The Organizer (Minneapolis, Minnesota), 1934-07-21

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UNITED
LABOR
ACTION
DAILY STRIKE BULLETIN
isp
OCIETY
SMASH THE
CITIZENS
ALLIANCE
TWO TWENTY-FIVE
SOUTH THIRD STREET
Volume I, No.9
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1934
Price one cent
Workers Blood Is Shed
Johannes The Butcher Uses Shotguns To
Mow Down 48 Unarmed Workingmen
<s^
The blood of workers ran freely
in the streets of Minneapolis yesterday.
They were shot down and wounded by the uniformed thugs commanded by Police Chief Michael
Johannes, by Johannes the Murderer, in the name of the city administration and at the behest of its master, the Citizens Alliance.
Forty-eight sons of the working
class were mowed down by shot guns
in the hands of police.
They were shot down though
they were defenseless and unarmed,
like animals in a trap.
They were shot in the back by
base cowards who dared not look
them in the face.
It was no battle that took place
on Third Street North yesterday.
It was a massacre. A cunningly conceived, diabolically planned and
cold-bloodedly executed massacre.
A Cold Blooded Provocation
On Thursday, the Citizens Alliance met at the Radisson
Hotel. The thorough manner in which the striking members
of Local 574 had closed down the market, had driven the
employers desperate. It was decided to lay a trap and provoke a blood-bath. It was from that source that Johannes
received his orders.
On the same day, at 2 P. M., Johannes ordered a turnout
of his police. That day's Tribune reported him as saying:
"We're going to start moving goods. Don't take a beating.
You have shotguns and you know how to use them. When
we are finished with this convoy there will be other goods
to move."
Twenty-four hours later the wholesale district echoed the
clatter of shotguns, rifles and automatic pistols fired by
dozens of police who had caught a group of workers in a
trap.
A trap—that's what it was! Look at the photographs reproduced in this morning's edition of the Minneapolis Tribune.
In the scab truck which was being escorted by the heavy police convoy, can be seen only a half-dozen small cartons.
There was no serious effort being made to move large loads
of goods. The truck was only a decoy to draw picketing
workers into a murderers' trap.
Look again at the photographs. In one of them, a handful of pickets is to be seen in their cruising truck. From all
sides, the police are rushing down upon them. Police car
doors are opening up to emit a devil's spawn armed with
shotguns. Their murderous weapons are aimed at the strikers
from every angle, and the next moment the muzzles belch
a fusilade of shot.
The workers are completely unarmed and helpless. They
do not have a rifle among them; not a gun; not a club; not
a stick.
But oh, these lions of men, these heroes of the working
class! They do not falter for an instant. Not for a second do
they hesitate, even in face of the overwhelmingly superior
force that confronts them, that shoots into their ranks without a word of warning. Their stout hearts beating with a
magnificent courage, they face the enemy unflinchingly and
seek to stop the scab truck sent out to rob them, to rob
their wives and children, of the miserable crusts of bread
which are their lot.
Read the first reports in the press. Not the last reports,
after the prostituted newspapers had had the opportunity
to doctor them up, but the first fresh accounts of the massacre. Not the last reports, which apologetically invent the
lies that the men were warned off, that the police first fired
into the air, and then on to the sidewalk. Read the first reports which tell how the police savagely fired into the ranks
of the men as soon as they appeared on the scene.
Yes, read the first reports. Read them though you turn sick
and faint at the horrifying regularity with which the words
"Shot in the back" appear after the name of victim upon
victim. Read, workingmen and workingwomen, until every
word is burned into your memory, so that you may never
forget the sadistic cruelty of the exploiters  of labor, the
abominable brutality of their mercenaries—and the-deathless
courage of labor's sons.
Read—and bear in mind that workers were shot down like
dogs in cold blood. That they were shot in the back when
they sought to escape. That they were shot in the legs so
that they could not escape. That as they lay face to the
ground, they were kicked and shot at again by the Pride of
Minneapolis, the Defenders of Law and Order, the Uniformed Protectors of Profit.
