ABSTRACT
One sensational victory came to the Women's Trade Union League at that time. That was the winning of the shirtwaist-workers' strike. I had an exciting time helping the strikers to picket, as did ma11y other members of the League. It was cold work-few of us had fur coats. I do not remember now when I managed to do this picketing, but it must have been in my luncheon-time. The treatment of the strikers was outrageous. One day we were picketing outside a factory in Waverley Place, wh~n several policemen came along and gathered at the door. I wondered why I never had seen policemen with such faces patrolling a beat. I had thought of the police largely as people who had patted my brother's golden curls when he was a baby. But these men looked different, icy cold and cynical-bad men. Very soon a young woman of about thirty came out of the factory. Her hair was too blond, her clothes were too emphatic, her eyes too blue, her manner too confident. She marched up to a little striker and said, "This is the one that hit me.'' The charge was so preposterous that we all thought it would
be laughed off by the police as a joke. No, indeed. Two of them seized the girl by the arms and dragged her off to the station. Three of us (members of the League) went along. I was terrified, so I became insolent and said: "It's quite enough for one of you to hold her. She won't hurt you.'' They made some insulting mumbling reply about minding my own business, but I suppose because my English sounded American they let go her arms and allowed her to walk to the station house between them-apparently a great concession. We all went to court as witnesses, and the League with its volunteer lawyers had a hard time keeping her off Blackwell's Island. With a great air of mercy the judge finally let her go with a fine. All of the members of the League, gathering at night, had stories like this to tell.
