American History Tellers - Coal Wars | The Battle of Blair Mountain | 4

Episode Date: January 6, 2021

The Coal Wars reached an explosive climax in August 1921, as thousands of miners furious over the death of their hero Sid Hatfield shouldered their weapons and marched south. Their destination was Mingo County, where they hoped to free their fellow miners jailed under martial law.But first, they would have to cross Blair Mountain and armed men led by Logan County’s ruthless anti-union Sheriff Don Chafin. With machine guns and private planes at his disposal, Chafin was prepared to defeat the miners at any cost. Soon, two civilian armies erupted in war, and Blair Mountain became the battleground for the largest armed uprising since the Civil War.Listen to new episodes 1 week early and to all episodes ad free with Wondery+. Join Wondery+ for exclusives, binges, early access, and ad free listening. Available in the Wondery App https://wondery.app.link/historytellers.Support us by supporting our sponsors!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's August 31st, 1921. You're clamoring up a rocky slope on the south crest of Blair Mountain, West Virginia, where you're leading a small company of fellow miners on a dawn patrol, including your two sons. Even though you're 70 years old, you still work part-time in the mines. The rest of the time, you're a pastor at your local church. But a few days ago, you traded your collar for a red bandana and blue

jeans and joined the other miners marching on Mingo County. You knew you couldn't sit on the sidelines any longer. This fight is too important. How much farther we got, Reverend? The miner next to you is young enough to be your grandson. Just keep walking and stay quiet. I can barely see a thing with all this fog. How are we supposed to know when we get there? Just keep your voice down. Come on, boys. Stay alert. To free the miners jailed in Mingo County, first you must get past Blair Mountain and the coal company goons defending it. If you fail, your cause could be lost. Shh. What was that?

You throw your hands up to stop your men from going any further. Who's there? Show yourselves. Three men in overalls emerge from the trees. They're armed with Winchester rifles. You call back over your shoulder. Anyone recognize these men? I've never seen them before. It could be one of ours.

Maybe the company that was searching the western side. Only one way to find out. Hey, fellas, you got the password? Password! You stare at the men, realization dawning on them, too. They're not ours, boys. Those are Chafin's deputies. All right, fire! All at once, the three deputies drop to the ground.

But one of your men has taken a bullet to his back as he tried to flee the gunfire. One of the deputies must have fired his weapon as he fell. Damn it! Help me lift him up! Put pressure on the wound! We've got to get back down the ridge before it's too late. The others hoist up the injured miner and he rushed back down through the trees. Suddenly, the odds of getting across Blair Mountain seem more unlikely than ever. And the miners march on Mingo County, maybe stopped for good. With Audible, there's more to imagine when you listen.

Whether you listen to stories, motivation, expert advice, any genre you love, you can be inspired to imagine new worlds, new possibilities, new ways of thinking. And Audible makes it easy to be inspired and entertained as a part of your everyday routine without needing to set aside extra time. As an Audible member, you choose one title a month to keep from their ever-growing catalog. Explore themes of friendship, loss, and hope with remarkably bright creatures by Shelby Van Pelt. Find what piques your imagination. Sign up for a free 30-day Audible trial, and your first audiobook is free.

Visit audible.ca to sign up. Kill List is a true story of how I ended up in a race against time to warn those whose lives were in danger. Follow Kill List wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers.

Our history, your story. In August 1921, a company of miners confronted sheriff's deputies on West Virginia's Blair Mountain. A deadly shootout erupted, becoming the first clash in a pitched battle between two civilian armies. For several days, 10,000 coal miners marched south, determined to free Union men imprisoned under martial law and end the iron-fisted rule of Logan County Sheriff Don Chafin. Their march became America's biggest labor uprising and the largest armed insurrection since the Civil War. For decades, the companies and their allies in government

had denied the miners their First Amendment rights to organize under a Union. Many had fought for freedom and justice abroad in World War I, only to come home to a state where democracy seemed deeply broken. The miners knew that gains like better wages and working conditions would not be possible until their constitutional right to join a union was guaranteed. And so the miners shouldered their rifles to battle the forces that had oppressed them for so long. It was the culmination of the Coal Wars, and the miners long struggled to reclaim their rights as American citizens. This is Episode 4, The Battle of Blair Mountain.

