Danver Steven L. (Edited). Revolts, Protests, Demonstrations, and Rebellions in American History: An Encyclopedia (ENG)
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Excerpts from Philip Wells’s Eyewitness Account
of the Massacre at Wounded Knee (1890 )
In 1890, Philip Wells, a mixed-b lood Sioux, was serving as an interpreter for the U.S. Army
during its campaign against the Sioux. In this excerpt from his later testimony taken during the
investigation into the Wounded Knee massacre, Wells describes what he witnessed of the con-
frontation between the Army and the Sioux band led by Big Foot.
I was interpreting for General Forsyth just before the battle of Wounded Knee, Decem-
ber 29, 1890. The captured Indians had been ordered to give up their arms, but Big Foot
replied that his people had no arms. Forsyth said to me, “Tell Big Foot he says the Indians
have no arms, yet yesterday they were well armed when they surrendered. He is deceiv-
ing me. Tell him he need have no fear in giving up his arms, as I wish to treat him kindly.”
Big Foot replied, “They have no guns, except such as you have found.” Forsyth declared,
“You are lying to me in return for my kindness.”
During this time a medicine man, gaudily dressed and fantastically painted, executed
the maneuvers of the ghost dance, raising and throwing dust into the air. He exclaimed
“Ha! Ha!” as he did so, meaning he was about to do something terrible, and said, “I have
lived long enough,” meaning he would fight until he died. Turning to the young warriors
who were sq uatted together, he said “Do not fear, but let your hearts be strong. Many
soldiers are about us and have many bullets, but I am assured their bullets cannot pen-
etrate us. The prairie is large, and their bullets will fly over the prairies and will not come
toward us. If they do come toward us, they will float away like dust in the air.” I turned to
Major Whitside and said, “That man is making mischief,” and repeated what he had said.
Whitside replied, “Go direct to Colonel Forsyth and tell him about it,” which I did.
Forsyth and I went to the circle of warriors where he told me to tell the medicine
man to sit down and keep quiet, but he paid no attention to the order. Forsyth repeated
the orde r. Big Foot’s brother-in-law answered, “He will sit down when he gets around
the circle.” When the medicine man came to the end of the circle, he squatted down.
A cavalry sergeant exclaimed, “There goes an Indian with a gun under his blanket!” For-
syth ordered him to take the gun from the Indian, which he did . Whitside then said to
me, “Tell the Indians it is necessary that they be searched one at a time.” The young war-
riors paid no attention to what I told them. I heard someone on my left exclaim, “Look
out! Look out!” I saw five or six young warriors cast o ff their bla nkets and pull guns
out from under them and brandish them in the air. One of the warriors shot into the sol-
diers, who were ordered to fire into the Indians. I looked in the direction of the medicine
man. He or some other medicine man approached to within three or four feet of me
with a long cheese knife, ground to a sharp point and raised to stab me. He stabbed
me during the melee and nearly cut off my nose. I held him off until I could swing my rifle
to hit him, which I did. I shot and killed him in self-defense.
Troop “K” was drawn up between the tents of the women and children and the main
body of the Indians, who had been summoned to deliver their arms. The Indians began
616 Wounded Knee I (1890)
firing into “Troop K” to gain the canyon of Wounded Knee creek. In doing so they
exposed their women and children to their own fire. Captain Wallace was killed at this
time while standing in front of his troops. A bullet, striking him in the forehead, plowed
away the top of his head. I started to pull off my nose , which was hung by the skin, but
Lieutenant Guy Preston shouted, “My God Man! Don’t do that! That can be saved.” He
then led me away from the scene of the trouble."
Source: “Reports and Correspondence Relating to the Army Investigations at Wounded
Knee and to the Sioux Campaign of 1890–91 .” Record Group 94. National Archives
and Records Administration Microfilm Publications, M983.
Wounded Knee I (1890) 617
Homestead Strike (1892–1893)
The Homestead Strike took place from June 30, 1892, until August 14, 1893, and
was a pivotal event in American trade unionism. At its height, it saw a pitched bat-
tle in the town of Homestead, Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh, between strikers from
the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers (AA) and private security
guards from Pinkertons who had been employed by the Carnegie Steel Company.
