Chapter XIV: The Menace of the I.w.w

Since the attempt on the part of Imperial Germany to foment a strike of the 'longshoremen on the Atlantic and Pacific seacoasts as a means of preventing shipments of supplies and munitions to the Allies, the Secret Service had been continually on the alert against other attempts to cause trouble in various branches of organized labor. In this work the unions of America had given more than a hearty co-operation. Committees of members were appointed to confer with the Secret Service to learn the best means of detecting efforts of German agents to interfere with any industry by agitation among the workers. American labor proved itself loyal to the core.

Germany had made numerous attempts to create havoc in the American manufacturing plants by using various methods to entice workingmen away from their daily tasks. In many instances, the old method of agitation against conditions was tried. Subtler attacks were employed elsewhere. Tempting offers of employment at their trade in distant cities, with transportation paid, were made on condition that a sufficient number of workmen would join the migrating colony. Cunningly worded stories of fictitious dangers which confronted workers in various occupations were inserted in printed matter which was designed to reach wives, mothers and sweethearts, but every effort failed, because of the intense loyalty of the unions.

"Report anything which may cause two or more workingmen to leave the place where they are employed now," was the request made by the Secret Service. Members of the special committees, by ever watchful vigilance, detected the efforts of Germany at their inception.

Complaints against conditions were usually proved groundless by the Secret Service. In cases where the workingmen were not receiving fair treatment, a word to the owner was usually sufficient to correct the trouble, for the manufacturers had combined with the workers in preventing Germany from being successful in its plotting. The ideal positions which existed at distant points were proved to be phantoms. The Hun-inspired stories of dangers existing through the handling of various substances were denied by authoritative sources which could leave no doubt in the mind of the families of the workers. This was the work which the Secret Service had been doing in conjunction with labor since the attempt to foment the longshoremen's strike had been baffled.

Harrison Grant, president of the Criminology Club, and Dixie Mason, the pretty little Secret Service operative, had often discussed reports of these activities of German agents. Von Bernstorff, and his aides, had followed the traditional course in each effort, using members of the Kaiser's spy army in America to do the actual work of enticement or intimidation. Then this department of activity against America by the Huns suddenly stopped. Agents of the Kaiser no longer sought membership in unions, control of labor papers was relinquished by Dr. Heinrich Albert, the paymaster of the spy army, and it seemed that Germany had admitted defeat through the loyalty of American workingmen.

But neither Grant nor Dixie were deceived. Through the wireless in the Criminology Club, and through phonographic attachments at other stations confidential messages between the Wilhelmstrasse and the Imperial German Embassy in Washington were picked out of the air and later the secrets of the coded messages were deciphered. Through these Grant and Dixie knew that Germany's demands for successful demoralization of American labor had become more and more insistent as efforts of the spy army met with failure after failure. Then the demands suddenly ceased without any apparent reason and the president of the Criminology Club and the young Secret Service operative, through their intimate knowledge of Hun methods, felt that Von Bernstorff had sent a written report to Berlin of some plot which promised success if time were given for its prosecution and fulfillment.

So no vigilance was relaxed. The labor committees were warned against falling into a false feeling of security because of the apparent inactivity of Imperial Germany. Many months of watchful waiting followed, and then came the first rumbling of a storm which threatened the whole existence of labor, a storm which actually accomplished the destruction of millions of dollars worth of wheat and other cereal supplies.

It was the outbreak of the Industrial Workers of the World, an organization which is more readily recognized by its initials--I.W.W., formed originally by a cracked-brain, illogical theorist to agitate the doctrine that a worker is entitled to the gross proceeds of his labor and it attracted to its membership radicals from all over the world. It always proceeded on the lines of anarchism--destruction to anything which impeded its progress. The cry of higher and better wages attracted a great many workingmen when it was first introduced into this country, but they soon dropped away. The utter absurdity of a theory that a laborer could increase his earnings by insisting that he receive everything that he produced without any thought of the workingmen who had produced the tools and the material with which he worked, soon stopped the growth of the membership and then a sudden slump in the number of supporters until only professional agitators could be found in the organization. Even these soon deserted for they agitated only for the money that there was to be acquired and the treasury of the I.W.W. was depleted to a point where it was no longer a shining target for the greed of the professional trouble maker who found more profitable organizations elsewhere.

