The 1880’s were a time of rising labor unionization, spurred by growing unemployment. Organized labor had some spectacular successes, among them the strike against Jay Gould’s Southwestern Railroad System in 1885. The Knights of Labor membership soared from 100,000 in that year to 700,000 the next. One of the chief goals of the labor movement in this period was the eight-hour day, and a nation-wide strike in its support was planned for May 1, 1886.
Chicago was the center of the eight-hour movement, and also of the anarchist and other radical movements in the United States. Leftists were divided over the place of violence in the class struggle. The anarchist Johann Most insisted that the class struggle “must have a violent revolutionary character, and the wage struggle alone will not lead us to our goal.” Among revolutionaries his was an influential voice, and in the mid-1880’s the powers of dynamite were eulogized in the anarchist press. The anarchist Alarm told its readers: “It will be your most powerful weapon; a weapon of the weak against the strong.… Use it unstintingly, unsparingly.” Another writer said: “Dynamite! … stuff several pounds of the sublime stuff into an inch cap … place this in the immediate neighborhood of a lot of rich loafers who live by the sweat of other people’s brows, and light the fuse. A most cheerful result will follow.” At mass meetings in Chicago the red and black flags were waved, private property was denounced, and violence advocated. Yet there were other voices on the left, including those of the revolutionary socialists, August Spies and Albert Parsons arguing for less spectacular methods, such as propaganda, political action, and “infiltration” of the labor movement. This group was instrumental in organizing the eight-hour movement in Chicago.
On May 1, 1886, between 200,000 and 300,000 workers across the country struck or demonstrated for the eight-hour movement. In Chicago a peaceful pro-eight-hour meeting was addressed by anarchist speakers. However, violence did begin in Chicago on May 3—but accidentally. During a strike of packing house workers at the McCormick Harvester Plant, a strike unrelated to the eight-hour movement, police broke up a fight between scabs and strikers by shooting into the strikers, killing one and seriously wounding others. Delegates of labor unions immediately sent out 2,000 circulars in German and English calling for a mass meeting at Haymarket Square the next day “to denounce the latest atrocious acts of the police.” This meeting, which was small and peaceful, was on the point of breaking up when 180 police arrived and ordered persons who were still there to disperse. At that moment someone threw a bomb at the police; seventy were seriously wounded, and seven ultimately died. The police then charged the crowd, shooting and clubbing; several were killed, uncounted numbers wounded. There was an immediate round-up of anarchists. Eight of them were promptly tried for murder. A biased judge and a packed jury found the defendants guilty, although no evidence was presented that connected them with the bomb thrower. Four were hanged, one committed suicide in prison, and three were jailed for life, but were pardoned in 1893 by Governor John P. Altgeld.
The Haymarket explosion was disastrous for the labor movement, since it led the public to equate anarchism, violence, and unionism. This identification was fostered by employers who used the anarchist theory of violence to blacken the Knights of Labor. Although the Knights tried to dissociate themselves from the anarchists, the labor movement suffered a serious setback.
The following trial testimony of an eye-witness, Barton Simonson, was reprinted in Dyer D. Lum: Concise History of the Great Trial of the Chicago Anarchists in 1886 (1886), 112–14. See Henry David: The History of the Haymarket Affair (1936).
I reached the Haymarket about 7:30. I found no meeting there. I walked around among the crowd, which was scattered over the Haymarket, then I went to the DesPlaines Street station and shook hands with Captain Ward, whom I knew. He introduced me to Inspector Bonfield and I had a conversation with him. Later on I went back and remained throughout the whole meeting until the bomb had exploded. The speakers were northeast of me in front of Crane Brothers’ building, a few feet north of the alley. I remember the alley particularly. As far as I remember Spies’ speech, he said: “Please come to order. This meeting is not called to incite any riot.” [Witness then gave a synopsis of the speech, which in no wise differs from that previously given as written out by Spies.]
He thought Mr. Parsons did say: “To arms, To arms,” but in what connection could not remember. “Somebody in the crowd said ‘shoot’ or ‘hang Gould,’ and he says, ‘No, a great many will jump up and take his place. What socialism aims at is not the death of individuals but of the system.’
