Chapter 133
6 tons
Chapter 133 Sixteen Tons
As the thin wooden coffin was completely buried by the frozen earth, the snow fell even harder in Scranton.
After expressing their awkward but sincere gratitude to Arthur, the miners hunched back and retreated to the cold, drafty tents behind the church.
They knew in their hearts that the removal of Pinkerton's thugs was only temporary.
As long as those dollar-denominated debt bills remain in the hands of the banks, and as long as the court's eviction order is not revoked, even greater retaliation could befall them at any time.
Arthur did not immediately go into the church to warm up.
He walked around the tent area alone.
He saw children shivering beside a fire surrounded by scraps of tin, and women who were pale and emaciated from long-term malnutrition and overwork.
Arthur took out several hundred dollars in cash from his coat pocket and handed it all to Father Els, instructing him to immediately go to the black market or a nearby farm where he could still buy things to purchase life-saving high-calorie food and blankets.
But that's not enough.
Arthur knew better than anyone that these hundreds or even thousands of dollars in aid were just a drop in the ocean for this massive and well-functioning machine of exploitation.
He had just used physical means to drive away a group of thugs, but that only saved his mother's coffin. It didn't change the fact that the town had been completely crushed by monopolistic capital.
He needs to use his most proficient weapon to expose to the entire United States this cannibalistic system hidden behind the facade of prosperity.
Arthur walked up to the pickup truck, took a portable Remington typewriter from the passenger seat, and placed it on the hood.
The cold wind cut his cheeks like a knife, and his hands were frozen red and stiff.
But Arthur felt his blood boiling.
He inserted a blank sheet of paper and began typing rapidly on the keyboard.
He gave this feature article a powerful title: "Sixteen Tons".
In its previous life, this was originally a classic country folk song written by Moore Travis, released in the 40s, which eventually became a hit across the United States and a spiritual anthem of the labor movement.
With its extremely concise lyrics, it denounces the tragic fate of Kentucky coal miners who are deeply exploited by "corporate stores."
This song reached its peak popularity after it was recorded and released by Tennessee Ernie Ford in 1955.
It topped both the country and pop music charts and sold 100 million copies in just 3 weeks.
There's even a Mandarin version with new lyrics called "Wait Quietly," which Teresa Teng sang, but the lyrics were changed to an inspirational song, reflecting the style of that era.
Now, more than a decade ahead of schedule, Arthur has transformed the core essence of this "miner's anthem" into a manifesto denouncing the exploitative mechanisms of the Great Depression.
What do you get when you're 800 feet underground in darkness, inhaling dust, and digging out 16 tons of smokeless coal every day?
You will gain another day of aging, weaker lungs, and a deeper quagmire of corporate debt.
In his article, Arthur dissects the coal company's "token exploitation system" in detail, clearly explaining how capitalists legally rob the lower classes through financial means.
The gentlemen of Wall Street sit in their warm offices, boasting to the whole of America about their free market. But in this city less than two hundred miles from New York, freedom is just a laughable illusion.
The miners shed sweat and coughed up black blood, but what they received were brass tokens so hard they weren't even good enough to wipe their bottoms with.
They were forced to buy rotting meat and expired antibiotics at three to five times the price in the company-run stores, because the tokens could buy nothing else.
Arthur ruthlessly exposed the perfect closed loop of this system.
When the economic crisis hit, the coal company filed for bankruptcy liquidation, turning the brass tokens issued to its workers into complete scrap.
Incredibly, they turned the consumer bills that miners were forced to sign in the company store into legal debts denominated in dollars and protected by federal law.
They hired legal Pinkerton thugs to steal coffins from the dead and raze tents to the ground.
This is the truth about the Great Depression in the United States. Capital not only plunders your labor, but also buys out your soul.
St. Peter, do not summon them, for their souls have long been pledged to the company store.
After writing the last word, Arthur pulled out the manuscript paper and drove to downtown Scranton overnight.
He found the only telegraph office still open on a dimly lit street.
The telegraph operator was a thin, elderly man wearing reading glasses, sitting listlessly in front of the telegraph machine.
Arthur pushed open the door and walked in, slamming several thick pages of manuscript paper onto the counter, along with a hundred dollars in cash.
In those days, sending a long article of nearly two thousand words by telegram was an extremely expensive expense.
"Send this manuscript, without missing a single punctuation mark, to the editorial office of the Vanguard in New York. The recipient is Isabella," Arthur ordered.
The telegraph operator picked up the manuscript and glanced at it. After reading only the first few paragraphs, his expression changed.
"Sir—this—the accusations in this article are too serious; it attacks the bank and the entire system. If I publish it..."
The telegraph operator's hands were trembling slightly.
"If sending this telegram causes you any trouble, you can have the police come to New York to find me. My name is Arthur Kennedy." Arthur looked at him calmly.
"Now, send the message."
Under the combined influence of money and Arthur's powerful aura, the telegraph machine began to tick and clatter.
A few hours later, the feature article, titled "Sixteen Tons," traveled through the snow and wind via radio waves and arrived at the editorial office of the New York Herald.
The next morning, "Sixteen Tons" made the front page of the New York Herald.
The article was like a bombshell, instantly igniting public opinion across the entire East Coast.
New York intellectuals were shocked, and Philadelphia workers were outraged.
For a long time, politicians in Washington have used the “natural law of economic cycles” to gloss over the suffering of the Great Depression and have called on the public to remain patient.
But Arthur's article was the first to tear down this fig leaf, exposing the most brutal systemic exploitation of capital to all Americans.
The phrase "souls mortgaged to corporate stores" quickly became a catchy quote that major independent newspapers competed to reprint.
Union organizers on the street began reading the feature article aloud at the rally.
The bank had to announce that it would re-examine its current policies.
Shortly thereafter, under public pressure, the Pennsylvania and other state governments announced that they would closely monitor the lives of people in the mining area and implement emergency relief measures.