The antipathy and lack of understanding that exists between Reed and Howell is tragic, because their views on what should be done are very close. Both accept the fact that payment by tonnage--rather than by hours--is the correct way to run a truck mine. Both maintain that the inefficient truck mines should close, although Reed thinks they will close themselves and Howell feels they should be forcibly shut down. Howell would be willing to settle for a guarantee of around $18-20 a day; Reed would quickly accept $15. And Reed is willing to pay the royalities even though he thinks them "oppressive." While he doesn't think the hospitals need be so elaborate ("This is not Miami Beach"), he recognizes how essential they are to the miner. Unfortunately, neither of them knows each other's thoughts. They rely on rumors for information about each other and therefore grow increasingly alienated.
Meanwhile McDowell waits... and waits. Men sit all day on porches doing nothing, hardly even talking. Lethargy pervades the town and seems to affect everyone in it. Howell tries to keep up enthusiasm with his claim that "if I can get someone to scotch for me we're gonna win," but to many this talk is losing its inspirational effect. The strikers are already deeply in debt for last fall's pickets, and this debt weighs heavily on them.
Further south, in Perry Country, the atmosphere is somewhat different, and the issues are even more confused. Hazard, the country seat, has just recovered from the worst flood since the 1860s, and now it fearfully awaits the return of the fury of the pickets. (McDowell also suffered heavy floods, but destruction was less severe.)
In Floyd country the welfare royalties are being paid and the method of mine ownership is clear. B.F. Reed may be rich, but his money now comes from banking and other investments rather than from coal exlusively. Perry Country is almost entirely non-union, and the operators have used a maze of dodging techniques to avoid signing a contract. In many cases a mine has been organized, only to have ownership transferred or a new "paper" company set up to run the mine without union restrictions. Because of greater injustices and higher unemployment, the picketing was more violent and tempers are quicker than in Floyd country. And the publicity given the town has brought in outsiders who are always distrusted by the mountain people of Kentucky.
The operators and representatives of the business community consider the picketers to be "renegades," "bandits," and "racketeers." They suspect Communist agitation from outsiders, although they think the miners themselves "aren't smart enough to be Communists." To the business community the picketers are irresponsible, men who couldn't be employed. "This is hardly a strike," said one operator, "because the men involved haven't left their jobs--they didn't have any to start with. No one would want to hire these trouble-makers."
Berman Gibson, the leader of the pickets, smiles at these charges. His grin is a confident one, the smile of a man who is sure of victory. A big swarthy man who is gentle with his family but a powerful demagogic speaker with great charisma at miner's meetings, Gibson is actively preparing for a show-down battle this spring. He "knows these operators can pay the money," and several observers agree with him, as many of the mines in Perry country are mechanized.
Unlike Howell, who feels the need of union support and blames the UMW for "letting us down," Gibson thinks he must organize the country without the UMW and then let the UMW assume control. "If the UMW authorized this strike they would be too deep in law suits," Gibson says.
"We have to do it for them." Counting on donations from other unions and individuals for support, Gibson intends to revive the roving pickets of last fall if he wins the injunction case Monday. These pickets, he claims privately will be peaceful, but at meetings he is far more sympathetic to those who advocate violence if necessary. And violence may be needed just to coerce miners now working to join the protest. Many distrust Gibson or feel he cannot win. Gibson knows this, retorting that "we have some of the yellowest men in the world in this country."
There is considerable doubt that Gibson could successfully conduct a country-wide strike. Many of his followers are retired miners, and splits have occured among the striking group. Last week there was considerable speculation that Gibson had lost control to another man who feels some of Gibson's intimates are too prone to violence. But he refuses to admit the possibility of defeat for the strikers. "We can't lose any more than we have already. We'll starve it out if necessary."
Contrasting sharply with the unhappiness and poverty in Hazard and McDowell is nearby Wheelwright, Ky., and perhaps this contrast is a stimulus to the agitation. Wheelwright is owned by Inland Steel, which operates a large, highly mechanized rail mine. Inland miners work under a UMW contract and live in a town benevolently managed by Inland. Except for the fact that a private company rather than a State is the economic planner, Wheelwright closely resembles a model for a socialist city. Comfortable houses are rented to the miners at rates (about $25 a month) which do not even cover maintenance. The company runs stores which compete favorably with others in the area and provides various civic services.
Inland's mines are dramatically different from the truck operations. Safety measures which smaller mines cannot afford have taken much of the danger out of mining, and huge machines eliminate the physical exhaustion. In a typical truck mine a man crawls into a low tunnel supported by timbers, blasts his coal with dynamite, and shovels it out onto carts by hand. There is always the danger of heavy chunks of shale falling on a man from the mine ceiling. The work is tough, grimy, and hazardous. At Inland's mine the roof is supported by long bolts, and the coal is blasted with compressed air. A 35 foot long machine with a giant sword cuts the coal, and another monster resembling a dinosaur, the joy loader, scoops it up and transfers it to a cart. Conveyer belts carry the coal to the tipple for processing. Three strong men in an unmechanized mine can load a ton and a half in 15 minutes; one man with a joy loader handles two tons in 15 seconds.
The coal seams at Inland's mines are similar to those in the truck mines. They are more productive because Inland decided about eight years ago that the only way to compete was to mechanize. That decision has caused the work force to shrink by almost 90 per cent, but the company has let natural attrition rather than firing take care of the depletion. Operators of the truck mines note that Inland was able to mechanize because it was assured a market--Inland's steel plants--and because the company had large capital resources. Regardless of the reasons, though, Inland is now competing directly with the truck mines, as only two-thirds of its production goes to company steel plants. Without mechanizing themselves, the small mines will be forced to maintain low