Then the I.W.W. suddenly acquired apparently unlimited money from some source. Agitators from everywhere flocked to its standards which was the surest sign that the treasury was well filled. There were indications also that some sane person had planned out a definite campaign for the organization to follow under the guise of agitating only the theory for which it stood. Groups of I.W.W. workers appeared in industrial centers in every part of the country. They harangued against the conscription of British and French labor as they afterward argued for the resistance of the draft in America. They pleaded for general strikes everywhere, ostensibly as a means of getting for the worker all the wealth he produced. In every way they played the part which Imperial Germany had attempted but had failed because of the inability of the members of the spy army to inspire the confidence of the American workers.

The I.W.W. was different in method from the individual Hun spies. It held open its ranks to workers. It exhibited a well filled treasury and offered good pay. Many of the lazier and reckless members of the unions were induced to enroll, but in the main the American workingman recognized it for its worthlessness and left it alone. But the I.W.W. was prepared for this attitude on the part of the workers and took measures to coerce them.

Harrison Grant and Dixie Mason were in the vanguard of the forces which were detailed to resist the revitalized I.W.W. Both had a well definited theory as to where the unexpected wealth had come from, and knew that in meeting the agitation of the I.W.W. they were in reality working against another German plot in America. Raid after raid was made on local headquarters of the I.W.W. and many prisoners were made and hauled into court on charges of almost every felony on the docket, from murder down. Yet the organization continued to flourish. Outbreaks occurred all over America, some serious, others quelled almost before they were started.

Grant and Dixie devoted their time to investigation and very seldom were engaged on a particular case when the time for raiding came. They discovered the plotters, an outline of the object toward which they were working, then turned the clearly defined trail over to other less skilled workers to pursue, while they gave attention to other fields which indicated a plot was brewing. Masses of documents teaching sabotage, destruction of all sorts, the making and firing of bombs, sedition and many other things detrimental to the industrial health and strength of a nation were the natural accompaniment of every raid. Sabotage was the most dangerous of all and it was to this branch of the I.W.W. activity to which Grant and Dixie devoted most of their time.

Machinery in various plants suddenly broke down, despite the reliability of its manufacturers. Grant and Dixie discovered that emery powder had been mixed with lubricating oil, and as a result locks were placed on lubricating cups, and trusted men attended to the duties of oiling, using only oil that had been strained and inspected and kept under lock and key. There were epidemics of typhoid in colonies of workers and after their first investigation Grant and Dixie made a report which put every health officer in the country on guard against diverted sewage.

Then came the fires in the wheatfields of the country. Grant and Dixie were already on their way to Minnesota when the announcement was made that their fields burst into flames under their own eyes, without another person being in sight. But Grant and Dixie did not accept this explanation. They knew that almost anything was possible where there was money to be obtained and they knew that Germany was supplying funds recklessly.

Convinced that the fires were of incendiary origin, despite the testimony of the farmers, Grant and Dixie went directly to one of the devastated fields. There was nothing to be seen except acre after acre of charred soil where a few days earlier had stood bushels and bushels of wheat ready for harvest. The farmer pointed out to them the spot where the fire had started. Grant began an examination of the ground, while Dixie looked over the surrounding country. A railroad ran about a quarter of a mile distant.

"It couldn't have been a spark from an engine?" she asked the farmer.

"Not a chance," he responded. "Every engine has a sieve in its stack, and anyway there hadn't been a train pass within two hours of the time this fire started."

"Will meet you at the hotel tonight," Dixie called to Grant, and started across the field toward the tracks.

"Loan me your handkerchief, will you?"

It was a call from Grant, and it caused the farmer to turn from watching the pleasing, trim figure of Dixie Mason making her way across the field. He saw that Grant had already filled his own handkerchief with soil dug out of the field. Grant took the spacious piece of cloth which the farmer handed him wonderingly, and walking nearly a hundred feet from where he had taken his original sample of the soil, he knelt down and with his pocket knife dug up another generous clod and put that in the farmer's handkerchief. Then picking up both handkerchiefs, he turned to the farmer:

"Can you drive me right into town? I have some work to do."

