the
poor did not look after the county commis-
sioners, those commissioners could not go so
often to California on a vacation; the work-
ing people support you fellows just as they
do the lawyers, doctors, preachers, politicians
and all the other grafters, but if you are called
upon to help the poor, you regard the matter
[194]

Delegate to New York.

as pure charity." Anton really seemed sur-
prised that the county commissioner got angry
at this and said he had been insulted. "I
told him I was sorry he was county commis-
sioner. I sympathized with him to that ex-
tent." This conversation was circulated
about the town, and at the next election, the
county commissioner lost his job.

It was not long after this that Anton, too,
lost his job and went back to Chicago. Jones,
the obnoxious secretary of the Union, had be-
come foreman and had resigned his position
in the Union. With this man Anton could
not work harmoniously. *When he became
boss," said Anton, "he was tyrannical. He
was a dollar and cent man and was not a good
mechanic. He had no judgment, not the
slightest idea of how to approach men, to get
the best results. He was therefore unpopular
and I liked to ball him out. On Labor Day
I went home to Clinton with my family for a
visit, and did not return till the following
Wednesday. Then he started to raise Cain;
and told me to do what amounted to four
days work in one. I told him if he was a
mechanic he would know it was impossible.
Then I called him everything I could think of
[195]

The Spirit of Labor.

in the way of cheapness. The only thing that
could influence him besides money, I re-
marked, was the Pope. *I have some hope
for you,' I said, 'for not even the Pope can
move you as far as the dollar, and I have
more respect for the American dollar, bad as
it is, than for the Pope of Rome.' He got
white as a sheet, and I threw off my overalls
and quit."

Anton did not have a dollar in the world,
when he thus impulsively quit work in West
Chicago. Easy as it seemed for him to throw
off his overalls, it was not such a simple mat-
ter as formerly. He was gradually striking
his roots. The influence of Maggie was a
steadily regulating one. He had become a
good mechanic, thirty years old, and his blood
was cooler, so that he felt more and more the
responsibility of his family; and of his work
in the Union.

He quit work in West Chicago on a Satur-
day morning; and on the following Thursday
he secured the position he has held ever since.
It is a good job in every way, the best he has
ever had. The wages are good, the foreman
is congenial ; and the new local he belongs to
is composed of some of the most vigorous
[196]

Delegate to New York.

men in the labor movement. His work as
an organizer in West Chicago had given him
a reputation among active labor men in the
city; and he had not been in Chicago two
weeks when he was elected delegate from his
local to the Chicago Federation of Labor.

It was at the time when the trouble be-
tween the Woodworkers and the Carpenters
was to come up before the Federation. "As
I had considerable gift of gab and some pol-
icy I was made chairman of the Woodwork-
ers' delegation," he said, "and then there
came a long, technical fight, about jurisdic-
tion." I will not follow him in this fight.
It was very complex and not at all inspiring,
as it involved no general principles and only
small politics and local jurisdiction interests,
Anton, although he was very active for the
Woodworkers, whose organization the Car-
penters were attempting to absorb, felt keenly
the routine and ungenerous character of the
proceedings. During the course of his three
or four years' experience in the Federation he
has often taken the floor to protest against the
tendency of that body to waste its energies
in unimportant jurisdictions fights when so
many broad principles of labor policy de-
[197]

The Spirit of Labor.

manded the most vigorous and united atten-
tion.

The President of the Federation at that
time was a Carpenter, and the result was that
"the machine" was against the Woodworkers,
who were finally worsted in that particular
phase of the fight which had been going on
all over the country between these allied
trades. As far as Anton was concerned, his
vigorous speeches in the Federation helped
materially to bring him into general notice as
a rising man in the local labor situation ; and
not long after he was elected Chicago dele-
gate to the New York Convention of Wood-
workers.

"In that convention," he said, "I had a
distinct advantage over those delegates who
had a political mind. I was not a demo-
crat, a republican nor a socialist, and so I could
reason from more than one point of view.
If a man is an anarchist and does not carry
things too far he has a great practical ad-
vantage in debate over everybody else. They
put me on the most important committees and
I soon saw that my area of thought was
broader than most of the men I came in con-
tact with. I had by that time met the promi-
[198]

Delegate to New York.

nent radicals, men like Turner and Isaak; and
I had heard Darrow and read his books and
speeches in labor cases, and I found more and
more a narrowness in the trades-unionist
that took away from me my pleasure in the
movement, but not from my interest in it. It
seemed important, but not so exciting as at
first. In several of the committees I sent in
a minority report to the convention; I found
considerable jealousy in the other committee
members, but I had the satisfaction of having
the convention reject the majority reports and
accept mine, the minority report.

"But I made one speech that was a failure.
I had invited some of my radical friends in
New York to hear me. Isaak was there then,
and Emma Goldman. I felt at that time
that these people were superior to me intellec-
tually, and that thought cast a damper over
me. I can speak best in a mass meeting of
workingmen where none of the speakers are
superior to me. The Union is a great field
for experience in speaking and in debate, and
I afterwards learned to speak before the radi-
cals in Chicago with confidence. But I was
rattled on that occasion in New York and by
my speech almost destroyed the good impres-
[199]

The Spirit of Labor.

sion I had made by my committee reports.
Afterwards, I saw a good deal of Emma
Goldman, and while I respect her courage
and her energy, I think her ideas are too wild
and too religious. She is of a very positive
disposition and believes that her theory is just
right and everything else just wrong. I have
my own troubles with this positiveness, too, so
I can't be too hard on her."

Anton is interested in almost anything hu-
man which shows itself honestly and squarely
to him. He is filled, of course, with the criti-
cism of our social organism shared with him
by every intelligent workingman. He is in-
terested in many things that seem half-baked,
but he is nevertheless not blinded to their limi-
tations or to the charm of other and possibly
better things. He is alive in every way.
The "radicals" are interesting to him mainly
because they express — although generally in
an anaemic way — some of the principles which
he as an active worker feels are beginning to
form in the heart of the people. But person-
ally, when he is among them, he is like a bull
in a clover field. They are gentle, quiet, pale,
reasonable within their limitations, rather
monotonous; he is stormy, aggressive, varied,
[ 200]

Delegate to New York.

complex, sometimes vulgar, more often fine
and truly delicate, often above their heads
though his language is ungrammatical. He
frightens and puzzles them. He goes to them
largely as a change from the activity of his
trades-union life and also because he loves
the ideal of freedom.

During this brief stay of his in New York,
his character made a keen impression on peo-
ple whom I afterwards met in that city. One
of them, a woodworker, too, and an anarchist
in tendency, a heavy drinker, a man utterly
careless in habits and dress, and most repul-
sive on first acquaintance, but afterwards fas-
cinating because of his- ideas, never-failing
temperament and genuine experience, spoke
to me of Anton as "a powerful fellow."

"The real 'radicals,' he said, 'are in the
labor movement; those hanging on the outside
began with the movement, too, but then be-
came too weak for it. Anton has too many
ideas to please the theoretical anarchists who
have lost touch with life. My experience is
that the radicals make a mistake in neglecting
the trades-union movement. If they are
trades-unionists they can have a hall to speak
in undisturbed by the police. If you can talk
[201]

The Spirit of Labor.

sense there, they will listen to you no matter
how radical you talk. You can't talk high-
falutin, but some men have the gift of
saying things simply. Most anarchists get
their words from books, so when they talk
they are high-falutin; but if they would talk
right, they could say everything they want, in
the trades-union meetings; for the trade-
unionists accept all radical ideas, if they are
not labeled, and are not high-falutin.

"It is natural that all radical ideas should
start with the working class. Serfs and slaves
think more than anybody else. The other
people don't need to think. Give a man a
job and he generally stops thinking. They
think all together because there is solidarity
among them. Each man's thought is the
thought of all. There is solidarity among
them because they are weak. Ants get to-
gether, but lions remain alone." Anton is a
man who expresses the laboring man at heart,
with more energy and intelligence than most
of the radicals, partly because he is near them
and works with them.

Yet this vigorous-minded workingman felt
abashed when called on to speak before peo-
ple of more education but many of them of
[ 202 ]

Delegate to New York.

far less vitality of thought. His failure in
the speech seemed to have impressed Anton
more vividly than anything else in his visit
to New York.

When he returned to Chicago, he found
that his prestige was still greater, and they
wanted him to run for business agent. "I
had a good position," he said, "but to be busi-
ness agent would mean a money sacrifice ; for
a business agent has to spend money like water
in the saloons. Maggie was opposed to my
running; but I wanted to have the experience,
and thought I could be a better agitator if I
could spend all my time at it, and not need
to work in the shop. So I ran for business
agent, and although I was popular, I was de-
feated, as I had been before, and for the same
reason. I was too independent. I was con-
vinced that the office should seek the man.
I had a contempt for political tricks. It was
repulsive to me to ask for anything.

"Soon after that I was elected President
of my local Union, against my wishes. I did
not want the office, and nobody else did. I
thanked them, in a speech, for giving me an
office I did not want. It was in many ways a
disagreeable job. The workingman can main-
[203]

The Spirit of Labor.

tain order in Church or in a lodge-meeting.
But in a local Union he thinks he is the whole
cheese, and will do as he pleases. It is hard
for the President to keep order. My Union
was composed of 1,400 men of mixed nation-
alities; and there is a very rough element
among them. There was an Irishman who
gave more trouble than anybody else. He
was always drunk at the meetings and ill-
tempered. He was an interrupter and was
willing to vote money out of the treasury to
help a friend. He used all kinds of dirty,
vile language, and previous Presidents had
not been able to manage him.

"This Irishman had an idea he was respon-
sible for my election and asked me to make
him door-keeper, who gets 35 cents every
meeting. I told him that the first time I
presided I would make a statement before the
Union on what the conduct of the meeting
should be. On that occasion I recommended
dispensing with a regular door-keeper, that
the chairman appoint a sergeant-at-arms every
Monday and that he act without being paid ;
so much would be saved for the treasury. All
agreed, except the old Irishman. Hence-
forth, he was opposed to me, for he wanted
[204]

Delegate to New York.

that money for three whiskeys every meeting.
I informed the men that I, as President,
would forget that I had any personal friends.
I thanked them for the honor of electing me
to an office that nobody else wanted, but I
hoped that time would never come when the
President of a local Union would be a salaried
officer; they should always select a man who
could command their respect, but remember
there were times when it was a crime for the
presiding officer to have the respect of certain
men. I told them I should enforce the laws
of the Constitution, bad or good, and then if
they did not like them, they could repeal
them.

"A certain question was being discussed,
when the old Irishman, who was tipsy, got up
and wanted to talk. I banged the gavel, tell-
ing him he must confine himself to the ques-
tion. The custom had been to repeal any
fines inflicted by the chairman for actions that
were out of order. The Irishman knew that,
and would not sit down. He called me So-
cialist, anarchist and tyrant. I appointed a
committee of three to escort him from the hall.
They tussled with him, he agreed to behave,
and was given another chance. Soon after-
[205]

The Spirit of Labor.

wards, he arose and took a similar aggressive
and unparliamentary attitude. I appointed
the committee again, and they threw him out.
Always after that he was very gentle, and the
meetings were orderly. One can be an an-
archist in theory, as a protest, but when it
comes to do the work, there must be order.

"My anarchism helped me to make an im-
pression. I began to meet the big fellows,
men like John Mitchell and Sam Gompers,
and I found that my acquaintance with radi-
cal ideas, slight as it then was, helped me with
these men, no matter how conservative they
were — and they always seem more conserva-
tive than they are in reality. There is
no conception so close to trades-unionism as
anarchism, for in these Unions there are so
many different elements, nationalities, creeds
and ideas that there is no common ground
except anarchism; provided they don't know
it. If the anarchist, that is, the extreme pro-
tester, does not call himself an anarchist, he
occupies in the trades-unionism a logical and
strong position, but he must not advertise it."

Anton's growing importance in the move-
ment was shown by his election as President
of the Woodworkers' Council, which repre-
[206]

Delegate to New York.

sented all the local Unions in the city. In
this position he continued to act with his
usual independence. Soon he had the walk-
ing delegates against him because of his re-
fusal to extend them special privileges on the
floor of the council.

"I was strong," he said, "with the rank and
file, because I used my sarcasm against the
officers who tried to perpetuate their posi-
tions. I was weak with the officers for the
same reason; and they to the end will always
get the victory, for they keep at it, from mo-
tives of business or ambition, while the crowd
is moved by impulse which soon dies away.

"It was about the time that Darrow's Open
Shop was published; and it caused many a
discussion in our Union. I sold 800 copies
of it, and the talk it made did as much good
as the actual reading of it. The men like to
discuss this question as much as the employers,
and they both regard it as a moral issue ; and
yet that is silly. It is simply a question of
power and advantage. The bosses yell that
every man ought to have a chance, and that
the shops must be closed to nobody; while the
men maintain that it is immoral for the men
to be so blind as not to organize. The bosses
[207]

The Spirit of Labor.

are more hypocritical about it, for they say
they want the open shop for the benefit of the
non-Union men. It is to laugh, and every-
body knows it."

Anton, after the part he took in the Car-
penter-Woodworker debate, became active in
the affairs of the Chicago Federation of La-
bor, and was appointed a member of the
organization committee and at a later time of
the charter committee. His experience as an
active worker in this central labor body was
not one conducive to a purely optimistic way
of looking at the situation. "A great portion
of the worst element," he said, "is elected to
the offices and committees. Things are bet-
ter now, but there was a time when the Presi-
dent of the Federation always drifted into a
political job. Office in the Federation was a
stepping stone to politics. This was largely
due to the ignorance of the politicians; to
that is due the prestige of the labor grafter,
for the average trades-unionist has very little
political influence, a thing the politicians are
very slow in learning.

"The fear of expose tends to give certain
men influence, the Lily Whites, the reformers
who do doubtful good and are often really
[208]

Delegate to New York.

dishonest. Nearly every politician howls
against the graft of the others, so that unless he
can mention names, he has little influence as
a reformer — he is not dangerous to the
crooked politician. I was known to be against
the machine element, whether it was a graft-
ing element or a so-called reform element. I
was against the machine as a machine. It
was not democratic and did not satisfy me as
an anarchist."

[209]

CHAPTER X.

Chicago Spirit and Its Cause.

It was at about this point in his career that
I first met Anton. He was then President of
his local, President of the Woodworkers'
Council, and active delegate to the Chicago
Federation of Labor; it was just previous to
an important strike of the Woodworkers, to
the Madden reform fight in the Federation,
to the personal conflict which led up to An-
ton's election as Chicago delegate to the In-
ternational Labor Congress at Pittsburg.
The great Teamsters' strike was under way;
Mayor Dunne was in the midst of his mu-
nicipal ownership efforts, and "labor" was al-
most the only topic of talk in the town. The
city was bitter in its side-taking; and yet I
was impressed with the relative broadness
and toleration extending through the social
sections; impressed with the way the working-
man, the "common " man had imposed his
point of view to a relatively great extent upon
[210]

Chicago Spirit and Its Cause.

the entire comunity. Here, indeed, the la-
borer is more at home than is the rule in cap-
italistic communities. It is the only big city
I know where he has made an atmosphere for
himself. Here he begins to abound in his
own sense, and to feel the excitement of
thought. Here he can nourish his personal-
ity, can express himself. Here he has his
clubs, his centres of activity, and he is filled
with democratic hope. More than all, here
he has communicated his needs and his ideals
to the general community, so that his laws and
the laws on the statute books are not always
in harmony.

The effect of expressive labor in Chicago
was noticeable to me everywhere. In the
University, in the newspapers, in the social
settlements, in the public charities, in the
newest kind of politician, a relative sympathy
for the man who works with his hands is in
one way very apparent.

Take any Chicago personage of importance,
whatever his profession or his position, and
somehow or other he has been influenced by
the spirit of the intellectual proletariat. One
of the younger deans of the University is the
most complete anarchist of my acquaintance.

[211]

The Spirit of Labor.

"Sociology," in all its branches, is the great
subject of the place. Young literary men
like Herrick and Friedman dwell with in-
sistent sympathy upon the emotional and
aesthetic demands of the "people." An im-
portant young banker is an emotional socialist.
A young newspaper man with strong "capi-
talistic" backing and tradition was put into
an important office in the city hall by the won-
derfully broad and democratic Mayor: this
young man resigned, to follow out the cause
of socialism, to which faith he had come dur-
ing his term in office.

An important lawyer and politician of the
city is Clarence Darrow, a man who in his
practical activity and his literary work, has
been very deeply influenced by the implicit
ideas of the working class. He is radical,
idealistic and practical at once and because
of his interest in human psychology and in the
idealistic future often appears as a crank or
worse. He is inconsistent with the incon-
sistency of the struggling, unclear proletariat
whose ideas and impulses he sympathetically
grasps.

Even the kid glove reformers (Anton
would call them "The Lily Whites") are

[212]

Chicago Spirit and Its Cause,

more cognizant of what is going on below
than they are in the East. A Chicago re-
former is a real, plain man. William Kent
is the ideal reformer of the capitalist class:
practical, radical, conservative, humorous,
whose honesty is so thorough-going that it
sticks out with inspiring positiveness in every-
thing he does and says. About him is some-
thing of the down-rightness and plainness of
the man-in-the-street.

Perhaps the most remarkable illustration of
the power and influence of the proletariat
in the big western metropolis is given by the
personality and the work of Miss Jane Ad-
dams, who, in Hull House, has formed a kind
of salon, an exchange of ideas, where all the
surging social conceptions find expression.

The salons of history were limited. The
ideas of the laboring classes hardly found an
expression in them. Philosophers thought for
the crowd, who were out of sight and un-
known. The fact that the most democratic
exchange of ideas which has ever attained
respectability centres about the personality
of a Chicago woman, is not an accident. I
doubt if Jane Addams could have been
evolved anywhere else in the world.
[213]

The Spirit of Labor.

She has been an important factor in putting
the different social classes in touch one with
another. She can do emotional justice all
around. She understands the troubles of the
rich as well as of the poor. Her instinctively
psychological insight gives her sympathy even
with the morally outcast. Wonderful, in-
deed, is her emotional tact. She is curiously
and delightfully free of sentimentality. It is
as a rule difficult to talk of oppression and
moral degradation without a show of indig-
nation. But she carefully refrains from any
snap-shot moral judgment. She is not, in the
banal sense, a "reformer," or a worker. Her
great function is social: she has established,
like the French women of the eighteenth
and early nineteenth centuries, a salon of a
high order; here is established an atmosphere
where ideas of importance derived from the
interests and passions of many different men
and many different sections of societv are ex-
changed.

In her I felt only one interest — in the hu-
man being who had something serious to do
or say — a never-ceasing helpfulness to all who
want to work or live seriously, and therefore
at present a great liking for the laboring
[214]

Chicago Spirit and Its Cause.

class. "I am interested in trades-unionism,"
she said to me, "because it is the only thing
which to-day seems to have any religion
in it."

Another remarkable woman in this city is
less of a public character than Miss Addams,
and I shall therefore not give her name. But
she is a woman who on occasions has exerted
a strong influence in Chicago. She has an
adventurous and investigating turn of mind.
She likes to explore life and to delve into the
interesting personalities of the town. It was
she who acted as a wedge in settling the great
butchers' strike, and who discovered the hor-
rible state of things in the stock-yards; the
knowledge of which was wielded by her and
others as a club to force the packers to send
away the disreputable strike-breakers.

She makes her own living in one of the pro-
fessions. She is clever in her work, but she
does not like it. She does it from necessity
and grudges every moment that she devotes
to it. It takes away from her real interests.
It takes away from the amount of time she
can give to the strangely keen pleasure of
"getting next" to the character, passions and
purposes of others.

[215]

The Spirit of Labor.

She is as much interested in the outcast and
the thief as she is in the pillar of society and
the reformer. But she is particularly inter-
ested in the laboring man and his destiny.
"These men," she said to me, "are fine fel-
lows, but they all need elbows." She is the
elbow, not only of the labor leader, but of the
town in general. She tried to work on Shea,
at the time of the teamsters' strike, with as
much calmness of mind as on the good Mayor.
With the latter, of course, she succeeded bet-
ter, and has been influential in the adminis-
tration. A member of the remarkable school
board, she has worked consistently on almost
ultra democratic lines. Nothing interests her
as much as "the people." And about them
she is curiously imaginative.

Her woman's susceptibility to emotional
democracy may be due in part to the circum-
stances of her childhood. Exposure and pri-
vation, intimate personal contact with hard-
ship and mere humanity probably rendered
her more impressionable to the ideas of a class
to which she, in fact, does not belong. She
is capable of a great usefulness — as a stimu-
lant, as an expresser — and the ideas she ex-
presses are curiously dependent on the in-
[216]

Chicago Spirit and Its Cause.

stinctive ideas and emotions of the proletariat.

One of the most vigorous and influential
persons in the city is a woman who has made
herself into a labor leader, has organized the
teachers. She has been a great factor in the
political and economic life of Chicago. She
carries to excess the virtues and perhaps the
faults of the belligerent labor leader — is ter-
ribly "class conscious," as Anton would say.
But she derives her power from the remark-
ably widespread influence of the ideas of la-
bor— of the ideas which come from below.

The strongest feuilletonist, logically the
ablest editorial writer in America, is Louis
Post, a Chicago editor. He is also one of
the most "radical" men in the country. I
heard him denounce, with passion, in a ring-
ing public speech. Judge Holdom's sweeping
decision giving almost unlimited power to the
employers, through injunctions making or-
ganized labor practically illegal. He ap-
pealed to the workingmen to go to the ballot,
to rid themselves of such utter injustice.
"Such tyranny," he said, "can only be opposed
with bullets or ballots. In this country, we
have the opportunity to resort to ballots." In
the East, they would call this cultivated, good
[217]

The Spirit of Labor.

and able man an "agitator." But the senti-
ment of the laborer is mighty enough in Chi-
cago to estabish an atmosphere in which men
like Post occupy a respectable, almost a con-
servative position. On the same platform,
the same day, Anton spoke, and showed no
more indignation than Mr. Post, although he
said: "This judicial decision cannot be
obeyed by the workingmen of this city."

While in Chicago, I had the pleasure of at-
tending the meetings of the- "Lunch Club,"
composed of men of the best character and
with the deepest interest in "civic" affairs.
An important settlement worker, a leading
Socialist editor, a banker with Socialistic tend-
encies, the prominent lawyer, politician and
author I have referred to, a young and sound
lawyer, one of the most gifted of the Western
novelists, a newspaper man of high standing,
a progressive priest, the young commission-
er of Public Works, these were some of the
members. The talk was always about some
matter of public concern and the general
ideas resulting from such consideration. In
the tone of the most conservative of these men
of good position, and some of them of inde-
pendent means, there was a marked "radical-
[218]

Chicago Spirit and Its Cause.

ism," a markedly emotional interest in the peo-
ple^ an inspiring sentiment of democracy.

Wherever I went in Chicago, and I went
everywhere, the ideas I heard expressed were
preponderantly "democratic," preponderantly
on subjects vaguely called "sociological"; ex-
pressed with energy and often with distinc-
tion. For several months after my arrival in
Chicago I saw these "leading" people mainly:
it was before I had become well acquainted
with the laboring people themselves. When,
however, I had met Anton and his friends,
whom I have yet to describe, I felt myself
to be in the presence of the source of the
ideas in which my cultivated friends were so
much interested. It seemed that the ideas
and feelings most prevalent in Chicago's in-
tellectual and serious circles began with the
laboring class, and were expressed best by the
intellectual proletariat. Moreover, I found
that in this class, where these feelings and
ideas originated, the expression of them was
more direct and warmer; if less logical and
balanced, it was more real, so real that it
was fascinating. At this point, therefore, be-
gins my direct observations of Anton and his
friends.

[219]

CHAPTER XI.

Social Amenities.

A LITTLE while after our meeting, Anton in-
vited me to a Sunday noon-day dinner at his
house on the West Side — the first of a long
series of visits. There I met Maggie and the
three children. I found a house perfectly
clean, a garden well-cultivated, the children
healthy and well-cared for, a well-cooked din-
ner, and Maggie, the spirit of it all, without
assistance, and yet pretty, young-looking and
cheerful. She took intelligent part in the
conversation at the table. The talk was frank
and full, and dealt with the facts of the team-
sters' strike and with labor and social matters
generally. I was deeply struck with the vi-
tality and charm of the entire family. I had
naturally enough at that time, due to my lack
of experience in this direction, a feeling that
the conventional education of college and of
well-to-do conditions generally puts a wide
intellectual difference between the so-called

[220]

Social Amenities.

educated man and the vigorous man of the
people who learns from experience and ob-
servation. But I was soon to find myself so
absorbed by my experiences with this family
and their friends that it is now a common-
place thought with me that "culture" has
many paths by which it is reached, and that
it is only the extraordinary person who attains
it at all. Certainly many of the American
mechanics possess this quality in its essence to
as great a degree, at least, as the man of so-
called education, though these mechanics do
not often think so. They are overpowered
with an often baseless sense of inferiority.

"Education," said Maggie, regretfully,
"helps you to know anybody you want to."
This was a true word, and shows where the
real limitation is — social.

Maggie and Anton and their trades-union
and radical friends, although they feel the so-
cial injustice, are not under the illusion that
people who are educated are necessarily think-
ers or in any way really superior to them-
selves. I heard Anton, in one of his speeches
before the Social Science League, say:

"I don't know that people who are profes-
sional thinkers or philosophers or students do
[221]

The Spirit of Labor.

all the thinking; perhaps other people who
are at work have an opportunity to think that
the other fellows have not got."

Anton, when tired by the routine of the shop
and of the trades-union activities, goes to the
"radicals," and by the more free and subtle
among them is refreshed and encouraged.
One night he and I talked till midnight with
an aesthetic person about literature and art.
On account of Anton's lack of specific educa-
tion our facility in shades of expression was
impressive to him, but not at all discouraging,
and it did not need to be ; for when there was
a connecting point, his ideas came rich and
red in response. He seemed to me much
nearer to reality than my learned friend or I,
and so in a better position to think, if, after
the day's work, he had enough energy left
over.

Some of the women of Chicago have "taken
Anton up," but they are sometimes shocked
by his frankness, and as his nature is really a
sweet and humane one, the sensibilities of the
women do not seem too well founded.