The steel plant at Homestead owed its location to th e presence nearby of coal
and iron, and also the railway lines and the accessibility of steamships, which
could come alongside on the Monongahela River. As the Homestead Steel Works,
it was bought out by the more success ful Carnegie Steel Company, wh ich then
operated it alongside their other iron and steel concerns in the region. At the time
of the strike in 1892, some 4,200 men were employed at the plant.
Since 188 1, the AA h ad been organizing a t the Pits Besse mer Steel Works at
Homestead and in other nearby steel works. This coi ncided with a clash between
the union movement and the owners and management, the latter keen to restrict
trade union activities at the plant. From January 1 until March 20, 1882, the union
at the Pits Bessemer Steel Works was involved in a bitter strike there to reject the
“yellow-dog contracts ” by which workers had to agree not to join the AA or any
other union as part of their employment contracts. Many other factories were try-
ing to enforce nonunion agreements, and these were becoming increasingly
unpopular, with some states already considering outlawing them altogether. After
79 days, the strike had led to an outright victory for the AA, with the management
agreeing not to try to introduce any more of these contracts.
Although there was often minor trouble at the steel works, another major strike
did not occur until 1889. This took place when negotiations for a new collective
bargaining agreement collapsed. A strike began on July 1, and when the company
tried to bring in strikebreakers on July 10, the strikers and their supporters forced
the strikebreakers to flee. In this instance, the sheriff tried to restore order, but he
was unsuccessful and the AA recorded another victory, albeit at a price. The intro-
duction of new technology reduced the wage rates of workers, but did ensure that
all kept their jobs. The aftermath of the two strikes ensured hosti le relationships
between the management and the union, but the AA considered itself safe
although prepared for another battle.
619
Andrew Carnegie, the owner of the Homestead Steel Works, was keen on trans-
forming the operations at Homestead and reducing the power of the union. Pub-
licly, Carnegie had spoken out in favor of the membership of trade unions, but in
June 1892 he had appointed Henry Clay Frick (1849–1919), an industrialist with
a history of confrontation with unions, who drew up a plan to break the power of
the unions. It is not known how closely Carnegie was involved i n t he plans, but
it seems certain that Frick would not have done anything that Carnegie would
oppose.
Frick’s aim was to reduce the costs of running the iron works, and this was to be
achieved by lessening the size of the workforce, but more importantly by cutting
the wages as had been happening in some other Pennsylvania companies. Carnegie
employed a total of 13,000 men in the region, and at this time, his pay rates were
certainly no lower than those of his competitors. Figures released show that
13 men at Homestead were employed at $7.50 per day, 45 men earned between
$5 and $7, some 1,677 men worked for $1.68 to $2.50 per day, and 1,633 were
paid less than $1.40 per day. Many were recently arrived immigrants from central
Europe.
The previous collective bargaining agreement between Carnegie Steel and the
workforce was set to expire at midnight on June 30, 1892, and in February, Frick
620 Homestead Strike (1892–1893)
Illustration of Homestead Steel strikers
attacking Pinkerton men, from Frank
Leslie's Illustrated Weekly, July 14, 1892.
During the Homestead Strike in July 1892,
union strikers drove the Pinkerton agents
from the plant site. State militia, however,
allowed nonunion labor, or scabs, to
enter the factory. (Library of Congress)
entered into negotiations. If he was in earnest, he was certainly also planning what
to do if no agreement was reached. The talks began with the union asking—as they
had indicated as early as January 6—for a pay raise of up to 200 percent “over the
scale,” and Frick countered by stating that he wanted to reduce the labor force and
also cut wages, initially countering with 25 percent “over the scale,” the press
quoting figures of a wage cut of as much as 22 percent. However, the wages were
based on a factor of $25 per ton, with the workers within the company getting a
smaller or larger percentage of the $25 as their pay rate. If the factor was lowered,
then the pay rates of all workers would fall. Frick’s offer was $22 per ton, which
was based, he said, on the new labor-saving machinery used at the plant. On
June 23, the AA then said that they would accept $24. Frick said that $23 was
the highest he could offer.