On August 25, 1921, 10,000 armed coal miners in central West Virginia began marching south on Blair Mountain. Soon, they would face a legion of 3,000 sheriff's deputies, state police, and civilian volunteers commanded by Logan County Sheriff Don Chafin. Chafin was in the pocket of the coal companies and known as a ruthless defender of the industry. The workers considered him a bitter enemy. The miners were determined to make their way into Mingo County to release the prisoners held there under martial law. In the three months since the governor had imposed martial law, scores of miners had been locked up and held without any formal charges and no hope of a jury trial. Their only crime was trying to unionize the coal fields.

Blair Mountain became the final battleground for the miners' long fight against the coal companies. On the steep, heavily wooded slopes and rocky terrain of this 2,000-foot ridge, years of conflict would finally come to a head. But as the miners moved south, Governor Ephraim Morgan grew more and more alarmed. The prospect of thousands of armed workers openly challenging the state's authority was a threat he could not tolerate. He begged President Warren Harding to provide federal support, asking for 1,000 U.S. troops as well as military aircraft. But Harding was reluctant to take the drastic step of deploying the U.S. Army to West Virginia. He preferred to leave the crisis in the hands of state police. So instead, Harding ordered Army Brigadier General Harry Bandholz to Charleston to diffuse tensions and broker a peace.

Bandholz was a hero of the Spanish-American War and World War I. Many of the miners were veterans, too, and Harding hoped Bandholz's military credentials would help him convince the miners to go home. Before dawn on August 27, Bandholz arrived at the governor's office in Charleston to meet with District 17 Union leaders Frank Keeney and Fred Mooney. Bandholz was candid and direct, telling the leaders, you two are the officers of this organization and these are your people. He snapped his fingers in Mooney's face, warning him, if you cannot turn them back, we're going to snuff this out just like that. That same day, the War Department sent another military hero to the Charleston area. Brigadier General Billy Mitchell arrived with three warplanes. They were a precautionary measure in case authorities needed to conduct air operations, but the show of strength was

unmistakable. Mitchell had commanded U.S. air combat units in France. Now he was eager to drum up support for developing the nation's air force. He hoped the conflict in West Virginia would be a test case, helping him prove how air power could end conflicts. Mitchell told reporters, you understand we wouldn't try to kill these people at first. We'll drop tear gas all over the place. If they refused to disperse, then we'd open up with artillery. Mooney and Keeney agreed to try to stop the march, and Banholz accompanied the pair to Madison, a town 30 miles south of Charleston. There, they hoped to catch up with the miners heading toward Blair Mountain.

Keeney called a mass meeting that would take place at a local baseball field. That afternoon, he stood on a baseball diamond in the sweltering heat before a crowd of thousands of miners. He implored them to go home, insisting that as much as he would stand by them in a battle against Don Chafin and his thugs, the danger of marching was too great, the forces they

faced too powerful. He warned the crowd, You can fight the government of West Virginia, but by God, you can't fight the government of the United States. Keeney's words hit their mark. After some debate, the miners took a vote and agreed to stand down. Keeney told them special trains would arrive to take them home. Certain that he'd convinced the miners to abandon their plans,

he and Mooney went home to Charleston. But that night, Sheriff Chafin sent his men to raid the town of Sharples, just north of Blair Mountain, and arrest men who had harassed his deputies two weeks earlier. A gun battle erupted, and two Union men were shot dead. Any hope of turning the miners back quickly vanished. When news of the raid reached the miners, false rumors spread like wildfire that women and children were caught in the crossfire. The miners were furious and they quickly resumed their advance. They planned to seize the town of Logan, kill Don Chafin, and finally descend on Mingo County so they could free the men in jail under martial law. But first, they would have to storm Blair Mountain,

the ridge that formed a protective barrier around Logan. Many miners knew the dire odds they faced, but they felt they had nowhere else to turn. The companies controlled every facet of their lives. While they were working, the companies controlled every facet of their lives. And while they were on strike, families in the southern coal camps had barely survived, living in makeshift tent camps with children dying of pneumonia. They were desperate and angry, and they were determined to take a stand with their fellow miners. So despite Keeney's warnings, the miners pressed ahead, commandeering trains, trucks, and cars, making their way south.

