Commissioner BALLARD. Were most of the Greeks married or single? Mrs. JOLLY. Not one of them married.

Commissioner BALLARD. All single men?

Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir; all single men.

Commissioner BALLARD. Was Louis Tikas himself a miner?

Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. Had he been working in the mines up to the time of the strike?

Mrs. JOLLY. He came in there from Denver. Up to the time of the strike he had been working for the mines at Louisville-Louisville, not working in our vicinity, but in the northern mines.

Commissioner BALLARD. And he came down from Denver to help the strikers? Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. What did he do in Denver?

Mrs. JOLLY. He had previously worked in the mines, and at one time was, I know, in the insurance company; but just before the strike he had worked in the mines there.

Commissioner BALLARD. Well, just before he came down to the strike colony, what had he been doing in Denver? What was his business in Denver? Mrs. JOLLY. I couldn't tell you. I think he came from one of the mining camps just the other side of Denver-Louisville-no; Frederick.

Commissioner BALLARD. Did he and his brother have a saloon in Denver? Mrs. JOLLY. I don't think so. I never heard of it if they did. I don't know. Commissioner BALLARD. You were in the tent colony the day of the battle, and what day was that; do you remember?

Mrs. JOLLY. That was the 20th of April.

Commissioner BALLARD. You were in the colony at the time of the fire? Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. Did you see anybody with torches yourself?

Mrs. JOLLY. I did not; no. Not that day. On Tuesday morning I did, but Monday I did not, because I was too busy. But one of our women seen one man who did, Mrs. Snyder; talk with him and gave me his name. I went to school with the man myself. She gives his name.

Commissioner BALLARD. The tent in which you were, was that burned on the day of the battle, or Monday, or Tuesday either?

Mrs. JOLLY. Yes; burned.

Commissioner BALLARD. What can you tell us about that?
Mrs. JOLLY. I left the camp before it was burned.

I don't know if it was

burned that Monday night or the next day. The fire in the camp was all night and never went out. It was a very large camp and there was so much furniture in there; and that fire lasted about three days before the smoke or anything was gone.

Commissioner BALLARD. Were any of the tents burned down on Manday, the day you were there?

Mrs. JOLLY. They started between about 5.30 and 6 o'clock. There was about one-half of them burning when I left the town.

Commissioner BALLARD. You didn't see anybody set them afire?

Mrs. JOLLY. No; I did not, because I was not at the front.

Commissioner BALLARD. You say the financial secretary was an old man? Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. He was killed that day?

Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. What was his name?

Mrs. JOLLY. James Feiler.

Commissioner BALLARD. You said he came back to the tent to get about $300? Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. Where did that $300 come from?

Mr. JOLLY. It was the money they allowed them in the camp. Saturday was pay day in the camp, and this money had been left there, and as the railroad had been sent back, he had not had any chance to send back any Monday morning; and it was money that was left there in the tent, because Saturday was pay day.

Commissioner BALLARD. They paid every Saturday, then?

Mrs. JOLLY. Yes.

Commissioner BALLARD. Did he pay all the striking miners that were there? Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. What did he give every miner, if you know?

Mrs. JOLLY. Yes. The men got $3, each woman $1, and for every child 50 cents.

Commissioner BALLARD. Where did he get the money to pay them if they were not working?

Mrs. JOLLY. Why, it was sent in by the United Mine Workers of America. Commissioner BALLARD. Where from?

Mrs. JOLLY. Why, I don't know the different men. The union is holding them up.

Commissioner BALLARD. The union is holding them up?

Mrs. JOLLY. Yes; they are supporting them.

Commissioner BALLARD. And then this money came in there every Saturday, then, and the miners were all paid just the same as though they were at work? Mrs. JOLLY. Yes, sir; every Saturday.

Commissioner BALLARD. That is all.

Chairman WALSH. Any other questions? That is all. Thank you, Mrs. Jolly. TESTIMONY OF MRS. MARY HANNAH THOMAS.

Mr. THOMPSON. Give us your name.

Mrs. THOMAS. Mrs. Hannah Thomas.

Mr. THOMPSON. And your address.

Mrs. THOMAS. Ludlow.

Mr. THOMPSON. Is your husband living?

Mrs. THOMAS. Yes, sir.

Mr. THOMPSON. Is he a miner?