By June, clearly Frick was preparing for a confrontation. Indeed, Frick had been
building a strong wall around the iron work s from January, topped with barbed
wire—the place was quickly nicknamed “Fort Frick”—and also stockpiling extra
iron to sustain the company through a strike. There were also positions that could
protect snipers guarding the plant, and the possibility of the use of water cannons,
some using hot water. On April 30, Frick had announced that he would contin ue
negotiations only for 29 days, and then if no agreement was reached, he said that
Carnegie Steel would be forced into a position whereby it would no longer recog-
nize the union. Although Frick was clearly acting on instructions from Carnegie,
he covered himself by having Carnegie form ally approve this statement. By this
time, Carnegie had embarked on a holiday at Skibo in Scotland. He seemed keen
to ensure that he was well away when the trouble started. When asked by the press,
Carnegie said that he had left Frick in charge and implied that he would not be fol-
lowing events but would be leaving Frick to deal with the situation.
It was clear that no agreement would be reached by June 29, and on the evening
of June 28, the first workers were locked out of the area near the open hearth fur-
naces. On the following day, as no agreement had been agreed between Carnegie
Steel and the union, Frick ordered that the rest of the workers be locked out when
they arrived at w ork the following day. Security guards hired by Car negie Steel
were already manning newly built structures that were now doubling as sniper
towers, and measures were quickly put in place to protect the expensive machinery
at the works.
However, Frick had also, in April 1892, arranged with the Pinkerton National
Detective Agency for them to provide security guards for the works and any strike-
breakers. Pinkerton had become involved in similar tasks b efore, but they had a
company policy whereby when Pinkerton agents were used, they would be depu-
tized by the local sheriff. Robert A. Pinkerton, son of founder Allan Pinkerton,
was keen to check that this would be the situation in the impending showdown at
Homestead Strike (1892–1893) 621
Homestead. Carnegie Steel said that this would be the case, but Robert Pinkerton
wanted Carnegie Steel to agree to this in writing.
Initially, Frick had wanted Pinkerton agents to be involved without involving
the sheriff. However, as a result of Pinkertons’ insistence, Philander C. Knox, the
counsel for Carnegie, finally wrote to Robert Pinkerton and assured him that he
had spoken to the sheriff of Allegheny County, and that he had agreed that some
300 watchmen “employed through you” would be used “to guard their
[Carnegie’s] property from injury and their workmen from violence.” Based on
that assurance, Pinkerton agreed to provide the agents. With the lockout starting,
Frick began advertising for new workers in newspapers in the region, and also in
Boston and St. Louis. There were also reports of advertisements appearing in the
European press.
On June 30, the AA leadership in Homestead held a mass meeting, and claimed
that the workers had been locked out a day before the contract had expired. Picket
lines around the Homestead Steel Works were established, and these were manned
by some 4,000 people in shifts, with another 800 men held in reserve. News
quickly reached other Car negie plants at Pittsburgh, Duquesne, and Beaver Falls,
where workers walked out in sympathy actions.
The AA quickly implemented their plan to keep strikebreakers out of the
Homestead plant, and indeed, out of Homestead entirely. This involved using a
steam-powered river launch and rowboats to ensure nobody crossed the Mononga-
hela River, which flowed past the plant, as this would be the obvious way of bring-
ing in strikebreakers. Not only were large picket lines established at the steel
works, but anybody a rriving by ferry or train who could not explain why they
had come to Homestead were marched to the city limits and then told in no uncer-
tain terms not to return. Journalists were also given passes to allow them to cover
the strike, but if they wrote reports attacking the union, they were also escorted out
of town and told not to return.
On July 3, the strikers outside the factory saw puffs of steam from the plant with
a boi ler having been fired by some of the management. However, it was a false
alarm. In his ser mon to many of the strikers at the St. Mary Magdale n Church,
on 10th Avenue in Homestead, Reverend Father Bullion told the men, “Whatever
the circumstances may be, you men s hould preserve order. To keep the peace
should be your first endeavor. You must do so if you desire to retain public opinion
on your side in this fight. You will lose nothing by remaining quiet. You must obey
the laws of your God, your State, and your country. Disorder could result only in
harm to you, and I advise you, as a pastor to his people, in whose welfare he is
interested, to act prudently.”