They looted coal company stores, seizing guns, ammunition, and supplies. They even managed to steal two machine guns. While they marched, many adapted an old hymn into a protest song, singing, Frank Keeney's our captain, and we shall not be moved. By Monday, August 29th, the miners neared Blair Mountain and set up camp in the town near the mountain's base. Chafin's 3,000-man army was far outnumbered, but they had the tactical advantage. They wielded more advanced weaponry and had a better defensive position high up on the mountain's crest, where they dug trenches, felled trees, and installed machine guns. Fearing the looming showdown, Governor Morgan once again wired President Harding for help. This time, Harding felt he had to act. On Tuesday, August 30, Harding issued a proclamation

ordering the miners to disperse by noon on September 1. He sent General Bandholz back to Charleston, ordering him to mobilize federal troops against the miners if they disobeyed. But the miners would not be stopped. Their general was Bill Blizzard, a 28-year-old former miner with natural leadership abilities. He commanded the miners' loyalty, though Fred Mooney thought he was hot-headed and at times irresponsible. That night, Blizzard sent two patrols up the mountain. One was led by a Baptist minister and part-time miner named James E. Wilburn. The raid at Sharples had lit a fire in him. Wilburn told his friends, the time has come for me to lay down my Bible and pick up

my rifle and fight for my rights. Early the next morning, Wilburn's company ran into a group of men in civilian clothes who were deputies in Chafin's army. They asked them the secret password. When the deputies gave the wrong answer, they realized they were enemies and the two companies started shooting. Three of Chafin's deputies and one miner were killed. The Battle of Blair Mountain had begun. Late that night, a group of miners arrived at Fred Mooney's home, 50 miles to the north of Charleston. They urged him and Frank Keeney to clear out and

stay out for their own safety. Mooney rushed to Keeney's house to decide on a plan. The pair were already considering fleeing the area. They had just learned that a grand jury in Mingo County had indicted them for allegedly committing violence during the three-days battle the previous summer. They feared that if they surrendered themselves, they would meet the same grisly end as Sheriff Hatfield, who just a month earlier had been gunned down on the courthouse steps by coal company hired men. Keeney and Mooney decided that fleeing the area would be their best chance of survival. So just after midnight, they got in a car and drove to Ohio. Keeney left behind his seven children and his wife, Bessie, her sole defense, the revolver he had her keep under her pillow.

Back on Blair Mountain, the two armies were locked in fierce fighting across a 25-mile front of dense wooded ridgeline. Gunfire echoed through the area as miners and their allies tried repeatedly to break through Chafin's defenses. They made little progress. Each time the miners tried to inch up the mountain, they were repelled by machine gun fire. Chafin was determined to use every weapon at his disposal in defending the mountain.

He'd rented two biplanes from a local airport and equipped them with makeshift pipe bombs. Now he sent the planes swooping down over the miners as they fought their way up the mountainside. Explosions echoed for miles as the planes dropped pipe bombs and tear gas over the mountain. Though all the planes missed their targets, it was nevertheless a shocking use of force. Never before had law enforcement subjugated American civilians to an aerial bombing. That same day, General Bandholz sent two Army officers to the marchers' camp to try to convince them to stand down, but the miners refused. Federal troops had so far stayed out of the fighting, and Bandholz had hoped to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.

But by now, he had seen enough. Early in the morning of September 2nd, Bandholz wired President Harding and requested that U.S. Army troops be sent to Blair Mountain without delay. The Secretary of War responded by ordering 2,100 federal infantrymen to West Virginia. It was the largest peacetime deployment since 1890, when the army mobilized against the Lakota Sioux Indians at Wounded Knee. But even as word spread through the miners' ranks that the army was on its way, the battle continued to rage. Imagine it's September 3rd, 1921. You're a veteran war correspondent for the New York Tribune. A few years ago, you were reporting on the war in France. You never expected to see warfare like that in your own country. You and three other reporters have just arrived at the base of Blair Mountain

to document the civil war unfolding in this mountain wilderness. You would have progressed closer to the fighting, but moments ago your car got stuck in the mud. All right, come on, we'll continue on foot. I swear I've never seen such primitive roads. You and the others began to scramble up the steep, slick mountainside. Suddenly, without warning, a volley of bullets rains down on you. Get down! You all throw yourselves to the ground as you search for the source of the gunshots. We're unarmed! Unarmed! Finally,

your assailant emerges from behind a tree and starts moving towards you down the ridge. He calls out to you. Arms up! You raise your hands and slowly climb to your feet, wincing in pain. Looking down, you realize you've been shot in your right calf. The bullet has come clean out the other side. Another bullet has grazed your scalp and a trickle of blood is dripping down your face. As the man approaches, you catch sight of his uniform. It dawns on you that he's a state police officer, and several more are following him

down the slope. You men minors? No, we're reporters. I swear. We're here to cover the conflict. The policeman ignores you. Call headquarters and let them know we've got more rednecks. We're journalists from New York and Washington. Here, let me prove it to you. You pull out your press badge and hand it to the officer. I see. Well, with times as they are, you gotta shoot first and ask questions later. Let's go, boys. He hands your badge back to you. As they disappear into the brush, you search the faces of your fellow reporters. All of you look unnerved by the brutal world you've just entered. One of your colleagues is bleeding too, where a bullet grazed her forehead.

