Elizabeth Gurley Flynn. Duluth, Minnesota 1908 4- ir + £ jL 5K«a p&ftt'Ss ILL sw*UH»

In a real fight, Saint’s mild blue eyes became steely and cold. He fought only on principle and then as mercilessly as the enemies of the workers did. His loyalty to the working class was boundless. For eight years, from 1907 to 1915, he struggled with lack of funds and the uneven development of the IWW, whose strength he never exaggerated. His wife, a friendly Western woman, was devoted to him and managed marvelously with very little. Once, I recall, she sent me for a ten-cent pail of beer to go with the boiled dinner. I met Saint on my way and he said, with a twinkle in his eyes: “Well! Well! Joan of Arc rushing the growler!”

One of the by-products of the Goldfield struggle was the Preston and Smith case. Morrie R. Preston and Joseph W. Smith were officers of the Goldfield Miners Union in 1907. On March 10 of that year there was a picket line around the restaurant of John Silva. The place had been declared unfair because the boss had held back one day’s pay from a waitress when she quit. Preston had successfully turned away several customers. Silva came rushing out the door in a blind rage, waving an automatic pistol. He ordered Preston: “You go away or I’ll kill you!” and raised his gun to fire. Preston drew his gun and fired twice, killing his assailant. Silva had previously exhibited the gun in the restaurant and told several customers he would “get” Preston or Smith if they came to picket.

In a defense pamphlet published after their arrest, it was explained:

In the more settled East, the question sometimes arises as to Preston’s right to carry arms. The point being prejudicial, it is well to explain that “packing a gun” is so customary in the West, especially in the mining dis


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SOCIALIST AND IWW AGITATOR, 1906-1912

tricts, that nothing is thought of it. On the contrary, a miner from the hills, or a ranger, without his “six-shooter” in plain sight would have excited more curiosity and should not be confused with the Eastern “gangster” practice of “carrying concealed weapons’.”

To bear arms is the Constitutional right of every American. The prosecution did call attention to Preston being armed but put no emphasis on the point, for the jury, well acquainted with local conditions, would not have given it any weight. This will be better understood when it is recalled that Goldfield was then a “new strike”—a rough and ready mining camp with the “lid off”—bom overnight, and full of “claim jumpers,” adventurers, fortune hunters and gamblers, which the boom and the gold fever had attracted like flies from every district in the West. Dance halls, gambling houses and saloons crowded the main street and men carried arms as a characteristic part of their dress. In addition to the warrant of custom, Preston had the urge of a “Special Danger,” for he, as business agent of the union, had been threatened on several occasions and self-protection counseled him to prepare against assault.

The dragnet theory of “conspiracy” was resorted to by the state, which charged that at a meeting at the Miners Union Hall, a plot was hatched to kill Nixon, the U.S. Senator, Winfield, a millionaire mine owner and others, including Silva, the owner of a little beanery—an unlikely story. Gunmen and labor-baiters were the so-called witnesses, but since there was no evidence that anything or anybody had even threatened the alleged victims, the case was dropped against the 17 union members on trial. Smith, although proved to have been at home eating supper, a mile from the scene of the trouble, was convicted of “manslaughter,” which is defined as “taking a human life in the heat of passion and without malice or deliberation.” He was sentenced to ten years in prison. Preston was convicted of murder in the second degree and recommended to the mercy of the court by the jury. He was sentenced to 25 years in the State Penitentiary. He was 25 years old.

The Western Federation of Miners financed their appeals and many subsequent efforts by Judge Hilton to secure their release. In 1911 a parole was finally secured for Smith. By 1914 one of the special hired prosecutors in the case and chief counsel for the prosecution, J. F. Douglas, wrote a letter to the Board of Pardons and Parole at Carson City, Nevada, in which he stated:

Finally in April 1914, after seven years in prison, Preston was released on parole. This case helped to establish the parole system in the state of Nevada. In the defense pamphlet which was issued on his behalf, of which I have a copy autographed by Preston, there is a very interesting section on the subject of “conspiracy.” Based on the Common Law of England, it is less difficult to secure convictions on the charge of “conspiracy” than on any other charge, and this is why it is generally used as a basis for the prosecution in labor cases. I quote these wise remarks of 40 years ago which are applicable now to Communists and labor, under present legislation:

This is an accurate description not only of what Preston and Smith were confronted with in Goldfield in 1907, but in a host of similar labor and political cases from then to the present day, at Foley Square in New York City. I have witnessed it over and over again and been personally a victim of the conspiracy law more than Once.

