In late October, with all the mines in Floyd County idle, the major operators--the men who controlled the tipples and the leases--formed a "paper" company which subtracted the royalty, social security and unemployment compensation deductions automatically when the truck mine owners sold their coal at the tipples. Negotiation on wages was left unsettled, but there seemed to be hope that a satisfactory agreement would be reached quickly. In the meantime the mines set their own wages. Although royalties are now being paid in Floyd County, no general wage agreement has been reached; the discontent continues. Many men have gone back to work in order to sustain some kind of living, even though meager. Should enough financial support develop for another prolonged strike, they would unhesitatingly walk off again.

Lee Howell, a short, bulky man, is the leaders of the Floyd county strikers. Firmly convinced that the operators could pay higher wages and that there is enough work in the mines for all the unemployed men in the county, he sees the current struggle as a case of the "big fellow" trying to "get the poor man." The last time he worked in a mine was July, 1962, when he received $23 for three days work. A good union man, he refused to continue under such conditions.

Possessing only an eighth-grade education and wide experience as a laborer, Howell does not realize the complexities of the problem he is attempting to solve: B. F. Reed, the chief coal operator, "should be run out of the county;" the solution of the thirties a strong union, "would solve all this, and that's the truth." He refuses to admit that lack of demand for coal must result in fewer jobs and lower wages.

And he is pathetically ill-equipped to handle the tremendous task of leadership he has assumed. Writing a letter is a difficult task, and he has little idea of what legal means are open to him. He is unguarded in his speech and sometimes reckless in his actions. At the present time he is under several thousand dollars worth of peace bonds on charges ranging from "banding together" to threatening bodily injury with a deadly weapon.

Means Business

But if Howell is not a sophisticated labor leader, he is a dedicated man and a man who is affected deeply by the hardship of his fellows. He refuses to resign his men to a life existing on government subsidies, and he will not tolerate injustices. While opposing violence in principle, he is not afraid to use it. "They're gonna have to see we mean business--and we do, buddy; I'm the man that can see this through." And he thinks his strike is a crucial one for all unions. "If we lose here, they all will go down."

To establish any bargaining position, Howell will once again have to close all the mines in Floyd County. This may not prove easy. Men now working for about $15 dollars a day are afraid that joining a strike will endanger their jobs, and others feel the situation is hopeless. Bernard Howell, president of the UMW local, is one of the men with the later view. Although he worked with Lee to organize the wildcat pickets last fall "because our union let us down," he now thinks it impossible to support another non-union strike. Even if money for a strike could be obtained, Bernard has little faith it could "break the power of the big operators." Tired of fighting what he thinks is a losing battle, he plans to resign his union post and leave Kentucky. "In the end you'll end up working the operator's way," he said bitterly, "or you won't work at all."

As Lee Howell sees it, his only chance of combating this despondency and supporting a strike is inducing the Teamsters to organize the county. Practically every miner in McDowell watched Dave Brinkley's report on Jimmy Hoffa and his union, and to them Hoffa looks like the messiah. "Jimmy could do it," was the general opinion. "He's tough--if we get him in here that will fix things up in short order." Tough men themselves, these miners are convinced Hoffa will understand them and their problem. But a Teamster representative recently studied the situation and reported that it was almost hopeless. The Union has no plans now to intervene.

Perhaps the most hated man in Floyd County is B.F. Reed, the largest operator. To the discontented miners Reed symbolizes the wealth and arrogance of the operators, the fat cat who starves babies. But Reed is not an orge; like Howell and his followers, he is a man held prisoner by circumstances and by his own views. And Reed firmly believes that he is doing all he can to alleviate an intolerable situation.

Maximum Jobs

When the UMW produced its 1950 wage contract, Reed decided he could not meet its terms. Closing his rail mines, he leased his land to truck operators, thinking this would be the best way to produce the maximum amount of coal and jobs. The truck mines, he explains, while not able to pay union wages, "do provide a living for men who otherwise would not have a job." In fact, he is certain that a man shovelling coal in a truck mine is earning better wages than unskilled or semi-skilled workers in other industries.

A self-made man who started out shovelling coal himself, Reed has little patience for "failures." If a man works hard and spends his money wisely, Reed maintains, he will make something of himself. He suggested that about 90 per cent of the unemployed men in the county were "unemployable"--men who couldn't act responsibly or were too unskilled to work. "The poor," Reed feels, "would be poor anywhere."

And he has no use for men like Lee Howell; he will not even talk to him. Howell is a trouble maker, upsetting the normal course of events. "This county would be a lot better off without him in it," because Howell attempts to "set class against class." As far as Reed is concerned, Floyd County should "stop pitying itself and start working together."

There is a huge gap of communication between Reed and his miners. Reed believes, for instance, that every man in his mines is earning at least a living wage--a figure which he sets at $3,000 a year. He cannot believe that Howell has a large box full of pay statements which tell a tale of incredibly low wages. Before leaving their jobs last fall men were drawing around $10 a day, and not working five days a week. And I found few men now working who averaged much more than $12 a day, except in the largest truck mines. Because Reed does not know how desperate the situation is for many miners, he cannot understand their bitterness.

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