I remember in years long gone, how I used to raise my voice and sing in school the song of my native heath: “Michigan, My Michigan.” Since, I have been disillusioned and see before me not my Michigan, but a Michigan owned and controlled, pulpit, press, law and order courts, by that monstrous oligarchy–the American Steel Trust.

For forty years the development of the Steel Trust in Northern Michigan has been a process of organization that has been squeezing out the individual mine owner and merged all these competing factions into one gigantic body–a body that subjugates all within its borders with a hand and policy of steel. It has been a body that knows no limits, that reaches high and digs deep for its prey. Like some wanton creatures’ eyes agleam with hate, its hands gory, it succeeded in casting over this beautiful land, with its rolling green and picturesque valleys the most dreadful and ominous of silences–the silence of tyranny and oppression.

“Labor is dignified and will stand on its dignity,” I said to myself as first I came within this reign of silence, where miners are watched at work or asleep by an army of arch-conspirators and arch-criminals who gloat over the prospect of kicking the guts out of any who would even address a worker, asking aid for the men who strike and fight against the enemy on the Messaba and Cuyuna ranges, or preach the benefit of organization that light and social betterment may penetrate the darkness of this all.

I arrived in Iron River the day following the kidnapping of Frank Little. I had no sooner arrived in my home state than I became marked by gunmen. My grip was forced open, while was away from the hotel. Afterwards having learned a lesson, I moved into the home of a comrade.

One of the relieving features of the situation, illumining the darkness of oppression was the red flashes of discontent. On every street corner there was subdued talk of strike.

Teaching Disrespect for Flag.

A miner’s meeting was to be held the following Sunday and, at the last hour, abandoned. Five hundred of Hell’s own citizens and small fry business men appeared at the appointed hour and took entire possession, starting, as scoundrels always do, with patriotism by pinning flags on all, using force where it was necessary. Men were forced to wear the flag which the social parasites are dragging in the dust, or were brought to jail.

A resolution favoring deportation for all agitators and even physical violence and murder was approved by the applause of the audience of gunmen and police, who flaunting the flag that was before the days of the Steel Trust supposed to represent freedom as they talked of murder.

Our task was aided. The thugs of the police, the thugs representing the business interests had cut their own throat. Despotism and intolerance breeds rebellion. The miners are now infuriated to white heat at the tyranny of the masters; they are prepared to support morally and financially their brother miners on the striking ranges of Minnesota. The following morning, Fred Jaakola and myself made our getaway and arrived in Negaunee, where mass meetings were arranged and where a great crowd, hot at the injustice of the masters of men who toil, sent their money in aid of the men who are fighting their fight.

The protest of the workers were sent to the governors of Michigan and Minnesota. Dan Foley, Chief Oliver, gunman, hearing that workers, preaching the gospel of discontent, were loose in Michigan, motored in from Virginia with deputies hot on the trail of the organizers. Trains and county roads are being guarded. What happens when we fall into the hands of the foe will, we suppose, be a repetition of the experiences of Frank Little. Violence and brutality are the only answer these curs can give the longings of the workers.

After all I am inclined to think there is a dignity of labor if we only hunt and strive for it. But labor is only dignified in revolt.

Transcribed by Revolution’s Newstand