One night I went with an organizer named Scott to a mining town in the Fairmont district where the miners had asked me to hold a meeting. When we got off the car I asked Scott where I was to speak and he pointed to a frame building. We walked in. There were lighted candles on an altar. I looked around in the dim light. We were in a church and the benches were filled with miners.
Outside the railing of the altar was a table. At one end sat the priest with the money of the union in his hands. The president of the local union sat at the other end of the table. I marched down the aisle.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Holding a meeting," said the president.
"What for?"
"For the union, Mother. We rented the church for our meetings."
I reached over and took the money from the priest. Then I turned to the miners.
"Boys," I said, "this is a praying institution. You should not commercialize it. Get up, every one of you and go out in the open fields."
They got up and went out and sat around in
