The Farmers’ & Merchants’ Bank is the local instrumentality of the invisible government that holds the nation in its clutch.  Kaiser Uhlman has more influence than the city mayor and more power than the police force.  The law has always been a little thing to him and his clique.  The inscription on the shield of this bank is said to read “To hell with the Constitution; this is Lewis County.”  As events will show, this inspiring maxim has been faithfully adhered to.  One of the mandates of this delectable nest of highbinders is that no headquarters of the Union of the lumber workers shall ever be permitted within the sacred precincts of the city of Centralia.

The Loved and Hated Union Hall

Now the loggers, being denied the luxury of home and family life, have but three places they can call “home.”  The bunkhouse in the camp, the cheap rooming house in town and the Union Hall.  This latter is by far the best loved of all.  It is here the men can gather around a crackling wood fire, smoke their pipes and warm their souls with the glow of comradeship.  Here they can, between jobs or after work, discuss the vicissitudes of their daily lives, read their books and magazines and sing their songs of solidarity, or merely listen to the “tinned” humor or harmony of the much-prized Victrola.  Also they here attend to affairs of their Union—­line up members, hold business and educational meetings and a weekly “open forum.”  Once in awhile a rough and wholesome “smoker” is given.  The features of this great event are planned for weeks in advance and sometimes talked about for months afterwards.

[Illustration:  The Scene of the Armistice Day Tragedy

This is what was left of the Union hall the loggers tried to defend on November 11th.  Three of the raiders, Grimm, McElfresh and Cassagranda, were killed in the immediate vicinity of the doorway.  Several others were wounded while attempting to rush the doors.]

These halls are at all times open to the public and inducements are made to get workers to come in and read a thoughtful treatise on Industrial questions.  The latch-string is always out for people who care to listen to a lecture on economics or similar subjects.  Inside the hall there is usually a long reading-table littered with books, magazines or papers.  In a rack or case at the wall are to be found copies of the “Seattle Union Record,” “The Butte Daily Bulletin,” “The New Solidarity,” “The Industrial Worker,” “The Liberator,” “The New Republic” and “The Nation.”  Always there is a shelf of thumb-worn books on history, science, economics and socialism.  On the walls are lithographs or engravings of noted champions of the cause of Labor, a few photographs of local interest and the monthly Bulletins and Statements of the Union.  Invariably there is a blackboard with jobs, wages and hours written in chalk for the benefit of men seeking employment.  There are always a number of chairs in the room and a roll top desk for the secretary.  Sometimes at the end of the hall is a plank rostrum—­a modest altar to the Goddess of Free Speech and open discussion.  This is what the loved and hated I.W.W.  Halls are like—­the halls that have been raided and destroyed by the hundreds during the last three years.