Bread and Roses

DESCRIPTION: "As we come marching, marching, Through the beauty of the day... The people hear us singing, 'Bread and roses, bread and roses'." The working women demand not just better pay but respect and the chance to live a decent life
AUTHOR: Words; James Oppenheim (1882-1932) (source: Sullivan) / Original tune: Caroline Kohlsaat
EARLIEST DATE: 1911 (The American Magazine)
KEYWORDS: worker food feminist flowers
HISTORICAL REFERENCES:
Jan 12, 1912 - Beginning of the Lawrence Textile Strike, which came to be called the "Bread and Roses Strike"
Mar 12, 1912 - Agreement reached on terms to end strike
Mar 27, 1912 - Last strikers return to work
FOUND IN:
REFERENCES (5 citations):
DT, BRD&ROSE*
ADDITIONAL: Sing Out_ magazine, Volume 2, #7 (1952), p. 9, "Bread and Roses" (1 text, 1 tune, the tune being Martha Coleman's)
Upton Sinclair, editor, _The Cry for Justice: An Anthology of the Literature of Social Protest_, John C. Winston Company, 1915 (available on Google Books), pp. 247-248, "Bread and Roses" (1 text)
Julie Baker, _The Bread and Roses Strike of 1912_, Morgan Reynolds Publishing, 2007, p. 141, "Bread and Roses" (1 text)
Bruce Watson, _Bread and Roses: Mills, Migrants, and the Struggle for the American Dream_, Viking, 2005 (also available from Penguin, 2006), p. 118, "(no title)" (1 text)
NOTES [4673 words]: I find it hard to believe that such a well-known song is almost never printed in anything with pretensions to either scholarship or poetic merit... but apparently it isn't.
The usual story you hear today is that this arose out of the troubles in the cloth factories of Massachusetts. We should state at the beginning that this is not so -- but we need to tell the story to understand the folklore.
Weir/Hanlon, volume I, p. 103, report that, when founded in 1821, "Lowell [Massachusetts] was designed to be the antithesis of English factory towns, which were infamous for their harsh working conditions and the squalor in which people lived. By contrast, Lowell featured sturdy boarding houses, tree-lined streets, public gardens, and other amenities amidst its red brick factory buildings. Virtually every institution from the schools and churches to the lyceum and literary journal was controlled by the company. The targeted workforce was composed of single farm women rendered available by a slump in New England agrarian revenue." Hence, e.g., the "Lowell Factory Girl" described in "No More Shall I Work in the Factory."
But, as usually happened, the company's original good intentions were quickly replaced by a stern insistence upon profit. By the 1830s, the bosses were cutting wages; the factory girls went on strike for the first time in 1834. (For a radical view of this process, see Philip S. Foner, editor, The Factory Girls, University of Illinois Press, 1977 -- a book I have not seen. Also Joanne Weisman Deitch, The Lowell Mill Girls: Life in the Factory, Discovery Enterprises, 1997, a short book of 48 pages).
This song is usually associated with a 1912 strike in Lawrence, Massachusetts. Lawrence was founded later than Lowell, but the idea was much the same -- the plan to found Lawrence had, in fact, been created at Lowell in 1845! And it was built on the same river, the Merrimack, just twelve miles downstream (Baker, p. 32). The town was named after Abbott Lawrence, who proposed the town (Baker, pp. 21-22).
If conditions in Lowell had decayed over time, those in Lawrence were almost inhuman. Factory owners of course wanted the cheapest labor possible, and whenever the workers tried to improve their lot, the owners brought in greater and greater numbers of immigrants; between 1890 and 1910, some 35,000 had been brought in (Watson, p. 39) to a town that, in 1912, still numbered only about 86,000 (Watson, p. 42, which adds that only about 12,000 would be considered native-born Whites). To keep the workers close to the factories, the town had been built up so that residences were right next to each other, with no green space anywhere (Baker, p. 27). The population density was extraordinarily high, and it was estimated that seven-eighths of the residents were low-paid immigrants, or the second-generation children of immigrants; half of them had been in America for five years or less, and they came from almost everywhere (Watson, p. 8). Conditions for mill workers were so poor that the average life expectancy for a mill worker was 39, and very few were still able to work after age fifty (Watson, p. 9. The life expectancy for America as a whole at this time was about 53 or 54, but the mill workers were ruining their lungs with textile dust). Infant and child mortality was horrid -- in 1911, almost half of deaths in Lawrence were children five and younger (Watson, p. 27).
