Why We Are on Strike, 1934

A textile worker from Gastonia speaks out in the Charlotte Observer during the Strike of ’34.

I’ve been a mill worker for the past 11 years, have been considered one of the best spinners. But the load has almost got the best of me, for the machinery has been speeded up to the highest notch, more cleaning up has been put on us, till we can’t hardly bear any more.

There has been so much criticism on the part of the strikers that it has aroused my temper, and I want to tell from experience what I know about a mill worker.

Now you folks who read this letter, just picture a poor, frail mother getting up at 4 or 4:30 o’clock in the morning; watch her as she slips on her best printed dress and a flour sack apron. Imagine this poor little mother making enough bread for breakfast and dinner. Then she slices about half a dozen pieces of fat meat, makes each member a cup of hot coffee and goes to the table and asks God’s blessing on this humble food. Then she leaves her children in the hands of their grandma while she goes to work to help their daddy pay for this food which has been bought on credit and also to help buy clothes for them to wear.

I’ve seen women so wet from perspiration that it could be wrung from their clothes. I’ve seen them go to a window for a breath of fresh air, only to be whistled at by a sectin hand and made to get away from the window. I’ve been in a rush to get a drink of water, only to be watched by this same boss, watching every move. I’ve carried a bite of lunch to eat and would sit down with dirty hands, not even taking time to wash the oil and grease from my hands. I’ve swallowed only a few bites when this same boss comes and orders me to get back on the job, while he goes and takes a rest at his desk. I’ve seen “speeder hands” running like a scolded dog, trying to do his “creeling” and doffing. The work is speeded so high since the short hours began that the mill men are getting off more production in a 6 or 8 hour day than they got off in 11 hours per day.

They claim they are not making money. Well, if they are not making money, I ask you how can they afford to build those fine mansions to live in? How can every member of the family own his or her own car? How can they spend hot summers at the sea shores? How can they afford to take trips to foreign countries? How can they afford to send their children to college and obtain the best education? When the poor mill worker can’t make enough money to buy milk for his under-nourished children and can’t buy books to send them to school, and the mothers must watch the flour sacks like a hawk watching a chicken, to get hold of them to make little undergarments for her children.

Now picture this mother unable to work, and with only the father to make a living. He toils and sweats his 6 to 8 hours and comes in ready to fall over in his straw tick bed. Now on a pay day, look at this man draw his $9 for a week’s work after the rent has been taking out. This leaves him only $8. That is, if he occupies a four-room house. After he pays $8 for a ton of coal, where is his groceries coming from?

Now I want you to see this mill worker going to the store asking his grocery man for a week’s rations on credit. Watch him order 3 pounds fat meat at 16 cents a pound—48 cents; 24 pounds of flour--$1.10; about 50 cents’ worth of Irish potatoes; 25 cents’ worth of pinto beans; 1 pack cornmeal, 24 cents; not to speak of all the other things, such as milk, butter, coffee, etc.

Now do you people want to know for what reason are the textile workers on strike? Read carefully this letter and you will find out we want decent wages, shorter working hours and a right to organize and join a union and do away with this damnable stretchout system.