"The women object to my language," he
said. "They object to my saying damn and
hell. They claim to be interested in the
[222]

i

Social Amenities.

trades-union movement, and yet they often
stick on little things. How can they expect
to have the workingman use any language but
his own? Why, for such a trivial thing, do
they criticize? Why not get out and hustle
for a cause they claim to be right and forget
to be finnicky? It is the same way with some
of the 'gentlemen.' If they find the work-
ingman has some bad habits, if he is rough and
not refined, or if he is sometimes unscrupulous
about money, they lose their interest in the
cause. But the cause is just as important, in
spite of these things, perhaps more important
because of them.

"One time, at a ^radical' meeting, a lady
was shocked at my language, and said:
'Now, Mr. Anton, you would be good for the
cause if you did not say such words ; you say
damn, you say hell.' The truth is, I like to
shock these anarchists, free-lovers, anthropol-
ogists, mystics and cranks who gather at these
'radical' meetings. Some of them are sensi-
ble and thoughtful, but most of them are aw-
ful faddists.

"At this meeting I thought I would be an
irritant, a part I often played in these meet-
ings. In the labor meetings I am serious. I
[223]

The Spirit of Labor.

am a tyrant there and try to accomplish
things. But in the radical meetings I enjoy
myself and try to stir people up. On this oc-
casion, I defended cigarette smoking against
the speaker of the evening, and also attacked
the Church. He said that cigarettes had a
tendency to confuse the mind and destroy the
morals.

I got up and protested in the name of
humanity and decency against Mr. Sercombe
putting together in his argument the cheap
politician. Carter Harrison, and the great
philosopher, Tom Paine, both of whom he
quoted as against cigarettes. I also re-
marked that it was singular Mr. Sercombe
should have &o great a horror of cigarettes and
at the same time so great an admiration for
Clarence Darrow, who was a cigarette fiend.
Under another heading, I remarked that re-
ligion was tyrannical; as it was preached in
the pulpit, it was the author of vice, crime and
vulgarity, and that Christ was responsible.
This was an extreme statement, and I made it
only to irritate the anthropologists. As they
were studying Man, I thought I would give
them one to study. A lady got up, red with
horror, and said: 'I respect the rules of this
[224]

Social Amenities.

society, so I refrain from answering one of the
critics,' meaning me.

"The next Sunday I seized an opportunity
in the meeting of the Anthropological Society
to say that I also respected the rules of the
society, provided they did not come in contact
with my psychology and individuality. 'In
that case,' I said, 'while some may prefer
others, I prefer myself.' In that society they
always hold their breath when I get up to
speak. They don't know what I am going to
say next.

"The same lady who objected, said, at an-
other meeting: *I am very much pleased to
be able to get up to speak in behalf of the
workers. It pleases me very much to say that
I, in my youth, was a hard-working girl, and
ever since I met my beloved and was married
by the laws of God I have given much atten-
tion to workers in and out of Unions ; I have
felt that the poor non-union man who is cut
off from society needs more consideration
even than an ordinary criminal.'

"I got up at this point and said: 'Mr.
Chairman, for Christ* s sake how long have
we got to listen to this stuff?'

"Even a freak can speak before this society
[225]

The Spirit of Labor.

or before the Social Science League. In both
these societies they have some good speakers,
and the purpose of the gathering is a good
one, namely, the education of the workers to
a sense of their rights ; but the trouble is few
workers go there, while the chairs are taken
by a lot of long-haired cranks instead. I
liked to put them to a test to see how much
they believed in free speech, which they were
always shouting about. Maggie, being a
woman, is softer than I, and didn't like the
way I swore and talked in the meetings. So
she put them next to the reason I did it, just
to get a 'rise,' and after that they took me more
coolly.

"But I could always get a 'rise' out of the
lady I have spoken of. One night a wood-
worker, a friend of mine and an anarchist of
the thoughtful kind who have read and who
do not talk nonsense, made a speech before
the Social Science League, in which he tried
to show that many great men of the past and
many cultivated men to-day have been, and
are, imbued with anarchistic ideas. The lady
was tickled to death that the speaker could
define anarchism in such a way as to make it
seem nice and respectable, and so she said:
[226]

Social Amenities.

*I am very glad to-night to say to you that I
also have been an anarchist unconsciously. I
accept anarchism, if so defined, and I thank
God for it.'

"That gave me my opportunity. I got up,
and said: 'I have met many men and women
who have blasphemed the Deity, but I never
until to-night met anybody willing to undergo
the responsibility of thanking God for creat-
ing anarchists. If anarchism is what it is,
and if there are any people who have become
anarchists, God is the last man who is entitled
to any credit for it. I for one would prefer
to give the credit to the devil, who has done
some things that are good.'

"She thought that was awful. She and the
others think they understand poetry, society
and philosophy. Why can't they understand
me? Why get angry?"

Anton goes everywhere in his flannel shirt.
He presides at his own table in one, goes
to the meetings in one, and takes pride in it
as a symbol of his class. He is most at home
with his coat off, a suspender strap around his
robust body, no necktie, and on the point of
hurling some bomb-like words at an opponent.
On the subject of dress, he said:
[227]

The Spirit of Labor.

"I acquired a bad habit when I was a hobo
— the desire to dress well. At that time I was
obligated, for I had to make the best appear-
ance, or I would not have been able to beg or
get a job. But now it is different. I am in-
dependent and don't need to dress. I am in-
dependent of all but my employer. If he
wanted me to wear a tie in the shop, I prob-
ably would. Capitalists and clerks have to
dress for business reasons, but I don't have to.
All really civilized people from Tolstoi to
Wagner believe in the Simple Life. I al-
ways preside over the Union meetings in a
blue flannel shirt."

Anton likes his joke, and has his moments
of workingman's downright lightness. He
added, on this occasion: "You made a great
impression on Maggie, the other evening,
when I had gone out, but you wore a flannel
shirt."

At these "radical" gatherings there are
many free-lovers, and anti-free-lovers, and
they often take one another by the hair, fig-
uratively speaking.

"Some of these women," said Anton, "liked
me. They thought I was handsome, vigor-
ous and had nice ways, but they wondered
[228]

Social Amenities.

why I swore. I promised them to give a rea-
son some time. My opportunity came once
when a woman spoke on license versus lib-
erty. I got up, after her speech, and said
some of my friends had corrected me on vari-
ous occasions about using profanity. I did
so, I said, in order to please both my ultra
radical friends and also my ultra conservative
friends. I had been raised, I said, more than
a Christian, but had been surrounded by infi-
dels, that I had a marriage certificate, but a
free-love inclination ; I therefore knew that if
I conducted myself in the conventional man-
ner and did not swear, that all the goody-
goody women would fall completely in love
with me; and, as my capacity was limited, I
could best introduce moderation in their
hearts by using profanity and thus checking
them."

Anton, in spite of the joking tone of the
above, is in reality very attractive to women.
His temperament, energy, idealistic vehe-
mence, and even his rough sincerity, appeal to
them. I had opportunity to see how many
of the "radical" women pursued him. He
was not too offish, and would sometimes yield
gracefully, but Maggie, who knew everything,
[229]

The Spirit of Labor.

always knew that she had the best of Anton's
heart, mind and temperament So she for-
gave not only the trades-union activity that
took him from home at night, but even his in-
terest in other women.

"I told her nothing at first," said Anton,
"but I learned better, and when I told her
everything, she had become more radical, and
she understood better and did not mind when
I was out. At a later time she went further
than I did in radical theory, but her natural,
womanly conservatism and our frankness to-
gether kept her from putting her ideas into
practice. Once she asked me if she ought not
to make an experiment. She had been hear-
ing so much free-love talk that she began to
feel that she was out-of-date. I told her she
was a fool to do anything she did not want to
do, just because of a lousy theory that was go-
ing the rounds. So she didn't.

''Maggie used to wonder why I did not no-
tice this and that, why I did not pay her little
attentions and talk polite to her. But I leave
that for conservative men who stay at home.
I talk to her, instead, and she likes it."

Maggie was there, as Anton and I talked,
and she said, at this point:
• [230]

Social Amenities.

"If I have to marry again, I don't know
where I can find another like you; and I
couldn't stand a home man."

"She is a wise woman," said Anton, "and
she knows the best way of managing a restless
fellow like me. The other night I had been
to a Union meeting and something came up
about policy I wanted to talk over with Mag-
gie. That evening I dined in town, and
[Julia, one of the free-love ladies who are
prominent at the radical meetings, wanted me
to take her to hear a Pentecost lecture. When
I told her I had an engagement with Maggie,
she sneered, and said: 'You are a slave to
your wife. You only pretend to be a free-
lover.' *I am not a slave to you, anyway,' I
said, and I went home.

"This lady, whom I call Julia, has quite
an important position among some of the rad-
icals. She is not pretty — you have seen her,
and you know — and she is not original or
amusing. It is by virtue of her free-love that
she gets her position. That is an easy graft
with some of these people. For instance, a
young machinist asked me one day to take
him to a free-love meeting. He is a regular
buck, and I knew that he did not care about
[231]

The Spirit of Labor.

the principles of freedom. It was license he
wanted. So I said to him : *I don't want to
force potatoes on people who want oranges.' "

I saw "Julia" several times, and found her
very serious and much interested, though in
an unillumined way, in all social problems,
and particularly in everything that touched
upon the welfare of the working class, to
which she belonged. She worked in the fac-
tory, and in the evenings improved her mind
by going to the radical meetings and listen-
ing to the lectures. Her "free-love" was part-
ly induced, no doubt, by her temperament, but
it was also influenced by the general "spirit
of protest" against all capitalistic institutions,
including marriage. She was not at all se-
ductive, but she took herself so seriously, and
was taken so seriously by the people with
whom she associated, that she seemed a person
of the utmost respectability.

"I was conservative," said Anton, "for a
long time about sex. These ladies used to
get mad at me on that question. But no mat-
ter how conservative I was, what. I said was no
more ridiculous than what they said. I be-
gan to feel more broad and tolerant on this
subject after I came to know Isaac and his
[232]

Social Amenities.

wife and family well. Maggie and I found
these people so refined and gentle and good
that we came to be tolerant to their theories
of anarchy and free-love. They were wild
about children, and that went straight to Mag-
gie's heart."

"They talked," said Maggie, "so frankly
and so sweetly about things I thought ought
not to be talked about that I got to feel they
and their ways of seeing things were right, at
least in part."

When one takes into account the narrow-
ness of the ordinary laborer's life; how lack-
ing in it are the elements of "sweetness and
light" in the intellectual sense, one cannot
wonder at .the eagerness with which the more
energetic among them grasp at any opportu-
nity to broaden their mental horizon. Their
method of thinking often seems crude and
anti-social, and yet even the extreme anarchis-
tic activities are educating and refining in
their influence. Certainly one has abundant
opportunity of observing that those laborers
who have come under Socialistic or anarchis-
tic influences are much more "civilized," more
interesting, more alive and progressive, than
those who live exclusively the routine and un-
[233]

The Spirit of Labor.

stimulating life of the wage-worker. Who
can wonder at the fact that the need of excite-
ment, if nothing else, forces many of these
men and women to adopt ways of feeling and
thinking which are not without danger to the
present organization of society?

[234]

CHAPTER XII.

Argument With Boss.

The agreement between the Woodwork-
ers' District Council and the planing mill
operators of Chicago expired in February,
1905. Anton was at the time President of
the Council, and in the negotiations tending
towards a new agreement which ensued, he
took a leading part. The general method of
procedure on the part of the men was for a
committee to draw up an agreement, present
it for approval to the Council, and then refer
it to the referendum for the approval of the
rank and file; and it would then go to the
employers. On this occasion no demand for
increase of wages was made, except in the case
of one shop, where the wages were lower than
in the others. A continuance of the closed
shop agreement, which had been in force, was
insisted upon by the men, while the employers
made a stand for the "open shop," which at
that time was "epidemic" among them.
[235]

The Spirit of Labor.

In previous years the men's committee se-
lected to present the agreement to the employ-
ers consisted of the board of business agents,
four salaried men; but as the employers' or-
ganizations became more general, the employ-
ers in many instances complained that the
board of business agents did not represent the
wishes of the rank and file. So of late the
policy has been for a committee of five men,
w^orking at their trade, to accompany the busi-
ness agents in the negotiations v^ith the em-
ployers. •_

On this occasion, however, as it was known
that the men "stood pat" for the closed shop,
the first meeting with the employers was held
by the business agents alone. "The bosses'
chairman," said Anton, "wanted to know im-
mediately why the rank and file was not rep-
resented. He was sure that the open shop
idea would meet with the approval of the
men.

The business agents reported the matter to
the Coiincil, and a committee of five men,
working at the trade, was appointed. This
committee, on its return from the meeting
with the bosses, recommended to the Council
a compromise, but the Council "sat on" the

Argument With Boss.

committee and "stood pat" for the closed
shop.

"I was not on that first committee," Anton
said, "and I severely criticized them for their
timidity. One of the committee resigned, and
I was put in his place. In the committee
meeting, before we went to the bosses, they
made me spokesman, and I laid the law down.
A business agent tried to tell me what to say,
but I cut him short, and said that I would
accept the responsibility of my own words, but
would not use his.

"When we got before the employers' com-
mittee, I began my remarks by saying that
we had no authority to enter into a final agree-
ment without referring the matter to the or-
ganization, but that the men stood for the
closed shop ; we felt it was reasonable in itself,
and that to change it at this late day, after it
had been in force for several years, was un-
reasonable. I quoted two recent court deci-
sions sustaining the legality of the closed
shop.

"The Chairman for the bosses replied, said

that if the agreement must be referred back

to the Union, they could accomplish nothing;

he insisted that the closed shop was illegal,

[237]

The Spirit of Labor.

and that the employers might have damage
suits on their hands, and he laid stress on what
he called the moral point of view: said the
closed shop was immoral. In answer, I said
that the employers were responsible for tak-
ing away the autocratic power of the business
agent in making agreements; that the em-
ployer, through the press, had continually
fulminated against the business agent, or, as
they called him, the walking delegate, whom
they claimed would do as he pleased without
reference to the wishes of the rank and file in
bringing about a settlement. And now they
inconsistently objected because the committee
must refer to the organization. In regard to
the alleged illegality of the closed shop agree-
ment, I showed them two distinct decisions
rendered about the closed shop, one in New
York and one in England, and then I referred
them to that part of President Roosevelt's
message to Congress where he says, in effect:
'There can be no question of the legality of
organized workers refusing to work with such
men as are not members of the Union. This
may or may not be a moral right, that depends
on the conditions in the special case.' So said
the President. 'I, personally,' I added, in
[238]

Argument With Boss.

support of the moral right of the closed shop,
'should reasonably be the judge of whom I
shall work with, as far as I have the power.
Will you deny me the right of refusing to
work with an anarchist or with a brute negro,
or any other undesirable character?' I chal-
lenged them to show one instance where the
law compels a man to work with such asso-
ciates. I pointed out many cases where em-
ployers had discriminated against men by rea-
son of their color: porters on trains are all
negroes, section men in some parts of the coun-
try are all Chinamen. No man questioned
the employer's right to hire whomsoever he
pleased or discriminate against anybody he
wanted to.

" 'I assure you,' I added, *our organization
has no particular objection to your hiring non-
union men. We want to be fair, however,
and to notify you in time, that if you do hire
non-union men, you cannot hire us. To us,
non-union men are undesirable associates, and
we will not work with them.'

"The bosses' spokesman interrupted me at
this point and said he would waive the legal
right, but asked me if I did not think there
was a moral question involved.
[239]

The Spirit of Labor.

" 'Yes/ I replied, 'there is a moral question
involved. I quite agree to that. I hope you
will pardon me if I try to show you the light.
Ninety-nine out of one hundred workingmen,
when talking among themselves, are favor-
ably inclined towards Unionism. But they
have two objections to joining the Union.
One is the fear of incurring the disfavor of
the employer, and the other is the cost, fifty
cents a month in dues and sometimes assess-
ments which may not directly benefit them.
The result is that, after a fair analysis, the
principal objection of the workingman to join-
ing the Union is founded on stupid selfish-
ness, ignorance and cowardice.

" 'In view of the fact that human beings are
more susceptible to the bad, the mean and the
selfish than to the good and the unselfish, it is,
in my opinion, decidedly immoral to allow
one or two men in a shop to lead eighteen or
twenty to become more selfish rather than
more humane. For these reasons I quite
agree that there is a moral side to this ques-
tion, and that, morally, the trade-union, and
especially the closed shop idea, have been
great factors for human good.

" 'The employers' committee have appealed
[240]

Argument With Boss.

to my sympathy. Your spokesman has asked
me to defend your case. This is an admission
of weakness. But for me to do anything on
this committee except to reason for the inter-
est of those I represent would be satannical,
and I would not be worthy the respect of an
honest opponent. I am thoroughly convinced
of the justice of our case, and while I would
not like to see a strike, I feel I would be a
coward and a hypocrite to tell you that I
would advise the rank and file in any other
direction. I believe the balance of this com-
mittee agrees with me, but if they were all
opposed, I would still go before the rank and
file in their mass meeting and say, like Teddy,
'Boys, you are right; stand pat.'

"I addressed my remarks to the spokesman,
and I noticed that, while I corrected him, the
other bosses had a smile on their faces. He
was too much of a self-appointer, and was not
popular. The meeting adjourned, and the
next day the secretary of the Lumber Dealers'
Association came to the office of the Wood-
workers and wanted to know where that young
fellow, Anton, worked. He wanted a closed
shop, and liked what I had said. The open
shop would mean more bother to him. He
[241]

The Spirit of Labor.

told me in confidence that my argument had
met with the approval of all the bosses, except
the spokesman. In our mass-meeting on Sun-
day every man voted in favor of the closed
shop. So at the next meeting with the em-
ployers, I told them that we now had the
power to act definitely, and would accept the
bosses' signature to the agreement we had
drawn up. It was in substance an ultimatum,
and they agreed to our terms, the closed shop.
"That finished that discussion, and things
had been settled without a strike, but soon
after a dispute about wages arose in another
branch of the trade, interior trimmings. We
asked for an increase of two cents an hour for
all the men employed, instead of the usual
demand to raise the minimum scale. I was
spokesman when we presented our request,
and the bosses nearly fell dead. They took
three hours to picture their poverty, and we
came to no understanding. The men, at a
mass-meeting, sustained our position, and
when we met the bosses again we agreed on a
compromise, namely, that the present scale of
wages should continue for six months, at the
end of that time one cent an hour increase,
and another cent increase at the beginning of
[242]

Argument With Boss.

the second year. This committee recom-
mended this agreement to a mass meeting, but
the men rejected it with considerable criti-
cism, as it concerned only the minimum scale
and did not apply to all the men. One old
Scotchman made the charge that the commit-
tee was polluted.

"So we had to report to the bosses that the
men would not accept the compromise agree-
ment. Then the bosses insinuated that it had
been their intention of giving this increase all
around, instead of merely applying to the
minimum scale. That was a lie, and it made
me raving mad. I got up before the com-
mittee of the bosses and said: *In the mass-
meeting our committee has been accused of
being polluted, and here the bosses accuse us
of being fools. I am absolutely certain that
the bosses' chairman stated most emphatically
that they would not, and could not, make the
increase apply to all the men. Personally, I
feel that our committee should now stand pat
on the original demand, so that we cannot be
misunderstood, either by the bosses or by the
rank and file.' I was awfully angry. But
the chairman of the employers apologized,
and they agreed to make the raise apply to all
[243]

The Spirit of Labor.

the men. This we submitted to the mass-
meeting, but without recommending it, and it
was carried by one vote. So that settled that
dispute.

"There was one member of our committee
who had an ambition to be a walking dele-
gate. He was a demagogue, who always ap-
pealed to the rank and file. He sat in the
discussion with the bosses and did not say a
word, but in the mass-meeting he got up and
supported the demands of the employers ; but,
when he saw how the men were feeling, he
switched around. I made up my mind to
give him a good flaying, and in the next Coun-
cil meeting I showed him up, balled him out
for fair, showed his cowardice for a whole
half hour. That killed him completely in the
movement. He has never been heard of since.
In the Council he could not play to the gal-
leries, as he could in the mass-meeting.

*'The next negotiations we had with the em-
ployers led to a strike, which we lost. It was
in another branch of the trade, the bar fixture
workers. Their agreement with the bosses
expired July ist, 1905. Their committee de-
manded an increase of ten cents an hour all
around. It was in reality a stiff thing to ask,
[244]

^Argument With Boss.

as in other cities no such wages were given as
those we demanded, and the bosses maintained
that, if they gave these wages, they could not
compete. But the men were in a peculiar
frame of mind. Two years before that time
the bosses stood pat and said they could pay
no more wages, but the men, after being on
strike ten days, gained what they demanded.
So the men thought the present attitude of the
employers was also a bluff, and that they could
turn the same trick again. Some of the lead-
ers, of course, knew better, and that it was
foolish to strike at that time; and many of
these leaders did what they could to affect
the mood of the men, but to no avail.

"We had seven meetings with the employ-
ers and could not make them yield an inch,
so we called a mass-meeting of the men. It
was jammed, and disorderly, and there was a
large majority in favor of a strike. So the
committee returned to the bosses, and I said:
'You cannot blame the rank and file for being
sceptical when they are told by their employ-
ers that, for competitive reasons, wages can-
not be raised. This is, at all times, the con-
tention of the employer, and his manner of re-
ply to the Union, regardless of wages, hours
[245]

The Spirit of Labor.

or conditions. It is always the same old
story : you cannot compete. If you would say
this only at times when it was true, you would
find the men ready to believe you. But you
always say it, true or not. You are like the
boy that yelled wolf too often.

" 'The employer in Milwaukee,' I contin-
ued, 'pay twenty-five cents an hour, and yet, if
the Union asks for a cent an hour more, which
is five cents less than you pay in Chicago, his
objections are based on the same grounds as
yours: he cannot compete. If we point out
to him the fact that the Chicago employer
pays twenty-eight cents, and the men in Mil-
waukee ask for twenty-six cents only, he re-
plies that the Chicago employer has three dis-
tinct advantages, — facilities for transporta-
tion, an enormous lumber market, and access
to labor and to the best mechanics. If, there-
fore, conditions are so much better in Chi-
cago, according to the employers in other
cities, it is reasonable to assume that wood-
workers would be immigrating here from
time to time, while as a matter of fact, and
according to the report of the labor statisti-
cian at Springfield, there are not a hundred
woodworkers in two years who came to Chi-
[246]

Argument With Boss.

cago from these other woodworking centres.'
Then I pointed out the advantages of work-
ing in small cities. The bosses bluffed that
they would move their business to places
where the men were more reasonable. I said
we would move there, too; that we also did
not like high rents and the nervous turmoil of
the city.

"I added that I would like evidence sup-
porting their contention that they could not
compete. The biggest employer on the com-
mittee arose majestically, and asked me to
come to his office, and he would show me doc-
umentary proof. I said, if I went alone, it
would look rather suspicious. But, previous
to the mass-meeting, I went to his office; he
gave me a cigar, and then showed me his
books and price lists, and claimed he had re-
duced his prices twenty per cent. I discov-
ered from the books that eighteen per cent
of the twenty per cent reduction was in plate
glass and mirrors, and I pointed out to him
that we had nothing to do with the manufac-
ture of glass: we were woodworkers. He
gave me an economic business talk, which
meant everything or nothing, and then said:
'Now, Anton, there is no use talking. If the
[247]

The Spirit of Labor.

boys insist on this advance, there is going to
be a strike.'

"Then, in a low tone, he added: 'I be-
lieve that if this matter was properly ex-
plained to the boys, they would not want to
strike. I'd give a thousand dollars if I could
address that mass-meeting and state the case
from our point of view; or, if some one else
would do it for me.' He had previously em-
phasized my influence with the men. I took
him up, to see how far he would go. 'Per-
sonally,' I said, 'I am in favor of giving you
the floor to explain your side, provided, of
course, that one of our men answer by show-
ing our side. Who would that man be?' he
asked. *I think I shall be the man,' I replied.
'My God, Anton,' he exclaimed, 'you are not
going to take the floor and encourage the men
in these demands?' 'I can't be expected to do
anything else,' I said. 'I am a woodworker,
and I represent the men. Besides, I don't
think a strike will be detrimental in the long
run. The rank and file can learn only
through experience, and perhaps this experi-
ence is necessary at this time.' He then said
that he could not speak before the mass-meet-
ing, as he had no authority from the other
[248]

Argument With Boss.

employers. What he meant by all this I shall
not explain. It would be guessing, though
it might be guessing pretty shrewdly.

"At the mass-meeting the men voted to
strike. Everything possible was done to pre-
vent it, but when the rank and file become
passionate there is no use trying to argue with
them, as long as the organization is demo-
cratic and there is such a thing as the refer-,
endum. The mass often acts foolishly, and
this whole matter of organization is at bot-
tom only a question of education. It is edu-
cating the working people, and the fact that
they make mistakes is no argument against it.
It is an argument for it, for it shows how
much in need they are of experience.

"The machinery got to work and put forth
every effort to prevent the actual calling out
of the men. Tom Kidd used his big influ-
ence, and the State Board of Arbitration did
what it could. In this board I had very lit-
tle confidence. I was President of the Coun-
cil, and the Board of Arbitration invited me
and others to a swell dinner at $io a head.
This made me suspicious. I felt it was a re-
flection against my manhood. They tried to
get me to use my influence against the calling
C 249 ]

The Spirit of Labor.

of the strike. I stood pat and would not do
it. There was no guarantee that the bosses
would submit to arbitration. So this matter
fell through. Then a shop meeting in every
factory involved was called, the object being
to get an expression from every man, an ab-
solute referendum. The total vote was 1,858
out of a possible 2,000. Sixteen hundred men
voted in favor of striking, so there was noth-
ing else to do. The strike was called July
ist, 1905, and every man of the 2,000 went
out. The men were so enthusiastic that they
voted no strike benefits should be paid for the
first two weeks.

"After the strike had been on for a couple
of weeks, the State Board of Arbitration made
an effort to get the employers' committee and
our committee to confer in reference to a set-
tlement. Both committees were willing to
meet, but did not want to admit it. So the
State Board arranged a meeting with diplo-
macy. It did not appear that either side
wanted it. The lawyers of the employers
were at the conference, the special reason for
the lawyers is that they never commit the em-
ployers to anything, and the employers are so
busy that they cannot meet men who have
[250]

Argument With Boss.

more than the average information in the eco-
nomic field, for labor is generally right, so
they employ the lawyers, who can harp on
technicalities.

