And I thanked God for the Mine Workers' Union. And then I hung my head and cried.

[Drahthaardogs]

24. Please stop it.

Ludlow means something to some of us. My grandfather had a hit out on his life from Rockefeller's thugs for reasons that shall remain unsaid. He remained in hiding. He told the story of a five year old boy tied to a wagon while the militia paraded him through the camp and cut his fingers off one by one to intimidate the miners.

The mountain was a cruel mistress. She let you make a living, but she required a tithe, and it had to paid in blood. The switchbacks, the cave-ins, the oligarchs, the scrip and the company store. From the silver mines of Guanajuato to the rich coal at Ludlow, the backs of the men in my family have labored to eek out a living under the earth while the oligarchs from Spain to Sicily to New York grew fat on their labor. Don't diminish this...