The grant of such a request would, they held, be virtually placing the management of the concern in the hands of outsiders. When, therefore, the employés, instigated by the Anarchists, resolved to strike for their demand, McCormick took time by the forelock and ordered the works closed on and after nine o’clock on the morning of February 16, to remain closed until the strikers decided to return.
GREIF’S HALL.
By this “lock-out” the employés were deprived of $3,000 a day in the shape of wages, that amount representing the daily payroll of the concern. Meanwhile, pending the lock-out, the company canvassed the possibility of an early resumption of business and quietly perfected arrangements for that step, which they concluded to take on March 1. Of course, this contemplated move enraged all the groups in the city. The strikers in the vicinity of the factory were especially excited. Ever since the establishment had closed its doors the neighborhood had been infested with idlers and vicious-looking men. They had all felt confident that the firm would be finally forced to submit, but when it gradually dawned upon their minds that arrangements had actually been made for a resumption of work without reference to the wishes of the “outs,” they determined to prevent it by force. They were the first to decide on violent measures, and they presented their purpose to the members of Carpenters’ Union No. 1. The result was that two secret meetings of the armed men of both unions were held between February 27 and March 3 at Greif’s Hall. The first meeting called out nearly all the “armed men” of the Metal-workers’ Union and about one hundred and forty men belonging to International Carpenters’ Union No. 1, some with rifles, revolvers and dynamite bombs. They then and there formulated a plan to prevent the “scabs” from going to work. The plan was that the metal-workers should gather in the vicinity of the factory at about five o’clock on the morning the works were to be reopened, well equipped with bombs, rifles and revolvers. Those who did not possess rifles were to secure revolvers and bombs, which could be obtained, they were told, on Blue Island Avenue, between Twenty-second Street and McCormick’s. At that place, on giving the pass-word and number of the place, every member would be supplied. In the event of their running short of ammunition, they were to repair to that place, and they would find some one there always to wait on them. It was given out that the place was run by the metal-workers, who would see to it that all necessary bombs were on hand. Members having friends living in the vicinity of the factory were to stay with them over night so as to be up bright and early in the morning, and those living at a distance were to make it a point to get up early enough to be on hand at the time indicated. A point of rendezvous was designated, and, when all had arrived, they were to surround the factory and permit no one to enter except on peril of being shot. This situation of affairs, they said, would necessarily bring out the police, but the moment these should arrive the “armed men” were to open fire. The first volley was to be over the heads of the “blue-coats,” and if that did not put them to flight, they were to be shot down without mercy. When they began to throw bombs the “reds” were all to be in line, so that none of their own number would be hurt by the explosions, and wherever the police formed a company a solid front was to be presented and a rattling fire maintained. They would also form different lines along the “Black Road,” and when patrol wagons came to the rescue of the officers, they were to hurl bombs at them.
It was to be a fight to the death. Every one agreed, as I was told, “to die game, give no quarter, and see to it that the green grass around McCormick’s factory was nourished with human blood.” In accordance with the plan, the members of the Carpenters’ Union were to assemble with rifles and ammunition at Greif’s Hall at an hour not later than six o’clock in the morning, and to remain there until orders for their services were sent. The carpenters carried out their part of the programme, and at the appointed hour there were no less than two hundred of them at the hall, fully armed and apparently ready for any emergency. They scattered throughout the hall building so as not to attract attention, and impatiently awaited orders or information indicating the progress of affairs at the factory. But no orders were received. They heard nothing for some time, but when they did they were a happier lot of men. The clamor and excitement of the hour had stimulated them with a false courage, but each had nevertheless entertained a secret hope that there would be no call for a display of their valor. And there was none.
It appears that, on the morning they were to have created such dire destruction, the brave metal-workers overslept themselves! “There was snow on the ground,” and probably they did not care to defile it with the blood of their enemies. None of them appeared at the rendezvous on time, and when they straggled around at a later hour they were full of excuses, the one on which they principally relied being that their faithful spouses had neglected to wake them in time. No one for a moment charged the others with cowardice, and yet that was the whole secret of their failure. Each had expected others to be at the appointed place ready for the fray, but the unanimity with which all had prolonged their slumbers prevented what all had expected to see—a brilliant victory with themselves beyond all danger.
But about the time these braves should have been around according to programme, another party occupied the field. It was the brave and fearless Capt. Simon O’Donnell, of the Second Precinct, with two lieutenants and three companies of well disciplined officers. They took charge of the “Black Road” and the vicinity of McCormick’s factory as early as six o’clock, and the so-called “scabs” passed into the works, “with none to molest them or make them afraid.” When those who had overslept sneaked around, one after another, they were perfectly amazed. Where they had hoped to see the ground strewn with the dead bodies of policemen, they found order and serenity.
In the expectation of seeing some disturbance, the vicinity became crowded during the forenoon with idlers and curious people drawn from all parts of the city. Seeing this throng and relying on the presence of many Anarchists, the daring metal-workers revived their spirits and hoped yet to precipitate a conflict by egging it on at a safe distance in the rear. They accordingly began to utter loud threats and urge the excited rabble to an attack on the “blanked bloodhounds,” the police.
There were in the crowd a lot of half-drunken Polanders and Bohemians who, living in the neighborhood, claimed that the presence of the police was a menace to their personal rights and privileges. The police were on what these misguided people considered their own reservation, and, with a view to driving them away, some began throwing stones and clubs at the officers in the patrol wagons. Others picked out officers apart from their companions and made them the targets for their missiles. Captain O’Donnell learned, while this disconcerted attack was going on, that many of the crowd had revolvers and dynamite in their pockets. He speedily resolved on a plan for arresting and disarming such men and gave orders to his lieutenants to surround the crowd and search all suspected persons. The result was that the following were found to have arms, and they were placed under arrest: Stephen Reiski, Adolph Heuman, Charles Kosh, Henry Clasen, John Hermann, George Hermann, Ernest Haker, Otto Sievert, Emil Kernser, Frank Trokinski and Stanifon Geiner. Detectives from the Central Station assisted in the search, and the offenders were taken to the Police Court, where they were fined $10 each.