Wealth and Privilege

There was a certain pleasant excitement in the air that afternoon. People laughed, talked, shared stories of their run-in with the Pennsylvania Railroad. Factory workers who finished at mid-day came in from the South Side. The local militia floated about, having been called in the day before. Being sympathetic to the strikers, the local regiments held no formation once General Pearson left with the sheriff. They stacked their arms and mingled with the crowd, chatting as happily as the rest. The pleasantry was broken by a line of uniforms marching eastward through the crowds. “Those aren’t our boys,” a hostile murmur rumbled through the crowd. “Those are Philadelphia brigades.” The festive mood of the day turned icy in that moment of recognition. “They’ve got no business being here. This is between us and the railroad.” The same sentiment was repeated over and over by voices which grew louder and more indignant as two Philadelphia brigades pushed their way to the center of the tracks at the crossing. “Leave it to the railroad to bully honest men out of an honest protest.” “The governor’s a filthy coward to send troops out to help the railroads.” “The governor? Hell, it’s them railroads that are the filthy cowards.” “These Philly boys need to go home and mind their own business.” Thomas and Regina could almost hear the orders being barked to the soldiers. Regina made a move to get closer to the soldiers, as Thomas spotted the ladder up one side of a nearby water tank. He took hold of Regina’s arm and pointed. “I’ve got a better idea.” “We won’t be able to hear much, but we’ll certainly be able to see better,” she agreed, and they pushed their way through the dense crush of bodies. It was only when they’d reached the tank that Thomas remembered that ladies don’t generally climb ladders. He hesitated, looking dubiously at her fashionable attire. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” “Nonsense.” She gathered her train more tightly together and threw it over her shoulder, displaying two stylishly-appointed black boots. Thomas tried hard not to stare, since she was also displaying a fair amount of black stocking as well as a shapely leather-covered ankle. With an effort, he kept his eyes glued to her face as she continued, “But if you’re worried, I’ll go first. You can catch me if I fall.” She turned to put her hand on the nearest rung, but paused to throw over her shoulder, “Besides, you’re enough of a gentleman not to tell me if you look up.” She was several steps up the ladder before Thomas closed his mouth and followed. The tower’s walkway put them well above the heads of the crowd. The Philadelphians stood in formation awaiting their next orders. As they watched, the command was obviously given. The soldiers lowered their rifles to point into the crowd. Step by step, they began to move forward, driving the people away from the railroad tracks. The Pittsburghers were not so easily deterred. An eerie, sullen moment of silence was followed by a roar. A shower of rocks came raining down upon the Philadelphians. A moment later, a single shot was heard - and then the collective fire of the two regiments. Thomas pulled Regina out of sight of the militia and threw himself over her. He pressed them both against the shelter of the tank, listening to the shots and the screams of the crowd fleeing in every direction. “And you were worried we wouldn’t be able to hear much from here?” Thomas couldn’t refrain from asking. Just as abruptly as it started, the shooting stopped. Thomas and Regina raised their heads and listened. Thomas could feel Regina’s hair tickling his cheek. He was instantly aware of her - the heat of her body pressed against his, her face only inches from his, the smell of her in his nostrils. His breath caught in his throat. “Regina - ” “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Thomas,” she interrupted. “You’d be on your way home, if it weren’t for me. Instead you’re pulling me out of the line of fire. What awful things you must think of me right now!” Awful things? Like the way the smudges on her cheeks highlighted the beautiful shape of her nose? How all this excitement had put the most spectacular glow in her eyes? He wanted so badly to kiss her - if he looked at her any longer, he’d have to. He pulled his body off of her, and leaned his back against the wall of the tank. “I don’t mind,” he dissembled. “You forget - facing gunfire is much more pleasant than facing my family.” He smiled self-consciously. “The company’s much better here.” She laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. “How chivalrous of you to say so.” The smile faded from her face, and she looked away shyly. “My curiosity would have taken me right in front of those rifles, if you hadn’t been here with me. You’ve saved my life, you know. Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Thomas answered with equal sobriety. He pictured her lying dead under the soldier’s guns, guilty only of sympathy and intellectual curiosity. The vision filled him with rage. There were people out there lying dead; maybe even people he’d talked with that very afternoon. Some of his or Regina’s employees could be among the dead or wounded. Or even his house staff. George, or Mary, or Joseph could be among those he could hear moaning. He was filled with the need to see. “Why don’t you stay here - I’m going to take a look.” He moved slowly sideways towards a point where he could see the troops. He was not surprised when Regina followed him. “What did I just say about my curiosity? Do you think I’d pass up another chance to die?” Thomas knew better than to protest, and together they crept around the tank, and cautiously peeked down at the tracks. The troops had achieved their objective. The tracks at the crossing were clear. They stood in formation, at attention, their arms at their sides, guarding the tracks. Their faces were impassive, and not one of them looked down. The dead and dying lay scattered about the railyard. There were men, women, even children lying face down in the dirt. A young man in the uniform of the 14th National Guards, one of the Pittsburgh regiments, was crawling away from the scene, his right arm and leg both covered in blood. From his elevated viewpoint, Thomas could see movements beyond the railyard, as people half-dragged, half-carried dead and wounded away from the crossing. He could see the shock on people’s faces - he could also feel the anger. It was a burning, deadly anger. These Philadelphians shot down protesters in cold blood. By God, this wasn’t over yet. Thomas and Regina both sat down on the hard metal deck of the water tower. They sat in silence, too appalled by the scene below to say anything. “They could have shot over people’s heads, and probably had the same effect without killing anybody,” Regina said eventually. “Could be,” Thomas answered, only half paying attention. He’d seen movement on the streets below. Yes, indeed: the protesters were returning. He nudged Regina - easy to do, since she’d been leaning against him - and pointed. She looked, and a grim, glad smile reached her lips, if not her eyes. As afternoon stretched into evening, Regina and Thomas remained at their perch, watching. They did not move; the soldiers did not move. But the people of Pittsburgh were on the move. The protesters of the afternoon began to return. As the news of the massacre spread, even more citizens of the city turned out from their houses and crammed the streets. The railyard once again filled with bodies - and now, instead of the happy faces of the afternoon, there was a sea of angry, determined ones.