Despite those horrid conditions, there might not have been a strike had not the Massachusetts legislature tried to make things better. This was a time when many places around the country still had sixty hour weeks. In Lawrence, the standard was 56 hours. But the Massachusetts legislature passed a law stating that, starting January 1, 1912, women and children could not be required to work more than 54 hours a week. The factory owners, to keep from having to deal with staggered shift changes, cut everyone (men as well as women and children) back to 54 hours (Baker, p. 31; Watson, p. 13).
The owners cut pay proportionally. And the workers were already on the brink of starvation. It wasn't much of a cut (typically 32 cents a week). But it was a cut. And the manager who made the cut was a self-made man with very little compassion for the troubles of others, William Madison Wood, often referred to as Billy Wood (Baker, pp. 32-40, tells how, when his father died, the 12-year-old Wood had gone to work in a mill in New Bedford, and by carefully studying how every aspect of the trade worked, had eventually come to boss the biggest mill in Lawrence. He had done such a thorough job of becoming a pillar of society that he even stopped admitting his Portuguese ancestry, listing Scotland instead; Watson, p. 134). He and his fellow owners had worked vigorously to keep unions out of Lawrence, evicting anyone who acted like an organizer (Baker, pp. 42-43).
But it wasn't a union that called the strike -- not exactly. It was a strange combination of an organized and a spontaneous walkout. In one mill, workers simply shut down the machines and sat down when handed checks with two hours' less pay than before (Baker, p. 47). A group of Italian workers led by a man named Angelo Rocco (who was much better off than most of the millworkers) had decided not to accept the conditions imposed upon them; they had raided some of the mills, attacking the machinery and pushing the workers back (Watson, pp. 12-19).
There was enough destruction that the police were called out; they kept some but not all the mills safe. Watson, p. 46 estimates that 11,000 were on strike by that afternoon, but thousands more were still at work. Billy Wood gave the press a statement that disclaimed blame and said that competition with other mills meant his had to cut pay when hours were reduced (Baker, pp. 48-49; Watson, p. 45) -- which I doubt, given the high efficiency of his operation. The statement certainly revealed him to be a complete jerk -- he had no compassion for the workers he was oppressing at all.
No one in Lawrence really knew what to do. Some mills that had not been shut down locked out their workers (Watson, p. 50) -- even though some groups, notably English, Irish, French Canadians, and Germans were mostly willing to keep working (Watson, p. 59). The mayor, Michael Scanlon, had only taken office at the start of the year (Baker, p. 50), and the police hadn't had any practice at this sort of thing. Scanlon was an interesting case; he had been an anti-corruption crusader, but he had little sympathy for the workers (Watson, pp. 66-67). Scanlon promised to listen to strikers' meetings, and the strikers tried to prevent violence (Baker, p. 51).
But there was a complication. Rocco, the man who had done more than anyone to start the walkout, had called on the Industrial Workers of the World (Baker, p. 44). And they responded. Soon after the start of the strike, an IWW organizer named Joseph Ettor arrived (Baker, p. 51; according to Watson, p. 51, he hadn't wanted to go, but Big Bill Haywood convinced him to do so. He was literally a union man born -- when he was still an infant, his father had been injured in the 1886 Haymarket riot/strike; Watson, pp. 52-53. He had once stayed in Lawrence with Rocco; Watson, p. 55). Soon after, Mayor Scanlon called a meeting, and many strikers attended. Scanlon called for peace -- and then Ettor, in English and Italian, gave a speech telling them it was a fight for workers everywhere. There had been no union in Lawrence before this, and no strike organizer. There still wasn't a union, not really. But there was a leader; Ettor and his followers started setting up planning committees (Baker, pp. 56-57; Watson, p. 59, says the strike committee consisted of four men from each of fourteen nationalities). The IWW was recognized as the power behind the strike; some 4500 strikers (probably between a fifth and a quarter of the total) would join the IWW (Watson, p. 71).
The workers' demands were not radical: a 15% pay bump, overtime pay for those who worked overtime, changes to a bonus system that Wood used on his workers, and no retaliation against strikers. The committee -- against Ettor's advice -- was even willing to accept arbitration, which the owners rejected (Watson, p. 71).