Fielden spoke very loud, and as I had never attended a Socialist meeting before in my life, I thought they were a little wild. Fielden spoke about a Congressman from Ohio who had been elected by the workingmen and confessed that no legislation could be enacted in favor of the workingmen, consequently he said there was no use trying to do anything by legislation. After he had talked a while a dark cloud with cold wind came up from the north. Many people had left before, but when that cloud came a great many people left. Somebody said, “Let’s adjourn”—to someplace—I can’t remember the name of the place. Fielden said he was about through, there was no need of adjourning. He said two or three times, “Now in conclusion,” or something like that and became impatient. Then I heard a commotion and a good deal of noise in the audience, and somebody said “police.” I looked south and saw a line of police. The police moved along until the front of the column got about up to the speaker’s wagon. I heard somebody near the wagon say something about dispersing. I saw some persons upon the wagon. I could not tell who they were. About the time somebody was giving that command to disperse, I distinctly heard two words coming from the vicinity of the wagon or from the wagon. I don’t know who uttered them. The words were, “peaceable meeting.” That was a few seconds before the explosion of the bomb. I did not hear any such exclamation as, “Here come the bloodhounds of the police; you do your duty and I’ll do mine,” from the locality of the wagon or from Mr. Fielden. I heard nothing of the sort that night. At the time the bomb exploded I was still in my position upon the stairs. There was no pistol firing by any person upon the wagon before the bomb exploded. No pistol shots anywhere before the explosion of the bomb.
Just after the command to disperse had been given, I saw a lighted fuse, or something—I didn’t know what it was at the time—come up from a point twenty feet south of the south line of Crane’s alley, from about the center of the sidewalk on the east side of the street, from behind some boxes. I am positive it was not thrown from the alley. I first noticed it about six or seven feet in the air, a little above a man’s head. It went in a northwest course and up about fifteen feet from the ground, and fell about the middle of the street. The explosion followed almost immediately. Something of a cloud of smoke followed the explosion. After the bomb exploded there was pistol shooting. From my position I could distinctly see the flashes of the pistols. My head was about fifteen feet above the ground. There might have been fifty to one hundred and fifty pistol shots. They proceeded from about the center of where the police were. I did not observe either the flashes of the pistol shot or hear the report of any shots from the crowd upon the police prior to the firing by the police. The police were not only shooting at the crowd but I noticed several of them shoot just as they happened to throw their arms. I concluded that my position was possibly more dangerous than down in the crowd, and then I ran down to the foot of the stairs, ran west on the sidewalk on Randolph Street a short distance, and then in the road. A crowd was running in the same direction. I had to jump over a man lying down, and I saw another man fall in front of me about 150 to 200 feet west of DesPlaines Street. I took hold of his arm and wanted to help him, but the firing was so lively behind me that I just let go and ran. I was in the rear of the crowd running west, the police still behind us. There were no shots from the direction to which I was running.
I am not and never have been a member of any Socialistic party or association. Walking through the crowd before the meeting, I noticed that the meeting was composed principally of ordinary workingmen, mechanics, etc. The audience listened and once in a while there would be yells of “Shoot him, hang him.” The violent ones seemed to be in the vicinity of the wagon. My impression is that some were making fun of the meeting. I noticed no demonstration of violence, no fighting or anything of that kind on the part of the crowd.
I heard about half a dozen or perhaps a few more of such expressions as “Hang him” or “Shoot him” from the audience. I did not find any difference in the bearing of the crowd during Fielden’s speech from what it was during Parsons’ or Spies’. In the course of the conversation with Capt. Bonfield at the station before the meeting that night, I asked him about the trouble in the southwestern part of the city. He says: “The trouble there is that these”—whether he used the word Socialist or strikers, I don’t know—“get their women and children mixed up with them and around them and in front of them, and we can’t get at them. I would like to get three thousand of them in a crowd without their women and children”—and to the best of my recollection he added—“and I will make short work of them.” I noticed a few women and children at the bottom of the steps where I was.
Upon cross-examination this graphic and evidently truthful narration was not weakened in the least.