It was in a spirit of high adventure that I set out in the Summer of 1909 to see my country and to meet its people. I went as far as Puget Sound and up into Canada. I traveled alone and was surrounded by men in the IWW halls, where there were only a few women metnbers. Yet, I never had a disagreeable experience (outside of getting arrest

The western country still had traces of the frontier. It was sparsely settled and had a natural wild beauty. All cities did not look alike as they do today, with the same chain stores and hotels, movies and illuminated advertisements, chromium fronts and cars. There were Indians, horses, cowboys, men in big wide hats, wearing lumber jackets and calked boots. Silver dollars and five-dollar gold pieces were in circulation. People were more original. They did not all look alike, talk alike, think alike. From place to place there were different styles of clothing, speech and architecture. I fell in love with my country—its rivers, prairies, forests, mountains, cities and people. No one can take my love of country away from me! I felt then, as I do now, it’s a rich, fertile, beautiful land, capable of satisfying all the needs of its people. It could be a paradise on earth if it belonged to the people, not to a small owning class. I expressed all this in my speeches for socialism.

As I left Chicago, where I had lived for nearly a year, I had a sensation of excitement, which I have never lost, no matter how many trips I take over the spacious bosom of my country—whether I go by the far north route through snow and fir trees, or the southern way that takes you to palm and olive trees. Sprawled-out Chicago soon lay behind us, as we went along Lake Michigan to Milwaukee, then to Minneapolis and St. Paul. I saw the Mississippi River. On my earlier trip to the Mesabi Range, I had visited Lake Itasca, the small source of this mighty river, where it is but 12 feet wide and 18 inches deep. In my speeches this became an allegory of human progress. Leaving the Mississippi behind, the next strange sight was “the bad lands” of South Dakota, in the Black Hills—mile on mile of weird shapes, grotesque mounds of clay and sandstone. Then came the grandeur of the snow-capped Rocky Mountains. On the Continental Divide, I made my first stop—Butte, Montana.

My lifetime traveling habits were conditioned in my early youth by my great desire to see all I could of my country. Trains were slow in those days. In spring there were floods. In winter there were snow slides. Sometimes yesterday’s overland express pulled in today. But even now I prefer a slow train that makes plenty of stops en route so you can get out a few minutes and look around—no mad rushing streamliner with a blur outside the window for me, or fast flying airplane with the earth out of sight, riding on cream-puff clouds. Except

From Butte I went to Kalispell, Montana, where the IWW was leading a lumber strike. It took about 18 hours to go from Butte over the Continental Divide of the Rockies and around the mountains. It is in the northwest section of the state. I arrived there at about 3 a.m. There was no one to meet me at the station. The whole town was sleeping. But a railroad worker said: “Are you Gurley Flynn? Mrs. Heslewood said to go to the hotel,” which he pointed out nearby. There I found a room waiting for me. Fred Heslewood, a giant of a man, had been one of the top organizers of the Western Federation of Miners. He was there in charge of the strike of timber workers. He was greatly embarrassed by the presence of an IWW musical band which had set up camp in town, like gypsies. They had red uniforms and went out on the street comers like the Salvation Army.

Their leader, named Walsh, had previously organized the so-called “Overalls Brigade” to go to the 1908 Chicago Convention. There they had contributed to expelling De Leon and he had dubbed them “The Bummery.” Heslewood was able to bring the strike to a successful conclusion and he and his wife went on to Spokane with me. The band traveled around a while longer and then split up. They were workers and preferred the camps to a minstrel’s life. That they could descend upon a strike, and the organizer there had no control over them, indicated one of the fatal weaknesses of the IWW. It was “rank-and-file- ism” carried to excess, which I saw in many later strikes.

I remained in Spokane the rest of the summer, speaking three and four times a week in the IWW hall to an ever-changing audience of

I learned a great deal about the lives of the migratory workers. The majority were American-born Eastern youth of adventurist spirit, who had followed Horace Greeley’s advice: “Go West, young man and grow up with the country!” Out there they became floaters, without homes or families. The IWW hall was their only social center, where they were able to park their blankets and suitcases, take a shower, or —more important—“boil up” their clothes and blankets in order to delouse themselves. Here they discussed their grievances and exchanged experiences which led to placing some particularly bad lumber camps on a blacklist. Here were lectures, discussions, and even parties.

I recall one Christmas the IWW in Tacoma, Washington, had a beautiful tree dedicated to “Fellow-worker Jesus” with many of his sayings about workers and common people decorating the hall. Ministers came from local churches to see for themselves how the IWW honored the Carpenter of Nazareth and the Fisherman of Galilee. They came to criticize but were impressed with the simplicity and sincerity of the tribute.

The bad conditions in the lumber camps of those days were notorious. The food was poor, the sleeping bunks dirty and crowded, sanitary facilities inadequate. The working hours were long, speedup prevailed, there were many accidents. Life was dreary and monotonous, the lengthy seasons out in the woods were broken only by July 4th and the Christmas holidays. The IWW carried on a crusade against drink. Many of these lonely men came to town with a substantial sum in accumulated wages. Before they bought much needed shoes or clothing, they were “rolled” (robbed) in a saloon or house of prostitution and thrown out in the gutter penniless.