Some of the most lethal incidents of industrial violence occurred in isolated mountain towns, where the absence of long-established communities and a substantial middle-class public led to stark confrontations across class lines. One ugly episode occurred in the lead and silver mining territory of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. The mine workers had organized a union, which forced a uniform wage in all the mines. In 1891, the mine owners organized a counter force, the Mine Owners Protective Association. In January 1892 the Association offered the union a new contract with a 25% cut in wages; when the miners refused it they were locked out. The employers’ organization thereupon announced that “the Association has resolved never to hire another member of the miners’ union.”
The mine owners then imported hundreds of scabs and hired armed guards to protect them. At first the workers tried to meet entering trains and convince strikebreakers to join them, but with little success. On July 7, news arrived of the Homestead strike, which turned many toward more militant tactics. On July 11, a union miner was killed by Pinkerton guards; the miners then attacked the guards’ barracks at the Frisco Mill with dynamite, killing one and wounding twenty. Next they attacked Gem Mine; after a long gun fight during which five miners were killed and fourteen wounded, they captured it. Hundreds of armed miners marched to other mines in the area and forced the immediate discharge of all non-union men. On July 13, the Governor declared a state of insurrection and sent the Idaho National Guard, reinforced by federal troops, into the area. The scabs were brought back; 600 miners were rounded up and put in bullpens (the mode of imprisonment became a national scandal), local officials sympathetic to the strikers were removed, and all active union men were fired. Yet most of those imprisoned were freed by the courts, and the strike was resumed. Since the mine owners were unable to work their mines without experienced labor, most eventually recognized the union. Only two companies, Bunker Hill and Sullivan, held out; a strike against them took place in 1899, which repeated the earlier pattern of violence. The following account is taken from the Spokane Weekly Review, July 14, 1892. See Robert Wayne Smith: The Coeur d’Alene Mining War of 1892 (1961).
WALLACE, Idaho, July 11. [Special.]—This has been the most exciting day in the history of the Coeur d’Alene. The hitherto peaceful canyons of these mountains have echoed with the sharp and deadly report of the rifle, and the cliffs of Canyon Creek have reverberated with the detonations of bomb and dynamite used in the destruction of valuable property.
The long-dreaded conflict between the forces of the strikers and the non-union men who have taken their places has come at last. As a result five men are known to be dead and 16 are already in the hospital; the Frisco mill on Canyon Creek is in ruins; the Gem mine has surrendered to the strikers, the arms of its employees have been captured, and the employees themselves have been ordered out of the country. Flushed with the success of these victories the turbulent element among the strikers are preparing to move upon other strongholds of the non-union men and will probably show their hand at Wardner tomorrow.
About 6 o’clock this morning a non-union miner from the Gem mine, at the town of Gem, was fired upon at a point near the Frisco mine. He ran back to the Gem mine and afterward died of his wound.
This shot seemed to be the signal for the non-union forces, who quickly gathered in considerable numbers and marched upon the mine, a lively firing being kept up by both sides. The attacking forces, however, were too strong for the besieged forces, and to avoid further bloodshed the mine was surrendered, the arms given up and the non-union men were marched down the canyon and sent out of the district.
In the meantime a similar attack was made upon the property of the Helena and San Francisco company at the same place, and with a like result. The men in the mine and mill surrendered, and the besiegers then went up the hill and sent down a lot of dynamite on the tramway, expecting it to explode and wreck the mill. They did this in revenge for the severe manner in which Mr. Esler has spoken of their cause and themselves, but the first attempt failed. They then shot a bomb down the iron water flume, and when it struck the bottom there was a tremendous explosion that wrecked the mill and destroyed $125,000 worth of property.
After this a sort of truce was held and hostilities were suspended. The arms of the non-union men were stacked and placed in charge of one man, from each side, but they were afterward taken by the strikers, the mine owners claiming in violation of the agreement.
The dead, wounded, and prisoners were then placed aboard a special train and taken down to Wallace, and Canyon Creek is now in complete control of the strikers, and no one is permitted to invade the district.
The blackest feature of the direful conflict in the Coeur d’Alene was the tragedy enacted at the Old Mission on the Coeur d’Alene River and in Fourth of July Canyon. After driving many of the fugitive non-union men into the canyon and the river the desperate and impassioned strikers followed them up and shot them down like deer. Among those shot down was Foreman Monaghan of the Gem mine, who was coming out with his family. The family was spared, but Monaghan was run into the bush and shot through the back. He was picked up yesterday morning and taken back to the mines. It is thought he will die. It is reported that 12 bodies have already been recovered in Fourth of July Canyon. The non-union men had been entirely disarmed and were at the mercy of their pursuers. The boat that came down the lake yesterday picked up 30 more of the fugitives who had taken to the river and bush. They tell tales of frightful cruelty. Some of them were beaten with revolvers and many were robbed of all their valuables.
A middle-aged man who escaped the hands of the executioner at Mission had a doleful story to relate of his sufferings and privations after getting away from the strikers. He asked that his name be withheld, as he fears further acts of revenge.
“After the shooting began,” said he, “we started and ran like so many sheep. We were taken completely by surprise and dumbfounded. I made for the railroad track and got into a car. The car was crowded with men and women, too. I saw Mrs. Monaghan crouching down between two seats. Pretty soon a big burly fellow made his appearance at the door of the car with a Winchester rifle. ‘Git out of this car, you d—–d s—– —–,’ said he, and we all began scrambling for the door. I heard Mrs. Monaghan crying, ‘For God’s sake, don’t take my life; I have two daughters here somewhere, and I’ve lost them.’ The fellow told her she could stay. That’s the last I heard in the car. The next moment I was crowded out of the door and made off as fast as I could run. There was a party of us together. Pretty soon shots began to whistle around our heads, but we kept on running, through fields and brush, the shots following us like a hail storm.
“Our party began to separate and then there were only two of us together. We came to a fence, and as we were both crowding through an opening a shot swished past my companion’s ear, and he shouted: ‘Oh, God, I’m shot!’
“After a bit I saw one of our men drop in the distance. I ran past where he was lying. He looked up at me and said: ‘Tell Abbott I’m killed.’ He was the son of Nightwatchman Abbott. I could do nothing for him.
“When night came we found ourselves in a swamp, with water up to our knees. We lost our bearing entirely and were afraid to move for fear of being discovered. As the night wore out we began to move, and when dawn appeared we saw a man with a dog. At first we were afraid to let him see us, but gradually our courage returned, and besides, we were starving to death. We went up to the man and told him our story. At first he refused to give us anything to eat, but after we promised him $3 he took us to his house, where we got a bowl of bread and milk, and he rowed us over the river on a raft. We wandered along a mile or two, and were finally picked up by the boat.”