al mines and a railway. The Centralia newspapers are its
mouthpieces while the Chamber of Commerce and the Elks' Club are its
general headquarters. The Farmers' & Merchants' Bank is its local
citadel of power. In charge of this bank is a sinister character, one
Uhlman, a German of the old school and a typical Prussian junker. At one
time he was an officer in the German army but at present is a "100%
American"--an easy metamorphosis for a Prussian in these days. His native
born "brother-at-arms" is George Dysart whose son led the posses in the
man-hunt that followed the shooting. In Centralia this bank and its Hun
dictator dominates the financial, political and social activities of the
community. Business men, lawyers, editors, doctors and local authorities
all kow-tow to the institution and its Prussian president. And woe be to
any who dare do otherwise! The power of the "interests" is a vengeful
power and will have no other power before it. Even the mighty arm of the
law becomes palsied in its presence.

[Illustration: Lumberworkers Union Hall, Raided in 1918

The first of the two halls to be wrecked by Centralia's terrorists. This
picture was not permitted to be introduced as evidence of the conspiracy
to raid the new hall. Judge Wilson didn't want the jury to know anything
about this event.]

The Farmers' & Merchants' Bank is the local instrumentality of the
invisible government that holds the nation in its clutch. Kaiser Uhlman
has more influence than the city mayor and more power than the police
force. The law has always been a little thing to him and his clique. The
inscription on the shield of this bank is said to read "To hell with the
Constitution; this is Lewis County." As events will show, this inspiring
maxim has been faithfully adhered to. One of the mandates of this
delectable nest of highbinders is that no headquarters of the Union of the
lumber workers shall ever be permitted within the sacred precincts of the
city of Centralia.

The Loved and Hated Union Hall

Now the loggers, being denied the luxury of home and family life, have but
three places they can call "home." The bunkhouse in the camp, the cheap
rooming house in town and the Union Hall. This latter is by far the best
loved of all. It is here the men can gather around a crackling wood fire,
smoke their pipes and warm their souls with the glow of comradeship. Here
they can, between jobs or after work, discuss the vicissitudes of the