The fact that the strike was turning organized caused Mayor Scanlon to request the militia; five companies were turned out (Baker, p. 58. Eventually they would call for more, but the city of Lawrence had to pay them out of its own funds -- Watson, p. 110 -- so they tried to limit the number of troops used. There was no declaration of martial law, which was a power reserved to the Massachusetts legislature, but the troops would act as if there had been). Meanwhile, strikers stood outside the mills in the January weather, blocking picket-crossers from going to work (Baker, p. 59). Scanlon tried to get Ettor to calm things down, only to have Ettor disclaim responsibility. Scanlon therefore put the militia commander, Colonel E. Leroy Sweetser, in charge of the mill district (Baker, p. 63). It was probably a mistake. Thousands marched peacefully on January 17, and Sweetser ordered his men not to fire on them (Baker, pp. 63-66), but after an even bigger parade the next day, Sweetser banned large-scale marches in the mill district (Baker, p. 67),
Then dynamite was found (Baker, p. 67; Watson, p. 81). Ettor again disclaimed responsibility (probably truthfully, since a former city alderman named John Breen was eventually charged in the case; Baker, p. 78, and we can at least say that it was found before it was used; there were no big explosions). But since the IWW and Bill Haywood were involved in the strike, people would surely have thought of the murder by explosives of Frank Steunenberg in 1905, for which Haywood had been tried for homicide. Other unions has also tried sabotage during strikes as well (Watson, pp. 83-84).
(It's not really relevant to this song, but some mystery arose later about that dynamite -- Baker, pp. 135-136. A man named Ernest Pitmann confessed to acquiring the dynamite for John Breen, then committed suicide -- Watson, pp. 221-222 -- but he had produced pay vouchers that were marked as approved by William Wood -- implying that Wood had been involved in the dynamite plot. Which would imply that Wood either wanted it exposed or wanted it blamed on the strikers. Which explains another curiosity: It was Breen who supplied most of the information about the plot that he himself was undertaking -- Watson, p. 109. Wood was eventually tried and acquitted; Watson, pp. 249-250.)
At most, a few strikers were involved in the attempted bombing, but all were involved in mass picketing. The strikers carried signs, marched, and sang (Baker, pp. 70-71). Really, though, things were at a stalemate, and although the strike committee was trying to organize things, there were no funds. People were going hungry and running short of fuel (Baker, pp. 71-72). Ettor realized that something needed to be done to revive the strikers.
The "something" was the arrival of Big Bill Haywood (Baker, p. 72). It didn't help; the owners refused to meet the IWW representatives (Baker, p. 74. It is true that the IWW hadn't represented the Lawrence workers before the strike, but they clearly did now -- but the one time Billy Wood met with Ettor, they spoke for only a few minutes, then Wood declared negotiations at an end and started trying to trick the strikers into returning to work; Baker, p. 75).
The law, of course, was biased toward the owners; the judge in charge of most cases, Jeremiah J. Mahoney, handled cases swiftly and with minimal regard for facts or, sometimes, the law (Watson, p. 65), though he treated women and children relatively gently (Watson, p. 178).
As often happened, the strikers tried to prevent other millworkers from crossing a picket line; on January 29, they attacked a trolley car, and in the fight that followed, many were hurt, nine strikers arrested, and 16 streetcars reported damaged (Baker, p. 76). Later that day, as the militia tried to prevent more problems, another fight broke out, and in that fight, someone -- it's not known who, or even whether it was militia or a striker -- fired a shot that killed 33-year-old striker Anna LoPizzo (Baker, pp. 76-77; Watson, pp. 106-107, notes that even her name is uncertain. She was an Italian immigrant worker with, seemingly, no family, and there is disagreement about the spelling of her name. According to Watson, p. 112, there was only one mourner at her funeral, although a line blocks long had come to view her body; Watson, p. 116. Almost all that is known about her is her age -- from immigration records -- plus where she worked and lived). She was the first to die in the strike; another striker, 18-year-old Syrian John Ramy or Rami, was bayonetted by a soldier the next day (Baker, p. 82) and died soon after (Watson, pp. 112-113). The police took LoPizzo's death as an excuse to take Ettor and another man, Arthur Giovannitti, into custody, charged with being accessories to murder -- a capital charge (Baker, pp. 78-79), and a useful one to the authorities because it meant no bail (Watson, p. 115; they had thought, if arrested, it would be on a charge of inciting a riot). Giovannitti, ironically, wasn't even a member of the IWW! (Watson, p. 217). The court kept them in prison even though several witnesses identified police officer Oscar Benoit as having fired the fatal shot (Baker, pp. 93-94). The authorities also called in more militia.
