Roslyn’s Miners Stood Together—and the Company Looked to Strikebreakers
When 650 Northern Pacific Coal Company workers refused a contract cut in July 1894, the company prepared to bring in Black miners under guard. In Roslyn, a home guard was already drilling.
ROSLYN, July 22.—[Special.]—At 6 o’clock Saturday evening the time expired for acceptance of the contract offered its late employees by the Northern Pacific Coal Company, and at that hour no signatures to the contract had been received. The miners and drivers stood together as a body, and it was tacitly understood that they would not settle with the company short of a 15 per cent compromise. General Manager Kangley was here until late in the afternoon, when he left for Tacoma, and the impression prevails with many that the company will conduct no further negotiations for a settlement with its old employees, but will take immediate steps to secure a new force of men. From the unusual activity on the part of the local management it is evident that some preparations are being made to that end.
It is given out that the demand for coal makes it imperative to start the mines by August 1, and it is pretty certain that if the company propose to work the plant on the terms proposed in their contract it will be necessary to import miners, as the old miners have, by standing out, practically declared their positive intention not to accept the new schedule of prices for work.
The impression is general in the camp that if new men are brought in they will be Black miners, to the number of 400 or 600, and that their entrance will be under the protection of soldiers. The introduction of Black miners here in 1889 engendered a very bitter feeling, and it is scarcely to be presumed that the local miners will submit to their coming in without demonstrations of some character. A home guard of about 160 men was organized here about two weeks ago, and the body has been drilled almost daily since, having attained considerable proficiency in foot movements. Weapons of no character are produced on the drill ground or in parade, but it is rumored that arms have been secured, to be used if there is a demand.
The men as a rule have been exceedingly quiet and orderly since the beginning of the strike, and it was thought by some that the differences between the company and the men could be settled without extreme measures. On May 1, when the men went out, there were about 650 employees on the pay-roll, and very few have left for other fields. The inactivity of the mines has occasioned complete paralysis of local business.
“The miners and drivers stood together as a body, and it was tacitly understood that they would not settle with the company short of a 15 per cent compromise.”
The Roslyn standoff shows how employers have long used racial division as a strikebreaking tool, and how quickly a labor dispute becomes a fight over who belongs in a company town. The armed “home guard” and talk of soldiers anticipate the vigilante and militia politics that would shape Washington’s labor wars. Today, Roslyn’s mining history is a heritage stop, but the questions—who gets the job, who gets protection, who gets to belong—still echo in Washington’s labor and immigration debates.
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