An immigrant’s dream is the nation’s strength.
My husband Dave’s family came to this country in the 1880s from Tirol, Austria, or thereabouts, which at the time was under the control of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. They came primarily because of the great farmlands. Drought had wreaked havoc on farming in much of Europe, with disease killing the vineyards and taking many jobs with the grapes.
His grandfather and great-uncle were not the only ones; millions of people came to the United States in search of a new life. They were able, and the journey itself made for added determination, grit, and adaptability, as they often served as ship deckhands, allowing them to afford the journey to a new life in the storied United States.
None of the hardships people endure to come to this country differ much. Historically, they walked, hid, hopped on trains, climbed, and worked to reach the ships, only to be at sea for months, depending on a ship’s ports of call, such as the Caribbean or along the U.S. seaboard. It was a trip that shaped newcomers into strong-minded, honest, and hardworking individuals. They were the ones who built this country because they were schooled on disparity. They were forward-thinking individuals who demonstrated who they were without saying a word — often because few spoke a language that others could understand, even if they were from similar geographic locations.
Such men and women landed in New York or Boston, and some, like Dave’s great-uncle, went on to Uruguay, where he remained. Survival of the fittest. The journey was long and often deadly, but they finally arrived here and registered their intent to become citizens. Just like today, they had a waiting period and periodic check-ins. There was no rule that they had to learn English, so many of the elders did not. Those who worked learned, along with the children who were able to attend school and were encouraged by their parents to learn English, because, as we know, education opens doors.
Most of the men ended up in the mines or factories where they were paid very low wages. One dollar a day was not uncommon. For the coal miners who worked in Crested Butte before the unions formed, it was a brutal time underground. For that one dollar, they chipped the coal from the walls with picks, shoveled it into heavy carts that they pushed along irregular tracks of varying grades, and dumped it into the tipple at the end of the tunnel. Or sometimes they encouraged mules to help pull the carts, even though mules were viewed as less expendable than the miners. While the mules had elaborate barns across the coal country, the miners were often housed in tents or drafty company housing. Colorado Fuel and Iron at the Big Mine of Crested Butte had two large mule barns on the “bench” above town.
The primitive mining operations in Colorado and elsewhere across the West took a toll on human life and health. The first Oberoslers here in the U.S., Dave’s forebears, along with hundreds of others in southwestern Colorado, began to demand safety. Beginning in September 1913 and continuing through the next year, more than 10,000 miners and their families in southern Colorado marched in the streets in protest for safer working conditions, an event now known as the Colorado Coalfield War.
They also protested for their right to shop where they wanted. This was at a time when mining companies owned the only store in town. Miners bought from them in a paper exchange, which was pulled from their wages. They took little home, where wives and daughters stretched and supplemented their food supply with gardens and canned foods, and the men hunted deer and rabbits as well. In Crested Butte, Stefanic’s grocery did what it could to extend credit during tough times.
Organized by the United Mine Workers of America, the march for their lives got the attention of the co-owner of the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company, John D. Rockefeller Jr., who, in retaliation, evicted all of the miners from their company housing. A few owned their own homes, which were blown to smithereens. That’ll teach them!
Crested Butte miners were certainly in solidarity with other striking mining communities. Without company-owned housing, many families were forced to live in makeshift tent colonies, with the largest colony established in Ludlow, Colorado, located at the mouth of a couple of clay- filled gulches and right off the regular train route. At the time, there were a few small mines up those draws, so miners and their families relocated there in canvas tents. The miners, with nothing left to lose, continued to march.
Some 9,000 children lived and endured the strike, including my husband’s mother, Angie, who was a little girl in the Ludlow area. She lived through the ordeal, but as an adult, she again lived in a tent with her new baby, Dave’s sister Maragret. Angie told me she couldn’t keep the flies off the baby, nor the damp of the rain as it seeped through the canvas. She was not one to complain, so I know it was bad.
To quell the miners’ roiling anger and assert his “ownership” over the miners, Rockefeller deployed National Guard troops to Ludlow through his political connections. They were there to threaten by their very presence, but eventually they couldn’t control their desire to combat, and they used fire and machine guns against strikers, burning many tents. As a precaution against the inevitable, some of the miners dug holes under the tents as places for women and children to hide, and many who did so succumbed to the smoke. In total, 21 people died, 11 kids among them, in what was dubbed the Ludlow Massacre.
In Crested Butte, miners had their own angry uprising, and it took the infamous Sheriff Doc Shores to talk people down. Meanwhile, Ludlow had occurred, and a hush began to settle over the mine owners and miners alike. Ludlow had been devastating to all involved, and an awakening of decency began to cast light over the miners’ awful conditions, eventually leading to the formation of unions to protect men and their families.
We have always advertised the Statue of Liberty’s inscription of “Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free….” And so they came. Most of them were running from oppression from their governments, similar to the plight of today’s immigrants. They have all wanted a place to prosper, belong, and contribute, but it is not in reach for many.
Most immigrants throughout our history are honest, hardworking folks who make up a heck of a workforce, but at no time could we take them all. Yet, what most immigrants bring with them is perseverance, an invaluable attribute for a nation. They are generally poor, and because of that, they work hard to create a place in our country.
My hope for the future is that we learn some degree of acceptance, for we are almost all immigrants to this country. Indeed, the ones who created a country out of wilderness could never have done it had it not been for the creative minds and strong bodies they gained in their travels to get here to begin a new life.