Nonetheless, the murder changed the situation dramatically. When the news services heard about it, they started sending reporters -- and the reporters discovered the inhuman conditions in Lawrence, and started to publicize it (Baker, pp. 80-81). Suddenly, America knew what was going on -- and reacted.
The newspapers also discovered one of the owners' tricks: to try to convince people that people were crossing the picket lines, they powered up their machinery and set it to making noise -- but the reporters discovered that there were no workers there to guide the machines, so no cloth was being made (Baker, p. 82; Watson, p. 112).
Meanwhile, the strikers were suffering hunger and want. The IWW did what it could; Big Bill Haywood put out a call for other workers to assist the strikers (Baker, pp. 82-83). He also adopted a European tactic and asked people outside Lawrence to open their homes to the children of strikers (Baker, pp. 86-87); in the official paperwork, the trips were called "vacations" (Baker, p. 88). On the first trip, 119 children, ill-clad and without baggage, headed to New York with "The Rebel Girl" Elizabeth Gurley Flynn and others. When they and the next batch of children were examined upon arrival (by Margaret Sanger, among others), few had coats, many were in rags, the majority were malnourished, and most had swollen tonsils (Baker, pp. 92-94; Watson, p. 145); such were the conditions in Lawrence.
This was late February. It was a little disorganized. The next exodus was carefully planned, with the children carrying signs such as "Someday we will remember this exile," "We came from Lawrence for a home," and "A little child shall lead them" (Watson, p. 159). At this time, the police started beating women strikers, as well as assaulting the parents who were trying to send their children away (Baker, pp. 11-17, 95). A newly-appointed police chief, John Sullivan made it clear that he would use as much force as he deemed necessary to control the strikers. Many children were taken from their parents; some were placed in custody (Baker, pp. 96-97; Watson, pp. 167-169). If anyone wonders why there was violence, I think we can safely point straight at Sullivan the Fascist; reading about the behavior of the police leaves me simply furious. I'm not the only one. As stories were published across the nation, people became increasingly angry. Even Senator William Borah, who had prosecuted Haywood for his actions in Idaho in the Harry Orchard case (see "Harry Orchard"), would say that he saw no legal justification for the police action (Baker, pp. 98-99; Watson, pp. 174-175).
Women took a noteworthy part in the strike. Elizabeth Gurley Flynn was the most visible, since she was young and an outsider, but Watson, pp. 156-158, lists other women of importance in the strike and shows how much influence women had.
Under the laws of the time, Congress didn't have much power to intervene, but they eventually looked into that business of blocking children from leaving the state when they had properly-purchased tickets. A few children and adults headed for Washington; none had so much as a suitcase (Baker, p. 102). (I find it emblematic of the times that, when President Taft saw the poor ragamuffin children sent to testify to Congress, he personally contributed $1000 for their care -- quite a lot of money, in 1912! -- but doesn't seem to have considered proposing legislation; Baker, p. 108; Watson, p. 191.) Their testimony put enough heat on the bosses that they offered a 5% pay raise -- which, as I calculate it, would roughly have given the workers their two hours back. But they didn't make the offer to the Union, and they put out press releases which, while accurate if you dug through the details, gave a very misleading impression of the pay they were offering, stating the typical pay of the median wage class, not the median worker (Baker, pp. 102-103). And they didn't grant any of the other demands (Watson, p. 183). Workers started to give in and come back to work (Watson, p. 190, believes that, after eight weeks, almost half had come back), but the others remained militant.
The congressional testimony didn't really yield much except absolute proof that either the strikers or the owners were lying about the poverty in Lawrence, and either the strikers or the police were lying about the level of violence -- but it did bring out the fact that William Wood's mills had earned more than 11 million dollars in 1911 (Baker, p. 116). In other words, Wood was not so poor that wage cuts were forced upon him.
The congressional hearings did not produce any legislation, but they did make the mill owners decide that they didn't like the combination of lack of production and bad publicity. They started negotiating (Baker, pp. 117-118). At first, they tried to get away with vague proposals, but the strike committee wasn't biting (Baker, p. 118). Even the owners of mills outside Lawrence started talking for fear of sympathy strikes (Baker, p. 119).
