The Price of 'Independence'
A overheard conversation between union workers and non-union polishers reveals the harsh reality of labor exploitation in 1911 Everett.
Shortly after 4 o'clock one afternoon, two colored hodcarriers while on their way home stepped to gaze through a factory window into a polishing room. Their curiosity had possibly been aroused by the peculiar odor or it may have been a desire to see skilled mechanics work. They were soon able to discern through the dust the workers laboring over the swiftly revolving wheels. The following conversation took place:
'Say, boss, ain't that thar work dangerous?' 'Yes, indeed; we have to know our business.' 'How long yo' have to do that every day?' 'We'll be through at 6 o'clock; we work ten hours.' 'Say, don't that dust make yo' feel poorly sometimes?' 'Yes, I guess a larger per cent of polishers die with consumption than any other trade.' 'Tshaw! What yo' all get a day?' 'Oh, anywhere from $1.25 to $2.25 a day.' 'Fo' de Lawd's sake! Is dat all? Don't yo' belong to a union?' 'No, indeed: we are independent workmen. We don't believe in having unions tell us what to do.'
Just then the foreman caught sight of the man idle and ordered him to his lathe. The two hodcarriers, when leaving, were heard to say: 'Dem white men am sho' dumb. Even a colored man knows dat he wouldn't get no chicken if it wasn't fo' his union. Independent workmen, huh!'
“Dem white men am sho' dumb. Even a colored man knows dat he wouldn't get no chicken if it wasn't fo' his union.”
This 1911 vignette echoes contemporary debates about 'independent contractor' status and the precarity of gig work. The 'independent' polishers chose to avoid union oversight only to end up with low pay and a terminal occupational disease—a classic cautionary tale about the cost of individualism in the labor market.
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