"I was spokesman of the committee. There
were six employers present, one of whom wore
a star, indicating that he had been sworn in
as a deputy sheriff. He was the meanest of
the bosses. There were not enough chairs,
and I sat down in the only rocking chair, feel-
ing that I was able to make myself at home
in a foreign land. The employers' lawyer
began to speak, but I interrupted him, and
said I wanted to speak first in order to put our
committee in a light that would not be mis-
understood.

" While we have no particular objection,'
•I said, 'to meeting with this deputy sheriflP
(pointing to the employer with the star), yet
we want it distinctly understood that we are
no more criminal than the men we are meet-
ing.'

"The employers notified us that unless their
terms were met by the men, they would not
admit any longer the principle of the closed
shop, and would not recognize the Union, and
offered to give us a day's grace to think it
[251]

The Spirit of Labor.

over, in the interests of peace, as they put it.
I sarcastically thanked them for this great
concession of a day, and called their attention
to the fact that the Union existed, not because
they wanted it, and that it would continue to
exist, whether they wanted it or not. 'Ninety-
nine men out of a hundred,' I said, 'prefer to
trust to the strength of the organization rather
than to the generosity of the employer, and,
as long as they feel that way, there will be a
Union, whether you recognize it or not.'

"The conference came to nothing, and the
strike went on. It was clear to the leaders
that the strike would be lost; but the temper
of the men was such that it could not be
brought to an immediate end. The men's
treasury was being depleted, and the employ-
ers, knowing this, helped the process of bank-
ruptcy by sending the riff-raff of the teams-
ters' strike to our men to attempt to obtain
money to get home with, claiming they had
been imported, not knowing there was a strike
on, by the employers. But we got on to that
game. Once, eighteen men came to us and
said they had been imported from Buffalo to
come to Chicago, and when they arrived here
they found they were to be used to break the
[252]

Argument With Boss.

strike. They wanted $150 from us with
which to return to Bufifalo. We questioned
them closely; asked them how it happened, if
they were in sympathy with Unionism, as they
claimed, that they did not get suspicious
when they saw advertisements for so many
men.

We examined them as to their mechanical
qualifications and soon saw there was not a
mechanic in the whole eighteen. While we
were strongly inclined to give them the 'edu-
cational test' (a good beating), yet, realizing
that their lack of skill made them compara-
tively harmless, and that only economic dep-
rivation would have made them capable of
such an undermining hold-up game, we in-
formed them with a measure of sarcasm that
if they would go to work for these employers
they would materially help our cause by
showing how difficult it was to get mechanics,
even from Buffalo. While we appreciated,
we said, that they were hard up, and would
like to help them, yet we had men of our own
on the streets, and in this case we felt charity
began at home. Then we let them go, fol-
lowed, however, by one of our detectives.
He traced them to the headquarters of the
[253]

The Spirit of Labor.

employers, and left a letter for the bosses,
previously prepared by us.

"In this letter we said: We thank you
for your great consideration in sending us
these men. While we woodworkers regret
that you are forced to search the slums of for-
eign cities, yet we realize that mechanical
woodworkers are scarce; and to show our
good will, and thus to spare you any unneces-
sary expense, we write this letter to indicate
to you the folly of spending more money in
that way. Respectfully submitted,

" 'Mechanics.'

"After that the employers sent us no more
men, and we were left to paddle our own
canoe, a task which grew more and more dif-
ficult. During the strike there was very lit-
tle complaint because of hunger. There were
two or three cases where wives came to our
headquarters and complained because their
husbands did not bring their strike benefits
home. In these cases the executive board de-
cided to give the benefit directly to the wives.
The men, as a rule, got along pretty well.
The business agents provided places where
the men could sit, play cards, and drink beer
[254]

Argument With Boss.

from the can without giving their pennies to
the saloon-keepers, who would get their pat-
ronage when they went to work again. In
that way, much discontent was overcome. It
required nearly $4,000 to make one strike pay-
ment to the men in our shop. The money
was spread on tables, open to view, and yet
never a penny was lost or stolen. Enthusiasm
and fellow-feeling generally rules during a
strike, even if the men have to look for work
elsewhere. The feeling is so intense that it
is now almost impossible for a leader to sell
out after the strike is on. It is suicidal for
the leaders to show the least sign of weakness.
There is certainly 'graft' at times, but it is ex-
aggerated by the newspapers, which are gen-
erally controlled by the employers. The
leader knows that to advise men to give up
while the battle is on is absolutely disastrous
to his prestige. I know of a case where the
board of business agents, four in number, had
decided to go before a mass-meeting of the
strikers, who had been out on strike ten days,
and recommend them to accept a compromise
offered by the employers. In this case I felt
the business agents were justified, both from
the dollar standpoint and from the standpoint

The Spirit of Labor.

of maintaining the integrity of the Union.
The men had demanded an increase of three
cents an hour in their wages, and after the
strike had continued ten days, the employers
ofifered two cents increase, and the business
agents advised the men to accept this proposal.
The men rejected the suggestion of the busi-
ness agents, and three hours after voting it
down the employers completely capitulated
and signed the agreement. The rank and file
are extremely suspicious, not only of the em-
ployers, but also of their own leaders, no mat-
ter how honest they may be or how long they
have worked in the interest of labor.

"The strike went on until one of the busi-
ness agents reported in the Council that the
superintendent of the big plant of Brunswick-
Balke had expressed himself as in favor of
the closed shop. The superintendent thought
it necessary for the employers to win this
fight, but he dreaded the idea that perhaps
the result would be the open shop ; he did not
relish the prospect of having in his shop 750
employees whom he would have to discipline
through his own efiforts, without the assist-
ance of the Union. In the closed shop it is
practicable for the Union to check the erratic
[256]

Argument With Boss.

discontent and the unjust discrimination
against one another, among the men, from the
purely stupid, selfish point of view. If one
employee is unjust to another, redress can be
obtained from the organization through the
shop steward without recourse to the super-
intendent. The employer or his representa-
tive is thus relieved of the burden of adjust-
ing differences between one employee and an-
other. A man will stand a lot of abuse from
another man before he will appeal to the fore-
man. That is more or less disgraceful, but
where the Union rule? are in vogue, there is a
shop steward, an official of the Union, whose
specific business it is to look after such mat-
ters, and a complaint to him is considered
proper — a complaint against either another
workman or against the employer. Experi-
ence has shown that, especially where the shop
is a large one, the Union is far superior to the
non-union shop in harmony and order.

"The superintendent of the Brunswick-
Balke concern therefore hinted that if a com-
mittee with full power was selected to make
some proposition more favorable than the
original one, a settlement might be arrived
at. This was done; a committee of thirty-
[257]

The Spirit of Labor.

six, selected from the various shops on strike,
was appointed, the most ridiculous and im-
politic thing, in my judgment, that they could
have done. The committee was altogether
too large. It was like the weakest element of
an army going to the strongest element of the
enemy and proposing peace. A strong ele-
ment in a labor union is the man highly
skilled in his trade, who has a reasonable
measure of information and a fair power of
expression. Another strong element is the
man who is selected as walking delegate.
His strength lies in not being under obliga-
tions to his employer. He is paid by the
Union.

"But both these elements were absent from
this committee of thirty-six, which had full
power to act. If the rank and file had any
tact at all, they either would have rejected en-
tirely the proposition to delegate the full
power to a committee, or else they would have
preferred a committee of the strongest char-
acter. The only reason for selecting the com-
mittee of thirty-six was the suspiciousness al-
ways lurking in the rank and file. They pre-
ferred the honest fool or simple coward to a
strong man whom they suspected, without
[258]

Argument With Boss.

realizing that men, no matter how dishonest,
cannot do worse than a committee of fools.

"It was in reality the fault of the business
agents. They were too weak to point out
these facts fearlessly to the rank and file, for
fear it would not be taken in good grace. It
is difficult for the leader to tell the crowd the
truth. But it is certainly true that the auto-
cratic labor leader is more likely to get re-
sults than the democratic leader. When the
power is centralized, as it is, comparatively
speaking, in the Miners* and Carpenters'
Unions, the employers can be approached
more effectively. The delegate is then re-
sponsible to a body of men (the Council),
who are much superior to the rank and file
in observation and the power of initiative.
To an office of this kind efficiency rather than
good-fellowship generally elects.

"This democratic committee of thirty-six
met the bosses' committee and agreed, without
a protest, to everything proposed to them.
The chairman of this grand committee put his
tail between his legs like a whipped cur and
said nothing. The strike was called off and
the men completely defeated. If, however,
this last meeting had been well managed we
[259]

The Spirit of Labor.

would probably have secured some conces-
sions. As it was, however, we did succeed in
maintaining the closed shop and the organiza-
tion intact; although, as a general rule, when
a strike is lost, the Union is likely to be dis-
integrated. Funds and hope are gone, and it
needs both, and energy in addition, to build
the organization up again.

"One great trouble in the calling and man-
aging of strikes is this infernal preaching of
the necessity of honesty. It is preached by
all the moralists, by all the theorists, and by
all the politicians, but not by the real labor
leaders — not because they don't believe in
honesty, but because of the terrible disadvan-
tage it places the workman in. The rank and
file generally recognizes inability as the best
evidence of honesty. If you are aggressive
and a good speaker, they are suspicious.
They are taught that honesty is the most im-
portant thing — but it is not the most important
thing. They have been hoodwinked so often
by everybody that they distrust intelligence.
And yet the labor movement is far more in
need of intelligence than it is of honesty. Of
honesty we have enough and to burn. An
honest man, if he is not strong, can get noth-
[260]

Argument With Boss.

ing from the employers, while a dishonest man
can do no worse ; he cannot reduce your wages.
So why not be gamblers and take the men with
qualifications regardless of whether primarily
honest or not?"

Anton himself is as honest as the day. He
feels the excitement of honesty, of telling the
truth in place and out. But his feeling of the
relative unimportance of honesty is natural
enough, and is shared by many of the more
active labor leaders. They feel that the hon-
esty of the present day, as embodied in present
law and custom, puts their class at a disadvan-
tage. They see that a man may be called hon-
est and yet be humanly unkind and funda-
mentally unfair. And the "crooked" deeds
of men like Parks they cannot deeply con-
demn, for he was, they think, sincerely inter-
ested in, and helpful to, the wx)rking class.
His sins were sins against the morality formed
to strengthen the capitalistic class in what
they unfairly possess — so they think. Feeling
sceptically about all law, they tend to look,
when it comes to a moral judgment, at the en-
tire upshot of a man's actions and life. If on
the whole he is useful to the big mass of his
fellow men, he is on the whole a good man.
and "property" sins are very venial sins in-
deed.

[261]

CHAPTER XIII.

^An Anarchist Salon.

One night Anton and I were working in
my room. He was telling me about some of
his experiences, over our beer and cigarettes,
when he suddenly pushed back his chair and
said, as he often did say — it was lamentably
frequent with him in our work together:

"I don't feel like work to-night, Hapgood.
I don't like to be tied down to anything. It's
bad enough to have to work all day in the shop
at routine work, but then to tie myself down
to you three times a week at night seems like
voluntary slavery. I hate to think there is
anything I have to do. It is a wonder to me
I have held my job so long. Even yet, when
the springtime comes, I hear the whistles blow
and want to change scenes."

I had learned to know his mood, and to

know that if I insisted on anything his back

went up against it immediately. He hates to

be urged, to be invited, even. When not at

[262]

An Anarchist Salon.

work he likes to live altogether the life of the
temperament. So when he suggested on that
night to go out and call on Terry and Marie,
I said, very cheerfully, "All right." More-
over, I had not met Terry and Marie, or as
yet any of the more interesting among the
"radicals." So I was particularly cheerful in
my assent.

He led me to a "slummy" place on the
West Side. We groped our way up a dark
staircase and into a small, bare apartment, the
only furniture of which was three beds, usu-
ally occupied, as I afterwards found, by four
or five persons; a table and a few chairs.
Everything indicated extreme poverty, but the
floor was clean and there was a kind of awk-
ward attempt at neatness shown in the general
appearance of the place.

On the table in the front room there were
three or four books. On this first visit I no-
ticed a collection of Bernard Shaw's plays, a
volume of Ibsen and a copy of Spencer's
"First Principles." A dark-haired, anaemic-
looking, but striking and noble-faced girl was
reading "Mrs. Warren's Profession" as we en-
tered. An equally anaemic, but intelligent-
appearing man was lying on the bed, smok-
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The Spirit of Labor.

ing a cigarette. They received us with sim-
plicity, offered us cigarettes, and we engaged
in talk about literature, and society, and mor-
ality. In the course of the evening others
came in, of the same kind, and I found this
place was a kind of salon, where people of a
certain sort met and discussed ideas.

They all called themselves anarchists, phil-
osophical anarchists, as distinguished from
the violent, bomb-throwing kind. They were
a curious, gentle lot, in manner and appear-
ance. Anton and I seemed like barbarians in
comparison. They believed to a large extent
in "non-resistance," and would not hurt a flea.
They were obviously lacking in energy, and
altogether seemed like an extremely harmless
eddy in the current of social life. They
talked about the "conservative" people with
mild contempt, but were not inclined, appar-
ently, to carry on propaganda with any force.
They did not seem to have the energy for it.
They seemed to desire mainly to be allowed to
live as they please, with as little social re-
straint as possible.

"I like to live in the slums," said Terry, the
man on the bed, "for there is more freedom
there than anywhere else. Your neighbors
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An Anarchist Salon.

are neither proper nor inquisitive, and com-
paratively speaking, you can do as you like."

Terry had been a skilled mechanic, a tan-
ner, and had worked hard at an earlier period.
Indeed, all these people belong to the labor-
ing class. They come in contact with eco-
nomic hardship or injustice and then they go
to the extreme of theory and become anarch-
ists. Terry had worked for many years so-
berly and industriously. He is a man of very
unusual intelligence. One day he became
aware, he said, that he was being exploited,
and he quit; and he has never worked at his
trade since. That was about twelve years ago.
Before quitting work he had never read, but
then he began to read and think. He began
with Tolstoi, and Kropotkin, and Tucker,
and Spencer, and became familiar with the
local turn put to these ideas by Clarence Dar-
row. He became also a student of poetry and
literature, and this instinct and love for the
beautiful in expression limits to a certain ex-
tent his anarchism.

"There is no such thing," he said, "as the

purely economic man. If there were, I

would be an absolute anarchist. But man

lives not only on food, but on sentiment and

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The Spirit of Labor.

on ideas and on beauty. So whatever we may
say against government, we must accept a part
of the traditions of history and of literature."

He has decided, however, that it is wrong
to work for society, so he lives in a garret on
crusts, beer and high thoughts. He lives with
the dark-haired, interestingly temperamental
and passionate girl, whose name is Marie.
She is many years younger than Terry, and
her life has been typical of the woman an-
archist.

She began to work in the factories when she
was ten years old — first in a lead factory
where the lie burnt her fingers to the marrow.
She worked ten hours a day for two dol-
lars a week — money badly needed by her
mother, who was married to a drunken me-
chanic, always out of a job. She worked in
other factories, always hard and always at
low wages. It hurt her health, and when she
was sixteen she became rebellious, was ready
for almost anything. She threw herself into
the arms of a lover, a young fellow of her own
age, and thought she was happy, although she
kept up her hard labor.

A year afterwards she met Terry, who had
already been an anarchist and garret philoso-
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An Anarchist Salon.

pher for many years. He took her to his
salon and read Swinburne to her.

"It was the happiest moment of my life,"
she said. "I saw that life had some beauty
in it, and I loved Terry at once. I left the
young fellow, who meant nothing to me, and
have been living with Terry ever since. You
may think it strange, as I am only twenty-
three now, and that was five years ago, and
Terry is forty-six. I like young men, too,
but Terry has meant life to me."

She quit the factory, and the two have lived
in the garrets of Chicago's slums ever since,
reading, smoking, thinking. But how? may
be a natural question. ^

There was another woman present at this
gathering when I first met the anarchists of
Chicago, whose life and character explained
how Terry and Marie can live as they do.
Katie is her name, and she loves "Culture,"
though she can satirize it, and has none of it
herself. It is through her love of "Culture"
that Marie and Terry can live as they do.

She is a cook, very witty and lively, but en-
tirely ignorant of literature. She thinks
Terry and Marie are charming, — as they
really are — and great in every way. Katie is
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The Spirit of Labor.

a sport, though an uneducated one, and so she
"keeps" Terry and Marie. That is to say, she
supports them out of the $9 a week she makes
as cook in a Chicago restaurant. She works
all day, while they read, smoke, drink and
talk; then she comes home, at night, with
something to eat, looking forward to a few
hours of pleasure, with her two cultivated
ones. She is a devoted, willing slave, while
they are the aristocrats of the slums — aris-
tocrats who express the philosophy of the
rebellious proletariat. That philosophy is
anarchism; as it is rebellion against the in-
stitutions, not against the ideals, of mankind,
they do not like this dependence, this parasit-
ism on another human being. But it is easy
to accept devotion.

"I do not like to be a parasite," said Terry,
"but I don't see what's to be done about it.
I would work if I saw any work worth do-
ing; and if I could work for something except
organized society. After all, I live on one
person who supports me voluntarily, while
your capitalist lives on thousands who are
forced to work for him."

He and Marie recognize the inconsistency
of their attitude. They do not claim to be
[268]

An Anarchist Salon.

virtuous, but they cannot see but what all
society is organized on at least an equally un-
just and parasitic basis.

On the night of my first meeting with Terry
and Marie, he and I talked mainly about
poetry and literature and abstract concep-
tions of justice and I found him, then, one
of the subtlest, most self-consciously psycho-
logical spirits I have ever known — full of per-
versity, but wonderfully logical about it all
— this man who had never had a school edu-
cation, but who had thought independently,
though often in my opinion wrongfully, about
life. He had had not only his experience as
a mechanic, his experience as a rebel, but
also a career of unusual deprivation and
toughness, and the result was not what might
have been expected. Instead of finding a
rough, uncouth and violent personality as a
result of all this, I found myself in contact
with a man of excellent manners, of a subtle
and experienced mind, of a marked and rela-
tively consistent individuality.

As I saw more of him — and I became,

through some weeks, a regular visitor at his

salon — my impression was confirmed. There,

over the beer and cigarettes, I sat often with

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The Spirit of Labor.

him and Marie till long past midnight, fasci-
nated by his experience, his character and his
expressiveness; and by the girl's emotional
nature and untrained capacity for expressing
an idea in an artistic way.

Maggie and Anton feel the charm of these
two beings, although to their active natures
the far niente attitude is not agreeable. Said
Maggie: "Terry is a fine man, a beautiful
character. He talks to everybody so sweetly.
He listens to what a child will say, and is very
good. There is only one thing I have against
him. He won't work. He gets cast-down
and drinks; but he never drinks much except
when he works. He tried being a drummer
for a while, but was a failure because he could
not sell things to people when they didn't need
them. He don't like to come to our house be-
cause I work so hard it reminds him he doesn't
work, and he is sensitive about it. Marie
doesn't want Terry to work, for then his
tongue is violent. Work does not agree with
him."

Marie says the same thing; she does not
want Terry to work, although she is often
hungry and has often to go without her cigar-
ettes. "He is in a bad mood when he works,"
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An Anarchist Salon.

she said. Once, however, late at night, when
Marie's tobacco was all gone, and there was
no way of getting more, she burst out against
Terry, and said he couldn't even keep her sup-
plied in cigarettes ! He seemed cast-down by
this and sad, and she repented and explained
to me how much Terry really did exert him-
self.

"It is not an easy thing," she said, "to get
along without working. Terry has to be very
clever to do it. It takes skill, more skill than
to work."

She certainly loves this man who has meant
freedom, thought, poetry, refinement to her.
She has taken, of course, his ideas, but into
them she has put her own individuality and
given them a characteristic turn. He has
taught her many things — one thing, to be a
"free-lover." Though she loves Terry, she
likes other men, and Terry encourages her
to be what he calls absolutely "free." She
carries out his ideas with completeness; and
does not find it a hardship. But she is very
jealous of Terry, if he shows any inclination
for another woman's society.

"Yes, it is inconsistent," she admitted, "but
our logic does not count when our fundamen-
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The Spirit of Labor.

tal feelings are aroused. Terry does not mind
what I do — that is his affair. It is very fine
in him, but I don't think it is very wise. Per-
haps I would be better if he were jealous.
But I mind what he does, I can tell you.
Theories don't count in these things. We
'radicals,' in spite of all our theories, are as
jealous and human as anybody, perhaps a lit-
tle more so."

Anton likes Terry and Marie, and he finds
it attractive to be with them. But he is aware
of their limitations. Going back with him,
after this visit to the salon in the garret, he
said: ^

"I cannot see how Terry can live as he does.
It is true, working for a living is not what
it is cracked up to be. It is foolish to work
unless one has to or unless one has a higher
aim ; as the Socialist I met in the box-car years
ago used to say: nothing is necessary except
the luxuries. And Terry and Marie get the
luxuries of thought. They are aristocrats,
but they pay too much for it. Terry hates
posing. He is not an egotist and he talks
about the subject. But I can't afford to be
with these people too often — that is, the better
ones among them. It would take away from
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An Anarchist Salon.

my activity in the trade-union movement.
The anarchists are so intellectual, they say,
what's the use? And that is discouraging to
a man who wants to accomplish things. The
anarchists are all right — at least Terry is —
when it comes to thinking, but they are prac-
tically very unreasonable. They are in this
respect like the Socialists. One of them said
to me not long ago : 'You are a trade-union-
ist every day in the year except election day
and then you are a scab, for you don't vote
with the Socialists.' The trouble with these
people is that they think there is no way of
doing things but their own. They are always
roasting me because I am a trades-unionist.
The Socialists shout that trades-unionists are
corrupt, and the anarchists say everybody but
themselves are corrupt. It's fierce. And
yet I must see a good deal of these people.
They have free thoughts and some of them
think more than the average workingman.

"Many of them feel bitter just because they
are superior mentally. Very few of the un-
derpaid, day laborers feel bitter about things.
The kickers you will find among the intelli-
gent mechanics. The laborers hope to go to
heaven.* Their condition of poverty is so
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The Spirit of Labor.

abominable that they are busy keeping soul
and body together and don't think about eco-
nomic conditions. They accept God, and
don't think."

Anton and I had left the car, and were
walking past a church, near his home. He
pointed to the building, and said, with bitter-
ness : "Damn that. It was that that kept me
back. It was that that said to me it was re-
ligious to be poor, that work is a blessing, and
contentment is good and all that tommyrot.
If we working men don't look after ourselves,
nobody will, not even God. We must organ-
ize, we must fight, to get what men and women
ought to have, to make life any good. And
we are roasted for this, not only by the min-
isters but by the anarchists who don't believe
in doing anything except being good, except
perhaps sometimes throwing a bomb, to draw
attention to how good they are. <

"Of course, it is not a question of starving,"
he went on. "Not for most of us. But it
is almost better to starve than not to have a
great deal more than what is absolutely neces-
sary. A laborer with a large family gener-
ally quarrels with his wife. During the en-
tire day his mind is centred on the dinner
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An Anarchist Salon.

hour. No time to think. At least, there is
not affection in these homes, as a rule. They
have no time to be interested in each other.
The man, if a drinker, spends more than he
ought to, and that creates discord. Most of
the children stand by their mother; but if she
puts up with a man who is extremely careless,
that has a tendency to make the children think
he is not as bad as he really is ; and that gives
them wrong ideas. So it is bad anyway.
Conflicting ideas assassinate the love of man,
wife and children.

"It is easy to be an anarchist, if one thinks.
But if a man wants to act, he can't be a con-
sistent anarchist. The whole thing can be
traced back to economics, to this matter of
dollars and cents. The more a man sees the
injustice of wealth, the harder it is to work.
Terry kicked so hard that he quit work, and
is now a leisure-class person. He is now a
capitalist without capital. He thinks eco-
nomics less important than literature, because
he possesses literature and doesn't possess
money. But you can't get the average man
interested in literature.

"You can improve the average man, how-
ever,'by giving him more money. He then
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The Spirit of Labor.

will become capable of better things. When
I used to get only $i6 or $17 a week and had
to support a family, I found life was not
what it is cracked up to be. I could not de-
velop my family and social instincts; couldn't
ever buy a newspaper. Such a life makes a
man stupidly selfish. But these last few
years, when I have made a few dollars more,
I have developed my social instinct, a desire
to read and think. It makes all the differ-
ence, I can tell you, a few dollars a week."

A few nights after that, Anton, Maggie and
I went to an anarchists' "social"; where I
met the whole "bunch" of the more extreme
of the Chicago radicals. I found that they
all were working people, or had been with
the exception of the anarchist poet, an Amer-
ican of bourgeois family who had become
what Anton calls the "King of the Anar-
chists."

The social side at this meeting was indeed
strong. I had never been to a gathering of
people who seemed so much at home together.
It was first names everywhere, kisses and em-
braces. The beer flowed freely, speeches
were made about liberty and love, everybody
kissed everybody else's girl, and all were
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An Anarchist Salon.

happy. The ordinary conventions of con-
servative society were removed. Extreme
naturalness was the note, and yet it all seemed
very harmless. They were working people
who had decided to have a very good time in
their own way; if they could not transcend
the social conventions, they could at least cut
under them. In spite of all this freedom,
however, the women were gentle and intelli-
gent; there was not a suggestion of tough-
ness about the occasion. They were all peo-
ple with ideas; so much is an idea loved in
that society that a man rich in these cerebral
concomitants finds himself very popular with
the women — it is a surer way to succeed
with them than unlimited ducats and gaiety.
The men and women genuinely love ideas,
temperament and poetry. There is no fake
about it, as is often the case in conservative
society, if indeed there is any desire for it at
all there.

Terry and Marie were present, dressed in
their best, which was very simple. Marie
was looking for H , who had not yet ap-
peared. "I wish he would come," she said,
enthusiastically. "Why, you know, he is a
man who was imprisoned for a long time in
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The Spirit of Labor.

Austria because of his political ideas. He
also escaped from an insane asylum. He is
a genius, full of character. I love him
dearly. I would rather live w^ith him in jail
than with an ordinary man in luxury." Her
deep, large dark eyes shone intensely. In her
look was the aesthetic side of the fanaticism
which brings joy to the revolutionist.