You begin tearing your shirt to make bandages for you and her, and wipe your face over the trickling blood. How many more casualties will there be before all this is over? You can't help wondering whether the U.S. Army will put a stop to the fighting, or just inflame it. On September 3rd, reporter Boyden Sparks had just arrived on Blair Mountain when he came under fire by state policemen. He recovered, but his injuries made him one of the last casualties of the Battle of Blair Mountain. That same day, the first Federal troops began arriving in the towns surrounding the ridge. The miners' leader, Bill Blizzard, passed word through the ranks that it was time to turn back home.

The miners had battled private mine guards and state police, but once the U.S. Army joined the battle, they knew they were outmatched. Soon, most miners surrendered to the soldiers, but only a few gave up their arms. After hearing that Chafin's men would not be disarmed, most hid their weapons in the trees. By September 4th, silence had fallen over Blair Mountain. A local newspaper declared, The orgy of blood is at an end. The federal troops are in control. At least 20 people had died in the week-long battle.

The miners had failed to defeat Chafin or topple the martial law regime in Mingo. Scores of miners were still held in Mingo County Jail, but with so many of them veterans themselves, they held out hope that the U.S. Army would liberate them from the coal companies and the state and local law enforcement that backed them. The miners saw themselves as patriots, but soon they would discover that the state viewed them as something else entirely. In the eyes of the law, they were traitors. Who created that bottle of red sriracha with a green top that's permanently living in your fridge? Did you know that the Air Jordans were initially banned by the NBA? We'll explore all that and more in The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast from Wondery and T-Boy.

This is Nick. This is Jack. And we've covered over a thousand episodes of pop business news stories on our daily podcast. We've identified the most viral products of all time. And they're wild origin stories that you had no idea about. From the Levi's 501 jeans to Legos. Come for the products you're obsessed with. Stay for the business insights that are going to blow up your group chat. Jack, Nintendo, Super Mario Brothers, best-selling video game of all time. How'd they do it? Nintendo

never fires anyone, ever. Follow The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to The Best Idea Yet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. I'm Tristan Redman, and as a journalist, I've never believed in ghosts. But when I discovered that my wife's great-grandmother was murdered in the house next door to where I grew up, I started wondering about the inexplicable things that happened in my childhood bedroom. When I tried to find out more, I discovered that someone who slept in my room after me, someone I'd never met, was visited by the ghost of a faceless woman. So I started digging into the murder in my wife's family, and I unearthed family secrets nobody could have imagined. Ghost Story won Best Documentary Podcast at the 2024 Ambies and is a Best True Crime nominee at the British

Podcast Awards 2024. Ghost Story is now the first ever Apple Podcast Series Essential. Each month, Apple Podcast editors spotlight one series that has captivated listeners with masterful storytelling, creative excellence, and a unique creative voice and vision. To recognize Ghost Story being chosen as the first series essential, Wondery has made it ad-free for a limited time, only on Apple Podcasts. If you haven't listened yet, head over to Apple Podcasts to hear for yourself. Once the US Army restored peace on Blair Mountain, the federal government backed away, leaving West Virginia officials to handle arrests. In the days after the battle, deputy sheriffs descended on the coal camps, rounding up hundreds of suspects and locking them up in the Logan County Jailhouse.

Union President John L. Lewis threw his support behind the miners and their leaders. He arranged funding for defense attorneys, and he wired Governor Morgan directly to secure his promise that no harm would come to Frank Keeney and Fred Mooney. After Lewis received guarantees of their safety, the pair emerged from their Ohio hideout and returned to West Virginia to surrender to authorities. Labor leaders and civil liberties organizations championed the miners. The ACLU blamed the violence squarely on the denial of civil rights by the coal operators and the authorities under their sway. But the miners were up against powerful forces. The coal operators had spent a decade trying to cast the Union men as lawless criminals bent on overthrowing the state, and with the Battle of Blair Mountain, they felt they finally had their proof. They tried to tie the miners' revolt to

the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, blaming the conflict on socialist agitators. The companies had an ally in Governor Morgan, who resolved to teach the miners a lesson. Morgan wanted the U.S. Attorney General to prosecute the miners for launching a rebellion against the federal government. But President Harding refused. He did not want the spectacle of a federal case exposing the close ties between his fellow Republican politicians and the coal operators. The prosecution of the miners would have to be left to West Virginia courts. Soon, special grand juries handed down more than 1,200 indictments against the marchers, including more than 300 for murder and two dozen for treason against the state.

