Lattimer Massacre (Critical American History)

“In the monthly payroll period ending August 31, 1897,  for example, one manager of a Hazleton colliery paid all his miners $8,000 out of a $26,000 payroll.  The rest was owed to the company for debts in the company store,  for rents on the company houses,  for fees deducted to pay the company doctor, and for fees deducted to pay the priest.”

– Michael Novak, author of The Guns of Lattimer

The Lattimer massacre was the violent deaths of at least 19 unarmed striking immigrant anthracite miners at the Lattimer mine near Hazleton, Pennsylvania, on September 10, 1897.  The miners, mostly of Polish, Slovak, Lithuanian and German ethnicity, were shot and killed by a Luzerne County sheriff’s posse. Scores more workers were wounded.  The massacre was a turning point in the history of the United Mine Workers (UMW).

Background

The economies of Central and Eastern Europe were struggling in the late 19th century. The European rural population was growing faster than either the agricultural or new industrial sectors of the economy could absorb, industrialization was disrupting both the agricultural and craft economy, and there was increasing competition from large-scale commercial and foreign agricultural producers. These factors drove most of the mass immigration to the US. Disproportionate numbers of new Slavic immigrants worked in the coal mining industry, where they were among the most exploited of all mine workers. During strikes in Northeast Pennsylvania by English-speaking miners in 1875 and 1887, many Slavic miners were imported as strikebreakers, and were “despised as scabs” by the English-speaking immigrant and American miners of the region.

Conditions in coal mines of the late 19th century were harsh. Mine safety was poor, such that 32,000 miners in Northeast Pennsylvania had died since 1870.  Wages, already low in a competitive industry, fell 17% during the mid-1890s after a coal industry slump.  Although wages had improved some by the fall of 1897, anthracite coal companies in the region cut wages and consolidated operations within the mines (often resulting in more laborious working conditions).  In some cases, companies forced workers to lease homes from the company and required them to see only company doctors when injured.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Events

Strike

The proclamation warned the strikers against any “tumultuous and unlawful assembly and from all acts of disorder or violence, and from all acts interfering with the liberty of other citizens, or tending to a breach of the peace.

In August 1897, the Honey Brook division of the Lehigh and Wilkes-Barre Coal Company laid off workers at its strip mines, cut the pay of the remaining employees, and raised fees for workers residing in the area’s company towns.  The company consolidated its mule stables, forcing teenage mule drivers to travel much farther each day to pick up their mules (time for which they were not compensated). After inconclusive talks, 25 to 35 teenaged drivers struck on August 14, 1897.

A scuffle between a supervisor and some drivers led to additional walkouts by strip miners as well as underground coal miners, and by August 16 nearly 2,000 workers were on strike.  Nearly all the miners joined the UMW (United Mine Workers) on August 18, and within two days almost all the mines in the region had closed due to the spreading strike.

Many Slavic miners had not joined the nascent United Mine Workers, both because of ethnic discrimination exhibited by English-speaking and American miners but also because of the poor relationships between unionized miners and the former strikebreakers.  But worsening working conditions and a UMW call for a 15 percent wage increase drew many Slavic miners into the union.

The first wave of the strike ended on August 23, after the company agreed to pay overtime, bring wages up to the regional average, allow miners to see their own doctors when injured, and no longer force miners to live in company-owned housing.  A second strike began on August 25. Teenaged breaker boys at the A.S. Van Wickle coal breaker in the nearby village of Colerain struck for higher wages as well. When Van Wickle attempted to use Slavic workers as strikebreakers, the Slavs joined the strike instead. Although the strike spread to two other nearby coal works, the company quickly agreed to raise wages up to the regional average and the strike ended on or about August 28.

But when the new pay rates were announced on September 1, only a limited number of workers received raises. Management did agree to treat Slavic workers more fairly, but the mine owners reneged on their other promises.  The strikes resumed. On September 3, 3,000 workers marched on four mines, shutting them down.

The mine owners’ private armed force, the Coal and Iron Police, proved too few in number to break the strike, so the owners appealed for help from Luzerne County Sheriff James F. Martin. Martin established a posse of about 100 English and Irish citizens to prevent any further marches from occurring.  Within five days, 8,000 to 10,000 miners were on strike. On September 8, mine owners demanded that the sheriff of Schuylkill County arrest several thousand miners who had assembled near Pottsville and had forced a mine to shut down, but the sheriff refused.

