The terror of "lock-outs," of massacres done under the seal of the law,
is vividly recalled.
In 1900 the people had made a desperate effort to throw off the yoke of
the Trusts. They had failed and been made to feel the lash of their
victors. Eight years have passed, during which the Trusts have become
impregnable, the people impotent.
Trueman is in St. Louis on a flying trip. This city of two millions is
the great centre of the labor organizations.
It is Friday night, and the local headquarters is the scene of wild
excitement. It resembles nothing more closely than a camp on the eve of
battle. Leaders from all districts of the city are on hand to receive
final instructions, as in a camp they would be given ammunition, rations
and assignment of positions. The determined expression that marks the
face of a man who is set at a task which involves his entire future, is
upon every man who enters the headquarters. The fountain of their
inspiration is Trueman, who has a word for everyone. He seems to be
everywhere and to be able to do all things.
From the hour of his triumph at Chicago he has won the support of the
rural districts. Mass meetings have been held in villages, hamlets and
cross-roads in all the States. In the smaller towns the people have
likewise hailed Trueman as their deliverer. It is the good fortune of
those dwelling outside of the cities to be still in possession of the
dormant spirit of independence.
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