The indictments accused the marchers of forming an army to wage war against the state of West Virginia. If convicted, the miners could face long prison sentences or even execution. No charges were filed against Chafin or his men. While few denied that the miners had committed violence, to many critics the charges of treason seemed overblown. A New York Times editorial said the indictments had been thrown about as carelessly as if they were indictments for the larceny of a chicken. Some journalists, pointing to the fact that the coal companies were financing the prosecution, speculated the trials were simply an attempt to bankrupt the union. Keeney and Mooney were among the two dozen charged with treason, but their absence during the battle presented a hurdle for the prosecution.

So instead, the state focused its wrath on Bill Blizzard, the commander of the miners' army. In April 1922, Blizzard's trial began in Charlestown, West Virginia. The prosecution was handled not by district attorneys, but by lawyers hired by the coal operators. They set out to portray Blizzard as the mastermind of an army insurrection against the state government. But the prosecution faced an uphill battle trying to paint Blizzard as a traitor. The presiding judge reminded the jury that an act of violence

was only treasonous if its purpose was to undermine the government. The West Virginia state constitution narrowly defined treason as levying war against the state. The defense argued that the miners' fight was not with the state government, but with the corrupt coal companies and Logan County authorities. The defense attorneys reminded the miners' fight was not with the state government, but with the corrupt coal companies and Logan County authorities. The defense attorneys reminded the jury that rather than trying to overthrow the government, the miners had repeatedly appealed to Governor Morgan to intervene with a peaceful solution. Meanwhile, the prosecution relied on witnesses who said that Blizzard was in command of the marchers. But the defense easily poked holes in their testimony during cross-examination.

One witness said he'd never heard the miners planning to overthrow the government. They'd simply declared that they wanted to get the Logan County thugs and protect the women and children. On May 25, 1922, the jury delivered a verdict of not guilty. Outside the courthouse, the miners threw their hats in the air in celebration and carried Blizzard through town on their shoulders. Later that day, he rode through the state cap celebration and carried Blizzard through town on their shoulders. Later that day, he rode through the state capitol in a parade complete with a brass band. Only one miner was convicted of treason, but he fled his bail and was never captured. The state ultimately dropped all other treason charges.

They also dropped the murder charge against Mooney stemming from the three days' battle. Keeney's murder trial went forward, but he was acquitted. But these defeats did not dampen the prosecution's desire to get a conviction. They built an airtight case against Reverend John Wilburn and his sons, the men who fired the first shots of the battle. Charged with the three deaths of Logan County deputies, they were soon convicted and sentenced to 11-year prison terms. Beyond West Virginia, the treason trial set off a firestorm of criticism. The ACLU called on federal prosecutors to investigate state and county officials for abridging the coal miners' constitutional rights to join a union. The nation's press depicted West Virginia as a failed state

where the rule of law had long been undermined by the coal companies that controlled the government. The New York Herald declared, Government in West Virginia had broken down, and its power had passed in part to the mine operators. Another columnist went even further, insisting that treason was not possible in West Virginia because no government existed there. But in response, the coal companies doubled down on their attempts to paint union men as dangerous radicals undermining American values. They launched a far-reaching campaign to tarnish the reputation of the United Mine Workers, marking its members as outsiders from American society.

Imagine it's January 1923. You work for the coal operators who run the American Constitutional Association, an organization devoted to promoting the mining industry. It's your job to spread pro-business ideas in West Virginia. You've decided it's time to take your campaign to the schools. Today, you're in Charleston, meeting with an official for the state school board. Come in. Good afternoon. Is this still a good time? The older man gestures for you to take a seat.

Yeah, sure, sure. You're the man from the ACA? That's right. You pull up a chair and smooth down the creases in your shirt. Not that it needs it. Your clothes are always stiffly starched. Well, what can I do for you today? Well, sir, it's about the mine war. The man narrows his gaze. The mine war? Nasty business. What about it? Can't say I

heard of any schoolchildren picking up rifles and heading for Blair Mountain. You raise an eyebrow at his jest. But in your opinion, this is no laughing matter. Those Union men, they're nothing but radicals and Bolsheviks. We need to make sure we're inculcating proper American values, starting with respect for law and order. Law and order, huh? How do you propose we do that? You pull a pamphlet out of your briefcase and place it on the desk. Life in a West Virginia Coalfield. Life in a West Virginia Coalfield. What's this? It's my unbiased study about life in the company towns. I think you'll find they're better than almost any community in the state. What are you proposing I do with this? Distribute it in the schools. We need to counteract these

notions from outside agitators about the coal industry. Well, you're right about no good outside agitators stirring up trouble. But I don't see why we have to involve the schools. Sir, the violence down south has made West Virginia the laughingstock of America. Well, that might be true. You should hear the cracks my in-laws make about our state. Exactly. That's not who we are. I'm trying to change things. We need to ensure an obedient workforce, and to do that, we must start early.