Massacre

On Friday, September 10, about 300 to 400 unarmed strikers—nearly all of them Slavs and Germans—marched to a coal mine owned by Calvin Pardee at the town of Lattimer to support a newly formed UMW union. Their goal was to support the newly formed UMW union at the still-open Lattimer mine.  The demonstrators were confronted by law enforcement officials several times on the road and ordered to disperse, but kept marching.

The deputies had spent most of the morning joking about how many miners they would kill.  While on a streetcar headed for Lattimer with the sheriff and his comrades, one deputy was overheard saying “I bet I drop six of them when I get over there.”

When the demonstrators reached Lattimer at 3:45 pm, they were met again by the sheriff and 150 armed deputies.  Sheriff Martin ordered the marchers to disperse, and then attempted to grab an American flag out of the hands of the lead marcher.  A scuffle ensued, and the police opened fire on the unarmed crowd. At least 19 miners died, and anywhere from 17 to 49 others were wounded. Many had been shot in the back, and several had multiple gunshot wounds, which indicated that they had been targeted by the deputies.

“I heard early this morning that the strikers were going to march to the breaker at Lattimer and compel the men there to quit work.  I resolved to intercept them, and, if possible, prevent them from reaching the breaker.  One of my deputies told me that the strikers would probably be heavily armed.  I got my deputies, seventy in number, to meet a certain place.  They were all armed.  I told them to keep cool under all circumstances.  The trouble began at 3 o’clock.  I met the marching column.  I halted the miners and read the proclamation.  They refused to pay attention to me, and started to resume their march.  Then I called on the leader to stop.  He ignored my order.  I then attempted to arrest him.  The strikers closed in on me.  The acted very viciously, kicking me, knocking me down, and trampling upon me.  I called upon my deputies to aid me and they did so, but were unable to accomplish much.  I realized that something had to be done at once, or I would be killed.  Then I called the deputies to discharge their firearms into the air over the heads of the strikers, as it might probably frighten them. 

This was done at once, but it had no effect whatever on the infuriated foreigners, who used me still rougher and became fiercer and fiercer, like wild beasts rather than human beings.  The strikers then made a still bolder move and endeavored to surround my eathe force of deputies.  I fully realized that the foreigners were a desperate lot and valued life at a small figure.  I also saw that parleying with such a gang of infuriated men was entirely out of the question, as they were too excited to listen to reason, and that I and my deputies would be killed if we were not rescued, or if we did not defend ourselves.  I then called upon the deputies to defend themselves and shoot, if they must to protect their lives or to protect the property that they had been sent to guard.  The next second there were a few scattered shots fired, and a moment later the entire force of deputies discharged a solid volley into the crowd.  I hated to give the command to shoot, and was sorry that I was compelled to do so.  But I was there to do my duty, and I did it as best I knew how.  The strikers were violating the laws of the Commonwealth, and flatly refused to obey the proclamation that I read to them.  They insisted on doing violence and disobeying the law. 

The scene after the shooting was simply terrible, and I would have willingly not had it occur, but as a public official, I was there to see that the law was obeyed, and merely did my duty.  Some of the foreigners fell over dead and others badly wounded; some were rushing about hither and thither, seeking a place where they could be shielded from any more shots; others were aiding their wounded companions to places of safety, while here and there could be seen men turning away from some one who was badly injured or else dead.  The entire crowd of foreigners, as soon as the volley had been fired by my deputies, turned and started to retreat.  They rushed off in all directions as fast as they could run, taking as many of their dead and wounded with them as they were able to carry during their hurried retreat.  The excitement at the time was awful, and I would not care to go through another ordeal of the kind for a fortune.”

– Sheriff James Martin, report to The Sun on September 11, 1897, given before speaking to his lawyer (in all future accounts he would deny that he gave the order to fire).

