the shooting of henry frick by berkman

7/28/2019 The Shooting of Henry Frick by Berkman

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THESHOOTINGOFHENRYCLAY

FRICKBYALEXANDERBERKMAN

Emma Goldman

From Living My Life


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It was May 1892. News from Pittsburg announced that trouble hadbroken out between the Carnegie Steel Company and its employeesorganized in the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers. Itwas one of the biggest and most efficient labour bodies of thecountry, consisting mostly of Americans, men of decision and grit,who would assert their rights. e Carnegie Company, on the otherhand, was a powerful corporation, known as a hard master. It wasparticularly significant that Andrew Carnegie, its president, hadtemporarily turned over the entire management to the company chairman,

Henry Clay Frick, a man known for his enmity to labour. Frick was alsothe owner of extensive coke fields, where unions were prohibited andthe workers were ruled with an iron hand.

e high tariff on imported steel had greatly boomed the Americansteel industry. e Carnegie Company had practically a monopoly of it,and enjoyed unprecedented prosperity. Its largest mills were inHomestead, near Pittsburgh, where thousands of workers were employed,their tasks requiring long training and skill. Wages were arrangedbetween the company and the union, according to a sliding scale basedin the prevailing market price of steel products. e currentagreement was about to expire, and the workers presented a new wage

schedule, calling for an increase because of the higher market pricesand enlarged output of the mills.

e philanthropic Andrew Carnegie conveniently retired to his castlein Scotland, and Frick took full charge of the situation. He declaredthat henceforth the sliding scale would be abolished. e companywould make no more agreements with the Amalgamated Association; itwould itself determine the wages to be paid. In fact, he would notrecognize the union at all. He would not treat with the employeescollectively, as before. He would close the mills, and the men mightconsider themselves discharged. ereafter they would have to applyfor work individually, and the pay would be arranged with every workerseparately. Frick curtly refused the peace advances of the workers

organization, declaring that there was `nothing to arbitrate.Presently the mills were closed. `Not a strike, but a lockout, Frickannounced. It was an open declaration of war.

Far away from the scene of the impending struggle, in our littleice-cream parlour in the city of Worcester, we eagerly followeddevelopments. To us it sounded the awakening of the American worker,the long-awaited day of his resurrection. e native toiler had risen,he was beginning to feel his mighty strength, he was determined tobreak the chains that had held him in bondage for so long, we thought.Our hearts were filled with admiration for the men of Homestead.

One afternoon a customer came in for an ice-cream, while I was alone

in the store. As I set the dish down before him, I caught the largeheadlines of his paper: LATEST DEVELOPMENTS IN HOME-

Goldman begins to defend Berkman in public rallies

`Possessed by a fury, the papers said of my speech the next morning.`How long will this dangerous woman be permitted to go on? Ah, ifonly they knew how I yearned to give up my freedom, to proclaim loudlymy share in the deed- if only they knew.

Weeks passed without any indication of when Sashas trial wouldbegin. He was still kept on `Murderers Row in the Pittsburgh jail,

but the fact that Frick was improving had considerably changed Sashaslegal status. He could not be condemned to death. rough comrades inPennsylvania I learned that the law called for seven years in prisonfor his attempt. Hope entered my heart. Seven years are a long time,but Sasha was strong, he had iron perseverance, he could hold out. Iclung to this new possibility with every fibre of my being.

Goldman answers publicly one of Berkmans critics from with theanarchist camp. Most was her former teacher, suitor, and close friend.

At Mosts next lecture I sat in the first row, close to the lowplatform. My hand was on the whip under my long, grey cloak. When he

got up and faced the audience, I rose and declared in a loud voice: `Icame to demand proof of your insinuations against Alexander Berkman.

ere was instant silence. Most mumbled something about hystericalwoman, but he said nothing else. I then pulled out my whip and leapedtowards him. Repeatedly I lashed him about the face and neck, thenbroke the whip over my knee and threw the pieces at him. It was alldone so quickly that no one had time to interfere.

Living My Life is an extremely interesting and humorous book. I urgeanyone interested in the conclusion of the story to read it there. Weall know that Frick lived, and Berkman went to jail. But a finalthought from Goldman on this incident. Just before being deported from

the US in 1919, she learned of Fricks death.

During the farewell dinner given us by our friends in Chicago, on Decem-ber 2, reporters dashed in with the news of Henry Clay Fricks death.We had not heard of it before, but the newspaper men suspected that thebanquet was to celebrate the event. `Mr. Frick has just died, a blusteringreporter addressed Sasha. `What have you got to say? Deported by God,Sasha answered dryly. I added that Mr. Frick had collected his full debtfrom Alexander Berkman, but that he had died without making good hisobligations. `What do you mean? the reporters demanded. `Just this:Henry Clay Frick was a man of the passing hour. Neither in life nor indeath would he have been remembered long. It was Alexander Berkman whomade him known, and

Frick will live only in connection with Berkmans name. His entirefortune could pay not for such glory.