We must begin with our youngest citizens. Well, you may have a point. There's no reason children need to hear about all this violence and radicalism. Certainly not in the classroom. You're right again, sir. Minors' acts of violence are nothing to be celebrated in the classroom. Child's mind doesn't need to be poisoned by such radicalism. You smile, hopeful about a future with a more orderly, pro-business citizenry,

knowing that it all starts with teaching the right values to West Virginia's youngest. In the aftermath of the mine wars, the West Virginia coal operators launched a sweeping effort to shape public perception about the miners' revolt and demonize labor activists. They founded a new organization, the American Constitutional Association, to defend their industry and attack the miners' union. During the treason trials in the spring of 1922, the ACA hired the nation's most popular evangelist, Billy Sunday, to travel through southern West Virginia preaching against the coal miners. Sunday called them human buzzards, insisting that he would rather be in hell than

on earth with such human lice. The ACA also published a newsletter, The American Citizen, promoting a so-called doctrine of law and order and Americanism. They tacked propaganda on bulletin boards and mines and factories. They also took their campaign to West Virginia's public schools, with efforts to whitewash the mine wars and the history of labor organizing in the state. In 1931, the ACA produced a state history textbook that made no mention of the mine wars or labor conflicts. It would remain the primary West Virginia history textbook for made no mention of the mine wars or labor conflicts. It would remain the primary West Virginia history textbook for the next 40 years. The failed March on Mingo and

the treason trials that followed cast a long shadow over the Union's goals in West Virginia. The cost of supporting the strike and the subsequent legal battles had drained the District 17 Treasury. Making matters worse, the union was struggling on a national level. The coal industry had overexpanded during World War I. So by 1922, there were too many mines and not enough demand for coal in the post-war economy, especially with the rising use of oil and electrical power. President John L. Lewis was able to push through an agreement with major coal companies, maintaining current wage scales. But in West Virginia, the unionized operators insisted the deal wouldn't let them stay competitive.

They told Keeney and Mooney that they would defect from the union unless Lewis made an exception, allowing them to pay their workers lower wages. Determined to keep the union in their state, Keeney and Mooney appealed to Lewis to allow West Virginia miners a different pay scale. Lewis had supported them in their darkest hours, defending them during the armed march and trials that followed. But above all else, Lewis was committed to protecting the union and its hard-fought gains. His motto was no backward step, and he was not about to let West Virginia undercut miners' wages in the rest of the country. So Lewis refused Keeney and Mooney, and he took their readiness to give in as a sign that District 17 needed new leadership. He pressured the pair into submitting their resignations. After a decade of organizing,

Keeney and Mooney were forced out of the union that had become the cause of their lives. Predictably, one by one, West Virginia coal operators defected from the union. Soon, union organizers disappeared from the coal fields. By the end of the decade, union membership in West Virginia had plummeted from 50,000 in 1920 to just 600. Meanwhile, the operators initiated new reforms to secure their employees' loyalty, including improving living conditions in the mining towns. When all was said and done, the two-year mine war in southern West Virginia ended in a major victory for the coal operators.

By the end of the decade, the onset of the Great Depression would make conditions even harder for the coal industry and the men who powered it. But there were also signs of hope. Soon, the economic turmoil would put a spotlight on the plight of America's workers once again, bringing new calls for change. For more than two centuries, the White House has been the stage for some of the most dramatic scenes in American history. Inspired by the hit podcast American History Tellers, Wondery and William Morrow present the new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, the world-altering decisions, and shocking scandals that have shaped our nation. You'll be there when the very foundations of the White House are laid in 1792,

and you'll watch as the British burn it down in 1814. Then you'll hear the intimate conversations between FDR and Winston Churchill as they make plans to defeat Nazi forces in 1941. And you'll be in the Situation Room when President Barack Obama approves the raid to bring down the most infamous terrorist in American history. Order The Hidden History of the White House now in hardcover or digital edition wherever you get your books. In November 1991, media tycoon Robert Maxwell mysteriously vanished from his luxury yacht in the Canary Islands. But it wasn't just his body that would come to the surface in the days that followed. It soon emerged that Robert's business was on the brink of collapse, and behind his facade of wealth and success was a litany of bad investments, mounting debt, and multi-million dollar fraud.

Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery Show Business Movers. We tell the true stories of business leaders who risked it all, the critical moments that define their journey, and the ideas that transform the way we live our lives. In our latest series, a young refugee fleeing the Nazis arrives in Britain determined to make something of his life. Taking the name Robert Maxwell, he builds a publishing and newspaper empire that spans the globe. But ambition eventually curdles into desperation, and Robert's determination to succeed turns into a willingness to do anything to get

ahead. Follow Business Movers wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. The stock market crash of 1929 hit industries across the nation, but it decimated the already struggling coal industry in Appalachia. The miners of West Virginia slid into desperate poverty. Conditions in the coal fields had never been worse. Families lived on the edge of starvation, and widespread malnutrition bred disease. As the Great Depression ravaged the coal fields, the United Mine Workers had almost vanished from West Virginia.

Banished from leadership of District 17 and blacklisted from the mines, Frank Keeney labored on, launching a series of failed businesses. But he never lost his firm belief in the power of union organizing and class solidarity. By the winter of 1931, more than 100,000 West Virginia coal miners were out of work. Keeney decided it was time to come back into the fray. He founded a union of his own, the West Virginia Mine Workers Union, and launched a new organizing drive. He centered his fight on the Kanawha Valley,

in the same coal fields where he first became a community leader nearly 20 years earlier. Within six months, the new union had recruited 23,000 miners. In July, Keeney led them in a strike against the coal operators. But the coal company still held immense power. After a familiar pattern of evictions, forced hunger, and violence, the strike ended in bitter defeat. The miners had never faced such grim conditions, and still, they were denied their freedom to organize. But it wasn't just West Virginians who were struggling. By 1932, a quarter of all Americans were unemployed. Despite this, pro-business President Herbert Hoover vetoed a federal relief bill, insisting that a balanced budget would do more to put the economy back on track than handouts would. America's workers were fed up. Thousands took to the streets to demand relief, and support for organized labor grew in Washington.

Nebraska Senator George Norris decided to make the plight of coal miners his personal cause. Though he was from an agricultural state, Norris had traveled through Pennsylvania coal country and was shocked by the conditions he witnessed there. He sought a sweeping transformation of American labor law, introducing legislation to end the practice of court injunctions against striking workers. In March of 1932, Congress passed the Norris-LaGuardia Act. Beyond banning injunctions against workers, it outlawed so-called Yellow Dog contracts, agreements companies use to keep their employees out of the union. It was a stunning victory for the labor movement. But there was still little change on the ground. Unions across the country were too brittle and broken to take

advantage of the new legal protections. It wasn't until the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt a year later that organized labor would finally get its shot at meaningful, lasting change. Labor leaders, including John L. Lewis, tirelessly lobbied the new president for federal support for America's workers. Their efforts paid off in June 1933 when Congress passed the National Industrial Recovery Act. The law was a central part of Roosevelt's New Deal and it guaranteed workers their right to organize and join unions. It also banned blacklists and private security forces like the Baldwin-Felts Agency. No longer would American workers be denied their First Amendment rights.

The official newspaper of the United Mine Workers trumpeted the legislative victory with a headline declaring, The old order changeth. The new day is at hand. Labor is being emancipated. The miners of West Virginia had finally won the freedom that they had spent decades fighting for. And soon, the United Mine Workers would sweep through the West Virginia coal fields with a massive organizing drive. Imagine it's a sweltering day in June 1933. You're a veteran United Mine Workers organizer, and you're driving into a coal camp near Merrimack, West Virginia,

spreading the news that the Union is coming back. It's been nearly 13 years since you were in these parts. You never imagined things could get worse than they were during the mine war. But the tents look even more ragged now than then. And just ahead of you, skinny children in tattered clothes kick up dust as they run around barefoot. You spot a woman washing out a pot and walk toward her. Afternoon, ma'am. As you walk closer, you get a good look at the bags under her eyes and her threadbare dress. She stares at you warily. Hello. Could I spare a

moment of your time? I'm hoping to talk to the miners of this camp. Is your husband around? She looks down and focuses on her task at hand, shaking her head. My husband's dead. My son's a miner, though. He was 17 last week. Oh, is that so? Well, then he's the man I'm looking for. Tell him to get ready to take the oath of solidarity. The union is coming back. The woman widens her gaze. The union?

