ffered. The whole story of the atrocities perpetrated
during these days of the White Terror, in all probability, will never be
published. The criminals are all well known but their influence is too
powerful to ever make it expedient to expose their crimes. Besides, who
would care to get a gentleman in trouble for killing a mere "Wobbly"? The
few instances noted above will, however, give the reader some slight idea
of the gruesome events that were leading inevitably to that grim day in
Centralia in November, 1919.

Weathering the Storm

Through it all the industrialists clung to their Red Cards and to the One
Big Union for which they had sacrificed so much. Time after time, with
incomparable patience, they would refurnish and reopen their beleaguered
halls, heal up the wounds of rope, tar or "billy" and proceed with the
work of organization as though nothing had happened. With union cards or
credentials hidden in their heavy shoes they would meet secretly in the
woods at night. Here they would consult about members who had been mobbed,
jailed or killed, about caring for their families--if they had any--about
carrying on the work of propaganda and laying plans for the future
progress of their union. Perhaps they would take time to chant a rebel
song or two in low voices. Then, back on the job again to "line up the
slaves for the New Society!"

Through a veritable inferno of torment and persecution these men had
refused to be driven from the woods or to give up their union--the
Industrial Workers of the World. Between the two dreadful alternatives of
peonage or persecution they chose the latter--and the lesser. Can you
imagine what their peonage must have been like?

Sinister Centralia

But Centralia was destined to be the scene of the most dramatic portion of
the struggle between the entrenched interests and the union loggers. Here
the long persecuted industrialists made a stand for their lives and fought
to defend their own, thus giving the glib-tongued lawyers of the
prosecution the opportunity of accusing them of "wantonly murdering
unoffending paraders" on Armistice Day.

Centralia in appearance is a creditable small American city--the kind of
city smug people show their friends with pride from the rose-scented
tranquility of a super-six in passage. The streets are wide and clean, the
buildings comfortable, the lawns and shade trees attractive. Centralia is
somewhat of a coquette but she is a