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had committed the act! Frick was still alive, but his wounds wereconsidered fatal. He would probably not survive the night. And Sasha -they would kill him. ey were going to kill him, I was sure of it.Was I going to let him die alone? Should I go on talking while he wasbeing butchered? I must pay the same price as he - I must stand theconsequences - I must share the responsibility!a few days later ...In feverish excitement we read the detailed story about the `assassinAlexander Berkman. He had forced his way into Fricks private office

on the heels of a Negro porter who had taken in his card. He hadimmediately opened fire, and Frick had fallen to the ground with threebullets in his body. e first to come to his aid, the paper said, washis assistant Leishman, who was in the office at the time.Working-men, engaged on a carpenter job in the building, rushed in,and one of them felled Berkman to the ground with a hammer. At firstthey had thought Frick dead. en a cry was heard from him. Berkmanhad crawled over and got near enough to strike Frick with a dagger inthe thigh. After that he was pounded into unconsciousness. He came toin the station house, but he would answer no questions. One of thedetectives grew suspicious about the appearance of Berkmans face andhe nearly broke the young mans jaw trying to open his mouth. Apeculiar capsule was found hidden there. When asked what it was,Berkman replied with defiant contempt: Candy. On examination itproved to be a dynamite cartridge. e police were sure of aconspiracy. ...

Meanwhile the daily press carried on a ferocious campaign against theanarchists. ey called for the police to act, to round up `theinstigators, Johann Most, Emma Goldman, and their ilk. My name hadrarely before been mentioned in the papers, but now it appeared everyday in the most sensational stories. e police got busy; a witch huntfor Emma Goldman began.

Soldiers occupy Homestead after the further violence. One of the

soldiers cheers Berkmans act from the ranks.

After a long, anxious wait a letter came from Sasha. He had beengreatly cheered by the stand of the militiaman, W. L. Iams, he wrote.It showed that even American soldiers were waking up. Could I not getin touch with the boy, send him some anarchist literature? He would bea valuable asset to the movement. I was not to worry about himself; hewas in fine spirits and already preparing his court speech - not as adefence, he emphasized, but in explanation of his act. Of course, hewould have no lawyer; he would represent his own case as true Russianand other European revolutionaries did. Prominent Pittsburgh attorneyshad offered their services free of charge, but he had declined. It wasinconsistent for an anarchist to employ lawyers; I should make his

attitude on this matter clear to the comrades. ..

STEAD - FAMILIESOF STRIKERS EVICTED FROM THE COMPANY HOUSES- WOMEN IN CONFINEMENTCARRIED OUT INTO STREET BY SHERIFFS. I read over themans shoulderFricks dictum to the workers: he would rather see them dead thanconcede to their demands, and he threatened to import Pinkertondetectives. e brutal bluntness of the account, the inhumanity ofFrick towards the evicted mother, inflamed my mind. Indignation swept

my whole being. ... ...

I locked up the store and ran full speed the three blocks to ourlittle flat. It was Homestead, not Russia; I knew it now. We belongedin Homestead. e boys, resting for the evening shift, sat up as Irushed into the room, newspaper clutched in my hand. `What hashappened, Emma? You look terrible! I could not speak. I handed themthe paper.

Sasha was the first on his feet. `Homestead! he exclaimed. `I mustgo to Homestead! I flung my arms around him, crying out his name. I,too, would go. We must go tonight, he said; the great moment hascome at last! Being internationalists, he added, it mattered not tous where the blow was struck by the workers; we must be with them. Wemust bring our great message and help them see that it was not onlyfor the moment that they must strike, but for all time, for a freelife, for anarchism. Russia had many heroic men and women, but who wasthere in America? Yes, we must go to Homestead, tonight!

On the way we discussed our immediate plans. First of all, we wouldprint a manifesto to the steel-workers. We would have to find somebodyto translate it into English, as we were still unable to express ourthoughts correctly in that tongue. We would have the German andEnglish texts printed in New York and take them with us to Pittsburgh.With the help of the German comrades there, meetings could be

organized for me to address. Fedya was to remain in New York tillfurther developments.

... e manifesto was written that afternoon. It was a flaming callto the men of Homestead to throw off the yoke of capitalism, to usetheir present struggle as a stepping-stone to the destruction of thewage system, and to continue towards social revolution and anarchism.