Victims of the Murderers
The   following   48   names   constitute   a   partial   list   of   the
wounded workers who  fell under the  fusillade  of Johannes'
blue-coated assassins:
Fred Nelson
J. R. Dean
O. Shugren
Jack Lindahl
Simon Barach
Henry B. Ness
Sam Soulis
Raymond Bloomquist
August Haase
Ed Koski
Harry Mcllvaine
Donald Tutty
Waltet Martin
John Hoffus
John M. Dutcher
S. G. Glaser
William Sarenpa
Ben Rubin
Harry De Boer
Godfrey Lundahl
Bernard Kaski
Carl Johnson
H. Herbert
Eugene Crocker
Additional names will be
Frank Zankey
George Ross
Jack McCoy
Otto Lindahl
Nels Nelson
Pat Hasty
Henry Lindberg
Victor Tastuch
Walter Carlson
Jack Novak
Jack Severson
John Belor
Charles Collins
Martin Hasty ^	
Alfred Listrom
James Fahey
Harry Krueger
Frank Broz
Norman Bernick
Walter Wislok
Henry Lyndahl
August Seeber
Thco. Stoffels
John Pierce
published later in our columns.
•I
V
The following are reported held by the police. Many of
them are in a critical condition. One has had three blood
transfusions; another is in dire need of an operation but the
cops thus far refuse to release him for treatment.
Richard Scammon, Jr.
Simon Barach
Nels Nelson
Jack McCoy
Herbert Tjosvold
Victor Gastuch
Frank Broz
John Pierce
Arthur Mudge
John Lindahl
Robert Ghilten
Evans Robertson
John M. Dutcher
Emanuel Holstein
Theo. Stoffels
Look again at the photographs.
See the crumpled, riddled bodies of
two strikers on the floor of their
truck, while all around them stand
blue-coated monsters with shotguns.
On the floor of their truck, from
which they had never descended.
They were shot down where they
stood, before they could lift a finger
in action.
They never had a chance.
But these are men! These are
lion-hearted! The first detachment
quivers and falls under the withering fire of the police. Then, to the
aid of their fallen brothers, from
the ranks of other strikers and
workers sympathetic with their
cause, comes a second wave rolling
right into the jaws of the shotguns.
But they too must give way before
the murderous fire.
How proud the police must be of
their triumph! And haven't they
cause to-be? Was it not with ease that they mowed down tbe
strikers—these dozens of police, armed with dozens of shotguns and pistols? Didn't they do a better job than ever before in the history of Minneapolis? Haven't they made the
name of their chief ring throughout the land? Didn't they
crush the criminals who were armed only with bare fists?
The Crime of the Strikers
For criminals they are, these strikers. They have committed the greatest crime known to our modern society. Thsy
have stood up, these impudent slaves, and demanded wages
that will enable them to live like human beings. They have
demanded hours of labor that will permit them a little lest
and recreation, a few more years of life. They have demanded recognition of their elementary organizations of defense
against cruel exploitation: the workingman's Union.
Is this not a crime? And for this crime, which has already
produced thousands of heroes and martyrs throughout the
world, many famous and many nameless, the workers must
be punished. They must be taught their lesson. The vipers'
nest of the Citizens Alliance, of the Law and Order League,
has commanded it. The command has been obeyed with powder and shot.
Yes, butchers and assassins, the workers have learned a lesson, but not the one you thought to teach them. They have
learned only to tighten their ranks, to link their powerful
arms together more firmly, to clench their teeth and march
more resolutely towards their goal.
The shot you fired into their defenseless bodies has not
broken them, as you thought it would. It has only toughened them, steeled them—not for tomorrow's massacres, but
for tomorrow's battles. They will not permit themselves to be
massacred.
You thought you would shoot Local 574 into oblivion.
But you only succeeded in making 574 a battlecry on the
lips of every self-respecting working man and working-
woman in Minneapolis.
You thought you would separate the rank and file from
their leaders. You only succeeded in cementing the bond
that holds them together in an efficient fighting army.
You thought you would alienate the labor movement from
574. You only succeeded in rallying every section of the labor
movement to our cause, in bringing one Union endorsement
of our fight after another, in having one Union after another put its men and resources at our disposal.
You thought you would create an antagonism between 574
and the.-rest of the workingmen of Minneapolis, that you
would frighten them away with your despicable "red scare."
But last night 15,000 men and women roared their condemnation of your dastardly attack, roared their endorsement of 574's militant fight. Their voices .will echo and reecho throughout the city.
You thought you would cut us to pieces with your shotguns.  But you only succeeded in having the whole labor
movement forge an iron shield of protection around us.
(Continued on page two)