Soon after, H appeared. He kissed

warmly all his friends, including Marie, who
introduced him to me. But at the moment
he saw a man dancing with a dark Jewish girl,
who worked in the factory and was in love
with the Poet. v

"Excuse me," said H — , excitedly, "I see
a damn fool over there. I must go and kiss

him." A little later I asked H what he

meant by admiring a man whom he thought
a fool. "All good men are fools in this
world," he said. "They pass for fools with
conservative people. I love only those peo-
ple who do the unwise thing. If a man suc-
ceeds, he is not a fool, and is not for me. I
never knew a man with brains and sympathy
combined who was not a fool. That man is
one of them, and that is why I love him."

H — is a journalist woking now on a Ger-
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An Anarchist Salon.

man anarchist paper in Chicago. He has
been a feuilletonist in Vienna and other Ger-
man cities and his talk reminds one in tone of
Jugend and Simplicissimus. He and Terry
and I foregathered at the improvised bar, and
he spoke of his imprisonment: "My ten
years' imprisonment did me great good," he
said. "I had a chance to be alone and to
think things out. No one has a right to call
his soul his own until he has been imprisoned.
'You treat political prisoners (anarchists)
worse in America than they are treated any-
where else in the world. You treat them like
common felons. In England, they are treated
much better. You get the worst things from
England, and leave the best. The English
are really tolerant. Their police don't run
into jail for disorderly conduct men who are
making speeches, anarchistic or otherwise, or
publishing papers about sex or government.
But here they do. In England, they have no
trouble with the anarchists, for they let them
talk and write as much as they want. The
English are away ahead of the Americans in
real toleration and sense of justice. Look at
the execution of the anarchists in Chicago.
That could not have happened in England.
[279]

The Spirit of Labor.

It is impossible, of course, to be free any-
where. I cannot be free in what I write even
in our anarchist newspaper. I must be a
hypocrite even there. I must write on the
level of the small bourgeois intelligence. It
is a fierce world."

The three of us talked about Anton. I
praised him warmly and said: "He has not
read much, and knows nothing about litera-
ture, etc., but he is a real personality, one who
is able to get into life and when in, to think
about it with point." H would have em-
braced me, so enthusiastically did he agree
with this remark. "The real people," he
said, "are among the active workers. There
is no doubt about that. There would be
nothing in socialism or anarchism if it were
not for the workers. There wouldn't be any-
thing, anywhere, if it were not for the work-
ers. Sometimes all this strength, sweetness
and vigor of the class is shown in one man
who can talk. Such a man is Anton."

Then he spoke, rather slightingly, of the
Anarchist Poet, who was present at the social,
very attentive to all the women. This poet,

B , is sometimes called "King." He is

not of the working class, but goes among the
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An Anarchist Salon,

"radical" people of that class. He likes to
eat and drink, perhaps excessively, and in
other things of the sense is distinguished.
He talks poetry and dresses and looks aes-
thetic. The women all like him, because they
think he represents beauty and idealism. A
factory girl is in love with him and follows
him around like a dog to all the meetings.
He prides himself on his power of capturing
women. The real working people look up to
him, because he seems to have what they have
not — education and a grasp at what they feel

are the higher things. But H ^ was right

when he said this poet was inferior to his ad-
mirers. "They like him," he said, "because
they are good people, with high ideals, not
because he is."

There is no love lost, however, between
Anton and the poet, B . For Anton, al-
though he is an idealist, yet is a shrewd per-
son, made keen in the detection of fakes from
his experience in life. He sees through B.'s
superficiality as a man, although he is imposed
upon by his "genius," and his poetry. He
quotes often with approval Katie's way of re-
ceiving him, when he comes to see Terry and
Marie. Katie is the shrewd cook, and she
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The Spirit of Labor.

calls B , "the potato poet" and always has

potato soup for him. She sees, too, that
B is a mere sensualist, not really inter-
ested in the movement, interested only in get-
ting as much as he can from the radical
women, whose ideas render them susceptible
to poets, and from the "comrades" among the
men, and give them only his genius and his
egotism in return. This seems to Anton and
Katie like a big graft; they are perhaps the
two hardest workers in the "radical bunch"
and in some ways have the keenest vision;
though one is a cook and the other a wood-
worker; but instead of "through," read "for."

"B told me," said Anton, "that his book

of poetry would have the union label on it.
He said it at least twelve times. If he knew
what I think of him he wouldn't say it. He
claims to love mankind, but he is an awful
sponger on the radicals, who treat him as a
comrade. He works them in return, for they
all think him great. He will go round to
the houses of the working people, eat and
sleep with them, and even ask for things that
are not in the house. He takes everything,
and gives nothing. Once he gave a blow-out,
said it was going to be something great.
[282]

An Anarchist Salon.

When we got there we found sandwiches and
beer, not enough of that, five cents worth.
He had the gall to hold the beer up to the
light, to show us how good it was I He thinks
because we are mechanics he can treat us as
he likes.

"He goes around coolly taking the wives
and comrades of other men, and these men are
often grateful, he is such a genius. They call
him the King of the Anarchists, but I called
him the Limit in Gall, the very essence of
brass. How jealous he is, too! If the
women show any interest in any other man,
he is miserable. If he were a better man, he
would be a better poet, I believe, though I
don't know much about that."

Several devoted slaves of the Poet, besides
the factory girl, were there; one man, almost
the most idealistic and enthusiastic and un-
selfish personality I have ever met. He longs
to sacrifice himself. His greatest pleasure, I
believe, would be to be put into prison for
the sake of an emotional idea. He has been,
has done, everything; has worked with his
hands, in a book-store, has been a publisher;
has experienced all the faiths; when a Free
Baptist, he was arrested for preaching on a
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The Spirit of Labor.

soap-box in Chicago, and spent a night in jail.
He gives to all he can, but his emotion is
stronger by far than his intelligence, which
however is not slight. He married a woman,
loves her and her boy, by another man ; gives
her the freedom which he does not take in any
essential way. The result finally is that she
now loves a man of stronger, more selfish,
more brutal character than her poor husband.
There is no need, she thinks, to care for the
sensibilities of such an unselfish man — fool,
she probably thinks him in her heart. And
a fool he is, in H's sense of the word, but he
is a fool now who is miserable. The situa-
tion is tearing his heart out, but it is against
his sense of justice and freedom to object. So
he simply suffers. It is a striking case of
what frequently happens in this "radical" so-
ciety.

Men and women try frequently because of
their ideas to live "tolerantly," as they call
it, but they too often find that their "funda-
mental emotions" — as Marie puts it — are
far stronger than their ideas. And then
there is tragedy. On the night of the social,
this little man was as gay as a lark. Every-
body likes him and he went lightly about,
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dancing and making himself agreeable; and
drinking more than was good for him.

He has a practical turn, in spite of his ideal-
ism ; makes more money than any of the other
extreme radicals. Whenever anything is to
be organized, he is called upon. This social
was for the benefit of one of the two anarchis-
tic weeklies in Chicago — The Demonstrator
— "which does not demonstrate," as Anton
put it. In this enterprise the little man is an
active spirit. He is active, too, in making
possible the weekly meetings of the radicals
in Masonic Temple — called the Social Sci-
ence League. He was active in securing a
room in that building, and many of the rad-
icals bitterly objected, called him an "aristo-
crat." They wanted a West Side garret to
meet in, thought it more consistent with the
cause of the proletariat. Many of the more
extreme of the sect refuse to attend the Sun-
day night meetings. They regard the whole
thing as a fake, because of the "swell" sur-
roundings.

One of the most interesting men at the so-
cial was like Anton, a woodworker, and
worked at his trade. He, again like Anton,
had more fibre and calmness and strength
[285]

The Spirit of Labor.

than the rank and file of the anarchists. He
talks well, and reasons, not emotionally, but
coolly; and in character he is balanced, toler-
ant and kind. He is a learned man among
them, school-masterly in look, and talks in a
slow, deliberate way. His character has not
the emphasis and vigor of that of Anton, but
it is steadfast and firm. Jay has led a varied
mechanic's life — has been a blacksmith and a
carpenter, as well as a woodworker. He is
a stow-a-way from Ireland, but has apparently
nothing Irish in his character. At one time
he was a walking delegate in New York and
has written trades-union and anarchistic
pamphlets. His anarchism began at the time
of the Chicago riots. When he saw the bod-
ies of the eight anarchists who had been
hanged, and felt the "organized injustice" of
the act, "something happened" to him. He
was deeply moved, and he has felt differently
about governments ever since.

It was only the other day that I received
a letter from Jay. I had written him that I
intended to speak at the International Con-
gress of Criminal Anthropology at Turin, and
he thereupon wrote me, in part, as follows :

"I must comfess I am greatly at a loss to
[286]

An Anarchist Salon.

know what criminology really is. It does not
seem to me there is anything basic in it. Are
some men born with a propensity to violate
the rules of the game of society; or do they
acquire the habit through contact with their
environment? I don't think heredity has
been modified in the least by society. If the
postulates of evolutionary science are correct
it took countless ages for man to reach his
present state of development. From the
standpoint of biology, civilization is merely
a check on the natural instincts of man, which
lead him to satisfy his desires wherever he
can, without regard to conventions, his only
question being, 'Can I make it and get away?'
"Every man is born a criminal — born with
desires, and cares only that they be satisfied.
Heredity says, 'Go and get the things you want
wherever you see them!' Society says : 'Hold
on, Bill, I have made rules you must observe
in the getting.' It is quite clear the only
question remains as to whether or not the in-
dividual will observe the rules is, how heavily
do the rules press upon him. If the beaten
path of civilization is level, and has plenty of
eating-houses along the way, the chances are
many to one that the individual will be a 'law-
[287]

The Spirit of Labor.

abiding citizen.' But if the path is paved
with cobblestones and there is a policeman at
the door of every eating-house who forces the
weary traveler to keep moving, and refuses
him even a 'hand-out,' the chances are strong
that he will wander from the virtuous path
and seek his bread in other ways. He is
caught, clapped into jail, and the criminolo-
gist sees at once, in the shape of his ear, of his
head, or what not, signs that tell him this
man has criminal propensities. Of course,
the criminologist can only study the poor,
half-witted or unfortunate 'criminal' who hap-
pens to get caught, and he prescribes for him.
If he sees in him a propensity to murder only,
why, get him a job in a slaughter house
— if to be out at night, make a night watch-
man out of him. I believe crime is a social
disease, and should be treated as such. If
your criminologist will go and study the en-
vironment that the 'criminal' passed through
on his way to the jail, he will be getting
nearer the cause, not why men are criminals,
but why they do not become honest, law-abid-
ing citizens. I think that in so far as crimi-
nology is a part of social science, it is of much
value to mankind, but if it is pursued as a
[288]

An Anarchist Salon.

study of individual characteristics and pro-
pensities, it is not worth any more than the
study of astrology or palmistry.

"It seems to me the whole question of civi-
lization is one of environment modifying the
natural or savage instincts of mankind. I can
not see how anyone not a believer in the the-
ory, or rather the poem, of special creation,
can take issue with that proposition. If this
be true then the duty of the true friends of
Humanity is to direct their energies toward
making society as serviceable as possible to
the individual; that he may be compensated
for his change from savagery, and be con-
verted into a true friend of civilization. Get
your criminologist to study the causes that
make men criminals, and you will have done
enough for any one man.

"I didn't intend to say but a few words on
this subject, but I feel deeply at the way the
subject is being handled by the surface philos-
ophers and wooden scientists. At any rate,
since you are going to the conference, the
ideas of a criminal upon criminals may not be
harmful to you. Esther is busy as usual ex-
pounding that which is in her. Her soul is
filled to the brim with the joys that are to
[289]

The Spirit of Labor.

come when the criminals and criminologists
will all be civilized."

This letter is a good example of the kind
of speech that Jay makes at the Social Sci-
ence League, or at other "radical" gatherings.
He is of the better and sounder type of the
radical agitator. Anton admires and respects
him, and often finds him a job at his trade,
for Jay is not as active or as resourceful as his
friend.

Esther is what Jay calls his "companion."
She is a beautiful Jewess, and was present
with her handsome children at the social.
She is melancholy and affectionate and gentle
and sensual, and has had an unhappy experi-
ence with men. She left her husband some
years ago, "because we didn't develop to-
gether." And Jay and his wife separated for
the same reason. Then these two met, and
each discovered that the other had "high
ideals."

So they very simply began to live to-
gether. They have a great respect for one
another, and Jay is so tolerant that Esther's
"longings" are completely satisfied, even when
they lead her away from Jay for weeks at a
time. But Jay's soul is fortified and tested:
[290]

An Anarchist Salon.

he is not emotionally vulnerable, like the poor
little Free Baptist publisher.

After the social was over, the "bunch" went
round the corner to a chop-suey joint, and
over tea and the conventional Chinese dish,
we talked philosophy, and love, and psychol-
ogy and scandal until three in the morning.
Anton and Maggie, Terry and Marie, Jay
and Esther, the Poet and a few others, and
in and out of the talk, in the values put on
life, in the point of view, in the prejudices,
crudities, enthusiasms and hopes expressed,
there stalked, in the incoherent background,
the silent, though significant figure of the
Working Man. His spirit gave meaning to
it all.

There is a distinct, though rather anaemic
charm about these gentle anarchists — these
proletarians who develop a consolatory phi-
losophy and work out a natural and intimate
social life. In one of his books, Anatole
France writes :

"Last week an anarchist comrade visited
me. I love him because, never yet having
had any share in the government of his coun-
try, he has preserved much of his innocence.
[291]

The Spirit of Labor.

He wants to upset everything only because he
believes men naturally good and virtuous.
He thinks that, freed from their poverty,
freed from their laws, they would get rid of
their egotism and their wickedness."

[292]

CHAPTER XIV.
Politics in the Federation,

Anton has had enough share in the govern-
ment of trades-unions, in the workings of poli-
tics and in the passionate clashes of ambitions,
to be less innocent in experience than the an-
archist friend of Anatole France. It has not
taken from him his ideals, but it serves to
make him very different from his anarchist
associates. He is a man, vigorous, tolerant,
passionate, inconsistent, generous, hopeful,
rough, kind and gentle; to a certain degree
practical and cognizant of conditions.

Comparatively recent events in Chicago, in
v^hich he played a part, have served to make
Anton realize that facts have their compul-
siveness, and that the function of the ideal is
often only that of a tonic: that anarchism is
what may be called a tonical attitude towards
life, an emotional cock-tail, so to speak, which
serves to stimulate one's interest in ideal
things and thus exert, on the whole, a useful
[293]

The Spirit of Labor.

influence in reducing the unhumorous serious-
ness with which many people, given up to rou-
tine and convention, regard the fallible insti-
tutions of men.

Keen as Anton is to see the limitations of
anarchism, he is equally keen in feeling the
weakness of a merely practical movement if
it is not allied with an emotional idealism. A
high-minded and useful newspaper man of my
acquaintance, one who has worked with dis-
tinction for many years on a Chicago paper
and has written every week comment on the
labor news which is invaluable to all students
of the subject, was slugged one day, after at-
tending a meeting of the Chicago Federation
of Labor, the probable cause being that a cer-
tain corrupt labor politician did not like the
impartial and critical tone of the writer.
Commenting on this occurrence, Anton, who
is a friend of the newspaper man and respects
his honesty and ability, said:

"He is a fine fellow, but he got his medi-
cine. He is always saying that there must not
be any socialism or anarchism in the move-
ment, that trades-unionism methods, and they
alone, must be strictly adhered to, and of
course he wants trades-union methods without
[294]

Politics in the Federation.

graft and crookedness. But that is impossi-
ble. You can't eliminate graft without ideas,
without emotions, and there are no more emo-
tions in strictly trade-union politics than there
are in politics in general. There are no ideas
in the democratic party or in the republican
party, and there are no ideas among the prac-
tical men of the trade-unions movement, un-
less those ideas are put into it by the emo-
tional theorists, as they are called, by the so-
cialists and the anarchists."

I don't think this quite applies to the news-
paper man referred to, but it serves to indi-
cate Anton's point of view. That newspaper
writer does indeed believe in the need of prin-
ciple, but he thinks it possible that merely
moral principle is sufficient to hold men along
the line of ideal action. In connection with
the fight in the Federation between the old
"graft" element and the so-called "reform"
element, the newspaper man wrote me, as fol-
lows:

"I thought of you last Sunday and wished
you had been at the Federation meeting when
the election of officers was stopped by rowdy-
ism for the second time. It was a sight that
you would never forget. Another effort will
[295]

The Spirit of Labor.

be made to-morrow to elect officers; whether
it will be successful remains to be seen. In
any event, it is a hopeful sign that we are able
to make such fights for what we conceive to
be honest and right. As long as men are
ready and willing to put up a fight against
wrong and injustice, I say it is a hopeful sign
whether successful or not. That seems to be
the situation in the Federation. Personally
I like Madden (the machine politician who
has dictated officers to the Federation for
years) better than Dold, but as I told Madden
yesterday, I am looking to underlying prin-
ciples, not to the individuals. I wish the so-
called reform element had a stronger man to
lead than Dold, for the meeting last Sunday
was the best illustration I ever saw that men
want to be led. It was really a sight to see
a big crowd of men racked and torn with pas-
sion becoming calm the moment Madden
lifted his finger, and again when he gave the
signal, they simply raised hell. Much as I
disagree with Madden's methods, I could not
help admiring the man during the fight.
Cool and smiling he simply swayed his crowd
as he pleased, while Dold was hesitating and
trembling from physical fear."
[296]

Politics in the Federation.

Sentiments such as these this reporter put
in his paper and probably in consequence of
this general attitude, he was at a considerably-
later time slugged. It was during these po-
litical fights, when Madden took around with
him his ruffians prepared to use physical vio-
lence, that Michael Donnelly, the leader in
the great stock-yards strike, was beaten for
the second time, and almost killed. His first
slugging was due, it is believed, to his attitude
of hostility towards the DriscoU-Young ma-
chine which controlled the teamsters for so
long, and was finally condemned by the re-
formers in the Labor Federation. Don-
nelly brought in a resolution severely con-
demning Driscoll, and it was soon after this
that he was slugged and nearly killed. And
the second time, it happened probably for very
much the same general reasons — a simple-
hearted and courageous opposition to the cor-
rupt but powerful labor machine. This was
also why the high-minded reporter I have re-
ferred to, Luke Grant, "got his medicine."

Grant is a shrewd Scotchman, honest and

clear, whose heart is thoroughly with the

labor movement, but who puts the usual

amount of respectable emphasis on the unde-

[297]

The Spirit of Labor.

sirability of violence and "graft." During
one of the teamsters' riots, the extent of which
was grossly exaggerated, I was with Grant
and another Chicago newspaper man; when
Grant admitted that he had a strong desire to
throw rocks at the "scab" drivers. "I don't be-
lieve in doing it," he said, "and think it is all
wrong, but yet instinctively I would like to."
The other reporter remarked that Grant's
words were an expression of the "neighbor-
hood morality," the behests of which were
often stronger than law.

And yet Grant, in spite of his strong sym-
pathy with the cause, is deeply affected by the
opinion of the settlement workers and of the
better element" — such as Grahame Taylor
and other good men — which lays stress upon
the undesirability of violence and graft —
which maintains vehemently that bad is bad
and good is good. It is partly this kind of
emphasis which gives rise to a misapprehen-
sion of the relative values of the whole situa-
tion. The wave of "reform" which has swept
America for the last few years has no doubt
done lasting good, but it has undoubtedly in
many cases turned one's eyes away from the
forest and riveted them on the trees. And
[298]

Politics in the Federation.

this is particularly true of the labor situation,
especially of the distressing events connected
with the great teamsters' strike in Chicago
which aroused and excited the whole country.
The eddies on the surface — "graft" and vio-
lence— have been magnified into waves of
greater volume than the mass, while the big,
underlying and significant facts of the human
situation have not always been present in
the critical consciousness. Grant was near
enough the particular situation to see points
of corruption among the labor leaders as well
as among the employers, and, naturally
enough, on account of his proximity, he some-
times was in a mood to exaggerate the im-
portance of these unpleasant facts. Journal-
ism is more insistent than literature. It deals
with the temporary, salient accidents, and
neglects the big underlying volume of life ; so
in the contemporary treatment, in newspapers
and books, even when they are honest and un-
prejudiced, of the labor situation, there has
been a harping on the exceptional situation —
upon the dishonest labor official, the unjust
strike, the walking delegate's arrogance, the
"educational committee" and its violence.
All these things, to be sure, are undesirable,
[299]

The Spirit of Labor*

but it is still more undesirable to allow one's
sympathy, because of these things, to fall away
from a movement which contains more eth-
ics, humanity and justice than^any other move-
ment of our day.

When I first went to Chicago and was
slugged in a saloon because I called Sam
Parks a thief, I was in a state of mind in
which I too believed financial dishonesty
and ethical bad taste generally were matters
of the very greatest human importance. I
still think it is bad to steal, but I now believe
that a man who steals may still be of human
importance, and that the bulk of his activity
may be for good. I have heard many very
fine laboring men, who would not steal a
penny, defend Sam Parks and men like him,
on the ground that these men were really de-
voted to the cause and had done good work
and were full of the milk of human kindness ;
better men than many of "our best citizens"
who obey the law but who are humanly un-
just.

The workingmen believe, of course that
much of present day law, as it concerns prop-
erty, is meant for one class only, and they
naturally do not feel the same hatred for an
[300]

Politics in the Federation.

ordinary thief as they do for a sheltered or
extraordinary one.

It was a feeling very similar to that I have
expressed which determined Anton's general
feeling towards the grafting machine on the
one hand, and the reformers in the Federa-
tion, on the other.

"At one stage of the fight against the Mad-
den machine," he said, "the reformers invited
me to attend their caucus. They knew that I
had always been against the machine, and that
I had a strong following among the wood-
workers. These so-called purifiers were out
to defeat the Madden slate, but had not rec-
ommended anybody for President as against
Madden's man, Schardt. I suggested the
name of a revolutionary Socialist who was
Madden's chief opponent. They rejected
him as their candidate partly on the ground
that if he were elected, it would go out that
it was a Socialist election. This seemed to me
an unjust and nonsensical reason, although I
was not a Socialist, but when they went further
and said that if he were elected, they would
not be recognized on the committees, they
seemed to me to be quite as small as the so-

[301]

The Spirit of Labor.

called grafters, and I told them to go to hell,
as quietly as I could.

"I consented, however, to watch for them
when the ballots were counted. When the
polls opened, the judges and clerks, who were
Madden men, ruled that we had no right to
have watchers, but about 10:30 Schardt, Mad-
den's candidate, came around, and admitted
the watchers. By that time, the ballots could
easily have been fixed. One of the judges
was a prize-fighter, one a bar-tender, two
were sluggers, and all were Madden men. But
I took a chance, and decided to watch. I was
told that the ballots could not all be counted
till four or five o'clock in the morning. I
thought this was intended to discourage me,
and I was more determined than ever. If I
had known what I know now, I wouldn't have
taken such an awful risk. When I entered,
I made a statement to the judges and clerks,
for I realized that these men hated the two
men who had asked me to watch — for these
two men had been the most stubborn oppo-
nents of ring rule.

" The fact that I am a watcher,' I said,
'need not be taken necessarily as an indica-
tion that I suspect the honesty of the judges
[302]

Politics in the Federation.

and clerks. I disagree with both of these re-
formers in many respects, but in view of the
rumors that have been circulated in trade-
union circles that there is no such thing as an
honest election in the Chicago Federation of
Labor, I want to learn for myself as well as
for the men I represent, to what extent this
is true or false.' I took a position behind the
man who read off the ballot to be sure
that the names he read had a cross before
them.

I had had no food since breakfast, but the
judges and clerks had all kinds of lunch and
drinks ordered at the expense of the Federa-
tion, which was illegal. They asked me to
join with them, but I drank very little, as I
was very suspicious of their motives. After
the lunch, one of the judges pulled out a big
pistol and asked me to hold it for him while
he went down stairs. Another judge laid his
revolver on the table where I could see it. I
thought all this play was meant for me, and
I felt I was up against it. Skinny Madden
came in just then. Everybody knows him as
the Lorimer of the Federation. I quietly but
persistently asked the judges if Skinny had
credentials admitting him to the counting.
[ 303 ]

The Spirit of Labor.

He overheard me, replied that he had no cre-
dentials, and left.

"They went on counting the votes. I no-
ticed that the first five names of the candi-
dates for the executive board received two or
three hundred ballots all marked alike. It
was a cunning scheme, as it meant, 'Vote for
the first five,' and would avoid the possibility
of confusing names, and would make stuffing
ballots easy. About 2 a. m. six hundred and
fifty ballots had been counted, and the entire
machine had been elected. There was no
longer any need for me to stay; the judges
and clerks wanted to know what my attitude
would be in the Federation. I replied that
I would stand by the facts whatever they
were.

"At the next meeting of the Federation, the
report of the election was given, and no pro-
test was made by anybody. The men for
whom I had watched, did not ask me to re-
port, but one of them got up and read a letter
from his union charging dishonesty and cor-
ruption in the election but not giving an
iota of evidence.. I deemed it an insult to
me that, after watching all day and all night,
my opinion had not been asked, so I took the
[304]

Politics in the Federation.

floor and roasted the union for making an un-
substantiated charge, and the ^purifiers' for
their cowardice. 'I have no doubt,' I said,
'that Madden is the Lorimer of the Federa-
tion, but my observation has taught me that
the main reason the reformers are dissatisfied
is that they themselves are not the Lorimers
of the Federation. I personally and also as
a member of my union am opposed to gang
rule wherever I see it, no matter what flag
it flies under in the Federation, but I am not
willing to make a serious charge without some
definite evidence. I am opposed to many of
those who have been elected, and especially to
the President, but although I watched all
day and all night, I saw nothing that I
could advance as evidence of corruption. It
looks to me as if the man for whom I watched
suspected my honesty, as he did not ask me
my opinion, but preferred to present unsub-
stantiated charges. I voted for him, but if
he has no better judgment than to appoint a
man whom he immediately afterwards sus-
pects of dishonesty, I am glad he is defeated.'
"This speech created a sensation in the
Federation meeting. Some of the Socialists
thought I did not stand by them, right or
[305]

The Spirit of Labor.

wrong, but I am not a 'class-conscious' man,
and don't care for that kind of sentiment.
They hinted I had not done right. I told
them that if the facts would hurt the reform
movement, the reform movement ought to be
reformed. v

"Madden's man, Schardt, when elected Pres-
ident, came to me and asked me to serve on
the resolutions committee. He said I was a
fair-fighter, but began to tell me what to do
when I was on the committee. I checked him
and told him I had a mind of my own, and,
if on the committee, I would act as I pleased,
r would work only as a free lance, I said.
He seemed to think that because I had not
charged his gang with dishonesty I couldn't
prove that I was for them. Needless to say,
I was not appointed to the committee.