Eventually Wood came back with a proposal that, in some ways, was actually more progressive than what the IWW had called for. Wood promised time and a quarter for overtime (less than the IWW wanted, but still an improvement), changes to the hated bonus system, no retribution -- and variable pay raises, with the lowest-paid workers getting a 20% pay raise, the top-paid workers getting a 5% boost, and those in between getting intermediate raises (Baker, p. 120; Watson, pp. 200-201, describes how the management negotiators seemed at first to be trying to offer incomplete proposals, but the striker committees forced them to make it all explicit). It wasn't a deal with all the mills, but the strikers gladly accepted it (Baker, p. 121), and eventually the other mills made similar offers (Baker, p. 122). (According to Baker, p. 122, when Haywood, Flynn, and others put the terms to a crowd of thousands of strikers, only six raised their hands to oppose the deal; Watson, p. 210, says five opposed it.) The vote to approve the deal was on March 14, 1912, 63 days after the strike started, with work resuming the following Monday; the strike committee closed up shop on March 24 (Watson, p. 215). There were still labor actions in other mill towns, but eventually settlements were made almost everywhere.
In Lawrence, they even began a degree of urban renewal; the city started to build playgrounds for the children later in 1912 (Watson, p. 221).
About the only mention of roses I can find in this story comes at this point: Three bouquets were brought, for Haywood, Ettor, and Giovannitti. Haywood said to take the petals from his bouquet to the strikers who were still in jail. The jailors refused to deliver the bouquets to Ettor and Giovanitti, so the flowers were placed on the graves of the murdered strikers, Anna LoPizzo and John Rami (Watson, pp. 240-241).
Wood treated his workers much better during World War I (Baker thinks it was to keep unions out of Lawrence) -- so much so that by 1920 the workers were cheering him (Watson, p. 252). But his personal life was falling apart; he lost his daughter to the World War I influenza plague, then a son to a high-speed car crash. He but was forced out of management in 1924 as the mills produced less profit, and had a stroke the same year. Little wonder if all that left him depressed; in 1926, he had his chauffeur drive him to a quiet place were he shot himself (Baker, pp. 136-137; Watson, pp. 252-253).
That left the problem of Ettor and Girovannitti, plus a third man, Joseph Caruso, who was arrested as a sort of murderer-by-proxy in the LoPizzo murder: the authorities didn't have an actual suspect, so they charged Caruso with "assisting" with it because he had earlier gone after a police officer (Baker, p. 125; Watson, p. 220).
The trial began at the end of September, in Salem, not Lawrence. The case had gotten so much coverage that the initial jury pool consisted of 350 men (yes, men), and it wasn't enough; they needed to summon more. In all, 506 men had to be examined to get a jury of 12 (Watson, p. 230).They ended up with a jury that sounds like it was all skilled and semi-skilled workers -- no mill workers (Baker, p. 128; Watson, p. 230, calls them all "laborers"). The trial took months -- public contributions let Ettor et al hire top lawyers (Watson, pp. 233-234) -- and it was something of a circus at ties, but it resulted in an acquittal (Baker, p. 131; according to Watson, p. 239, it took about six and a half hours for the jury to reach their verdict).
Ironically, the IWW derived little benefit from organizing and winning the strike; after the tensions had died down, the strikers split back up into ethnic factions and lost their ability to deal with management (Watson, p. 244). And the IWW leaders themselves did not get along; Ettor and Giovannitti both quit the IWW; Flynn eventually went her own way (Watson, p. 245), and Haywood of course eventually fled to Russia (though he was very unhappy there). Lawrence was one of the greatest IWW triumphs, but its leaders did not have the skills to follow up.
And it was hardly "happy ever after" for Lawrence. Already the textile industry was growing in the south -- where textile strikes would have less success (see, e.g., the notes to "Chief Aderholt," for the Gastonia strike). Lawrence's mills ceased to be profitable, and started to shut down; the last traditional mill closed in 1957 (Watson, p. 255), and the town experienced a new kind of poverty.