Mrs. THOMAS. Yes, sir.

Mr. THOMPSON. How old are you?

Mrs. THOMAS. I am 25 next birthday.

Mr. THOMPSON. How long have you been married?

Mrs. THOMAS. I have been married eight years.

Mr. THOMPSON. Have you got any children?

Mrs. THOMAS. I have got two children.

Mr. THOMPSON. How long has your husband been a miner?
Mrs. THOMAS. He has been a miner-he is now 32.

he was 24 or 25.

Mr. THOMPSON. How old is he?

Mrs. THOMAS. He is 32.

Mr. THOMPSON. Of what nationality are you?

He started mining when

Mrs. THOMAS. I am Welsh, but my husband was born in America. Mr. THOMPSON. How long has he been in the mining work out in Colorado? Mrs. THOMAS. About 10 months. Well, we were in this country two months before the strike started. He was born in America, but was raised in Wales. Mr. THOMPSON. And came back to this country from Wales about two months before the strike started?

Mrs. THOMAS. Yes, sir.

Mr. THOMPSON. How long were you in Colorado before the strike started? Mrs. THOMAS. Two months.

Mr. THOMPSON. When did the strike in Colorado start-what date?

Mrs. THOMAS. In September.

Mr. THOMPSON. When did this shooting that has been spoken of by Mrs. Jolly take place?

Mrs. THOMAS. Which-the first battle?

Mr. THOMPSON. Yes; at Ludlow.

Mrs. THOMAS. On the 20th of April, this last massacre.

Mr. THOMPSON. You may tell your story now.

Mrs. THOMAS. Ten months ago I came from Wales, thinking we would like to come to see the country where my husband was born. I had a business there and was doing pretty well, and was very well situated in Wales. I sold everything and bought everything that I needed there and came over to this country-and brought $1,500 with me and 156 wedding presents, being very, very well known in the place I came from because I had been born and raised in that place from which I came. I had a silver tea service that was presented to me by the society I was a member of there when I got married, and things that I couldn't exactly mention. But I had a tremendous lot of valuable things that-I had a beautiful gold bracelet that had been given to me on the day that I got baptized, that I was taken a member into the church, and several other things that I can't mention. I had a Bible that was presened to me, a very

beautiful Bible, by the church there that I had been a member of since 12 years of age. I also had that in Ludlow where it has been taken or burned, but which was presented to me by the church that I was a member of. They made a concert for me the night before I left there, and when I reached here we went straight_to_Colorado. When we were going up in the hack someone asked my husband where he was hailing from, and he said he came from Wales. He says, "I guess you belong to a union?" He said, “ Yes;" and he pulled out his card, and the man said, "For God's sake, put that back, because if they see that card on you you will go down sooner than you came up." That means he had to play he was not belonging to the union at all. When we were in this union mine or this mining camp he put this card up, and from that time, had to play he was not belonging to any union at all, when we were in this mining camp. It was a nonunion mine and we found the rules there were very very much different from what they were in the union, and not one man could speak for himself. If there was $80 coming to a man on pay day, and if they gave him $60, he would have to be satisfied. They would say he was short weight on his coal; but they never had a check weighman for the miners, always the operators. No man ever saw his coal weighed. There was two men there telling me they had been to work one morning and the fire boss told them to go to work at a place, and when one of them went to work at that place he could see that the top was almost coming down; and he said that he could not work there; it was not safe. They handed him his money and told him there was no other work there; that he could go and not come back again. And when he came and told me about this, on that very day, that very place fell in, and then he went to ask for some work, and they said no. And he had to go out of that mining camp.