"Sure," answered the farmer, impressed by Grant's manner, and then his curiosity prompted the question, "Have you found gold or oil?"

"Maybe something more valuable than either to the wheat farmer," answered Grant. "I think I have found the cause of the fires in the wheat fields, but will know for a certainty by tonight."

The farmer asked no more questions but hurried away, soon to re-appear on the road near the field at the wheel of a speedy little roadster. On the way into town several more fields which had been shorn of their yield by fire were passed and Grant stopped at each one of them. He walked over their blackened lengths carefully until evidently the thing for which he searched was discovered. Then as before he took a sample of the soil and a second sample many yards distant from the first position. By the time the little roadster drove up in front of the one hotel in the nearest city the pockets of both men were filled with Minnesota soil.

They had already made a stop at a drug store where Grant taxed the stock of the proprietor with the demands he made. He succeeded in getting everything that he wanted, acids, salts and other things of which the farmer had never heard. Once in Grant's room at the hotel, the president of the Criminology Club spread out a large piece of white paper on the floor. On it he marked several circles in parallel rows.

"Empty your right hand pockets on this side, and put the soil from your left hand pockets on this side," he ordered briefly, and then in response to the mute request on the face of the farmer he added, "Yes, stay if you want to," and began emptying his own pockets.

With the soil samples from various fields arranged in neat piles on the white paper Grant set to work on matters which were, for the most part, mysterious to the farmer. A Bunsen burner was connected with the chandelier in the room. Small portions of the soil from each pile were placed in separate test tubes. Then each was heated, mixed with small portions of the matter from the various bottles and packages which had been gotten at the drug store. Each test tube was treated in identically the same way and as he finished with each one Grant entered figures in his note book. He was working on the last tube when a knock came on the door, and in response to Grant's "Come" the door opened and Dixie Mason entered. The little Secret Service operative remained silent while Grant finished the test tube. He jotted some figures in his note book, then snapped it shut, and turned toward her smiling.

"You have discovered something?" Dixie asked.

"I think so," answered Grant. "But first let us hear what you have discovered, to see if it fits in with my find."

"It isn't an awful lot," answered Dixie. "In the first place every fire has started in the portion of the field nearest to the road or a railroad, and almost invariably there has been water near the place where the fire started. The only strangers which have been observed in the vicinity were a couple of traveling geologists, who did most of their traveling on foot and carried the samples they had collected in little cloth bags. That is about all."

"It is enough," said Grant. "The point of origin of the fire in the first field I examined attracted my attention because it had been burned with a more intense heat than burning grain would make. I took a sample there and then for purposes of comparison took another sample of the soil some distance away. It was easy to determine the place of the origin of the fires in the other fields, for in each place I found a spot where there had been intense heat. The samples from these spots which I have analyzed show a large percentage of phosphorus oxide, while the other samples are free from it. Phosphorus oxide is formed by the burning of phosphorus."

"Which makes it very clear as to how the fires started," commented Dixie.

"It may be to you," interjected the farmer, "but I can't see what started the phosphorus burning even if some was placed in the field."

"Phosphorus has a peculiar property," explained Grant. "When it is in a certain degree of solution it unites readily with the oxygen in the air, which is merely another way of saying that it burns. The burning of the wheat fields is an example of the methods of the I.W.W. prompted by Imperial Germany's desire to keep supplies of food from reaching the Allies. These bogus geologists had small bags filled with dry phosphorus. To accomplish their design it was merely necessary to give the bag a soaking with water and throw it into a field. Several hours afterward when the sun had dried the phosphorus to the degree of solution where it unites with the air it would burst into flame and ignite the wheat."

As a convincing demonstration to the farmer Grant procured a small piece of phosphorus and showed him how it would start burning by merely dropping it into water.