The strikers certainly sang during the strike -- but often they were radical songs, "The Internationale," in its many languages, and "The Marseillaise" (Watson, p. 142). (Because John Golden's Central Labor Union (a union of skilled workers akin to the AFL) had tried to interfere with the IWW (e.g. it wanted its workers to accept the 5% pay raise the other workers rejected; Watson, p. 183), Joe Hill had written a song, "A Little Talk with Golden," to the tune of "A Little Walk with Jesus," which strikers sometimes sang (Watson, p. 150; Smith, p. 27, with a text on pp. 27-28), but it wasn't a big part of their repertoire, nor is it often sung today. They did occasionally sing Hill's "The Preacher and the Slave," with its "Pie in the Sky" chorus (Watson, p. 208), and a parody of "In the Good Old Summertime" called "In the Good Old Picket Line" (Watson, pp. 88. 207).
It is widely reported that, at this strike, the workers often carried signs reading something like "We want bread, and roses too" (Sullivan, p. 33). However, "Local legend has it that a photograph from the strike dhows a woman holding a picket sign reading 'WE WANT BREAD, BUT WE WANT ROSES, TOO.' No such photograph has ever been found (Watson, p. 256). Watson p. 5, says that the slogan "Bread and Roses" "was probably never used during the strike," and Baker, p. 139, also says there is doubt about the use of the slogan. The popular name for the event, "The Bread and Roses Strike," came later, and indeed, most of the participants seem to have disliked the name (Watson, pp. 256-257). So why waste all those words describing a strike that had nothing to do with this song? Because, of course, everyone associates the two, including many of the notes too the song in various songbooks.
Nonetheless it must be remembered that the song "Bread and Roses" did not come out of the strike. The poem was written in 1911, and was adopted and set to music in 1912 for a different strike.
Sullivan, p. 33, says that author James Oppenheim was "a Whitmanesque poet, novelist, and literary magazine editor." Benet, p. 799, describes him as "American free verse poet and fiction writer. His best poems are collected in The Sea (1924). [Now available on Google Books, but this poem is not in it.] His stories of Dr. Rast are his best prose and a reflection of his early experiences as a social worker. In his later years he was exceedingly interested in psychoanalysis...."
DAB's biography of Oppenheim is in Volume VII, Part II (volume 14 of the original edition), pp. 46-47. It says he was born of Jewsh parents in Saint Paul, Minnesota, but grew up in New York City. He lost his father at age six. He lost at least one teaching job because of his radicalism; DAB comments, "He believed that his writing was warped by the necessity for making it pay -- he had a wife and two sons to support. The fault probably lay as much in the fact that his natural fervor exceeded his ability to convey it." He actually became a psychoanalyst (but of a Jungian rather than a Freudian type, which is at least a little less obnoxious). He divorced in 1914, had his second love die without having married her, then married Linda Gray before dying of tuberculosis in 1932.
My eighth edition of Granger's Index to Poetry lists 14 well-known poems by him: "Action," "As to Being Alone," "Death," "The Future," "A Handful of Dust," "Hebrews," "Immoral," "The Lincoln-Child," "The New God," "Night," "The Reason," "The Runner in the Skies," "Saturday Night," and "The Slave." Note that this is not in the list.
The poem was originally set to music by Caroline Kohlsaat. This is the proper tune, but it apparently didn't satisfy everyone. Sing Out! lists its version as having music by Martha Coleman; this is the tune to which I have heard the song, and it is an excellent melody. But it wasn't known to Judy Collins or Mimi Baez Farina. Farina set it to music, and Collins recorded Farina's tune, and thus was an Historic Injustice born; the Collins/Farina tune has to a significant extent driven out Kohlsaat's and Coleman's.
The Sing Out! column seems to have been fairly influential in folk circles. It perpetuated the legend of the "Bread and Roses" strike, even though the song and the strike aren't related, and it treated the Coleman tune as the only tune. It looks to me as if, in practical terms, it created the folksingers' version of the Bread and Roses legend.
The song apparently inspired several books, including Watson's and Baker's, plus William Cahn, Lawrence, 1912: The Bread and Roses Strike, Pilgrim Press, 1980; Milton Meltzer, Bread--And Roses: The Struggle of American Labor, 1865-1915, Facts on File, 1967; Robert Forrant, Lawrence and the 1912 Bread and Roses Strike, Arcadia Publishing, 1913. Also at least one fiction book, Katherine Paterson, Bread and Roses, Too, apparently a novel about the Bread and Roses Strike which won a 2013 Laura Ingalls Wilder award. - RBW
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