"These little oppositions of mine did not
amount to much, but I kept them all worried.
They did not know where I stood. They did
not seem to grasp the idea of being independ-
ent even from reform. My popularity among
the rank and file increased. At every elec-
tion several would nominate me for some
office in the Federation, but I always de-
clined ; because, working at my trade, I could
[306]

Politics in the Federation.

not attend the committees regularly, and so
would not be in so good a position to criticize.
Then, too, a free lance is always in a good
position to talk, for men know he is not trying
to get anything. As it was, I was the only
man in the Federation who was always on the
floor to fight anything that came from the ad-
ministration that seemed to me wrong. The
terrible fear of advocating a measure which
was likely to be defeated keeps many men in
their seats, but I like nothing better than to
be in the minority. When you are right, it is
very exciting. I dislike those 'reformers' who
sit by and see a tyrannical thing done, by the
gavel or otherwise, without protesting.

"As time went on, the reformers found it
more and more difficult to understand my at-
titude. When the fight came up between
Madden and Dold and the former's bullies
made their raids on the ballots, men like
Quinn and Fitzpatrick did not understand
my lukewarm stand, unless I had gone over
to the Madden camp. As I had always
fought the Madden machine this looked to
them like treachery. I could not be enthusi-
astic for a man like Dold, and I didn't like
the cowardly and tyrannical attitude of the
[307]

The Spirit of Labor.

reform machine ; and I didn't like their tend-
ency to put their friends in office. If, being
against a machine makes a purifier, I am the
only purifier in the Federation."

Charles Dold was originally put in office by
the Madden machine ; and I have it from no
less an authority than Samuel Gompers that
Dold made Madden a promise not to put a
certain vigorous revolutionary Socialist, a "re-
former," on any committee. But Dold fell
into the hands of the "better element" in and
out of labor circles and the result was that he
put this man, obnoxious to Madden, on sev-
eral important committees. Madden, there-
fore, got out his knife and determined by all
legal and illegal methods to defeat Dold at
the next election.

"When," continued Anton, "this election
was to be held, the Federation was divided
into two camps, the Dold faction and the
Madden faction. The slugging of Donnelly
drew the lines all the sharper, and naturally
everybody would be against Madden. But
the Woodworkers' delegates had reason to
oppose Dold. He had been fighting our or-
ganization for a long time, and was in addi-
tion a disagreeable side-stepper who liked to
[308]

Politics in the Federation.

avoid responsibility and had no personal cour-
age. Knowing that he would not go very far
in defending principle, when by so doing he
might be violently dealt with, neither I nor
any other woodworker was willing to make a
strong fight for him. In addition, the wood-
workers were on strike at the time, and needed
the support of all the Unions regardless of
political factions. So we did not hump our-
selves for the "reform" candidate.

"The element of so-called purifiers who had
suddenly waked up to the necessity of fighting
the machine, took for granted, as I have said,
that I was a Madden man looking for favors.
They lost sight of the fact that neither I nor
any other woodworker had ever occupied any
conspicuous official position in the Federation,
with the exception of Dick Braunsweig, who
some years ago was a member of the executive
board, and was a most vigorous fighter against
gang rule. Dold at that time was recognized
as the most valuable supporter of machine
rule ; and is quite generally regarded in labor
circles as a man not to be relied on too
strongly.

"Experience taught me that, if I wanted
to be a factor for good in the Woodworkers'
[309]

The Spirit of Labor.

organization and the labor movement in gen-
eral, I must be careful not to recommend a
man who I felt would disappoint the ex-
pectations of the men behind him, no matter
what principle he named as a party measure.
I questioned the wisdom of stating with
fevered enthusiasm that the election of any
man to any office would assure any particu-
lar relief to the rank and file. I feared that
to be very enthusiastic about the greatness or
goodness of any man would divert the at-
tention of the rank and file from the necessity
of looking after themselves and of being
active from time to time. These were my
reasons for not coming out strongly for
Dold.

"On the other hand, I knew that the Mad-
den element was certainly not what was
wanted in the labor movement. So I was
forced to take a neutral position. My an-
archism, or in other words my tolerance and
the many-sided influence of my radical
friends, made it easier for me to take such a
position, for I had no great confidence that
anything very good could come out of politi-
cal fights where the factions were looking for
advantage; or out of machinery in general.
[310]

Politics in the Federation.

Great good only comes in my opinion from
the educations of life.

"A little while before the slugging of Don-
nelly and the election I had made up my mind
that I wanted to be Chicago delegate to the
International Labor Congress which was to
meet at Pittsburg in November of last year.
I could get off three weeks from my job in the
factory, and representing the big labor body
in Chicago I would have a chance to express
my views on the larger issues of labor and
meet men prominent in the movement all over
the world. It had been the custom for the
President of the Chicago Federation to be the
delegate to the National and International
Congresses, if he desired to be. I had, pre-
vious to the local election, approached the
Secretary of the Federation and ascertained
that there would be no opposition to my can-
didacy either from him or from President
Dold, who did not desire to be the Chicago
delegate.

"When the time for the election of the dele-
gate approached, I found, on account of my
luke-warm support of Dold in the local elec-
tions, that the 'reformers' were against me, sus-
pecting me to be a Madden man, as I have
[311]

The Spirit of Labor.

explained. They all got busy in an effort to
defeat me. They knew that I was better
cjualified than the man who ran against me,
but I would not work in favor of their hob-
bies. That shows the paradox of their posi-
tion as reformers. The Secretary of the Fed-
eration came to me, through their influence,
and asked me to withdraw. 'I'm afraid they
have got you beat,' he said. 'You can go and
tell the caucus of reformers to go to hell,' I
said, *I am in this fight to stay.'

"I determined to beat this gang, if I could,
and for the first time I decided to hustle
for my election, and play a few cards. The
next Monday a convention of street car work-
ers opened, and I as President of the Wood-
workers had received an invitation to present
to this convention a gavel bearing a Union
label. The street-car men have the largest
delegation to the Chicago Federation of La-
bor, and all their strong men were at this con-
vention. That gave me an opportunity to tell
them where I stood. I explained to them the
situation, and they promised to stand by me
in the election. That same night I told my
story before my own Union. I had been in-
strumental in obtaining $2,000 from the Fed-
[312J

Politics in the Federation.

eration for the Woodworkers while on strike,
and was generally popular in my Union, and
they elected four additional delegates. An-
other Woodworkers' Union, No. 67, elected
five additional delegates and No. 17 six.
Every Union instructed their delegates to be
present at the Federation meeting when the
delegate for the Pittsburg Convention was to
be elected. There never was a time when any
one organization was so united and deter-
mined in any particular purpose, as they were
on electing me.

"Every Woodworker delegate showed up at
the election. The opposition got very uneasy
when they saw how strong I was in my own
Union; and adopted the old machine tyrant
rule of electing the delegate by motion. It
was moved that, since the President was not
present, that the Vice-President of the Federa-
tion be appointed delegate to the Pittsburg
Convention. I immediately jumped to my
feet and protested against the autocratic man-
ner of selecting the delegate. Others rose to
their feet and joined in my protest, moving
that the proper way to elect the delegate was
by secret ballot. The purifiers could not ob-
ject to this, and nominations were made. An
[313]

The Spirit of Labor.

old carpenter arose and nominated Steve Sum-
ner, a teamster, a lily-white reformer, on the
water wagon and very religious, but only a
two-year-old trade-unionist. The financial
secretary Hopp then put me in nomination.
Tim Quinn and John Fitzpatrick, two stellar
lights in the reforming caucus, had been nomi-
nated. They got up and declined in favor
of Sumner. It was, of course, a put-up game
to defeat me. Quinn spoke of the courage
and honesty of one of the men already nomi-
nated, and heartily recommended Sumner to
the Federation. Fitzpatrick in his speech of
declination, emphasized the fact that Sumner
was on the water wagon and therefore should
be elected. A Socialist who had been put in
nomination also declined in favor of Sum-
ner 'who was a pure and simple trades-
unionist.'

"I got up and demanded that my gray-
haired friend inform the Federation whether
any one of the candidates was not a trades-
unionist, and if so, to point him out. Pre-
viously to the balloting, there was much talk
among the delegates, and the sentiment against
the caucus methods was strong. 'Vote against
the caucus,' I heard said everywhere among
[314]

Politics in the Federation,

the men. The woodworkers and the street-
car men were with me ; but they were less than
half of my supporters. All the ladies were
for me; those representing the Teachers'
Union and the Waitresses, whom I used to
escort home. Many teamsters voted for me
because the other fellow was on the water
wagon. The vote was taken, and I was
elected, 90 to 67. There was great applause,
and I was called on for a speech. That was
my opportunity, and I said, *I am extremely
pleased that the chairman possesses the won-
derful courage to abide by the decision of the
majority. I am sure he would have liked to
do otherwise, and if my sympathy was of any
use to him, he might have it and I would be
satisfied with the votes. As for those who
have strenuously defended the slate and done
all they could to prevent it breaking, I can
assure them that it is sometimes quite as neces-
sary to break a slate that comes from the Ma-
sonic Temple as to break a slate that comes
from the back-room of a saloon. I trust that
no one will misunderstand the utterances of
that ungodly man when he resigned in favor
of our Christian friend, for I am sure it was
not inspired by personal selfishness but merely
[315]

The Spirit of Labor.

by the passion he had to submit to the ty-
ranny of a caucus. While I sympathize with
the error of their ways, I cannot accept their
philosophy, and for those who may have mis-
understood the reformer when he spoke of
the water wagon, I wish to inform the Fed-
eration that it is true I have never been on
the water wagon, but I think that may be be-
cause I have never been on the whiskey wagon.
As for those men who have spoken so feelingly
about purity and simplicity, I assure the Fed-
eration that I can see the simplicity of their
motives, but I'll be damned if I can see the
purity.

" *I can assure the Federation,' I concluded,
'that my attitude in the International Labor
Convention will be just as conscientious as it
has always been in the Chicago Federation of
Labor. I remember a year ago that the dele-
gate representing the Federation was allowed
$500 to attend the Convention. I hope in
my case $7 a day and car fare will be suffi-
cient to cover the expenses and permit me to
be a gentleman. I am at a loss to understand
why $500 can make a gentleman out of a man
any more easily than $150, but perhaps the
caucus people who kept silent a year ago can
[316]

Politics in the Federation.

explain this point to the satisfaction of the
Federation.'

"After I had finished, the applause came
like thunder, very much to the disheartening
of the caucus people. After all their efforts
I had defeated them by a large majority.
They came around and were very mild and
apologetic. I told Fitzpatrick I was sorry
he was the caucus candidate for President,
but, although he had behind closed doors in
the caucus conspired to defeat me as delegate
and had shown his willingness to eulogize a
two-year-old, yet I was not too small to over-
look that weakness and vote for him as Presi-
dent. *I don't want you to think, however,'
I said, 'that I believe in caucuses to elect offi-
cers. I have no objection to their being
called for the purpose of solidifying the
ranks in a common attitude against the com-
mon enemy, but when it comes to elect officers,
I think a man's character should be suffi-
ciently open for us to judge as to his fitness,
without a caucus. I don't want you to feel
that I am pledging you my vote, as I can't
tell but what a better man may come up be-
fore the election, for instance, myself.' He
laughed at that, and we were friendly."
[317]

The Spirit of Labor.

In connection with the general subject of
politics within the body of organized labor,
the attitude of Samuel Gompers, President of
the American Federation of Labor, towards
this Dold-Madden fight, is interesting.
When the fight had become acute, Dold, Fitz-
patrick and others of the reformers appealed
to Gompers to use his good offices to try to
bring about peace between the warring fac-
tions. Gompers characteristically delegated
the power which he had by reason of the in-
vitation to Thomas I. Kidd, an executive offi-
cer of the American Federation of Labor, the
most prominent woodworker, and a man
whose high character is recognized by every-
body. Mr. Kidd heard both sides; in the
caucus of Dold's friends it was agreed that
Mr. Kidd should preside in the Federation
and his decision be accepted as final. Anton,
telling the story, said :

"When B (the anarchist woodworker

agitator who has been referred to earlier in
Anton's story) heard of this, he threw up his
hands, and said to me and Tom Kidd: 'O,
Jesus, I knew dot when Foxy Sam Gompers,
when he got invitation to come to give one
advice in fight of labor against capital, he
[318]

Politics in the Federation.

come right away, but wen he be asked to
come to settle a fight between one man and
anodder in a Union den he can't come, den
he got no time. Gompers ain't no damn fool
like you, Dom Kidd. No matter how you de-
cide, no matter how fair you be one way or
de odder, dey won't like 'em. You got no
right as executive officer of the Amalgamated
Woodworkers to act in dat capacity. You
make enemies when de woodworkers have to
make good. Denn, too, you won't get no
hearing. Do you dink dot Skinny Madden
allow you to be umpire wen he don't know you
are wid him? Not on your life! And Skin-
ny Madden knows, and Charley Dold knows
dat Dom Kidd has no use for Charley Dold,
and has no right to have any use for Charley
Dold, but don't need to make any publicity
of it. But you accept and you must do it,
but we go and see Skinny Madden.'

"So B , Kidd and another man went to

Skinny's saloon. Madden greeted them cor-
dially and taking B 's hand said: *I am

glad to see you.'

" 'You be glad to see me,' said B *pe-

cause you tink I have no use for Charley

Dold. I remember de time wen you and

[319]

The Spirit of Labor.

your friends were subborting Charley Dold;
I know you be pretty foxy, but Jesus! Charley
Dold fool you, but he deceive everybody else,
too. He no draw the line on you. I know
dat you be crooked, Skinny Madden, and I
know dat Charley Dold be bigger crooked. I
know dat you put up a fight. I know dat
you stick by your friends and I know dat
Charley Dold never puts up a fight, but gets
his friends into de fight and den he gets a
telegram: he has to go away wen tings come
to crisis. I know him in Detroit, in New Or-
leans, in Philadelphia, everywhere : he always
gets a telegram. So I call him Telegram

Charley/ This was the report v\^hich B

gave me of the meeting.

"Previous to the meeting of the Federation
at which Kidd was to umpire, Tim Quinn and
one or two others called together in caucus
the true and faithful of the reforming flock.
It was called out of respect to Madden's cun-
ning and power. The members of the caucus
were pledged to secrecy, so that Madden
would not learn until too late to act. He
had accepted in good faith the proposition
that Kidd should preside at the meeting, and
therefore made no preparations and did not
[320]

Politics in the Federation.

get out his friends in force. So when the
day came, the reformers were all present and
twenty or thirty policemen, but not many
of Madden's men. Kidd was there, but the
reformers did not want him to take the chair,
as they felt they did not need him and could
railroad through the thing as they pleased.
Madden insisted on Kidd's presiding, and
Dold was at first against it. But he came
around, and if it had not been for Quinn, per-
haps Kidd would have taken the chair. But
he saw that there was no united wish for
him to act, so he withdrew. The report of
the clerks was therefore easily endorsed, and

Dold was declared legally elected. B

was delighted at the truth of his prediction,
and Sam Gompers, the old side-stepper, got
no blame, but it made Tom Kidd look like
thirty cents."

Anton's election as delegate came during
the time that I was with him in Chicago. It
gave him an enormous amount of satisfaction.
He had "played politics" for the first time,
and had won. He had beaten an organiza-
tion which he deemed hypocritical, and that,
without allying himself with the grafters.
He had made no promises to anybody, and
[321]

The Spirit of Labor.

had no debts to pay. He now had an oppor-
tunity to satisfy his temperament by a change.
Held down as he had been for several years
closely to his work, the prospect of a trip to
Pittsburg under interesting circumstances was
like "hearing the whistles blow in the spring."
What was left of the hobo in him contributed
to his general joy.

Soon after his election, his Union gave him
"a blow-out" and $50 toward his expenses.
"Maggie was tickled to death," he said.
"She could not sleep for joy. Now that I
am going to the Convention, I want her to
have a vacation, too. If she didn't, it would
spoil my pleasure." So Maggie went with
the children to the old home in Clinton, and
had a good time "disturbing," as she put it,
her old friends, with her "radical" ideas.
"Before I had been there a week," she said,
"I had three mothers deserting their children
at night, to go out and have a good time at
some social. And I put a lot of other ideas
into their heads, so that before I left they had
begun to think some."

[322]

CHAPTER XV.

The Intellectual Proletariat.

While Anton was in Pittsburg, I saw a
great deal of the "radicals." I came to pre-
fer sitting with Marie and Terry in their
simple salon and marveling at their sophis-
tication and expressiveness, or talking with
the large-passioned Esther or the good, calm
and clear-sighted Jay — to prefer this to any
of what might be called my more normal oc-
cupations. Of Clarence Darrow, too, I saw
a great deal at this time. More gifted, more
clever, and more able than any other Chicago
"radical," he is not as consistent or logical as
many of them. He is a friend of the prole-
tariat, a philosopher, a literary man and a
dreamer, but he is also a lawyer, a politician,
and a money-maker. He has a marvelous in-
consistency of mind, but a rich temperament
and many "parts." Connected as he is, of
course, with the "successful" people, and the
bourgeoisie, he is not as clear a case as the
[323]

The Spirit of Labor.

rank and file of the radicals. He is a friend
of the laboring man, not a laboring man either
in fact or by instinct.

But it is this being the real thing, or based
upon the real proletariat, as Terry and Marie
and Anton and Maggie and Jay and Esther,
and many of the others are, which gives them
their consistency, their meaning and their elo-
quence. It is they who get radical ideas, in-
stincts and hopes first hand, and have conse-
quently that freshness of mind and of expres-
sion which springs from coming actually in
contact with the material of their emotion and
their thought. A thousand times I felt my-
self to be in the midst of a kind of renaissance
of labor.

This I felt whether I was in a group of ac-
tive, hard-working, hard-drinking, practical-
ly-minded labor leaders, with their vast phys-
ical joy in life and their belligerent hopes
of the future, their longing for "velvet," and
consequent occasional corruption, their pas-
sionate, unconventional habits, rough-house
methods and rough capacity for stating their
meaning in their own way; or whether I was
with the gentle, anaemic commentators on life,
those who had been workers and had become
[324]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

agitators or merely contemplative reflectors —
people like Terry and Marie and Jay and Es-
ther. What makes Anton so peculiarly inter-
esting to me is that he is both these things —
he is the rough, practical belligerent, ideal-
istic laboring man in the movement, on the
one hand, and on the other he is the reflective
anarchistic, gentle, poetic commentator on the
facts of the labor which he has experienced
so typically. I have often been at a loss to
know whether he is primarily a practical man,
and a liver, or a philosopher, and an expresser.
What he is without doubt is Ein Gemuth — a
temperament — for that accounts both for
practical, rich activity; and for emotional and
full-blooded love for ideas.

I have almost never seen Anton depressed;
but, one night, while he was at the Pittsburg
Convention, I had an opportunity to see how
very far in the moral depths Terry and Marie,
the aristocrats of the slums, the Platonic ex-
pressers of the proletariat, the reflective an-
archists, were liable to fall. I had been at the
salon, had sat for hours over the cigarette and
the can of beer. Terry had talked about some
of the anarchists in Chicago and other cities,
their weaknesses, their personal traits, with a
[325]

The Spirit of Labor.

fine psychological touch and with an almost
never-failing delicacy and originality of ex-
pression. He was happy at it, and so were
we. But very late in the night we went out
and took a walk in the early dawn of a Chi-
cago day, winding up in the back room of a
saloon. Terry drank several glasses of whis-
key, and Marie, too; that, and the fatigue of
the late hour and their accumulated anaemia
resulting from bad food, put them in a mood
of extreme, though expressive despondency.
It was impossible to get cigarettes in that
neighborhood, and that, too, was an added
burden.

Terry then burst out into a talk of extreme
anarchy; said he desired to prey on society,
to make himself a complete burden. He re-
jected the elementary basis of morality, and
said that the only reason he did not steal was
that he had never seen a really good oppor-
tunity. He had known thieves and prosti-
tutes well, and now he spoke of their qualities
with affection and seemed perversely to love
whatever was rejected by organized society.

Marie referred to one of my books, "The
Autobiography of a Thief," and asked me
why I had attempted to get the man to "re-
[326]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

form." I replied that, aside from conven-
tional morality, this man was a "dead" thief,
and had no chance except through reform.
Terry then spoke of the advantages of prison
life, the opportunity for terrific thought. I
objected on the social ground — for a sensitive,
developed man, with social instinct and love
of woman, life in prison is hell and an in-
evitable step to the mad-house. "You, Ter-
ry," I said, "are too old and too sensitive to
be a good criminal."

Then I protested against the cutting off of
all morality. Why live among men at all if
we are to strip ourselves of everything? The
impossibility of his attitude came home some-
what to Terry when I spoke of the depriva-
tions of Marie, of her not having a nice place
to live, insufficient food, etc. That night I
pointed out to him, she did not even have a
cigarette, and there were large holes in her
shoes. Marie, who was very tired and a lit-
tle intoxicated, had been complaining about
the lack of the necessary cigarette.

"You don't like me," she said, complaining-
ly, to Terry. "You won't do a thing for me.
You even steal my cigarette tobacco."

Terry felt this reproach, and admitted to
[327]

The Spirit of Labor.

me that, if he were in a different mood, he
might tell a different story. "But it seldom
pays," he said, "to tell one's real mood." Fi-
nally, we went sadly to bed.

But it was not always thus, not even gen-
erally. I usually found these two people ex-
cited, interested and pleased with ideas or
with the beauty they were able to find in
books. I shall quote here a few of the things
they said — only a few was I able to record
at the time or shortly after. All records are
insufficient: lag behind the reality. The in-
evitableness of this will easily be recognized
by anybody who has ever attempted to record
a conversation. Fortunately, Marie has writ-
ten me some excellent letters, in which she
expresses herself characteristically. Some of
the ideas no doubt originate with the more
philosophic Terry, but the phrase is given its
turn by her more artistic personality.

"My ancestral blood has flowed through
scoundrels since the flood," is a quotation of
which Terry is peculiarly fond.

"It is only in voluntary association that man
is fine," is another statement, by an unfortu-
nate man, often appreciatively quoted by the
tenement philosopher. William Morris' dic-
[328]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

turn, *'Art was not born in a palace. She was
taken sick there" — this is much loved in the
salon.

From Marie's letters I glean the following:

"I love children, they are such true and

fearless rebels. I can't imagine how people,

able to take care of them, could ever be blue

with such optimistic and anarchistic little ones

around them."

Here are some of her literary appreciations :

"Tolstoi has truly a contempt for art, and

also a contempt for some of the finest things

in life, love, for instance. His ideals of love

are all very well for septuagenarians, but

won't do at all for us young folks."

"What delightful liberties Keats takes with
his rhymings, and his quaint expressions, al-
most cockney, some of them. I noticed one
little word he must have been fond of using,
which gives a sort of brisky air to his verse.
" 'He was a poet, sure a lover too.'
"Perhaps this fondness of mine for these
quaint expressions in poetry is because I can't
appreciate too much pure poetry. I never
could read Milton, and still I can't mush
over Whitman. Talking of mushing, I really
must get more acquainted with little Sadie.
[329]

The Spirit of Labor.

There is a little girl that likes mushing over
poetry all right. I have a complete edition
of Swinburne, which I must study some more
and then capture little Sadie and see if we
both can't have poetic delirium. She has
been pensive and interesting, of late, for since
the Poet left, she has had 'no one to worry
about' "

Sadie is one of the little "anarchistic" Jew-
esses of whom there are many in the "move-
ment." She is intelligent and cultivates care-
fully an air of mystery and the quality of the
"baleful." She told Marie that she wanted
to be a beautiful woman, merely to be able to
make men unhappy, for in that way only can
men amount to anything!

"My excuse for not writing before," wrote
Marie, "is that I had been reading *Inten-
tions,' and it has had an irritating effect on
me. This would not be so, perhaps, had Ter-
ry not been discussing it nearly every day, and
brought home the truth to me that I myself
was deriving all my emotions from art. And
it is true to a great extent. I realize myself
that I do not come in contact with life enough
to satisfy my emotional nature. Therefore I
turn to literature. I've been reading Ibsen's
[330]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

dramas, the more mystical ones such as 'The
Lady from the Sea,' 'Rosmersholm,' etc. It
seems to me these are almost overwhelming
with their moral atmosphere, as you would
call it. I sat up last night and read 'Little
Eyolf,' and I truly passed through terrible
joys and sorrows which were not my own.
But after all I believe I would rather satisfy
my emotions from life itself, even if I should
have to pay a dear price for the joys I might
find. But it seems that some of us cannot
come in contact with life unless some one else
fosters in us the 'life illusion,' to make us
believe that we may do something in the world
for our good or for the good of others. This
life illusion was lacking in me, and conse-
quently I did not participate in the game.
But you came along and made me think for a
while that I, too, might do something for my-
self. Terry is so critical of everything that
he enjoys nothing. And it is sometimes most
depressing to be with him, especially now
when he is in a supercritical mood. 'Inten-
tions' is the first book he has seemed to enjoy
for a long time, and that book is so much in
accord with his own mood at present, and Ter-
ry's personality is so strong that it predomi-
[331]

The Spirit of Labor.

nates over everyone and everything. Thanks
to the gods, Terry is not always as he now is.
His moods vary as much as anyone's, only not
quite so often. I sincerely hope I shall never
become as critical and sceptical as Terry!
Just think of losing the faculty of enjoying
life and of having to receive only sterile emo-
tions from art!"

