Girl Power: The Story of the Bread and Roses Strike

Overworked, underpaid and terribly mistreated, the women of Lawrence, Massachusetts united over ninety years ago to demand that their grievances be heard. They may have had little formal education, speaking twenty-five different languages between them, but when the chips were down, they came together and with one voice proclaimed: “We want bread, and roses, too!" Their action was to be one of the earliest victories for American workers whose attempts at unionization were traditionally met with appalling violence.

Lawrence, Massachusetts was founded in 1845 and grew rapidly into a city whose primary trade was textiles. At first, skilled workers were hired, but by 1900 new technology meant that skill was no longer needed. Factory owners advertised in Eastern Europe and the Middle East, luring immigrants, mostly women and children of Arab, Russian and East European descent, to the United States, where instead of bags of money they were met with squalor and poverty. The machinery was unsafe, killing some and maiming many. Working conditions were appalling too: the mills were unbearably hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. To make things even worse, living conditions were deplorable, with up to ten people sharing a space in company-owned tenement housing.

By 1912 men, women and children were laboring fifty-six hours each week for a paltry $6.00 a week. The owners demanded impossibly high production rates regardless of the many accidents caused by the dangerous machines. One third of the workers succumbed to tuberculosis and other such diseases before they reached the age of 25 and almost half of their children died before their sixth birthday. To compound matters, the state of Massachusetts passed a law in January 1912 that reduced the workweek by two hours. The owners responded by cutting the workers’ pay by a substantial amount and speeding up the machines to make up for the lost time. That’s when the workers, mostly women, reached their limit.

Livid because of unfair treatment, thousands of textile workers walked off the job in the town’s twelve factories and into the streets of Lawrence. Local officials, unable to handle so many outraged ladies, called in the National Guard and the state militia. In an attempt to force the workers back to the mills, the soldiers hosed them down with water in the freezing January temperatures. Their cruel actions only made the strikers more determined than ever. One bold woman wrapped herself in an American flag daring the solders to shoot holes in it.

Factory owners went so far as to hire heavies who, disguised as strikers, wreaked havoc. They broke windows, turned over trolley cars and attacked people. An eighteen-year old man was killed and a young woman, Anna LoPizzo, was shot to death.

The women received little support in their struggle from the fledgling American Federation of Labor which banned women from membership until 1918, in spite of the fact that most textile workers were female. The union condemned the strike action of the Lawrence workers, characterizing it as revolutionary and anarchistic.

The strikers, however, were undaunted and their spirit caught the attention of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), otherwise known as the Wobblies. A socialist group, the Wobblies, believed in unity and solidarity among all workers regardless of color or nationality or gender.

With over 30,000 workers speaking twenty-five different languages, the Wobblies took on the challenge in Lawrence. They brought in Joseph Ettor, who spoke six languages and was one of their more experienced labor organizers. Along with Ettor came Arturo Giovannitti, another organizer from the Italian Language Federation of the American Socialist Party. The two men established a general strike committee appointing four representatives from the fourteen largest ethnic groups involved. From there, the strikers were organized and meetings were held and translated into twenty-five different languages.

The workers made four demands: a fifteen percent wage increase; a 54-hour workweek; double pay for overtime hours and the rehiring of all strikers without prejudice. The mill owners responded by trumping up murder charges against Ettor and Giovannitti and throwing them in jail. Undaunted, the Wobblies sent in Elizabeth Gurley Flynn and Big Bill Haywood to continue working with the strikers.

Innovative and united, the women put on shows, dances and debates to raise money. When the Lawrence schools told children that their parents’ activities were “un-American,” the workers organized special strike meetings for the kids. Arrested for loitering, the textile strikers were the first to walk in a moving picket line. They formed a continuous human chain marching around the textile district all day and all night for the next two months. Some carried signs and banners eloquently proclaiming their unifying stance, an appeal not just for a living wage but for simple human dignity: “We want bread, and roses, too!”

As the strike extended into February and March, the committee collected clothing, medicine and money for the strikers. Soup kitchens were established to help feed families, but it was soon apparent that the children needed more. They needed to be cared for while their parents were on strike. This would serve two purposes: ensuring the children’s well being and allowing the strikers to fully concentrate on the business at hand.

Sympathetic strangers from other cities, who called themselves ‘Strikers’ Friends’, opened their homes indefinitely to the unfortunate children—all of whom were suffering from malnutrition. The decision to evacuate the children turned out to be a brilliant tactical move when the police physically attacked the women and their children as they waited at the station for the train that would take the children to safety. The police beat the women and dragged them away, if they called out, they would be beaten again. One pregnant woman was so badly hurt that she miscarried. With a vast crowd waiting at New York’s Grand Central Station for the evacuees, the news of the appalling violence brought the Bread and Roses Strike into both the national and international spotlight, swinging public opinion in the workers’ favor. Something had to be done.

By late February, the textile factory owners had no choice but to negotiate with a ten-member subcommittee. The two factions reached a settlement and by mid-March, 15,000 strikers held a mass meeting where they accepted a wage increases on a sliding scale (the lowest paid saw their wages jump 25%, though most got around 5%), time and a quarter pay for overtime and rehiring without discrimination.

Victorious, the women proved that race, sex and language were no barriers to unity, and that once they were united even the poorest workers could make their point and be heard. They not only enhanced living and working conditions in Lawrence, but in other textile cities as well. Fearing their workers might also rebel, mill owners all along the East coast raised pay and improved working conditions in their respective factories.

Demanding ‘bread and roses’, the indomitable spirit of the women of Lawrence earned unprecedented respect. Their action inspired James Oppenheim’s poem Bread and Roses, verses that resonate today wherever underprivileged workers struggle for their rights and reminding everyone that ladies are not just a tough lot, but a mighty force to be reckoned with.