You must be kidding me. How many times have you failed? My son won't join any union. Not now. Times are too hard to think about strikes. We have to face it. The company's won. They won a long time ago. We have to face it. The companies won. They won a long time ago.

No, things have changed, ma'am. The president is on our side. What are you talking about? Here, here. The folks in Washington have passed a new law protecting workers' rights to organize. You hand her a copy of a newspaper with an article about the Recovery Act. She glances at it and sighs. I'll believe it when I see it. It wasn't long ago that my husband was beaten by mine guards and thrown in jail for

joining you all. I won't forget it. But don't you see, there won't be any mine guards any longer. And they can't arrest your son for simply joining the Union anymore. I know a lot of blood was spilled here back in 20. It won't be like that anymore, I promise you. Just have your son come to a meeting tonight. I'll give you my word there will not be any trouble. Well, I can talk to him. You smile at her. It's no small thing asking these people to throw their lot behind the union once again. But you're certain that this time it will be different. This time the union has been given a fair shot. With the New Deal protecting workers' rights to join unions, the United Mine Workers launched a new effort in West Virginia, its most prized goal. One union activist declared,

All the demons in hell can't keep us from organizing Logan County now. Organizers rode into the remote coal camps with loudspeakers, announcing, the president wants you to join the union. Soon, both veterans of the mine wars and new recruits flocked to the union in droves. In towns where not long before deadly battles had raged between mine guards and strikers, the union now faced little resistance from the operators. The companies no longer had any legal means of fighting the union. And union membership translated into practical gains. Union officials negotiated with local mine operators to establish a 40-hour workweek and a higher pay scale. They also lobbied state authorities, pushing them to hire more mining inspectors. Over the next six years, deaths in

the mines dropped nearly one-third. The Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency disappeared from the coal fields, and the state ordered county sheriffs to disarm any deputies paid for by the coal companies. Union men, once branded as traitors and socialists, were now seen as patriots. By the end of 1934, the Union had brought nearly every West Virginia miner into the fold. But Frank Keeney was not one of them. Since forcing him out, Union officials had vilified Keeney as a violent rabble-rouser who had betrayed and bankrupt the Union. Keeney never found another professional calling. He ran a nightclub for a few years and worked as a parking lot attendant. His family life also suffered. He had neglected

his seven children while fighting the mine wars, and his wife Bessie left him after she discovered Keeney had an affair with another woman. Both his family and the union moved on without him, and Keeney faded into obscurity. But the veterans of the mine wars never forgot the man who fought so tirelessly for their rights. When Keeney died at age 88, his relatives were stunned to see dozens of elderly former miners attend his funeral and share their war stories. One grizzled miner with a peg leg told Keeney's grandson, We killed men for him. The miners' desperate, bloody battles against mine guards and sheriffs had failed to bring the Union victory.

But the mine wars fostered a spirit of solidarity and resistance that would endure for generations. In the years to come, millions of workers across the country would turn to the power of collective action, the ongoing fight for dignity, economic opportunity, and justice under the law. From Wondering, this is Episode 4 of The Coal Wars from American History Tellers. On the next episode, we're joined by historian Charles Keeney, founder of the West Virginia Mine Wars Museum and great-grandson of labor organizer Frank Keeney. He'll share how his family kept their connection to his great-grandfather a secret and how the history of the mine wars remains hotly contested to this day. If you like American History Tellers,

you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Molly Bach. Sound design by Derek Behrens.

This episode is written by Ellie Stanton. Edited by Dorian Marina. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marsha Louis. Created by Hernan Lopez for Wondery. Wondery. Now streaming. Welcome to Buy It Now, the show where

aspiring entrepreneurs get the opportunity of a lifetime. I wouldn't be chasing it if I didn't believe that the world needs this product. In each episode,

the entrepreneurs get 90 seconds to pitch to an audience of potential customers. This is match point, baby. If the audience liked the product, they pitched them in front of our panel of experts, Gwyneth Paltrow,

Anthony Anderson, Tabitha Brown, Tony Hawk, Christian Siriano. These panelists are looking for entrepreneurs whose ideas best fit the criteria of the four Ps, pitch, product, popularity, and problem-solving ability.

I'm going to give you a yes. I want to see it. If our panelists like the product, it goes into the Amazon Buy It Now store. You are the embodiment of what an American entrepreneur is. Oh, my God. Are we excited for this moment? Ah! I cannot believe it.

Woo! Buy it now. Stream free on Freeview and Prime Video.