"I am often amazed," she wrote, in another
letter, "at the density of man, who dreams that
he can interpret all our actions and thoughts.
It is said that actions speak louder than words,
but I believe that silence speaks better than
either. If we could only judge others by
their thoughts, but alas! how very seldom does
it happen that one can express these, or even
make any impression on others of having an
inner life, which I believe most of us try pain-
fully to conceal. Have you ever noticed how
feverishly and restlessly we talk and talk try-
ing to avoid the least approach of silence lest
we should therefore reveal our inner life? I
believe that more of our real selves could be
shown by our silences and not by our words
or actions. Whenever a great joy or sorrow
touches us deeply we are silent."

Here is a specimen of her humor. I had
[332]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

written her that I had taken a villa in Italy
and told her something of its beauty. She
replied: "Terry and I are having quite a
strenuous time these last few days fixing up
our new home, for we, too, have discovered a
little villa of which we occupy three rooms
on the top floor rear. We have a small grove
of fine willow trees on our right and a lovely
view of back-yards and chimneys on our left.
Unfortunately, we have no windows, front or
rear, which cuts out the view of the railroad
track on one side and the street on the other.
We have no modern improvements, I am sor-
ry to say, but then we don't care. As it is, a
bath-room would be superfluous here, because
all we need to do is to wait for a rainy day
and then stand or sit at our ease in our own
kitchen, parlor or dining-room, to be cleaned
by a most excellent shower bath. The roof of
our villa is arranged very conveniently for
that purpose.

"As for light, have I not always Terry be-
fore me? And indeed the light of his genius
or personality is almost blinding — at times.
If we feel a little chilly, why we get into a
hot argument with Kate, for instance. I
think if we stay in this villa very long, we
[333]

The Spirit of Labor.

shall develop a whole lot, certainly we have a
good chance to study certain phases of natural
history. We shall also be quite proficient in
some kinds of athletics, as our floors all slant
towards the centre. It is really quite a climb
from the middle of our drawing-room to the
west window. It's good exercise, and if we
stay here a while I am sure I shall be able to
climb up Mount Shasta without an effort.

"Three other families occupy our villa, or,
rather, three old women. Their families sink
into insignificance when one beholds these
three ancients. I am so afraid of them, when-
ever I have occasion to leave my portion of the
villa, I sneak stealthily by their windows lest
they see and curse me. They were born old
and lived here always, and will continue to
forever and ever."

In a less cheerful mood, she wrote: "I
used to think that all mothers and fathers
whipped their children and were mean to
them. But now I think the parents cannot be
otherwise. Some things are so terribly true
and common and trite that they are not inter-
esting. I know of hundreds of fathers and
mothers who hammered and beat their chil-
dren into nonentities. ^ And they are living
[334]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

to-day what they call happy married lives and
have children of their own, which they in turn
hammer and beat into submission, just as they
themselves were. I don't like the atmosphere
of a saloon, [at this time Marie was living
above a saloon] and I don't like the dirty,
common work that I would have to do here.
And yet I'm sorry we are going, in a way.
There is a beautiful grove back of the house,
all full of great big trees. I love trees.
They were all stripped of their leaves, and
as I walked on the ground which was all cov-
ered with these poor leaves, I thought of
Keat'spoem:

*' * Too happy, happy tree

Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity,'

So for that reason I would like to live there.
It must be beautiful in that grove in the sum-
mer time. But I would have to work so hard,
I might not appreciate the beauties of nature
at all. So I think I am more glad than sorry.
I spent nearly all day Sunday exploring this
grove, and all evening I sat in the saloon
drinking a lot of whiskey without getting
[335]

The Spirit of Labor.

drunk, played several games of pool and had
to listen to a graphophone playing rag-time
until my nerves were all on edge. I have had
a black mood ever since. All the sympathy
in the world does not help. At moments like
these we feel that terrible sadness which
comes from the knowledge that each one of
us is a separate soul. Though we may love
each other, yet there is something in each of
us that another cannot know, something that
keeps us everlastingly apart."

This expressiveness of Marie is not shared
by the remarkable man with whom she lives —
not when it comes to the pen. In speech he
is subtle of the subtle, but when he writes he
attempts the same quality and his manner is
labored. He has not the ease and spontaneity
which this factory girl of twenty- three shows
in a remarkable degree. The only thing of
his put on paper that I possess is the follow-
ing. He wrote, in a note to one of Marie's
letters, sent to me to Italy:

"He who finds permanent ground for mel-
ancholia, may not be troubled by the shifting
scenes of mankind. This nostalgia of the soul
is the last resort and retreat of incurables who
take their last stand; the forlorn brigade of

[336]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

the Milky Way. You seem to be about that
distance from us now, so you give us one more
reason for feeling as lonesome as we do.
There are so few, I wonder if it would do
any good if there were more of us." Then he
added, as a matter of "labor" news, in which
he knew I was especially interested; "The
latest from the coal fields : the stock market is
ready for slaughter. Ten thousand troops in
the anthracite region await the behest of the
BuUionaire, ^On with the dance.* Let
'stock' be unconfined."

This is rather forced; the literary attempt
is too obvious. Yet when Terry talks, the ef-
fect is just the opposite. Everything he says
seems to spring profoundly from his own ex-
perience, even when he talks about "litera-
ture." His words are generally very sad in
their suggestion, far more so than those of
Marie, who is younger and more buoyant, has
much more of the "illusion of life." Terry
is the absolutely self-conscious proletarian:
with the utmost logic and consistency he ex-
presses the philosophy of the man who has
nothing. There is consequently a most pa-
thetic melancholy in his manner and expres-
sion. Intimate as he has deliberately made
[337]

The Spirit of Labor,

himself at times with the most absolute
"scum" of society, his manner is one of great
gentleness and wistfulness.

I have told, in another place, of how, after
working steadily for many years at his trade
as a tanner, he revolted, because he saw that
society was "exploiting" him. The precipi-
tating reason was this. A rich man wanted
to start a new business, and, knowing of Ter-
ry's skill and practical imagination in the
trade, he asked him to get the shop under way
for him. Terry, without making a contract
— he is by nature singularly confiding and un-
practical, as all these anarchists are — set to
work and organized the shop, did the whole
thing, got the business going, and then was of-
fered by his employer money aggregating
what the ordinary wages of a mechanic would
have been for the few months' time. He did
not accept a cent of this money, but took his
coat and left, and has never worked a day
since; has rejected the whole system of or-
ganized society; has gone so far that, if his
ideas were held by any considerable number
of men, life in communities would be impos-
sible.

Anton is often impatient at the fact that
[338]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

Terry and Marie "do" nothing; and yet he
impulsively sympathizes with some of Terry's
ideas — particularly the impatience at work
that is not interesting. Terry has often said:
"If society would give me work that inter-
ested my mind, I would work harder than
anybody." Anton, himself, hates routine.
He gets no satisfaction out of his mechanical
labor for the reason that the modern differ-
entiation of function and development of ma-
chinery has taken all that is individual, all
that is truly artistic out of the mechanic's
work. The large art of an earlier time was
founded largely upon the detailed art, the per-
sonal expressiveness of every little object
made by the mechanic. But now there is no
personal variety, no opportunity for the me-
chanic to express himself in his work. For
this reason the taste of the community in art
has been lowered, and the interest of the ex-
cellent workman in his work has been taken
away. Now he works only because he must.
Terry does not see the necessity; the more
moral and responsible Anton does. That is
the difference between these two men. Neither,
however, has any love for labor. And be-
cause society and the Church tell them they
[339]

The Spirit of Labor.

should love labor, they rebel against society
and the Church with all the passion of strong
personalities.

While Anton was in Pittsburg, I saw not
only a great deal of the "radicals," but also
of the more or less hostile critics of organized
labor. They, of course, see in these "rad-
icals" only a lot of "cranks." And, indeed,
there is no doubt of the absurd character of
much of the "radical" body of men and
women. Thus far I have given most stress
to that side which to me is interesting and
sympathetic and based upon real feeling and
experience. But that there is much that is
half-baked about it all, there is, of course, no
doubt.

One sees a great deal of this half-done qual-
ity of thought at meetings such as those of the
Anthropological Society and the Social Sci-
ence League, meeting Sunday afternoon and
evening at the Masonic Temple. A number
of extreme pseudo-scientific thinkers, emotion-
ally free-love females, mushroom commentat-
ors, Robert IngersoUian critics of religion,
hold forth at these places. . Their prophets
are men like Pentecost, who announces that
Christ was a great fool and that the prosti-
[340]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

tutes are rapidly freeing society; men who
have a little more general education than the
mechanics, but not nearly enough, get up and
say emotional absurdities, and women from
the shops lay bare their extreme crudity of
thought in hysterical forms. It is no wonder
that Anton cannot resist, in such gatherings,
his satirical mood, and as for Terry, he gen-
erally "stays away," as Marie puts it. She,
however, goes mainly for the sake of meet-
ing a "comrade" or a new and sympathetic
man.

In the West Side salon or in the domestic
tenement one finds the reality, the genuinely
intellectual proletariat, but in their crowded
meetings is the same banal spirit, in a different
form, that one finds in crowds everywhere.
It is after these meetings that the elite gather
in some saloon, and there men and women
talk freely and often gaily, and the basic ideas
of the proletariat are expressed often in form
and with considerable beauty. And, in sub-
stance, it is never frivolous to the philosopher,
for underneath it all is the serious, unsmiling
Spirit of Labor; and the great warm feeling
of Solidarity, of human love. And it is that
which gives even to the absurd meeting its
[341]

The Spirit of Labor.

pathos and its significance, and even a kind of
sad beauty.

When I first became interested in the labor
situation, and began to meet the men, I found
very little that interested me. They were
lacking in grace, not expressive, not peculiar,
not picturesque. It was, at first, only the rec-
ognition of the importance of the subject that
held me to it. Finally, of course, I became
fascinated, as I got beneath the surface and
came in contact with some excellent person-
alities.

After I had once seen the "eloquence" of
the thing, I found myself continually sur-
prised and displeased by the hostile critic of
organized labor. There are so many men, of
good intelligence, who, because of their lack
of feeling for humanity or because of the
moral astigmatism induced by their personal
or class interests, find it very consoling to
harp on the crudity and roughness and occa-
sional "grafting" propensities of labor and
make of their bad taste a substitute for justice.

I met on one occasion one of the big men

in the "beef trust." He is a good citizen, or

is so regarded by the world. But as he sat

complacently in his ofRce and told of how un-

[342]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

just the strikers had been, as he spoke of his
employees in a tone that indicated his belief
in their general bestiality, he seemed to me an
object totally lacking in attractiveness. "No
man," he said, "can stem the striker's unrea-
son." He spoke of the "small margin of
profit" in the great beef business, but said that
the business, being in a way a public neces-
sity, must be carried on, even at a loss. He
made it appear almost a charitable undertak-
ing. One reason the men had given for walk-
ing out the second time was that the girls had
been insulted by some of the foremen. The
trust magnate laughed as he said this. This
seemed to him to be the height, or the depth,
of sentimentality.

He did not tell me what I knew from an-
other source, and not a labor source, but from
an independent investigator, a woman of truly
wonderful and penetrating character who had
more to do with the final settlement of the
great strike than anyone else; facts known to
the newspaper men, but never published, be-
cause they would have been too shocking to
society. The condition of the yards when the
negro strike-breakers were there, and the girls
from the Tenderloin had been imported in
[343]

The Spirit of Labor.

large numbers as a bait to keep the strike-
breakers at their work, this cannot be de-
scribed. I, knowing these facts at the time
the comfortable boss was talking morality to
me, did not feel deeply impressed with his
virtue. I knew the essential moral sweetness
of many a rough laboring man; Anton is
quite incapable of a cynical attitude towards
women — free as he is; — in every way he is
the moral superior of the big trust magnate
whom I met — the man who sneered at the
strikers and at the common working girl, who
was willing to make an indescribable place of
his workshop and at the same time was "one
of the boys about town," might as well leave
morality out of his talk.

"Criminals and thieves are preferable to
workingmen," said an experienced man of the
world to me, who had associated with big rail-
road men all his adult life. "They are more
educated by life, are entertaining talkers and
have a kind of cultivation. Laborers when
honest are raw, and when clever are dishonest
and rawly so. They are in a terrible hurry
to get things, and they hate the men who have
things. The painter in my hotel room said
the other day, at the mere mention of L — 's
[344]

The Intellectual Proletariat.
name (a rich railroad man) : 'The

. He gets $100,000 a year.' As

he spoke, wolf-like hatred gleamed in his
eyes."

As to unreason, I find it pretty equally dis-
tributed between the "classes." The laborers
are often extreme and unfair about their em-
ployers ; but no more so than is the other side ;
while theirs is certainly the balance of moral-
ity. Most of the "radicals" are fanatics, to
a more or less degree, but the injustice based
upon fanatical feeling has at least an element
of sympathetic human nature, while that
based upon privilege does not seem to recom-
mend itself to any disinterested contemplator.

In the great teamsters' strike, which took
place while I was in Chicago, there is no
doubt that there was money used dishonestly
on both sides; it is likely that in the imme-
diate situation, the men were more at fault
than their employers. But the possibility of
such a situation had largely grown out of the
previous commercial immorality of the em-
ployer. Shea, the leader of the strikers, was
a rough "grafter," in the sense that he deemed
it fair to "get" what he could from the other
side. The revelations about his expenditures,
[345]

The Spirit of Labor.

the "Kentucky Home" episode, and the gen-
eral ugliness of his moral character, were es-
sentially true; but the newspapers laid bare
all these things with a view to turning public
sentiment against the men. It was in striking
contrast to the way these same newspapers
covered up the stock-yards horrors. If the
private life of a labor leader is a legitimate
thing to expose in reference to his public mo-
rality, so is the private life of an employer.
But the newspapers of Chicago did not see it
that way — for commercial reasons.

I met Shea on several occasions. He sat,
more or less like a poisonous toad, in his room
at the Briggs House. He seemed a fitting
companion to men like Young and Driscoll,
whom he was supposed to meet at places like
"The Kentucky Home," and settle, over bot-
tles of champagne, the affairs of the city. He
was certainly a low representative of the
roughest element of labor; but yet there was
a certain honesty about him. Though he had
every reason to be a hypocrite to me — he took
me for a newspaper man — he occupied on one
occasion nearly half an hour in defending
Sam Parks. He indicated, in a rough way,
that everything had not been said when it
[346]

The Intellectual Proletariat.

was admitted that Parks had stolen money.

"If," he said, in substance, "you want to
write something truthful about the labor sit-
uatfon, take the life of a man like Parks.
Don't exaggerate one side or the other. Of
course, if you want to howl about dishonesty
and graft and all that you may please the cap-
italists, who want to hang on to what they
have stolen, but you won't get all the truth
about a man like Parks. If you get all the
facts, I think Parks won't seem like such a
bad fellow, when all is said."

Shea did not seem to me like the ideal man
— far from it. But I liked him better than
the hypocritical, sensual and respectable mem-
ber of the Beef Trust whom I had inter-
viewed.

[347]

CHAPTER XVI.
Some of the Big Men.

Anton came back from Pittsburg full of
the eloquence of "wife, home and family."
Maggie was a day late, and during those
twenty- four hours Anton was miserable. "I
tell you what, Hapgood," he said, "there is
nothing like being away from your wife for
a couple of weeks. It makes you appreciate
her for fair. And I am eager to get back to
the shop, too. I think, after all, a mechanic
who gets good wages, has eight hours' work
and a good home is pretty well off. Satur-
^ day night is enough for bumming around. I
am sure I don't know what would become
of me if I didn't have a regular occupation.
If I had your job, for instance, I think I
would be a worse fellow than I am."

This speech showed an extraordinary
change from the character of Tony, the Hobo,
who so often heard the whistles blow and
[348]

Some of the Big Men.

boarded the box-car. I remarked as much,
and he answered:

"Well, if I had been a scab I'd never have
got to this. Somehow, working for the rank
and file and fighting with your fellow men
make you steadier. It makes it seem like
good fun to be responsible. That's why it
is right almost to force the non-Union men
into line. Life, when taken right, forces a
man to be a good husband. Why not force a
scab to be a good citizen, a good member of
his class? It is all a matter of fear, with these
fellows. They can't see their own interests.
You must make them fear something more
than they fear going hungry, and then you can
keep them in line."

At the Pittsburg Convention Anton had still
further opportunity to meet some of the "big"
men in the labor movement. I have often
heard him on the floor of the Chicago Fed-
eration meeting, and I know him to be a vig-
orous, forcible and sometimes witty speaker,
full of ideas which are sometimes too subtle
for the rank and file of his audience; some-
times too radical for them, and frequently too
playful. They were evidently too radical for
Samuel Gompers, for at the Convention, after
[349]

The Spirit of Labor.

one of Anton's speeches, he turned to Tom
Kidd, and said:

"I thought you said the Chicago delegate
was a sensible fellow. Why, he is a gatling
gun. He goes off in every direction." An-
ton could not resist the opportunity to ex-
pound some of the shifting ideas of the prac-
tical anarchist, and hence Gompers' remark.
After one of the meetings one of the most
conservative leaders in the American Federa-
tion made to Anton, protesting against some
of his speeches, the remark already quoted.

"We are all anarchists, but what's the use
of shouting about it?"

"Duncan's remark," said Anton, "is true of
the leaders; and it is more true of the rank
and file than most people think. The men
don't know it themselves, and are frightened
at the word anarchist. But they sympathize
with a lot of things that conservative people
call anarchistic, and if one man is a little more
radical than the others he can have anything
he wants in the way of an office. That shows
what direction they are going in.

"It is hard to say what men like Gompers
and Mitchell really think, because they are
diplomatists and side-steppers. Gompers is a
[350]

Some of the Big Men.

much abler man than Mitchell, who has a
reputation all out of proportion to his ability.
There are many men in his Union stronger
than Mitchell, who was made by the news-
papers. The miners are mainly an ignorant
lot. They have all heard Mitchell's name,
and they don't know, as a body, any other
leader. So Mitchell is bound to be at the
head, as long as he wants to be."

I myself have met both Gompers and
Mitchell. The former I found very willing
to talk facts, but he shied off from opinions
with the astuteness of a fox. Mitchell I met
over the bar of the Briggs House. The place
was full of labor leaders, and they all talked
freely, except Mitchell. If he had an idea,
he kept it to himself. He is a handsome man,
with a pathetic, romantic look, as if he had a
mission in life, but didn't want to give it
away.

Gompers has a sense of dignity, and the
song which the anarchist organizer, several
times referred to, sang and was overheard by
the President, did not please him :

" Everybody works but Gompers
And my old man."

[351]

The Spirit of Labor.

A story told me by Anton still further il-
lustrates the character of the President of the
American Federation of Labor, whom, by the
way, everybody respects, and justly, for he has
held his position for many years, and no one
who knows him can doubt either his ability
or his honesty. The Anarchist Poet desired
at one time to write for The Federationist,
of which Mr. Gompers is editor. Terry, An-
ton, the Poet and one or two others went to
Thomas I. Kidd's office to try to induce that
influential man to speak to Gompers about
the matter. Among them was the anarchist
organizer, who called Anton one side and
said to him:

"Anton, I am surprised at you. Do you
tink Sam Gompers will allow an anarchist to
fight against de Socialists? Wen Sam Gomp-
ers can't any longer have de Socialists as his
enemies he will lose his popularity and be-
come useless. He wants to do all de fighting
against de Socialists himself and don't want
no anarchist to help him. Neder Dom Kidd
nor all de Kidds can influence Sam Gompers
to hang himself. De strength of de anarchist
lies in de weakness of de Socialists, and Sam
Gompers knows dat and wants to keep dat
[352]

Some of the Big Men.

weakness all to himself so he can show it up in
de Federationist."

The Anarchist Poet did not get the job.
This trait of Gompers is shown by his general
sensitiveness to newspaper opinion. When
there was an attempt made to get Gompers to
help settle the teamsters' strike by publishing
the truth, his question was, "What will the
newspapers say?"

Anton was struck with the tendency of the
Convention to stick to "details," instead of
considering general principles or matters of
broad policy. "Everybody was there," he
said, "to look after his little interests, the in-
terests of his local union, of his city or his
trade. No one dared to say anything about
bigger things for fear that his little thing
would be spoiled. It was mainly about or-
ganization matters, questions of jurisdiction,
etc., things which are as dry as dust. I
wanted to have these matters cleared up quick-
ly, so I recommended that the executive com-
mittee be instructd to put through these juris-
diction matters in a certain time. There was,
of course, great opposition from the commit-
tee, and Vice-President Duncan retorted that
the committee ought not to be subjected to
[353]

The Spirit of Labor.

force. Why not admit, then,' said I, 4f you
object to force, that you are an anarchist?'
It was this question of mine that led to Gom-
pers' remark about the gatling gun, and to
Duncan's private statement about the preva-
lence of anarchism among the leaders."

Shea was at the Convention, and Anton
said of him: "He is a good representative
of the teamsters. He walked into the Con-
vention as he would into a saloon, with his hat
on, and spitting to the right and to the left."

Anton's tendency to criticize everything ex-
tends quite as thoroughly to the anarchists as
to anything else. What he loves most about
the theory of anarchy is its individualism : he
is consequently dead against the Socialists.
And yet he is often exasperated at the lack in
the anarchists of practical sense. The Con-
vention passed a resolution combating the
alien laws and approving of the admission into
the country of all political exiles from Europe.
"This resolution," he said, "ought to have been
noticed by the anarchists and their newspa-
pers, and ought to have been approved by
them. But there was not a word said or writ-
ten about it. The anarchists lack blood, and
in this country are dead. They don't know or
[354]

Some of the Big Men.

care what is going on. It is only the opposi-
tion of the police that keeps them alive. If
they were let alone and allowed to spout, as
they are in England, they would all have died
of emotional starvation long ago. The execu-
tion of the Chicago anarchists in 1886 has
been the main-stay of the movement ever
since.

"The best thing about the anarchist who
calls himself an anarchist — not the practical
men with anarchistic tendencies such as I am
or other labor leaders — is his emotion. He
is a fanatic and thrives when he is oppressed.
It would be well for the labor movement if
there were more emotion in the American
Federation of Labor affairs. Sentiment
ought to have some sway in this great move-
ment, but I found no sentiment at the Con-
vention— all dry routine and wire-pulling.
All is based on cold, calm reason, but that is
not enough. All is based on selfishness, or
nearly all. It is the class struggle much more
than it ought to be.

"It would be well if there were some men
high up in Federation affairs who had senti-
ment, even sentimentality. A man like Eu-
gene Debs, the famous Socialist, would be
[355]

The Spirit of Labor.

very useful in that way. His career has been
an interesting one. Nearly all labor leaders
spring into prominence at a time when it re-
quires courage, determination and more or
less extreme radical attitude, but soon after
they assume the position of responsibility, they
become more conservative, with but few ex-
ceptions. Debs was one of those exceptions.
In the great railroad trouble of '94, Debs
called a general strike. Public opinion was
so strong that he showed his hand before he
was ready. So that the organization was
mainly acting on impulse and enthusiasm. It
was only two years old, and was inexperi-
enced and undisciplined, and expected too
much from the particular individuals chosen
to lead the strike. The result of such hasty
action is usually defeat. In this case, it was
complete annihilation of the organization ; but
the strike made Debs so prominent that he be-
came candidate for President of the United
States on the Socialist-Democratic ticket.
He is a wonderful orator and a splendid or-
ganizer, but, lacking in executive ability, is a
bad leader in a strike, not because he fears to
take an unpopular position, but because his
character is emotional and sentimental. He
[356]

Some of the Big Men.

has never been a strong power in organized
labor, except among the Socialist enemies of
the Federation. If, however, a man of his
character were as active in the Federation as
he is among the Socialists, it would be of great
value in introducing sentiment into the ac-
tions of that too practical body of men."

It seems difficult, indeed, for a practical la-
bor leader, engaged actively in the special
question of raising wages and shortening
hours, to retain the general emotion and im-
aginative interest in what is called the larger
issues. The anarchist organizer seems to be
one of the few men who have been able to re-
tain his original enthusiasm. Another man
who is as enthusiastic as he was in the flush
of his experience in the movement is the
President of the Woodworkers* Union, a
friend of Anton's, whom I have met and heard
speak. He does not appeal to sentiment, is
very clear and practical in his talk and in his
measures. But away back in his heart lives
his one strong interest: the labor movement.
He has a strong intelligence, and is singularly
simple in his interests. He has never mar-
ried; he does not believe that a man can do
justice to both a wife and the labor move-
[357]

The Spirit of Labor.

ment. Although he has been practically ac-
tive among men for many years, he is as sensi-
tive as a young girl and far more scrupulous.
One day he was with Anton and Tom Kidd,
when the latter, who is very fond of a joke,
said: "Dinnie is going to see his sister at the
expense of the organization." "Dinnie was
horribly hurt," said Anton. "He flushed up,
and later, when I was alone with him at din-
ner, he said things which made me see clearly
all the tenderness of his nature. Yet Kidd
meant it as a joke."

Kidd is another man whom Anton deeply
admires — perhaps more than any other man
in the labor movement. He is a strong, jolly
man — a "good fellow," a capable drinker and
a man who even those most unsympathetic to
organized labor admit, is thoroughly honest.
He did more than any other one man to build
up the Woodworkers' Union. "For many
years," said Anton, "Kidd worked as general
secretary, with responsibility, but no power,
a very trying position. There were many
calls for assistance, but no financial resources.
He is absolutely relentless in character, and
pushed along until he built up the organiza-
tion. For several years, as secretary, he
[358]

Some of the Big Men.

worked at a salary of $15 a month, and also
worked at his trade. Then the organization
took all his time and gave him a salary of $50
a month. On this he was married. In 1898
came the big woodworkers' strike in Oshkosh,
Wisconsin, as a result of which Kidd became
famous throughout the country. The men
proposed 5 per cent increase of wages, a week-
ly pay-day, and the taking of women away
from the machines. This demand the bosses
rejected without even a conference and locked
the men out. Kidd was called to Oshkosh
to conduct the strike. He took with him the
anarchist organizer to furnish the enthusiasm,
while he took care of the diplomatic end.
There was a street riot, and a little boy was
killed. Kidd spoke at the grave of the child,
and laid the responsibility of his death at the
door of the millionaire employer. The an-
archist agitator had spoken a night or two
before, and gave a description of what they
did to scabs in Chicago. This was credited
to Kidd, and he was arrested on a charge of
conspiracy. It was conceded that the power
of the corporations was not easy to defeat, and
so the woodworkers engaged Clarence Dar-
row to defend Kidd. Darrow's appeal to the
[359]

The Spirit of Labor.

jury went throughout the country, and as a
consequence Kidd sprang into prominence as
a fearless and radical labor leader. Darrow,
in the address to the jury, compared Kidd to
Christ, and his speech at the boy's grave to
the Sermon on the Mount. It did not take
the jury long to acquit. After that, Kidd be-
came a prominent man in the American Fed-
eration of Labor, and a high officer. Before
his election as Vice-President he used to write
in his woodworkers' journal serious reflections
against Sam Gompers, but after working with
the President in the executive council, Kidd
became gradually more conservative. This
seems the way of the world. But he never
lost his individuality, and is still a strong
and emphatic speaker, but more cautious in
his writings."

