Together as One
Soon the lands of Pennsylvania would lose their green touch. A sign of chills from the blustery winds, and echoes of heavy clumps of snow will soon approach Pennsylvania. The arrival of winter with its icy presence as the frost will bite our teeth. Our teeth will chatter as we shiver from the absence of warmth. It’s been twenty years since my men and I worked in these mines. I look around and witness ourselves in this hazardous environment.
We come from all ages and sizes. Some have wrinkles on their faces while others have youthful looks, as some are only children. Every day seems like a battle with work. The uprising of the blistering sun blinding our eyes, with heat as torturous as the scorching star itself. Our loss of direction and time as we pace ourselves to build new entries for the vehicles from the rusty trains and the most excellent cars makes us wonder if our lives matter as workers. It’s a difficult realization that our deaths from these conditions will mean nothing at all to them.
“Oh boy.”
We all say to ourselves. If only we had the money to have one of those shiny red beauties. We hope that someday we have those fancy cars just as they do, but as we always see them pass by, we sigh and get back to work. To the sharp rocks, we dressed as some of us swell and bruise, as our ankles, knees, and feet have painful red bruises that make us hardly stand. We stand like twigs, but all our limbs feel numb, as the frostbite will soon reach our toes. The snow will rest on our eyebrows as they frost like deadly icicles over our faces.
“Keep going.”
They tell us, as our hours start from dawn to dusty nights.
“Hurry up!”
They rage at us when some of us have empty bellies and our mouths quiver for clean water.
They watch us constantly starve to death as they see our ribs, and they fully well know that our uniforms start to fall and get too damaged in the bituminous clumps of coal and soil practically stained for good. After these long, tireless days, they approach in their gleaming polished Cadillacs as we rot here in these mines. The mines so quickly fell apart as we were under them trying to provide for the people and our loved ones in an environment that crumbles just like the coal with simply one move. Some of us must even walk back to our homes only if we get shorter days. We always crowd as one group and stand together to wait for them to get out of their vehicles. One by one, we watch as we see them enter the mines in their fitted suits, shiny shoes, extravagant hats, and golden pocket watches they wear along with silver chains.
Yet, here we are in these mines with our shirts dirty, and our shoes have holes as we get used to hearing each other’s cries as we step on rocks, nails, and cracks that damage our feet. Our tired feet continue to work as we bleed in agony from the abuse we go through. Our hands numb from the coal bricks and darkened with blisters that almost look like an old carved tree. Permanent soil and coal in the depths of our fingernails with gunk and infected wounds on our hands. Our eyes plead and cry for help and aid. We avoid sharing smiles on our rare days off because we know our teeth have fallen apart, and our breaths leave a musty smell in front of each other and our loved ones at home. For twenty years, we provided for everyone to have heat inside their homes, and we continue to do that in these challenging conditions. The closest thing we have for a break are the work songs we sing to get ourselves through the madness we face as the sky turns dark and gray in the depths of inside these explosive mines. Some of us wait to hear progress, but at times the only thing we hear is the repeated ringing that lets us know what we lost in each of these moments.
We grab our axes and continuously dig as the sweat drips rapidly on our faces. Our mouths are so parched we rely on our saliva to keep us breathing for another day as the sunset rises. Soon winter will come again, and our bosses will have their blazing fires roaring as they lounge in their comfortable chairs while we will remain here in the freezing mines as we prepare for the bittering frost to send us to our deaths. As we face a death sentence, they reap the rewards of gold and fine silver. Their future is nothing but living longer in a liquid of karat treasure from the coals that we constantly mine as they sit in their chairs like kings on their thrones.
The time has come for change. Another winter is coming, and we won’t have heat for our homes. We all stayed there for more than twenty years, and we still must go through all this suffering. We only wish for this constant pain to end and have better treatment from the American people. We deserve to have better pay and time at home with our friends and our families. Our lives shall not be treated as a joke as they know our deaths from this mess will mean nothing at all for them. We will no longer have any of this nonsense from our employers. Today we call for a new system. A new system that will benefit us rightfully from everything we’ve done. Today is a new day for us American workers.
We wait for them to show up today in their fancy Cadillacs and in their expensive suits wanting to hear from us as we speak about our progress of moving the coal. We all wait for them to finally approach and step out to see us holding our axes. And as we look into their eyes, we witness the greediness and wickedness that waits for us to die in these mines as they have the world in their hands. We drop our axes one by one as they stare at us with disgust. I glance back at the rest of my partners, and some remove their uniforms and show our tired hands and our nearly decaying bodies. They stay silent without having the courage to say something back to us. Instead, we hear them telling us we must listen to them and that we must work longer than ever. The moment they leave, we make our signs, and we march as one through Pennsylvania shouting,
“COAL OR BUST!”
“COAL OR BUST!”
We shout louder than the howls of wolves as we let everyone know who we are. We know that anytime now, the radios will say,
“It’s October twenty-third, 1902, and miners strike with dangerous intentions around Pennsylvania.”
Oh, we all know that they will say this because our employers might have the power of the radio to silence us, but we will not be silent this time. They have their resources, but our alliance holds a fire inside of us. We march on and don’t care about what they will do to us. We strike and fight for our rights. We will remind our employers that labor makes America. Not the greedy employers who play with our lives as pawns in these dangerous mines. We, as hardworking men, shape America as true leaders, and we make sure they know by our yells, cries, signs, and presence. We stand firm and united. Then, as we march proudly around Pennsylvania, we begin to sing loudly and clearly, defining the backbone of who we are from the song by Pete Seeger that proudly defines our revolution is only beginning:
“My daddy was a miner,
And I’m a miner’s son,
He’ll be with you fellow workers
Until this battle’s won.
Which side are you on?
Which side are you on?”