The Strike In ‘89

We shut ‘em down in ’89, but God, the cost of it!

Ten years ago, but how them awful visions haunt me yit.

Starvation, crime an’ funerals, a slow an’ endless line;

A blot on hist’ry’s pages sir, that strike in ’89.

But who can say we was to blame, God knows we meant it well,

An’ none foresaw the end which plunged us in that awful hell.

They said ‘twas due to politics, that cut of ten per-cent,

We lowed ‘twas due to cussedness, an’ greed an’ wrong intent.

You know how ‘tis when human souls lose all that makes a man;

You know how ‘tis when sparks of fire fall in a powder can;

You know how ‘tis when common sense is crushed ‘neath passion’s heel?

Then you may know in some degree how maddened strikers feel.

I ain’t come here defendin’ strikes nor yit to run ‘em down,

I’m here to simply tell you how one ruined our town;

How ignorance an’ passion brought death to me an’ mine,

In that awful labor battle in the fall of ’89.

The news flew round the factories, as such things allus goes,

An’ soon there was excitement, an’ a hum of voices rose.

An’ ‘stid of workin’ out the week, the thing we should have done,

We quit that very moment, vowin’ ‘legiance every one.

But we warn’t organized at all, no funds to push the fight;

The most of us with children, but without a meal in sight.

But we was full of pluck an’ hope, till hunger spread her wings,

An’ then a thousan’ half-starved souls ag’in six money kings.

The odds were great, but we held on an’ never did no wrong

Until they brought some foreigners to help their cause along.

My God! A thousan’ famished men, with children sick an’ wives

To let scarce half as many “scabs” crush out their feeble lives?

O, no, ‘twarn’t human natur’ sir, an’ hell let loose that day

When foreign labor filled the mill an’ stole our jobs away.

I don’t know how it started, nor where it first began,

‘Twas like a livin’ coal of fire thrust in a powder can.

‘Twas when the men came out at night, – a mighty yell awoke,

An’ clubs an’ curses filled the air, with pistol shots an’ smoke.

Five hundred wild an’ desprit men closed on the “scabs” right there,

An’ curses, groans an’ cries of pain awoke the village air.

Each time they tried to leave the doors we forced ‘em to retreat,

With one or more at every charge left dyin’ in the street.

An’ frantic women rushed about, an’ urged us on the foe,

While cryin’ children gave us strength as only demons know.

Then, like a thunderbolt from God, the like I never saw,

They madly charged us from our rear, the blue coats of the law.

Ah, sir! It was a fearful thing, but violence was stilled;

I crep’ back home an’ found, O God! My little baby killed.

Killed? Killed! That’s what she was, an’ by an act of mine;

She’d starved while I was fightin’ in that strike of ’89.

The “scabs” left town, an’ mighty glad they was to leave it, too;

Escorted out of danger by those cruel squads of blue.

An’ when they left we quickly met an’ formed a foolish plan,

An’ barricaded up the yards so that no livin’ man

Could enter there, an’ there we staid, defyin’ rule an’ law,

Armed to the teeth, a desprit set as anyone e’er saw.

The firm sent propositions, none of which we would accept,

Now an’ then one died of hunger, but our barricade we kept.

Our terms were our old wages, with official guarantee

That none would be arrested charged with criminality.

The judge refused the offer, an’ the mayor of the town,

On hearin’ we had threatened then to burn the fact’ries down,

Appealed for troops, an’ you kin guess how quick our hopes fell through,

When we beheld that solid front of military blue.

‘Twas us ag’in the government, there was only one command;

A ball crashed through our barricade – we could no longer stand.

A sorry spectacle of souls threw down their arms that day,

An' capital had triumphed in a most convincin’ way.

‘Twas starve or lower wages, that’s precisely what it meant,

An’ after crime an’ sufferin’ we took the ten per-cent.

We’d lost the country’s sympathy an’ hurt the cause in fine,

By givin’ way to passion’s sway in that strike of ’89.

Dec. 7, 1897