"You see it floats when placed on water," said Grant as the farmer watched the little blue flame with changing expressions. "The underpart is too thoroughly saturated while the top part is dry. Between there is a section which is at the proper percentage of solution and hence the burning."

"Let me assure you," said the farmer finally with a set jaw, "that the wheat lands are going to be a mighty unhealthy place from now on, for I.W.W.'s, German spies or anyone else carrying little sacks of anything."

"I can give you the assurance," said Grant, "that from now on it will be a very risky thing for a person to try to purchase phosphorus anywhere in the country unless he can prove a legitimate use for it."

Dixie and Grant started back for New York that night, for every moment which they could spare was devoted to Von Bernstorff, Dr. Albert and Heinric von Lertz in an effort to gain the evidence which they knew existed that Germany was supplying the I.W.W. with the funds by which the agitators were spreading havoc throughout the country. But they were destined not to reach there, at least not until several weeks later. A telegram forwarded from the Criminology Club was handed to Grant on the train while it was speeding through Ohio.

"Will you see me at your earliest convenience."

That was the wording of the message and the fact that it was signed by Mrs. Blank, the wife of an unscrupulous broker who had virtually sold her to Von Bernstorff in return for tips which he might receive which would be profitable on the stock market in case Germany's plots were successful, caused Grant to alight at the next station and call her on the long distance telephone.

"Von Bernstorff was here," came the voice of Mrs. Blank over the wire, "raging about the part I took in the arrest of Baroness Verbecht. He tried to find out if I was allied with the Secret Service and offered me any amount of money to assure my allegiance to him and Germany. In making the offer he drew his wallet from his pocket and banged it down on the table scattering papers right and left. He gathered them up hastily but I saw one, a telegram from Von Lertz, at Old Forge, Pennsylvania. It read simply 'Progress favorable.'"

"Old Forge is a place where they had an exciting time with the I.W.W. several weeks ago," commented Grant, after he had hung up the receiver, to Dixie who had gotten off the train with him prepared to take her part in any emergency that might arise. "After threatening the mayor of the town, the homes of several miners were dynamited because they refused to join the organization. Then the Pennsylvania State Constabulary interfered and since then everything has been quiet."

"But the I.W.W. headquarters have never been abandoned there," said Dixie, "and with Heinric von Lertz there, I think it will be well if we stop over."

They arrived in Old Forge as quickly as a train could carry them, Grant in the guise of a professional agitator with the name of Guiseppe Fantona, and Dixie as a minature edition of Gurley Flynn. In Old Forge they found that the usual form of I.W.W. organization had been maintained, headquarters for the men members and headquarters for a woman's auxiliary, the duty of the members of which was to spread propaganda to the wives, mothers and sweethearts of the miners. Grant was welcomed at the men's headquarters which he found were in charge of Frank Little, later lynched at Butte, Montana for his activities; Stanley Dembriki, secretary of the I.W.W.; Joseph Graber, an unnaturalized German, and Angelo Faggi, a fugitive from Italian and French justice, then and now hiding from an American warrant. Dixie Mason excited no suspicion when she registered at the headquarters of the auxiliary.

A few days later came the first news of trouble. Dixie Mason hurrying from the women's auxiliary, sped forward to catch Harrison Grant, just as he was leaving the headquarters of the I.W.W.

"There's some trouble going on at the mines," she announced. "We've just gotten orders to hurry there and cause a demonstration."

Grant nodded.

"I just got the same sort of a tip. I think it's a blind. I heard orders given to the man just ahead to report as soon as the constabulary was fully engaged there. Come on, we must shadow him."

They started forward. A moment later, from the direction of the mines, came a great sound of crashing timbers, of screams, and the rising of coal dust. Men and women appeared, running forward from every direction. The clattering of hoofs and the constabulary thundered past. Grant leaped to the center of the street.

"Someone has released the brakes from a dump train," he announced, "It crashed back into the shaft of the mine. Miners have been injured. The trouble's on. Keep that man in front in view--don't lose him!"