And when the strike started we all went down to the tents and the men— when we were going down to these tents, these gunmen just would stand a few yards from us and would point their revolvers at us as we were going down to Ludlow, and if anyone dared say a word, he would have been shot there; and that was the very first time I ever had seen a gun. I never saw any kind of a gun before until I came to America. When we went to Ludlow there was only four small tents there and one large tent; and the C., F. & I. operators they had delayed the tents, so we would be without any homes whatever, and all our furniture and everything else was out on the prairie there that week, and it was snowing and terribly cold and awful wet. It was terrible weather at that time. But we determined to stick together there because we had put up with such a lot and believed we would rather suffer anything than go back to work under the conditions that they had been working. When the militia came in we greeted them, as Mrs. Jolly explained. We greeted them and invited them down. Several had supper in my tent. And we danced with them, and one night they came into the tent colony, some of them did, and we refused to dance with them; and one of their officers came down there and he says, 'How is it you don't dance with our men?" And I says, "Because you can't be on two sides and we much prefer, if you respect us, in keeping away." "Oh, that's just what I wanted. I don't want these men to come down here at all." So from that time on they kept away from there. And they started some dirty tricks against us. Then they had me one day when I was going to Trinidad, they had a parade protesting against Mother Jones being in jail. And I had lost my train, and there was an automobile passing with three men in it. And I had some important business to do there that day and I wanted to go badly, so I asked if they could give me a ride down. They said, yes. As soon as I got in they asked me who I was and if my husband was a miner and different questions, and they said how sorry they were for these miners that were there starving and there was plenty of work up in the canyons for them. I says, "No man there will go back to work unless they get better conditions." Then they saw, although they kept on asking questions, they couldn't get the answers out of me that they wanted, so, finally, this man turned around and he never spoke to me any more. But when we reached Trinidad, on the square where the Columbian Hotel is, he jumped out before the car stopped and ran in through one door of this hotel-and what my opinion was, that they were operators. They told me they had been up to the mines. They could have run in through this door and pointed me out through another door or through the window.

So I wanted to go down the street and I could see the parade and everything there and that everything was coming back-they had had a parade; and after the ride down I thought I had better go to my friend's house to wash my face,

66

as I felt dirty; and I went up four steps there, there was a flight of steps, and I went up four steps there, and one of the militiamen caught me by the collar and pushed me to the floor, and I got up and he knocked me down again, and I got up and he knocked me down again, and I asked him what it was for three times, and everybody around there started shouting, Shame," and got quite indignant; but no man dared to say a word, because he had his bayonet fixed, and he was waving that around as if he would use it. So when I said that I did not like that, someone jumped up and said, “Arrest that woman," and two of them caught me and marched me down to the first place, and they get me there with 50 militiamen around me there, and they had their revolvers and fixed to shoot, and after I had been there about 10 minutes, when Gen. Chace came along, and one of these men told him, "This is Mrs. Thomas from Ludlow." He says, "Oh, that is her, is it. Well, you keep her here until I give you further orders."

And they kept me there for four hours, until I was almost fainting, and then they took me up to the jail-to the original county jail, took my description and size and weight and the color of my eyes and the color of my hair-and they couldn't decide what color my hair was; and they asked me what color would I call that, and I said pale blue. So he put me up in a cell that I was to have, and I went-and when I saw in this cell it was the most filthy thing I ever was in. And two other women had been arrested in the parade, and he had these women there, and they were released that night; and I thought I was going to be released, so I put my things on, but they never came to fetch me, and the jailer says, “I guess you will have to be satisfied here,” so I got into bed, and it was the most filthy place, and when I got in bed these rats were running around like horses, and it was the most-I can not describe the filthiness of that place. Then I wanted to get my children down there. I told them I wanted my children down. So they said they were going to send the militia to fetch them; and I put a note out of the window, pushed it out through the bars, trusting someone would pass it to my husband, and someone did. And in that note I told him not to give his children out of his charge until he came to me with them.

I would not have trusted my little girls in the hands of any of those dirty militiamen, knowing what they were doing. And he brought the little girls down to me, and the jailer said he could not come there to see me; that I was a military prisoner, and to be kept incommunicado, and he says, "I am going to take these children to her; and if I don't, I can't give them to anybody," and he says, "You can't do it." So he was going to turn away with the children. "Well," he says, "I better let you go," so he brought him up and the jailer folded his arms, and he said, "Mrs. Thomas, I have got to hear your conversation," "All right," I says. So we spoke Welsh and so he couldn't understand it. And he left me stand there for about three to five minutes, then he ordered my husband away; and then after I got my children in with me for about three or four days they were crying something terrible. They would throw the food in to me as if I was a dog and leave it on the floor, and they gave them little children the same kind of food as the worst criminal in America. And they were unable to go out of there and they could not eat anything and they complaining and kept on asking me, "Mamma, why do they have these bars?' And they wanted to put on their hats and coats dozen of times and would try to run out when the jailer opened the door and he would push them back just like dogs. And when I had been in there for about four days and was breaking my heart to see the children in there and crying so much to get out, I sent a letter to Gen. Chace and asked him what did he have me in there for and what was the charge against me, and if he would give me a trial I could prove that I had never done anything that was wrong. So he never heeded my letter and kept me in there until he felt like letting me out and he kept me in there 11 days; and then he released me without any trial whatever, and I don't know even yet what I was confined in there for.

