would stop their complaints. "My man go back, I kill him!" You should see their eyes!
I went to Duquesne. Mayor Crawford, the brother of the President of the McKeesport Tin Plate Company, naturally saw the strike through steel-rimmed glasses. Jay Brown and I asked him for a permit to address the strikers.
"So you want a permit to speak in Duquesne, do you?" he grinned.
"We do that," said I, "as American citizens demanding our constitutional rights."
He laughed aloud. "Jesus Christ himself could not hold a meeting in Duquesne!" said he.
"I have no doubt of that," said I, "not while you are mayor. "You may remember, however, that He drove such men as you out of the temple!"
He laughed again. Steel makes one feel secure.
We spoke. We were arrested and taken to jail. While in my cell, a group of worthy citizens, including town officials and some preachers came to see me.
"Mother Jones," they said, "why don't you use your great gifts and your knowledge of men for something better and higher than agitating?"
"There was a man once," said I, "who had great gifts and a knowledge of men and he agi-