They hurried on, still watching the form of the hurrying spy before them. They saw him rush to a corner where he might watch the mine dump, then stand there, his eyes roving in every direction. A fight had started at the dump, between legitimate laborers and the I.W.W. agitators who seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Men fought, while women screamed. Agitators were running here, there, everywhere, blaming the dumping of the cars upon the mine owners and demanding that everyone join the I.W.W. that these men might be paid back for the damage they had caused. Again a troop of constabulary passed--then another and finally, Dixie and Grant saw the spy on the corner, suddenly turn and run.

"After him--quick!" ordered the president of the Criminology Club--"he's the one who will point out the real danger!"

Down the street the spy ran, Dixie and Grant following him closely. Into tortuous alleys, across lots--finally to approach a great, warehouse-like building, where one or two other men could be seen entering. The two detectives skirted the building, approached it cautiously and examined it for some loophole, through which they might enter. But there seemed to be none. Here and there were great doors, from which shipping had emanated in other days--but each was carefully locked and bolted now. Grant pressed his ear against one of these--and heard the jabbering and shouting of great numbers of men. He turned, and seeking a foothold, raised himself that he might peer through a corner of a window imperfectly covered from within.

"Dixie," he whispered.

"Yes," the girl was close beside him. "Do you see anything in there?"

"Yes. Practically every I.W.W. in town is here. Someone is on the platform, talking to them. I----"

"Can you make out who's there?"

"Dembriki's one. Faggi's another. And Heinric von Lertz!"

"Von Lertz! Then it means----"

"They're bringing out parcels of something. Laying them on the platform so that they can easily be reached. Hurry----" Grant turned, his face white. "Get the constabulary--quick! It's dynamite!"

In a flash Dixie Mason was pressing every muscle to the utmost as she ran through the lots and back toward the mines that she might summon the members of the mounted police. Grant remained a minute longer at the window, then suddenly dropped to the ground and again began to skirt the building.

Here, there, everywhere, he searched, at last finding a back room to the building, that was separated from the main hall. He pressed against the door. The lock sagged--but did not open. Carefully he brought forth his skeleton keys, and tried them, one after another. At last, a rusty creaking of the lock, a slight snap, and the door opened. Grant hesitated a moment, listening for some sign that he had been overheard from within. But none came. Then he entered.

Within the back room, he stopped again to listen. From the other side of the door that separated him from the main room of the meeting hall, he could hear the thick, heavy voice of Heinric von Lertz, apparently giving the last of a long series of orders:

"Imperial Germany expects every man of you to do his duty and to see that Union Labor is driven from Old Forge," he was saying. "We have here enough dynamite to blow up every miner's house and every coal mine in the district--and I want to see every bit of it used. As soon as we receive the word that everything is all right we will proceed----"

"Here I am sir!" At the sound of the voice, Grant opened the door ever so slightly, to see the form of the spy he had trailed, hurrying up the aisle. "The constabulary is all at the coal dumps, and they have their hands full. If we work quickly----"

"All right. Line up, everybody. You will pass the platform, one at a time and receive your dynamite. Then, each man will cause one explosion--and the result will be that the whole city will be wrecked! Hurry there, line up, line up!"

Grant hurried back to the door for one look up the street. If Dixie were only on the way with the constabulary. If he could only catch sight of her, leading the plunging mass of horsemen on their way to the hall! But Harrison Grant looked in vain. There was no sight of the girl he loved, no sight of the hurrying horsemen that would mean safety for the town of Old Forge. Grant's heart sank within him. Beyond him in the hall were more than two hundred desperate men and hundreds of pounds of explosives. And they must not be permitted to start forth on their journey of destruction!

Grant hesitated only a second. Then as the line of destroyers within the main meeting hall started to receive their dynamite----

A hurtling form crashed through the door from the back room. Leaping toward Stanley Dembriki, in charge of the dynamite, he felled him with a crashing blow from his fist. Heinric von Lertz took one look and ran through the door that had been left open by the entrance of Harrison Grant. But the I.W.W. members could only see this one form and could only know that Grant had interfered with their schemes of destruction. A second of hesitation, then they rushed forward.