“As we turned the corner beside the trolley car track we saw the deputies lined up against the fence.  Then Sheriff Martin stepped to the front and said, ‘Well, now, you must halt again.  You can go no further.’ The Sheriff was flourishing a pistol in front of him.  I stepped up to him and tried to argue with him.  Some one behind shouted, ‘Go ahead.’  With that the sheriff grabbed one man by the arm and, pointing the pistol at him, said: ‘Did you tell them, to go ahead?’  The man said he had not spoken.  Then the sheriff seized another man and began to shove about.  ‘You will say go ahead, eh.’ Shouted the sheriff, and at the same time he aimed his pistol squarely at the man’s heart.  The man was naturally frightened and pushed the sheriff’s hand holding the pistol to one side.  Whether or not the sheriff considers that an attack I don’t know.  I am positive that not a man hit the sheriff.  A moment later one of the deputies pushed forward.  I heard some one say ‘Give them some shots.’  Whether or not the order was given by Sheriff Martin I cannot say. Then the firing began.  A stampede followed.  Many of us who were in the front ranks could not believe that the deputies were using ball and shot.  We thought they might use blank cartridges to frighten us, but when I saw men dropping and blood flowing I turned and ran toward the wood, followed by the deputies.  It was a regular slaughter.”

– John Eagler, leader of the march to Lattimer, report to The Sun on September 13, 1897

Aftermath

The strike led to temporary mass unrest in the area. After Sheriff Martin telephoned for help, the Pennsylvania National Guard was dispatched to the county to restore order. Late on the evening of September 10, more than 2,500 troops of the Third Brigade (partly stationed in Luzerne County) had been deployed.  Local Slavic community leaders held a rally on September 11 to try to calm the workers, raise money for the provision of the families, and seek the prosecution of Sheriff Martin and his deputies.

Outraged miners searched in vain on September 12 for Lehigh and Wilkes-Barre Coal Company mine superintendent Gomer Jones, and destroyed his home when they could not find him.  On September 20, a group of Slavic women (armed with fireplace pokers and rolling pins) led some 150 men and boys to shut down the McAdoo coal works, but were turned back by the quick arrival of National Guard troops. The Guard’s artillery unit was withdrawn on September 24, and the rest of the troops five days later.

Sheriff Martin and 73 deputies were arrested and put on trial.  At trial, the defendants claimed that the marchers had refused to obey an order to disperse and were charging toward the sheriff and his deputies.  As recounted by witness John Pusti in formal testimony:

I was with the strikers when the shooting occurred. When we approached the Sheriff, he walked to the middle of the road and told us to stop. Some few of the men went forward, and I then heard two volleys from the deputies. None of the strikers was armed. I was shot in the right arm and as I started to run I was shot in the right leg, the ball entering from the back and coming out in front.

Further medical evidence showed that nearly all the strikers had been shot in the back.  Nonetheless, the sheriff and his deputies were acquitted.

The Lattimer massacre was a turning point in the history of the United Mine Workers (UMW).  The UMW, struggling to establish itself in Pennsylvania’s coal mines, witnessed a dramatic upsurge of more than 10,000 new members. The incident helped end a longstanding myth about the docility of non-English speaking miners. Just three years later, the union was powerful enough to win large wage increases and safety improvements for miners throughout the region.  It significantly boosted the union career of John Mitchell, an activist for the UMW who would be elected president of the national union due to his efforts during the Lattimer strikes.

List of victims

According to a contemporary report in the New York Herald, there were 21 killed in the Lattimer massacre:

• Michael Cheslock (Ceslak); only miner who was a U.S. naturalized citizen
• Sebastian Bozestoski, age 35
• John Chobonshi, age 23
• Adalbert Czaja, age 27
• John Futa, age 29
• John Gastack, age 32
• Antonio Grazke, age 33
• Frank Kodel, age 24
• Andrew Kollick, age 30
• Andre Nikzkowuski, age 27
• Rulof Rekenits, age 35
• John Ruski, age 28
• John Sheka, age 27
• John Tranke, age 32
• John Turnasdich, age 27
• Stephen Urich, age 27
• Andrew Varicku, age 28
• Andrew Yerkman, age 31
• Stanley Zagorski, age 45
• Adam Zamoski, age 26
• Andrew Zeminski, age 31
• John Zernovick, age 33

In a way, the killed miners of Lattimer did become patron saints for the working people of America. During the peaceful marches of the massacre, more and more miners joined the United Mine Workers of America for help in their fight. After the massacre, 15,000 more workers joined. With time, the UMWA became the most powerful representative of anthracite workers. Its number of workers in the region swelled to 150,000

The crossroads where the Lattimer massacre occurred remained unmarked for 80 years. In 1972, the United Labor Council of Lower Luzerne and Carbon Counties and the UMW erected a small memorial on the site.

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