The first move by Frick came on July 4, when he asked William H. McCleary,
the sheriff of Homestead, to enable company supervisors to enter the plant.
622 Homestead Strike (1892–1893)
On the following day, Philander Knox, the attorney acting for Carnegie, confirmed
this was company policy, and posters were put up in Homes tead warnin g strikers
not to interfere with the operations of the plant, but these were quickly torn down.
Even though the AA had promised that they would not damage any of the machi-
nery, in the previous decade many factories had been destroyed in labor disputes,
so Frick had planned on taking no risks.
Confrontation began on July 6, with plans for transporting 300 Pinkerton agents
to the plant. One group left Chicago, and the other group was brought in from New
York. They met at nearby Toledo, and from there the agents proceeded to the
Davis Island Dam, five mile s from Pittsburgh. Equipped with Winchester rifles,
the Pinkerton agents then embarked on two specially prepared barges (which had
previously been used to ferry iron rails), and then taken upriver, where the strikers
were waiting for them. Frick seems no t to have told the sheriff exactly what was
happening, and was hoping to move events along at his own pace. The Pinkerton
men were told to expect trouble—hence the rifles—but were only expecting stones
and r ocks to be thrown at them, certainly not the battle they soon had on their
hands.
The unionists had been forewarned about the arrival of the Pinkerton agents—
the AA leaders had been tipped off that the agents were on their way. The strikers
had assembled a small flotilla to try to stop the agents, also blowing the whistle at
the iron works, the prearranged warning of an attempt to break the union lines.
Soon, some 2,000 unionists were ready for a confrontation, although some
believed that the b oats approaching had strikebreakers. Some shots were fired by
the unionists, and more when the Pinkerton agents tried to land. Both sides
accused the other of firing first, with Pinkertons claiming that the first shots were
fired from the shore before they opened the boxes of rifles they had on board.
However, the New York Times reported that it was the Pinkerton men who opened
fire as eight of them came down the gangplank from the barges. As they started to
disembark, a striking mill worker, William Foy, appeared in front of them, and
they shot him dead. Straight away, the strikers returned fire and shot dead two of
the Pinkerton agents and injured the other six, who retreated back to the barge. It
was not long before Frederick Heinde, the head of the Pinkerton agents, was
injured, as William Foy’s body was taken away. Then the Pinkerton agents, with
their rifles distributed, opened fire int o a crowd of unionists and their famil ies.
Another striker was shot dead and 11 wounded. Then came volleys from the
unionists, injuring six more Pinkerton agents.
By this point, the unionists were taking cover behind a nearby pile of scrap iron
and anything else that provided protection, while the Pinkerton agents remaine d
on their barges (which had been heavily reinforced with steel plates on the inside)
and returned fire, although some of the agents later claimed that the boats were
Homestead Strike (1892–1893) 623
badly equipped for firing. There came a lull, but tension was very high as families
of strikers started building barricades and screaming abuse at the Pinkerton agents.
At 6:00 a. m., after another standoff, John Mc Lucki e , the burgess of Homest ead,
urged the local people to gather to rally and also to stop shooting at the Pinkerton
agents. By this time, the unionists had established a 20-pounder brass cannon,
which they fired at the barges with the Pinkerton agents, who at 8:00 a.m. tried
again to disembark. At this stage, both sides started firing wildly at each other
again, and many of the Pinkerton agents, newly recruited to the company, threat-
ened to leave, some keen to try thei r luck swimming away. In this shoot-out,
another Pinkerton agent was shot dead, and a raft soaked with gasoline was set
on fire and sent in the direction of the Pinkerton barges. However, it did not reach
the barges, and the fire was extinguished as it san k. There wer e also strikers who
threw dynamite at the barges, and some fireworks that had been left over from
the recent July 4 festivities. Facing another possible mutiny, the Pinkerton captains
only narrowly prevented some of their employees from trying to escape.