But Grant was ready for them. A heavy chair stood nearby. He seized it and taking his place near the dynamite, felled the first man who approached. The crackle of a revolver sounded, and a bullet splintered the wood just above his head. Then a shout----

"Stop that shooting! You're liable to explode the dynamite. No need for that--we'll get him!"

Grant whirled. Again he brought the chair crashing downward, and Faggi had been knocked from the platform. The members of the I.W.W. recoiled slightly. Grant, white faced and grim, scowled at them.

"I'd advise you not to try to touch this dynamite!" he ordered. "I'll use this chair on any one who comes near--and I'll swing to kill!"

A growl answered him, as a great, heavy shouldered German edged his way forward, and sprung toward the platform, Grant kept his word. A second later, the German wavered in his tracks, stumbled and fell, to lay quite still beside the other two men on the floor. Again a recoil--but Grant knew that it was only for a minute.

And in that minute, how his ears strained for the sound of galloping horses! How he waited and hoped!

Then a sudden rush of men. It seemed that by some common impulse, the whole great hall surged forward--climbing upon the platform, dodging and swirling, seeking to come under the defense that Harrison Grant kept up, ducking the blows of the heavy chair, surging back then coming forward again, striving to corner him, to beat him down----

High in the air went the chair to descend again--and to carry with it the form of a plotter. Again--and again--and again. Then Harrison Grant felt the chair wrested from his grasp and thrown far to one side. A screaming voice echoed in his ears----

"Now we've got him! Come on men!"

Grant had his back to the wall. Regardless of the danger of exploding the dynamite he brought forth his revolvers.

"Stand back there," he shouted. "The first man who comes at me gets a bullet! Understand? Stand back there!"

They hesitated just a second. Then the rush came again. The crackle of Grant's revolver sounded--to be echoed by a groan as a man fell. Then the sheer weight of men bore him down, crushing his revolver from his grasp, pinioning his wrists, while fists beat upon his breast and his face.

From far away came a slight clattering sound--the sound of hoof beats. It sent new life into Harrison Grant. He broke from his assailants and with tremendous crashing blows, again cleared a space before him. But only for a moment--then his opponents closed in again.

But above the shouting, above the racking pain, above everything, could be heard the clattering of those hoofs--coming closer, closer, closer----

Sudden shouts came from the crowd that surged on the platform. The crashing of great blows against the doors. A new milling of the assailants, as they left the platform and sought to guard the doors of the great warehouse. But impossible. One after another, the dazed, wavering form of Harrison Grant saw the doors surge and splinter, as the trained horses of the constabulary sent thundering kicks against them. Panic stricken now, the members of the I.W.W. sought escape through those doors and through the windows of the great room. But that was impossible also. Beneath every window waited a member of the constabulary. And at the doors--

One after another they yielded, to allow the entrance of the mounted men of the constabulary, riding straight into the meeting hall, their horses vaulting chairs and obstructions as they circled about the big room, rounding up the criminals. Resistance had disappeared. Like sheep they were herded to one end of the hall, the men who but a few minutes before had been obsessed with a mania for destruction. A smile came to Grant's lips as he watched. Then, the whole hall went suddenly black before his eyes, and he fell to the platform unconscious from his hurts.

When he became aware of the world again, it was to feel the tender touch of a woman's hand and to hear a soft voice of sympathy. His eyes opened, to look into those of Dixie Mason, bending over him, smoothing the hair from his discolored temples, seeking to assuage his wounds and bruises. He smiled in spite of the pain of his injuries.

"It is worth being hurt just to have you nurse me," he said, then with a sudden remembrance he attempted to rise to his feet. "The Constabulary?" he asked. "Did they arrest----"

"Everyone who was in the hall except you," came the answer of Dixie Mason. "But I am afraid that Heinie von Lertz must have run as soon as he saw you. He wasn't found."

"Couldn't help it," responded Grant cheerfully. "I had my hands full."

"It doesn't matter much, I think you will be forgiven," laughed Dixie with him. "We will soon have Heinie where he can't cause any more trouble. And anyway he has the cheerful news to take to the Embassy that another fine little plot has gone wrong and failed."