A few days after our return to New York, the news was flashed acrossthe country of the slaughter of steel-workers by Pinkertons. Frick hadfortified the Homestead mills, built a high fence around them. en,in the dead of night, a barge packed with strike-breakers, underprotection of heavily armed Pinkerton thugs, quietly stole up the

Monongahela River. e steel-men had learned of Fricks move. eystationed themselves along the shore, determined to drive back Fricks


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hirelings. When the barge got within range, the Pinkertons had openedfire, without warning, killing a number of Homestead men on the shore,among them a little boy, and wounding scores of others.

e wanton murders aroused even the daily papers. Several came out instrong editorials, severely criticizing Frick. He had gone too far; hehad added fuel to the fire in the labour ranks and would have himselfto blame for any desperate acts that might come.

We were stunned. We saw at once that the time for our manifesto hadpassed. Words had lost their meaning in the face of the innocent bloodspilled on the banks of the Monongahela. Intuitively each felt whatwas surging in the heart of the others. Sasha broke the silence.

`Frick is the responsible factor in this crime, he said; `he must bemade to stand the consequences. It was the psychological moment foran *Attentat*; the whole country was aroused, everybody wasconsidering Frick the perpetrator of a coldblooded murder. A blowaimed at Frick would re-echo in the poorest hovel, would call theattention of the whole world to the real cause behind the Homesteadstruggle. It would also strike terror in the enemys ranks and makethem realize that the proletariat of America had its avengers.

Sasha had never made bombs before, but Mosts `Science ofRevolutionary Warfare was a good textbook. He would procure dynamitefrom a comrade he knew on Staten Island. He had waited for thissublime moment to serve the Cause, to give his life for the people. Hewould go to Pittsburgh.

We will go with you! Fedya and I cried together. But Sasha wouldnot listen to it. He insisted that it was unnecessary and criminal towaste three lives on one man.

We sat down, Sasha between us, holding our hands. In a quiet and even

tone he began to unfold to us his plan. He would perfect a timeregulator for the bomb that would enable hom to kill Frick, yet savehimself. Not because he wanted to escape, No; he wanted to live longenough to justify his act in court, so that the American people mightknow that he was not a criminal, but an idealist.

I will kill Frick, Sasha said, `and of course I shall be condemnedto death. I will die proudly in the assurance that I gave my life forthe people. But I will die by my own hand, like Lingg. Never will Ipermit our enemies to kill me.

I hung on his lips. His clarity, his calmness and force, the sacredfire of his ideal, enthralled me, held me spellbound. Turning to me,

he continued in a deep voice. I was the born speaker, thepropagandist, he said. I could do a great deal for his act. I could

articulate its meaning to the workers. I could explain that he had nopersonal grievance against Frick, that as a human being Frick was noless to him than to anyone else. Frick was the symbol of wealth andpower, of the injustice and wrong of the capitalistic class, as wellas personally responsible for the shedding of the workers blood.Sashas act would be directed against Frick, not as a man, but as anenemy of labour. Surely I must see how important it was that I remainbehind to plead the meaning of his deed and its message throught thecountry.

Every word he said beat upon my brain like a sledge-hammer. elonger he talked, the more conscious I became of the terrible factthat he had no need of me in his last great hour. e realizationswept away everything else- message, Cause, duty, propaganda. Whatmeaning could these things have compared with the force that madeSasha flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood from the moment that Ihad heard his voice and felt the grip of his hand at our firstmeeting? Had our three years together shown him so little of my soulthat he could tell me calmly to go on living after he had been blownto bits or strangled to death? Is it not true love - not ordinarylove, but the love to share to the uttermost with the beloved - is itnot more compelling than aught else? ose Russians had known it,Jessie Helfmann and Sophia Perovskaya, they had gone with their men inlife and death. I could do no less.

I will go with you, Sasha, I cried; I must go with you! I knowthat as a woman I can be of help. I could gain access to Frick easierthan you. I could pave the way for your act. Besides I simply must gowith you. Do you understand Sasha?

e dialogue goes on to describe Sashas experiments in building abomb. It didnt work. Sasha leaves for Homestead. Emma stays in NewYork. Sasha needs money, and the text goes on to describe Goldmansfailed humorous attempt at prostitution to raise money to send to

Berkman. She finally succeeds in borrowing money from friends.

In the early afternoon of Saturday, July 23, Fedya rushed into myroom with a newspaper. ere it was, in large black letters: `YOUNGMAN BY THE NAME OF ALEXANDER BERKMAN SHOOTSFRICK - ASSASSINOVERPOWERED BY WORKING-MEN AFTER DESPERATESTRUGGLE.

Working-men, working-men overpowering Sasha? e paper was lying!Hedid the act for the working-men; they would never attack him.

Hurriedly we secured all the afternoon editions. Every one had adifferent description, but the main fact stood out - our brave Sasha

the shooting of henry frick by berkman

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