I met Kidd a number of times, usually at
the bar of the Briggs House. I was always
interested in his versatile and witty talk, in
his robust temperament and pleasure in vigor-
ous social life. In his way of meeting peo-
ple he is the man of the world — does not sug-
gest at all the reformer or the emotionalist —
seems primarily an active liver; perhaps more
so now than formerly. He is incapable of
[360]

Some of the Big Men.

saying a sentimental thing, and regards the
trades-unionist in America as at present in
some respects well ofiF. Of the "boss" he can
say some sympathetic things. One day he
said to me that some of the small employers
excited his sympathy. "They work hard, and
for themselves and their families only; don't
have as good a time as the mechanic, and are
not interested in any cause. Sometimes they
don't even make money. I was a small em-
ployer once, and after every pay-day I discov-
ered that my men had more money than I.
So I went back to work."

Kidd is an opportunist in life; though he
believes that anarchism is the highest ideal.
"Men are not good enough to be anarchists,"
he said. With Socialism he does not seem to
have much sympathy: he is too much of an in-
dividualist. "The worst things about Social-
ism," he remarked, "are the Socialists. They
are all autocrats in temperament. Their des-
potism would be worse than what we have."

When I was slugged in the saloon, I
thought the episode might prejudice the men
against me, and I went to Kidd for advice.
That was before I knew Anton or many of the
men. I had heard Kidd spoken of by settle-
[361]

The Spirit of Labor.

ment workers, employers, — everybody — as the
wise and good man par excellence in the
Chicago Labor World. He laughed when
I told him of my trouble, and told me to
forget it. *'It will make no difference to
anybody," he said. "That was just a man-
to-man affair, easily settled and easily for-
gotten." Kid has never told me so, but
I yet believe that even a man who is as con-
servative and good as he is, dare not regard
occasional union violence as altogether a bad
thing, certainly not a very immoral thing. It
is a war measure — mistaken, perhaps, but in
the absence of any great human morality on
the other side, it does not seem like a great
sin. The worst enemy in Chicago of the La-
bor movement admitted Kidd was personally
honest. "But even Kidd," he said, "lets
vouchers pass for pay for violent work done."
If this were true, it would not surprise me,
and yet I have a great respect for Kidd.

Michael Donnelly, the man who was twice
slugged, the leader of the great stock-yards
strike, is in manner a great contrast to Kidd,
with whom I have seen him at the Briggs
House. Donnelly has a quiet, sweet way
with him, a good deal of gentle humor and the
[362]

Some of the Big Men.

reputation of being an eloquent speaker. He
is another leader generally conceded by every-
body as being personally honest; his being
slugged probably helps to prove it. His call-
ing of the second strike, against his judgment,
is often cited against him by labor men and
others as a proof of weakness. And yet it is
probable that if he had not called it, the men
would have struck anjrway. This is what he
says, and in view of an exceedingly unreason-
able element among the butchers, it is quite
likely the truth. If he had been a very strong
man, he might have controlled the situation,
but some of the unreasonable ones were of very
vigorous character.

John Joyce, in particular, is as belligerent
a human being as I have ever met. He is a
splendid, powerful fellow, and as he paced
up and down his parlor and fiercely talked to
me, I felt that if there were many men like
this strong, aggressive, unreasonable fellow
in the organization, the leader had indeed a
task before him to hold them in line. He
has a natural hatred of authority, and in espe-
cial of the authority of the foremen. Don-
nelly said Joyce is admittedly as good a work-
man as there was in the yards, but his quarrel-
[363]

The Spirit of Labor.

someness always got him in trouble. He used
to insist while at work that every grievance
be settled as the aggrieved person wanted. If
a boy who was holding gullets saw he would
have to hold two more than those prescribed
within the hour he would kick, and would al-
ways be supported by Joyce and others of the
"inflammables." It was no hardship for the
boy to hold any number of gullets prepared
for him, but when the men got strong, as they
were before the strike, they, as often happens
on both sides, abused their power. One thing
they insisted on was to have twenty minutes
twice a day to go to the toilet. This to the
calm Donnelly seemed unreasonable.

Before the second strike, when Donnelly
and the committee had agreed to a settlement
with the packers, Joyce, although he was not
on the committee, came into the room and said
the men would never agree to the terms. He
was a self-constituted boss and had great in-
fluence over the foreigners. He is sober and
industrious, and has an interesting family, but
his spirit is the most untamed and aggressive
I have met.

Talking of the superintendent, who it seems
had threatened to discharge him, Jovce said:
[364]

Some of the Big Men.

"He was not sufficiently developed physically
•to put me out." To this man Joyce always re-
ferred among the men and foremen as "Mr.
Doughbelly."

Joyce is great at figures: he has spent his
leisure time for years in making out lists of
the various packing-houses, number of men
employed, wages, etc., "so that he can use it
as a club over the packers," he said, "if they
lie or do wrong."

He denounces with the utmost energy su-
perintendents and scabs, but women are quite
as bad.

"A few hen-pecked husbands," he said, "are
worse than all the scabs in America. They
are chewed up by their wives if they don't
come home with money, and if they come
home with money, they are chewed up because
they don't come home with more. 'What's
the use of giving the Union 50 cents?' they
say. We are between the devil and the deep
blue sea, and the woman is the devil.

"Times are getting worse," he continued.
"The employers are getting tired of educated,
self-respecting men. They generally want
niggers, foreigners and scabs. During the
strike they had a prize-fight in the yards
[365]

The Spirit of Labor.

every night, and the things that went on there
between the nigger strike-breakers and the
girls imported to take the places of the girls
who had struck is something I am not going
to tell you about."

After the strike was over, Joyce was one of
the skilled workmen not taken back. "There
is no money in the house," he said, "and my
son is on strike, too, and he did right. I
sleep well, you bet. I'm all right, as long as
my family have food. When they don't have
it, I'll go out and get it!"

Two or three lion-like strides across the
room gave me a vivid impression of how he
would "get it."

Our interview closed with his words:
"Cowardice is the principal thing in most
men."

With many men like this in a union, one
can easily see some of the difficulties with
which the leader has to contend. The butch-
ers are a more ignorant lot of men, as a rule,
than the workmen in older organizations and
of more skilled trades. But one of the most
inflammable and fire-eating men in the whole
Chicago world of labor — and it is not an
anaemic, lying-down world — is at present
[366]

Some of the Big Men.

high up in the affairs of the Federation — Tom
Quinn, with whom Anton had difficulties
when he ran for delegate.

Quinn is an Irishman, of the dynamiter
variety, and loves, of course, the opposition.
"The movement began with force," he said,
"and it will continue with force. At the first
great street-car strike in New York, the police
interfered with the German strikers who were
marching peacefully through the streets. I
was one of the Irish boys of the streets, and
how we did stone the police! It was that
strike and the police interference that started
the Knights of Labor — an organization that
lasted until it was disrupted by 'conservative'
graft. All graft, by the way, is conservative,
in or out of the organization."

Quinn is a vigorous fighter and believes in
physical force with the same passion as in
honesty and love and human solidarity. His
love of honesty led him, as a boy, to throw
inkstands at the school-master, and to be a
leader among the violent street Arabs of New
York. "Teddy" Roosevelt was at that time a
leader of the rich boys, and he and Quinn,
who represented the proletariat, sometimes
came in personal contact in the free and open
[367]

The Spirit of Labor.

street. One day one of Tim's crowd hit
Teddy in the jaw but did no harm except to
break his own fist.

"For many years," said Quinn, "I did not
see Teddy. And when I presented to him,
as President of the United States, the other
day in Chicago, the strike petition, I saw that
everything was changed in him except that
jaw. It was the same old obstinate organ that
broke the East Side boy's fist."

Quinn is one of the most democratic people
in Chicago, but he believes in bringing about
universal justice by violence. He was emo-
tionally interested in the municipal ownership
movement, which has assumed almost the
character of a religion. Full of personal ego-
tism he did not understand the total lack of
personal egotism of a man like Mayor Dunne,
or the impossibility of a Mayor of Chicago
always acting in the way demanded by an
emotional enthusiast. So he was soon as vio-
lently opposed to the Mayor as he had for-
merly been violently in favor of him. Quinn's
general note, the underlying trait of his char-
acter, is violence. That explains his being.

But in Quinn, this all-pervading violence
assumes an attractive form; there is a fasci-
[368]

Some of the Big Men.

nation about a man who is so manly. And
most people who meet Quinn have a great
respect for him. His brains, however, are
not as big as his spirit. He is not as percip-
ient of conditions and does not understand
human nature, is not nearly as much of a nat-
ural philosopher, as is our Anton ; that is the
reason he did not understand the latter's atti-
tude towards the Madden machine in the
Federation; and the reason why he remained
so narrowly by the conventional ideas about
the relative value of "graft" and "anti-
graft."

I do not want to suggest in any way an
apology for graft. The reaction that fol-
lowed the great and beneficent exposures of
corruption in business, politics, insurance,
trusts, patent-medicine, etc., was based largely,
I believe, on the dislike of the grafters in be-
ing exposed. It was a natural, but an ego-
tistically motived reaction. We cannot have
too much exposure. But, certainly in the
labor movement, there is the possibility of a
state of mind where a man will on account
of his ingrained ideas of property morality,
or other current morality, neglect a larger,
less defined, less worked out morality. Hu-
[369]

The Spirit of Labor.

man good is what we all ought to aim at ; and
often a passionate insistence upon the degree
of value in current morality is an obstruction
to moral advance. No real reform is possi-
ble without a shaking-up of the current stand-
ards of morality and of law.

It is indeed simple and touching to see how
moral, in a child-like and unthinking way,
many of these laboring men are ; and how they
think morality is as much of a piece as pure
red or pure blue, without shadings. Their
enemies shout of "graft" in the movement,
but to my feeling, the dominant note is one
of almost pathetic morality. Soon after I
began my Chicago quest, I met a drunken
machinist in a saloon; and, being quite unac-
quainted at the time, I asked him for some
information about the local situation, infor-
mation which would not involve names or
"expcsure" of any kind. Misinterpreting his
hesitation, I offered him a little money, in
exchange for an eflfort at expression on his
part. To my surprise, he regarded it as an
insult. "No," he said, "I'm an honest man,
and won't touch your money. And I won't
talk to you any more until you can get The
American to recommend you." The Ameri-
[370]

Some of the Big Men.

can is the local friend of the workingman.
Only that endorsement could allay this simple
man's vague supicions.

This simplicity of moral point of view ex-
tends from the rank and file to most of the
leaders. One of the prominent butchers,
speaking of a famous labor leader, said that
no man ever said anything against his money
morality. "Everybody thinks he is very hon-
est," he said, "but everybody knows he goes
*on a bat' now and then, and is loose with
women. I believe that any man who is un-
faithful to his wife, is unfaithful to the rest
of us and is not the right leader. It is im-
possible for a man to be honest in one way
and dishonest in another."

A prominent Chicago teamster expressed to
me another very simple view of morality.
I fancy he thinks money morality is not of
much consequence; due no doubt to his ex-
perience of injustice and hardship. "I was
a slave for five years," he said. "I worked
three hundred and sixty-five days in the year,
twelve to fourteen hours a day. For this I
was paid $9 to $i i a week. I started to work
at six in the morning, on Sunday at seven,
as a piece of generosity on the part of the
[371]

The Spirit of Labor.

employer. Things like that make me a little
unwilling to condemn a man like Parks. I
don't want to hear anything against him.
Nor shall I say anything against Shea, who
has three faults, which I shall not name, but
is as able a man as there is in trades-union-
ism. He is too frank and outspoken. It is
all right for a man to be frank, but if he is,
he ought to be honest."

This leader, acquainted with men, and the
ways of the world, wonders at the immorality
of the employers. "Every boss," he said,
"every man who has much money for a long
time, is immoral sexually, in my opinion.
And that is the great danger of the labor lead-
er. He starts out with enthusiasm for the
cause, and for virtue, but often when he be-
gins to have power with the men, the agents
of the employers come, give him a good din-
ner, here in the Bismarck, perhaps, and then
take him perhaps to the Everleigh Club,
where he comes in contact with a kind of
luxury he has never before experienced.
When he has acquired the vices of the em-
ployers he can no longer serve so well a cause
that is hostile to them. So one kind of im-
morality leads to another kind. Take Al
[372]

Some of .the Big Men.

Young, for instance. I remember when he
was a real teamster in spirit. But now his
manner of life, even his looks have changed."

A little while after this talk, I was with
this leader and Shea in the Briggs House.
Said Shea, "Al Young could explain more of
the situation here for the last few years than
any other man." "But if he did," said the
other leader, "it would put him in jail."

It is natural enough that the simple work-
ingman, to whom black is black and white is
white, should, when once shaken in virtue,
cease to distinguish. But I think the men
who yield overtly to this kind of demoraliza-
tion are in the minority, that the labor leader
is in general on a much higher plane of moral-
ity than the average man of the well-to-do
classes. Many of the prominent leaders have
business and executive ability which would
have enabled them to make money in any
other line of activity. But they have re-
mained poor men, at a low salary, and this
shows clearly that the cause has, in part at
least, an emotional value to them. I know
men who have been offered large salaries by
employers — and large bribes — money which
they found no difficulty in rejecting, because
[373]

The Spirit of Labor.

of their temperamental interest in the work
they were doing. Anton himself was offered
the position of traveling salesman at a good
salary. "I didn^t want to leave Maggie for
any length of time," he said. "But anjrway,
I wouldn't have taken it. I feared I might
fly off the handle at the hypocrisy of society.
And, then, too, I thought I would be bored.
I wouldn't have anything to work for except
money. And I wouldn't have any men to
work with, except tradesmen."

C374]

CHAPTER XVII.
Their Points of View.

Anton and I and Schmidtty — a wood-
worker with a ready fist and an honest soul —
were sitting in a down-town cafe, drinking
beer and talking philosophy and other things.
The talk turned on violence, its ethics, its dan-
gers and its possible excuse.

"Since," said Anton, "the unions have their
educational committees, I don't see that
Skinny Madden is such a bad one. Arrange-
ments for violence are never made in the com-
mittees or in the meetings, but only when two
or three gather together, and the rank and
file and the Lily Whites know nothing about
it. I have sometimes persuaded sluggers not
to slug, for I am a philosophical anarchist and
do not believe in violence on principle. But
people in general believe in force. If the
laborers controlled the government, they
would not employ slugging, which is now the
only force they have. They don't call the
[375]

The Spirit of Labor.

Boston Tea Party a strike, but it was violence
and against the law. There are only two
real things — genuine humanity and virtue on
the one hand, and force on the other. All the
rest is hypocrisy and graft."

"Yes," said Schmidtty, who had just been
elected as walking delegate, "there is only one
thing worth being, and that's a man. I don't
feel so much of a man as I did before I was
a walking delegate. When you get mixed up
with men, its hard to be yourself."

"You are losing your individuality,
Schmidtty," laughed Anton. "If you hold
your job you won't have any left."

"You don't seem to lose yours," answered
Schmidtty. Then, turning to me, he said:
"You ought to have heard Anton the other
night in the meeting. Someone tried to in-
sult him, and he replied: 'You can't insult
me. You have no reputation. Yes, you have
a reputation, but it is in the wrong direction.'
In this same meeting Anton called another
man a liar. An apology was demanded, and
Anton said: *Yes, I apologize. I ought to
have been more exact. I called you a liar.
What I ought to have done, is to have called
you a damned liar?'

[376]

Their Points of View.

"One needs," said Schmidtty, "to develop
one's vocabulary. I often advise scabs and I
find a good use of the English language is
handy. The other day I met a scab and I
said to him, 'Why do you attempt to interfere
with men who are trying to better their condi-
tion? I am willing to admit that you have
as much right to the pursuit of happiness as
I have. But I have never seen the fellow yet
who would ever refuse an increase in wages,
and when I and other Union men have taken
risks, paid money into the Union, and been
blacklisted by the employers, and have at last
raised the scale of wages which benefits the
non-Union men as well as us, then when we
see a man try to get our jobs, a man who has
risked nothing but has got a part of the pie,
why then I think it is time to argue with him.
How much money do you get?' 'Nine dol-
lars,' said the scab. 'I'll get a job for you at
$14,' said I. 'Meet me in front of the police
station, so you know I won't try to do you.'
The scab didn't turn up, but he didn't go back
to work."

"Sometimes, though, you meet a scab you
can't stand. A fellow that says: 'Sure, I
know it's a strike, and that's why I'm here.
[377]

The Spirit of Labor.

I don't give a damn for the Union.' That's
the bloke that I'd like to get at. He's the
kind that likes a row, always goes where there
is trouble, and after the strike's over, goes on
to the next place. He don't want a regular
job. It isn't exciting enough. He is a per-
petual hobo, or a nigger, or something that^
doesn't want to work steady. The boss, of
course, wants as many of these things around
as he can get, for they help him to keep down
wages. If it wasn't for these immoral scabs,
it would all be much easier. But it is a good
thing, anjrway, to work for something that is
good for humanity."

"Schmidtty," said Anton, "is absolutely un-
selfish. He's a rude fellow that likes to use
his fists in the cause of humanity, but he's
good."

"Not so rude as you," said Schmidtty, "and
not so good."

"You are both rude," said I, "especially
Anton. But his rudeness is like a cock-tail.
It is a good appetizer."

"That's well put," said Schmidtty.

"I'd like to be an appetizer, as you call it,
for the whole labor world," said Anton. "If
I had an income of $50 a week, I'd make it the
[378]

Their Points of View.

whole business of my life to break down the
howl of conservatism, to make the rank and
file acquire more initiative, to make the Union
so attractive that everybody would want to
join, to make it as disagreeable to a man to
quit the Union as it is to quit the Insurance
Company. To teach men these things, you
must be with them constantly. You must
teach them to think and talk. I don't think
it is necessary to read books. Most books are
harmful to the laboring man, for they teach
him to see things the way the employers see
them, for all books are written by the em-
ployers or the men they support. I at any
rate can find more satisfaction in talking to
men. They sometimes tell the truth. I can
talk about books I have not read. I hear So-
cialists, anarchists, single-taxers talk about the
same book, and from what they all say, I can
get the essence. I shall subscribe for The
Literary Digest. That will give me all the
reading I need."

Soon after this, I had an engagement with
Anton at the Briggs House. I found him
with a number of street-car Union men, and
a deputy sheriff of Chicago, a politician, who
had evidently been drinking too much. An-
[379]

The Spirit of Labor.

ton had only a few cents in his pocket at the
time, and when I entered he was good-na-
turedly temporizing with a demand made by
the sheriff that he should "treat" the crowd.

"Don't apologize," I overheard the sheriff
shout. "But buy the booze."

"I never apologize," said Anton, "I ex-
plain."

"Don't explain," roared the sheriff, "just
go along and holler."

The official seemed to me extremely inso-
lent with pride of office and whiskey, and I
called him down as hard as I could ; told him
he ought to have more sense and decency than
to try to force a man to buy drinks. The
sheriff began to splutter, but when he found
the Union men were all against him, he sul-
lenly subsided ; and sat alone, deserted, in the
cafe. His late companions, although they
knew that this politician had been useful and
might be more so, to the organization, admin-
istered a series of rebukes to him by silently
departing.

Fearing that I might have "spoiled" some-
thing that was on foot, I indicated to Anton
some regret at my action. "I sometimes lose
my temper," I explained.
[380]

Their Points of View.

"It is not a question of losing your tem-
per," he answered, heartily. "It is a question
of taste. He was acting in awful bad taste
and you wouldn't have lived up to your char-
acter, which is that of a critic, if you hadn't
noticed it. It was a good thing. Did you
see how the men, as soon as they got the cue,
turned the fellow down."

During my intimate association with this
workingman, I was frequently struck, not only
with the exterior roughness of his manners,
but, much more important, with the genuine-
ness and often extreme delicacy of his feel-
ings. He has an unerring way of putting his
finger on the weak spot in a man's act; and
when the inhumanity or unkindness of a thing
is felt, his resulting expression is clear and
spontaneous, though sometimes very rough, as
on the occasion of his father's funeral. He
refused to take his hat off at the services, be-
cause the minister had not said anything about
his father's personal character.

He told me about this incident the night of
my meeting with the sheriff; and also about
how on one occasion he treated a man who
was making "advances" to his wife.

"Maggie is a woman by instinct," he said,
[381]

The Spirit of Labor.

"and she sees everything that has anything to
do with the sex. She came to me the other
day and said: *C , was here, and ex-
plained what a pity it is that you are so busy
with your committees, that your work is so
hard it leaves no time or energy for your mari-
tal duties. He's always saying this to me, and
hanging round when you are not there.'

"Maggie likes to keep me guessing. She
is enough of an anarchist to know that I must
not be too sure of her, if she wants to keep
my love, but she didn't like this man and
wound up, in her story about him to me, by
calling him a few names.

"So the next Sunday I went around to his
house, and began to talk to his wife, when he
was in the room. I said to her just what he
had said to Maggie; told her it was a pity her
husband worked so hard he couldn't pay
enough attention to his wife, etc. I saw he
was uneasy, for he thought I must have been
tipped off by Maggie. So when he and I
went out together, he began to explain. After
he had got in deep, I told him that was the
first thing I had heard about it. He felt
cheap then for having given himself away un-
necessarily."

C382]

Their Points of View.

Maggie and Anton, going as they often do to
the meetings of the Anthropological Society
and the Social Science League, where all kinds
of criticism of society are indulged in, and
to the various "socials" given by their anarch-
ist friends, are naturally interested to a con-
siderable degree in the doctrines of free-love.
When Anton talks of religion, when he makes
a violent anti-culture, or anti-Christian
speech, he seems often very crude, for of
course, he is not skilled in metaphysical and
theological distinctions. But when he talks
of love he is dealing with something he knows
as much about as he does about the labor
movement, and in the same way, from experi-
ence. His attitude, and that of Maggie,
toward the question of sex, is therefore one
curiously civilized, and yet abounding in
healthy instinct and common sense.

Maggie's friends, Marie, Esther and the
Poet's wife, have been trying to make her
what they call a "varietist," but Maggie, al-
though she likes the free talk and opportunity
to know men well, shies off from what she
feels is a one-sided and merely rebellious atti-
tude. Her "radicalism" in this matter, is of
that balanced kind which makes life for her
[383]

The Spirit of Labor.

more vivid, quickens her emotions and broad-
ens her sympathy, without detracting her too
much from the big stream of conventional
feeling in the matter.

When Maggie returned from Clinton, and
appeared with the young woodworker
Schmidtty, at the Social Science League,
Marie, Esther and the Poet's wife came up
and congratulated her. "Maggie is now a
varietist," they exclaimed, happily. "See
how happy she looks, and how bright her eyes
are! Maggie has a lover!" It was naive of
them, and incorrect, and incorrect because of
the fullness of Maggie's life, not because of
its poverty. Her anarchist lady friends do
not work, and, in comparison, are anaemic
physically and emotionally.

Anton encourages this attitude in his wife:
he wants her as alive as possible, but he also
wants her to be an artist in life, not a propa-
gandist in word or act. He wants her, as he
once said to me, to drive swift horses, but he
doesn't want the horses to run away with her.

"There is danger in it, Hapgood," he said,
"but it's fun."

He has much the same attitude towards
Maggie as he has towards his work in the
[384]

Their Points of View.

Unions and his efforts among men. It is in-
teresting and exciting for him to get as much
life as he can — to play the game fully, hoping,
of course, to win, but risking loss at every
turn. He is certainly the man for her, for
she enjoys life, and makes others enjoy life.
I was at her house often for dinner, and it
seemed to me a full, rich place, this working-
man's house, with this good and cheerful and
active and free-minded woman, her healthy,
well-taken-care-of children, clean house, good
food and interesting guests, — anarchists, So-
cialists, Conservatives, but always working
people. It seemed always so real to me, the
ideas so based upon facts, so instinctively in-
evitable. Even the thoughts that were crude
and violent pointed so forcibly to a social sit-
uation. And what optimism and energy and
temperament and humanity, what hope!

And yet I remember saying, a few months
earlier, "There is no charm about the work-
ingman. He lacks the interest of the thief,
the Ghetto Jew, or the strolling actress.
There is no picturesque quality, nothing in
the workingman but what suggests a hard,
passionate clash between the classes ; one feels
a coming revolution of the proletariat, but
[385]

The Spirit of Labor.

its expression lacks charm — it is suffering,
hard, sullen, ugly."

But the time soon came when I could hard-
ly take myself away from Anton's house and
friends. Passion, poetry, warmth, reality,
intimacy; frankness — a thorough acceptance
of human attributes, an instinctive way of
taking life, very similar to that of the great
Walt Whitman. Other people, of so-called
"culture," I felt were comparatively anaemic
and of a piece. The workingmen seemed
more intelligent to me about economic mat-
ters and social questions than university stu-
dents or even university professors. The
ideas I heard expressed by the professional
economists or sociologists, by the reforming
radical politicians or philanthropists, were
put with more convincingness if with less
rhetoric in the circle of the laboring class. It
became clearer and clearer to me that the
origin of social ideas was in the society I was
then frequenting.

Even superficial culture, many of these peo-
ple, particularly those who have become out
and out anti-social, and quitting work, have
been able to devote themselves to the phrase —
people like Marie and Terry — have in a
[386]

Their Points of View.

marked degree. I shall try to record a more
or less typical conversation of the more or
less "cultured" kind which took place one day
at Anton's house, at dinner and after, when
there were as guests, besides myself, Marie
and Terry, Jay and Esther, the Poet's wife,
Schmidtty and his sister, a robust working
girl of the more or less conservative kind.