While this was happening, the international president of AA, William Weihe,
had asked the sheriff to arrange a meeting with Frick. Frick, however, was working
on two scenarios. One was that the Pinkerton agents would be able to make it into
the plant, and the other was that the situation would get so out of control that the
Pennsylvania governor, Robert E. Pattison, would be forced to call out t he s tate
militia. Pattison, however, did not wish to intervene unless it was absolutely neces-
sary, and he told the sheriff, McCleary, to try to get matters under control himself.
It was soon clear that the Pinkerton agents would not be able to land—they had
failed in their three attempts to disembark, and the unionists had seized every vant-
age point to shoot at them. Some of the agents suggested that they surrender. They
had plenty of food on board, and the barges had been filled with bunks and cooking
equipment in case of a long siege. However the steamer Little Bill, which had
towed the barges into position, had been forced to leave to take away some of
the injured agents, and it was not abl e to return to tow away the barges. They
hoisted a white handkerchief three times, but it was shot off each time, and the
strikers started dumping oil in the river and setting it on fire in the hope of burning
the barges.
Weihe urged that the agents be allowed to surrender, but some shouted him
down, saying “We’ll kill them like dogs!” and “They shall have no mercy.” Hugh
O’Donnell, who was the head of the union strike com mittee, having worked as a
heater in the plant, demanded that the agents be charged with murder. Eventually,
at 5:00 p.m., two Pinkerton agents, with a white flag, negotiated the surrender. The
Pinkerton agents disembarked and walked through a large crowd of unionists and
their supporters while the barges were burned. They literally “ran the gauntlet”
with people throwing stones and sand at them, one beaten unconscious. The agents
624 Homestead Strike (1892–1893)
were then taken to the local opera house, which was to double as a temporary jail
while negotiations started for their release. McCleary finally managed to g et an
agreement by which the agents would be allowed to leave by a special train, which
was sent to take them away from Homestead. Overall, three Pinkerton agents had
been killed, and another subsequently died of wounds. About 100—a third of all
the agents sent there—were badly injured. Indeed, some 28 Pinkerton agents were
too severely injured to leave on that special train, and they were taken to the West
Penn Hospital, from where they were evacuated to New York by train that night.
An inquest was held on July 6 at the West Penn Hospital into T. J. Conners, one
of the Pinkerton agents who had been killed. He was described as about 30 years
of age, and he died “from shock and exhaustion due to a gunshot wound in the
right arm which severed the femoral [sic] artery, received about 8 o’clock am
while in a model barge employed as a Pinkerton guard to guard the property of
Carnegie-Phipps and Co., Steel works, Mifflin Township, and being shot by a ball
fromanunlawfulassemblywhichhadassembledonsaidpropertytoattackthe
landing of said barges and we find said shooting was done by a party or parties
unknown with felonious intent and we recommend that said unlawful assembly
be certified to the September sessions of the Grand Jury.”
The unionists were not without their supporters. Senator John M. Palmer fr om
Illinois made a much-publicized speech at this juncture, in which he blamed
Pinkertons and said that “they were all outcasts and that it was a service to human-
ity to kill them.” Palmer, who had contested the Democratic primaries for the
presidential election, was clearly positioning himself with the union movement—
and this certainly helped his candidacy in 1896, when he stood as a candidate for
the national Democratic Party, but gained only 1 percent of the vote. However, that
was all in the future.
By this time, Governor Pattison had clearly seen that things were getting out of
hand. He had ordered the Pennsylvania National Guard to muster on July 10, but
did not want to send them into Homestead f or fear that a full-scale battle might
take place and many people might be killed. However, he felt forced to act, and
he sent the Pennsylvania state militia to the nearby Munhall railroad station on
July 12. They had been expected at another train station in Homestead where strik-
ers were waiting, and their arrival surprised the unionists, allowing the militia to
force their way into the plant. This enabled strikebreakers—a number of whom
were African Americans, adding a racial dimension to the strike—to be brought
in to start work and get the steel mill up and running again. The mill furnaces were
relit on July 15, and militiamen kept at bay unionists who tried to enter the plant to
sabotage equipment.
The AA, realizing that they were losing control of the situation, met with the
politician Whitelaw Reid, who was standing in the U.S. presidential election as
Homestead Strike (1892–1893) 625