Another time there were 20 of our men going out for a walk; and it was a very fine day, and there was a regiment of these militiamen ahead of them, and they took them up to the mining camp at Berwind, and then when they got them there they gave them an offer to go to work there, and they said, "No, they would not go." And they said if they didn't go to work they would be put in jail. And they said they would rather that than go back to work; that they would not go back to work under the conditions down there. And they beat these men and they were bruised something bad; and then they gave them again an offer to go to work there; but they would not, and they kept

them until the next day without any food in a dark cell; and the next morning they beat them up, and lined them up against the wall and put a cannon before them, and gave them to understand they were going to shoot them, and gave them, an offer again if they would go back to work; and they said. "No, they would not." And those men were as white as death, for they did think they were going to be shot, because these militiamen were capable of anything. And when this cannon was before them and they enticed them to go back to work, and they would not, and they beat them up again and drove them back with whips right back to Ludlow. They were on their horses and had whips. They whipped them right back to Ludlow. And before the congressional committee they said they only did that for fun-put that cannon before the miners--and that they were only joking.

Another time they took a man off the street and put him in jail and never let him know what he was in there for; and they gave him a chance to go back to work, and he would not go, and they made that man dig a piece of ground there and gave him to understand that it was his grave, and that he was to be shot the next day. And he asked if he could not see his wife and children before he would get shot. They said no, they could not grant any privilege whatever. So they gave that man to understand that he was to be shot. well, he got very ill, and they had to send for the United Mine Workers to get him out, and then they had him out, and then this man said he had had a horrible experience. And there was another man there they put in jail, and it was in a damp cell, and they kept him in that damp place until he died of heart trouble, and he died within four days. That was a healthy man before he went in there. And the women that have been insulted in Ludlow-it is terrible. It can not be stated. It can not be stated-the insults the women have had to undergo. And since these militiamen have been there there's dozens of young girls who have had to go to homes expecting to become mothers. There is one woman there-a German woman-and two militiamen came down there, knowing that her husband was away, and they came down to the tent colony and tried to get her to drink some whisky with them, and she says she would not; and they told her they were going to arrest her and take her up to their tents

Chairman WALSH (interrupting). Mrs. Scott has just informed me that your time is up, and that if the commission should wish to ask you any questions will have to ask them now, because you have to leave on the train at a certain time. Are there any questions you would like to ask, Mrs. Harriman? Commissioner HARRIMAN. No; I think not.

Commissioner BALLARD. When did your husband come to the mines to work at Ludlow?

Mrs. THOMAS. It was in July.

Commissioner BALLARD. And the strike occurred in September?

Mrs. THOMAS. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. So he had been working there about three or four

months?

Mrs. THOMAS. About two months; something like that.

Commissioner BALLARD. Do you remember how much wages your husband made a month?

Mrs. THOMAS. Yes.

Commissioner BALLARD. During that three or four months?

Mrs. THOMAS. Yes.

Commissioner BALLARD. About how much?

Mrs. THOMAS. About $70 a month.

Commissioner BALLARD. And he had been a miner in Wales?

Mrs. THOMAS. Yes, sir.

Commissioner BALLARD. What did he make over there?

Mrs. THOMAS. He made about $40 to $50 a month; but we could live on half the wages in Wales. If I could have that wages in Wales I could save half of ft. But when we were in Colorado I could save nothing, because it all went to the company store.

Commissioner BALLARD. Were you compelled to trade in the company store? Mrs. THOMAS. Yes, sir; we were compelled to trade in the company's storemade to buy everything there-and most of the men were in debt there, so that they did not see what was the color of money; did not know what was money, only taking their check from the company-only a slip of paper from the mine when they were having a pay day, and they would have to take that slip of paper right to the store and then deduct anything that the man owed,