"Esther," I said, "you are a beautiful
woman."

These women do not understand or want
compliments which do not go to the soul.
Esther did not enjoy my remark, which was
sincere, and she said:

"I only care for feeling, for the inside."
Esther is so serious and sentimental that An-
ton, who always fights away from the expres-
sion of intense feeling, said, as a diversion :

"Here's to man's freedom and woman's
slavery. We were perhaps economically
wrong in making women slaves to begin with,
for that put them in a position where they
can deal men horrible blows. The man feels
the woman is his property, and so the woman,
if she wants, can injure him in his property
feeling and his sentimental feeling at the same
time. It is the punishment of the autocrat.
[387]

The Spirit of Labor.

But now we've got them there, we must keep
them there to a certain extent. For the most
destructive thing a man can do is to take a
woman seriously and put her on an equality.
She is not capable of it."

"You're talking through your hat, Anton,"
said Maggie. "You know you don't believe
a word of all that. You bet you take me
seriously. If you didn't, I'd soon make you."

"I don't blame Esther," said Jay, "for hav-
ing such a high ideal. That is why I loved
her. To be happy we need an ideal. That
is why in some ways the laboring class to-day
is so unfortunate. Not only is the material
result of our labor taken away from us, but
also the ideal of work. We must seek our
ideal outside of our labor and that is why
some of us are anarchists and some trades-
unionists, some free-lovers and some Social-
ists. The employers have an ideal of work,
and that takes away from them the need of
other ideals.

"You anarchists make me sick," said Anton,
aggressively. He was sitting in his flannel
shirt, with his collar ofif, and shoving down
Maggie's well-cooked food with great speed.
"You are all fanatics, crazy about something.
[388]

Their Points of View.

Esther and Marie are crazy about Variety,'
Terry is crazy about class-consciousness, and
about what he calls consistency; the Poet is
crazy with egotism, Hapgood is crazy to butt
into what doesn't concern him, and Maggie
is crazy about monogamy."

"Guess again," said Maggie.

"To show how crazy the anarchists are,"
continued Anton, ignoring Maggie's remark,
"look how they criticize trades-unionism with-
out ever going to the meetings and not know-
ing or caring what's being done. They jump
on the movement as hard as they do on reli-
gion or capitalism."

"Well," said Terry, "at the best, trades-
unionism is only a makeshift, an amelioration
of conditions, and is not ideal. Besides, it
is bourgeois, middle-class. Take your worthy
President, Gompers, who could be more bour-
geois than Gompers?"

"Yes," replied Anton, "Gompers is a side-
stepper, I must admit. But it is better than
having always a panacea that doesn't work.
At the anti-trust meeting the other day, they
all had their panaceas, Jane Addams, George
Schilling, Tucker — all but Gompers and he
in his speech again showed how clever he is
[389]

Their Points of View.

in saying nothing, in stepping aside. But,
after all, we must compromise, to get any-
thing. If we all were as fanatical as the an-
archists, there would be nothing but hot air
in the world."

"You talk about stupid things," said Marie,
"just as if there were no women present.
Let's talk about love. By the way, I didn't
realize how interesting little Sadie is. But
the other night, when she kissed me good-bye
after the meeting, I saw there was something
in her. Her kiss filled me with surprise and
emotion."

"You are about the craziest in the whole
bunch," remonstrated Anton.

But Marie had determined the topic for* a
time, and they talked about love between the
sexes with a downrightness and a frankness
and at the same time a knowledge of the emo-
tional facts which made me feel that I was
associating with people who at least were civi-
lized, and not over-civilized. They had
sprung into emotional maturity without the
intermediate processes of physical degenera-
tion which are often an accompaniment. The
fact that they belonged to the working class
was a sweet preservative against the pale
[390]

Their Points of View.

anaemia of emotional freedom which one is
likely to find in other sets.

Towards the end of the long dinner, Anton
addressed me, and said:

"You have been with us now a couple of
months. You butted in, but you have made
yourself welcome. We have all enjoyed your
intelligence, and I particularly have enjoyed
your way of putting things. You say rough
things so delicately that for working people
it is quite a treat. Let's have a speech. Tell
Ub what you think about the labor movement
and about anarchism. And don't imitate
Sam Gompers and side-step all over the room.
It's not a dance, but a talk we want."

It was a large order, but I knew that I was
among tolerant friends, so I said: ,

"I can only repeat the things which you and
your friends have either thought or felt about
the movement and about society. Left to my-
self or to books I should never have had any
ideas on these subjects. Perhaps you won't
recognize yourselves or your ideas in my
words. If not, it is only because of my man-
ner of expression. What I say, merely inter-
prets, in my opinion, what you think, and, in
[391]

The Spirit of Labor.

an inadequate way, embodies the results of
your thought and feeling.

"As I have often told you, I have found
Chicago wonderfully interesting. Before I
became absorbed in you, I saw much of the
settlement workers, of the 'smart' people, the
young politicians and business men, the jour-
nalists and the university professors. And I
found them all very broad, for their situation,
very tolerant. There seemed to me a wonder-
ful feeling of democracy throughout the city,
a lack of snobbishness that I had never felt
elsewhere.

"This was interesting, inspiring, but until
I came in contact with you, I did not know
how interesting it all was. It is you who
have given me the key to all the rest. It is
the man-in-the-stFeet, the common man, the
working man, who is giving tone to all the
rest of society. It is your ideas that they are
expressing. It is your sentiment that is grad-
ually affecting all classes. It is your philos-
ophy that is affecting the old philosophy,
broadening it, giving it a larger human basis.

"Among the newer and better politicians
there has been a vital reaction against the
principle of special privileges so nicely
[392]

Their Points of View.

worked out by the business class. The last
few years have been years of reform. Behind
this reform has been the working class. Pres-
sure from beneath has forced these social pal-
liatives, such as the insurance investigations,
trust legislation, etc., etc. The feeling for
municipal ownership has amounted almost to
a religion. The back-bone of that movement
has been the laboring class. The President
of the United States is accused by the reac-
tionaries of being a 'radical,' a Socialist. He
is a politician, and he would never have been
forced into a semi-radical attitude had it not
been for the pressure which h^d its original
impulse in the working class.

"It is natural that the source of radical
thought should be more radical than the re-
sults on the established machinery. The re-
mark of your labor leader, Anton, in the Pitts-
burg Convention, that you are all anarchists,
has some truth. There are very few anarch-
ists like Terry — fortunately — [Perhaps that's
true, interjected Terry, smilingly] but I find
in all of you the germs of a feeling against,
if I may so put it. You all distrust, more or
less, the present legal and judicial machinery,
the present law, the present morality. You
[393]

The Spirit of Labor.

all — those who think — believe there is a mo-
rality higher than the morality embodied
in law. For instance, the law 'thou shalt not
be a scab' is for you a higher morality than
the law against 'disorderly conduct' and riot
in the street.

"This element of anarchism, therefore, goes
deep. It is embodied in the very essence of
the economic and social situation. I believe,
personally, that while it has its abuses, it
makes for good. It puts into organized so-
ciety a distrust of itself, disturbs it, and leads
to reform, in self-defense. It can never be
realized, in any extreme form — perhaps it
ought not to be realized — but it is an excellent
tonic: it helps to keep society from being too
smug, too routine, too unjust, too uninterest-
ing. We must, in all advance, have a destruc-
tive element, and when the destructive ele-
ment is based upon something as positive, as
warm and as humane as the labor movement,
it deserves sympathetic attention.

"In the course of my life I have had one
deeply anarchical experience. As a student,
I thought I could arrive, by the study of
metaphysics, to a knowledge of the objects of
metaphysics — God, immortality. Free Will,
[394]

Their Points of View.

etc. But after reading the history of meta-
physics I found that no metaphysician ever ar-
rived at the specific thing he was aiming at —
no one ever did or will discover the unknow-
able. At the same time that I arrived at this
negative conclusion, my human experience be--
came richer. I realized the number of beau-
tiful and interesting concrete things and ex-
periences there are. This double situation re-
sulted in my becoming a metaphysical an-
archist. With it, came a deeper pleasure in
literature, in art, in people, in life. It seemed
as a cock-tail before dinner: it made things
more interesting.

"This desire for more abundant life, more
pleasure, more beauty, more understanding,
is at the basis of all sincere anarchical feel-
ing. The great poets and great artists and
great spiritual seers have been anarchical in
regard to old forms and ideas in their art;
that is, they have had an element of anarch-
ism; though at the same time they have felt
the beauty of the old.

"So, too, is love. Those anarchists who are

free-lovers — sincerely so, for among those are

many fakers — are partly right and partly

wrong, in my opinion. A husband and wife

[395]

The Spirit of Labor,

get along best together when there is an ele-
ment of uncertainty, of possible change, of
growth ; when each is interested in some other
person or persons of the opposite sex. If
their relation is the best, this interest in others
helps them to be more interested in one an-
other, and their relation toge*^her. It makes
it more exciting, more rich. ,.

"Balance seems peculiarly necessary in this
relation. Those among you anarchists who
are not extremists in this matter seem to me
to get the most out of this side of life. There
is a monotony in too much freedom that is
worse than the monotony of too much con-
servatism. The ideal is to have one deep and
overpowering relation to which all others
serve as stimulants and emotional comments.
One of your anarchists admitted to me the
other day: 'Free-love women have no mys-
tery. The conservative women are the rich-
est. Sin is a luxury, and so it would be a
pity to abolish it.'

"That sentiment is really immoral, but there
is a moral truth at the bottom of it, more
ethically expressed by Balzac, than by your
anarchist. He says:

" *It is an immense proof of inferiority in a
[396]

Their Points of View.

man not to be able to make of his wife his
mistress. Variety in love is a sign of impo-
tence. Constancy will always be the genius
of love, the proof of an immense force, which
constitutes the poet.'

"Anarchism in love should work against the
too stolid, and stupid and routine institutional
side, not against ideals. Then, indeed, an-
archy is bad. If it tends to destroy ideals,
away with it. But I feel that with you people
the true function of anarchism is to sustain
and keep alive the ideal. The life of a man
like Kropotkin — almost a saint — shows this to
be the case, for his life is like that of many
anarchists. It is typical.

"A pathetic and amusing and absurd thing
is the ordinary attitude of society, everywhere
except in England, towards the avowed an-
archists. In England, they are left alone, and
no harm is done. But they are persecuted
everjrwhere else, even in America, and yet, if
not disturbed, they are entirely harmless.
Anarchy, indeed, is a gentle idealism, though
that is not the general idea. The popular
conception of an anarchist is about as near the
truth as the popular conception of a Jew or
of a witch. But when I met the anarchists
[397]

The Spirit of Labor.

among the laboring men I found something
unusually gentle, unusually low-toned, and
with an avowed and actual hatred of force.
The Socialists are like bulls in comparison,
and the police and capitalists strong-arm men.

"Anarchism begins with a revolt against
economic injustice, but it ends as an aesthetic
ideal. It is the fine art of the proletariat. In
function, it is stimulating, an attitude of mind.
It has a practical side, as it allows a man to
be an opportunist in life, while having a high
ideal. Of this kind of anarchist, Clarence
Darrow is the most prominent among you.
It emphasizes individuality and the rights of
the soul, as against convention and law. In
marriage, it fosters insecurity and therefore
love and interest. It is a remedy against
snobbishness, as it renders social distinctions
insecure. Springing from the people, it finds
great things in the people.

"Anarchism is something like the Catholic
Church. It is tolerant and elastic, and in-
cludes everything except intolerance, and
sometimes even that, generally that with the
declared anarchists, who after all are not the
real anarchists, who have no culte. The most
perfect anarchist I know is one of the deans
[398]

Their Points of View.

of a university. It is peculiarly human and
makes room even for graft, as part of an im-
perfect system.

"Although anarchism is an aesthetic ideal,
it tends to become fixed, and therefore unaes-
thetic. Its object is to get rid of prejudice
and the routine of institutions, but it often
wrongly tends to do away at the same time
with the beauty there is in institution, such
as marriage, forms of literature, history and
art. I find in many of you — not indeed in the
most self-conscious — a hatred of poetry, fairy
tales, history, a hatred of whatever conserva-
tive people like, irrespective of whether it is
good or evil. This is the point where anarch-
ism itself becomes routine, founded on narrow
laziness of mind, and needing itself to be re-
formed."

"You express pretty well," commented
Terry, "Kropotkin's idea of anarchism, a gen-
tle sweet sort. There is another kind, how-
ever, a more egotistic one, that is Tucker's
way, and mine. Anarchism is dangerous,
even when bombs don't come in. It does tend
to destroy the beautiful stability and tran-
quillity of the bourgeois citizen, and if real-
ized would do harm ; but the harm would be
[399]

The Spirit of Labor.

very slight in comparison with the harm of
the present state of things."

"AH this kind of talk," said Anton, "would
be tommyrot, if it were not for one thing.
The important feature of it all is, as Hapgood
says, that it is based on the Labor Movement.
It is a warning to the world that the condi-
tions under which workingmen live tend to
bring about certain ideas. And yet damn
fools like you, Terry, sneer at the labor move-
ment, when there wouldn't be any anarchists,
if it were not for the labor movement."

But Marie and Esther and Maggie were
getting nervous, so they brought the talk
around again to Subject Number One.

[400]

CHAPTER XVIII.

A Ripe Letter.

The time for me to leave Chicago came
around, and it was with a heavy heart and a
feeling of moral wrong that I realized the
way things conflict in this world. My fare-
well evening at Anton's was as interesting as
ever, though the coming separation gave it
a touch of gloom. When I arrived that even-
ing, Anton was telling his son about some of
his hobo experiences — how he swung along
the Grand Canon on the trucks of a passenger
train. Schmidtty was there, and noticed in
Anton a certain lack of mechanical observa-
tion, the thing that had made it so difficult
for Anton to learn his trade: he had done it
by sheer force of will and energy. Yet pri-
marily, he is a liver, an expresser, and a phi-
losopher.

He spoke, at this last meeting, more seri-
ously than usual, about things connected with
[401]

The Spirit of Labor.

the labor situation, marriage and work. "No
one can help the men," he said, "except they
themselves. It is hopeless from the outside,
and difficult from the inside. Education is
the great thing, not necessarily from books.
Tom Morgan, who for so long was prominent
in the movement and afterwards as a Socialist,
got his mental start from copying architec-
tural designs while working at his trade.
There are many roads, but few results.

"I have enjoyed you and your intelligence
and your way of saying things. You repre-
sent, in a way, another class, and that, too, I
feel, has broadened me."

I explained, with even more sincerity, how
he had pleased and influenced me. Maggie
said very little, but all these meetings in which
there had been so much free talk, so much en-
joyment and so much sympathy, had meant
much to her, as her tears showed. We talked
about marriage, and the great pleasure there
is in utter frankness and honesty in life. The
latter part of the evening, we three were alone
together: I, who had never worked with my
hands in my life, much universitied, much be-
cultured so to speak; he, a woodworker, a
former tramp and she a workingman's wife,
[402 ]

A Ripe Letter.

who took in washing and was, as far as "class"
went, a most simple girl of German origin. I
am forced to remember these distinctions and
differences now, for the purpose of this social
study that I have made. But I felt no social
or intellectual difference between us, essen-
tially, at the time, or now. In them I knew
I had met my equals at least; in some ways
my superiors, people whom I could love, and
as I went away that evening I reflected sadly
on the baseless character of snobbishness and
the fundamental cruelty and meaninglessness
of class.

After I had been some weeks in New York,
I received from Anton a letter about Labor
politics and also some sentiments about min-
isters, interesting as showing greater tolerance
towards these persons than he was able to
show formerly. ~

"I need not go into details in my excuse
for not writing, for you are onto my game.
Maggie is out to-night for a good time, so I
am alone with the little ones, and as I feel
at best, I thought I would drop you a few
lines. I had a good report to the Federation,
and they had it printed with my picture. We
had another election in the Federation Sun-
[403]

The Spirit of Labor.

day. I was one of the judges and Madden's
gang was put down and out. They had a
report around town that I was to be Mad-
den's candidate for President. You can bet
it made me hot under the collar.

"So on the day of nomination, my name was
presented as a candidate for President. John
Fitzpatrick and John Levine were also candi-
dates. I arose to the occasion and declared
in open meeting that the report of my being
Madden's candidate was a damned lie, that
I declined in favor of Fitzpatrick, and would
always remain a clean-cut trade-unionist with-
out any political intrigue. You can bet I was
cheered all over the hall. But I made the
Madden gang good and sore, as I gave them
hell right on the floor. At the election, about
1 20 policemen were present. I and many
others dislike very much to have the police
in our Union affairs, but we could not help
it, as we did not want a repetition of the Don-
nelly's slugging.

"You remember my telling you about Fitz-
patrick working against me when I was
elected delegate to Pittsburg. He got up in
the meeting, you remember, and made a
speech in favor of the other fellow. Well,
[404]

'A Ripe Letter.

my time came, and I made a speech in his
favor and when the votes were counted, and
he was elected, I went to him, gave him my
hand, and told him I was ready to assist him
with all my power (if I had any) to conduct
a clean administration. I wish you could
have seen his face. It was a case of my being
a Christian and returning good for evil. And
while he is a strong, robust man, not very sen-
timental, the tears rolled down his face, and
he asked me to overlook his mistake, in his
misjudgment of me. I was pleasantly af-
fected and told him he could rest assured that
my love for this great labor movement was
strong enough to overcome the desire for re-
taliation, when such action would tend to
check the progress of our movement. *I trust
and hope,' I said, 'that your talent and ability
will at all times be used in the cause of the
proletariat'

"I expect that Madden will lie down now
and admit his defeat. Out of a total of 635
votes cast, Fitzpatrick received 396 and John
Levine, Madden's man, 196. This was in
spite of the fact that Madden had been able
to induce some unions, among them several
of the teamsters' unions, and all the unafEli-
[405]

The Spirit of Labor.

ated bricklayers unions, to join the Federation
just before the election ; and besides had got-
ten out phony cards, which we did not dis-
cover at first. But as soon as we noticed the
illegal cards we put a damper on them.
Some men came to vote on bricklayers' cards,
but as they looked about as much like brick-
layers as the Anarchist Poet looks like a sewer
digger, they were challenged, and when it was
found they did not know the address of the
man whose name appeared on their card, they
were promptly denied the right to vote. In
one case, a teamster came up to vote with a
card which bore the name of a delegate from
the cement finishers' union. The tally
showed that the cement finisher had already
voted.

"We refused to let him vote. He left the
hall, but returned with Jerry McCarthy, Pres-
ident of the Truck Drivers' Union, who vigor-
ously protested. He made an attack upon
Nockels, and the police immediately threw
him out, and also the other teamster. Out-
side of this little fray there was no sign of
violence.

"I don't know if they will repeat these
methods six months hence, but the feeling is
[406]

A Ripe Letter.

so strong against Madden that it is difficult
for one to conceive how they can be foolish
enough to continue in their bulldozing tac-
tics. Yet we must expect very strenuous ef-
forts on the part of the grafter to maintain
his power, when it is slowly waning. You
may expect sarcasm and criticism from him
in one direction and pleading with crocodile
tears in the direction where there appears to
be a faint hope of deception. But when his
power is lost, it makes very little difference
whether it be in the political arena, or on the
economic battle-field, there remains nothing
for him to do but to use bulldozing methods
in the hope that the honest man may fear him.
In the grafter's feelings there is not the slight-
est conception of morality. His first, last,
and only object, is to regain his lost power,
and in the action of the grafter, the old say-
ing, the end justifies the means, is typical in
its conception.

"I am pleased, however, that with the cen-
tralization of capital, the awakening of the
public conscience becomes greater and
greater. This is especially true in the organ-
ized Labor Movement, and I look forward
with more and more hope that the near fu-
[407]

The Spirit of Labor.

ture will show clearly the necessity of remov-
ing a system that affords the opportunity for
the cunning-minded to accumulate not only
millions, but billions, on the one hand, and
that deprives honest efforts in millions of
cases from the just results, on the other hand.

"I feel extremely thankful that a man like
T. Lawson has revealed himself to the world
and has made the opportunity more favorable
for the little agitators like myself, and thou-
sands of others. To point out, and leave, a
lasting impression on the minds of the people
as to the sweeping injustice of this condition :
this is a great thing. I hope the political
arena will produce more Jeromes, and Folks
and Johnsons, who although their philosophy
seems to me superficial or nothing, and their
minds not very deep, yet are good men in ac-
tion, and the kind we need. They possess the
courage necessary to challenge the audacity
of the grafter and the ignorance of the parti-
san voter, in which ignorance rests the real
strength of the machine. If we could have
one thousand such men, there would be 'some-
thing doing.*

"You will perhaps be surprised when I tell
you that I was invited to speak at the Olivet
[408]

^A Ripe Letter.

Church. I accepted an invitation to dine
with the minister. I assure you that I had an
interesting talk with him. You may laugh,
but it is true. He is a communist, as far as
the ideal is concerned, and in practice an op-
portunist, but a man who is willing to work
for the great army of humanity who need all
the best things of life. I spoke on trades-
unionism. They appeared well satisfied with
my talk, and urged me to speak on the tramp,
at another occasion. I don't know what your
opinion will be of this incident (and to be
frank, I don't care), whether I am going to
the bad, or whether the ministers are im-
proving.

"This is all I have to describe, since you
went away. I might add that you have left
a good impression on our friends and that we
miss you very much. I am just at present
pacing the floor on Sunday morning (having
begun this letter last night) and my dear
monogamic wife is making this stenographic
report. Maggie says there isn't any use in
sending her love, as you have taken away
more already than you have kept, but I
know that you, having been in Japan and
many other places, have the capacity for con-
[409]

A Ripe Letter.

serving good things. I remain, yours, for
Truth, Liberty and Justice,

"Anton."

On this note of good-citizenship and social
playfulness, I let my dear friend rest, and put
before the public his spirit — the spirit of the
alive and progressive American workingman
of the present day.

[410]

Th

e

Autobiography of a Thief

A true story of the life of a criminal
taken down and edited by Mr. Hapgood.

Cloth. 349 pp. $1.25 postpaid.

COMMENTS OF THE CRITICS

" The book as a whole impresses the reader as an accurate presenta-
tion of the thief's personal point of view, a vivid picture of the society
in which he lived and robbed and of the influences, moral and political,
by which he was surrounded. The story indeed has_ something^ of the
quality of Defoe's 'Colonel Jacque'; it is filled with convincing de-
tails."— New York Evening Post.

" To one reader at least — one weary reader of many books which
seem for the most part ' flat, stale and unprofitable ' — this is a book
that seems eminently ' worth while.' Indeed, every word of the book,
from cover to cover, is supremely, vitally interesting. Most novels are
tame beside it, and few recent books or any kind are so rich in sug-
gestiveness." — Interior.

" What is the value of such an autobiography of a thief as Mr.
Hapgood has given us? It is this. Professional crime is one of the
overprosperous branches of industry in our large cities. As a nation
we are casting around for means to check it, or, in other words, to
divert the activities of the professional criminals into some other in-
dustry in which these men can satisfy their peculiar talents and at
the same time ^et a living with less inconvenience to the mass of
citizens. The criminal, being as much a human being as the rest of
us, must be known as he is before we can either influence him per-
sonally or legislate for him effectually. If we treat him as we would
the little girl who stole her brother's candy mice or as the man who
under great stress of temptation yields to the impulse to steal against
his struggling will, we will fail, for we overlook the very essence of
the matter — his professionalism. It is safe to say that perusal of
Mr. Hapgood's book will help many a student of criminology to find
his way through the current tangle of statistics, reform plans, analyses
of ' graft ' and what not, by the very light of humanity that is in
it." — Chicago Record-Herald.

" The manner and style of ' The Autobiography of a Thief ' is that
which attracts even the fastidious lovers of literature. It is the life-
story of a real thief unmistakably impressive in its force and truth. As
a matter of course, the book is on the hinge of a novel, but it contains
the gem and sparkle of genuineness and its complication has the flavor
of accuracy." — New Orleans Item.

" It is not only a powerful plea for the reform of abuses in our
penitentiaries, but it is an extraordinary revelation of the life of a
criminal from his birth up, and an explanation of the conditions which
impelled him first to crime and later to attempted reformation." —

New York Herald.

" The truth found in ' The_ Autobiog^raphy of a Thief ' is not only
stranger but far more interesting than much of the present day fiction.
The autobiography of ' Light-fingered Jim ' is absorbing, in many pages
startling, in its graphicness. ... In spite of its naturalness, daring
and directness, the work has a marked literary style — a finish that
could not have been given by an unexperienced hand. But this adds
to rather than detracts from the charm of the book." — Philadelphia
Public Ledger.

" No more realistic book has been written for a long time than
Hutchins Hapgood's ' The Autobiography of _ a Thief.' No books on
criminology and no statistics regarding penal institutions can carry the
weight of truth and conviction which this autobiography conveys." —

Chicago Chronicle.

" As a study in sociology it is splendid ; as a human story it will
hold attention, every page of it." — Nashville American.

" It is a clear and g^raphic insight into the lives of the lower world
and is written with impressive force. It is a remarkable addition to
the literature of the season." — Grand Rapids Herald,

" An illuminating and truly instructive book, and one of terrible
fascination." — Christian Endeavor World.

" As a contribution to the study of sociology as illustrated from life
and not from mere text-books, the story recorded by Mr. Hapgood
will be welcomed by all philanthropic people." — New York Observer.

" It is an absorbing story of the making of a criminal, and is rightly
classed by the publishers as a ' human document.' It is absorbing alike
to the reader who reads for the diversion of reading and to those who
are really thoughtful students of the forces which are working in the
life round about them." — Brooklyn Life.

" Those in whom the sense of human oneness and social responsi-
bility is strong will be intensely interested in these genuine experiences
and in the naive, if perverted, viewpoint of a pick-pocket, thief and
burglar who has served three terms in State's prison." — Booklovers'
Library.

" It may be that ' Jim ' puts things strongly sometimes, but the spirit
of truth at least is plain in every chapter of the book. That, in gen-
eral, it is the real thing is the feeling the reader has after he has
finished with ' The Autobiography of a Thief.' It is not a pleasant
book; it is anything but a book such as ' the young person should re-
ceive as a birthday gift. It w a book however which the man anxious
to keep track of life in this country should read and ponder over. —

JosiAH Flynt. in the Bookman.

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