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Docile children and dangerous revolutionaries: the racial hierarchy of manliness and the Bisbee Deportation of 1917.

On July 12, 1917, three months after the United States entered World War I, a dramatic event in a remote copper-mining town near the U.S.-Mexico border grabbed national headlines. On June 26, in Bisbee, Arizona, the Industrial Workers of the World (the IWW, or "Wobblies") had called a strike on several local copper mines, including the Phelps-Dodge (PD) Corporation's famous Copper Queen Mine. By almost all accounts, the strike had remained relatively uneventful until the wee hours of July 12, when county sheriff Harry Wheeler quietly deputized twelve hundred men, who were normally miners, engineers, doctors, and shopkeepers. Mining company officials silenced all out-going phone calls and telegrams. On the front page of the morning newspaper, Wheeler warned women and children to stay off the streets. By four a.m., the gun-toting deputies "appeared as if by magic," as the front page of the New York Times reported the following day. The posse of deputies, led by the charismatic sheriff and armed to the teeth, swarmed the narrow, steep streets of the mountain town. (1)

Throughout the mining district, deputies broke down doors and gathered up men from their homes, rooming houses, or places of business, including not just miners, but also restaurant owners, carpenters, and a lawyer. Amado Villalovas was in a neighborhood store when, as he later explained to the Arizona attorney general, "about ten gunmen all armed came in and told me to get out. I asked them to let me take my groceries home to my family. They dragged me out of the store, hit me and knocked me down." (2) Under the hot July sun, the deputies forced Villalovas into a line of over a thousand other captives in a forced march through town, past the mines, to a baseball field two miles away. There, local residents gathered to watch as the deputies loaded their charges into twenty-three boxcars and sent them off nearly two hundred miles into the New Mexico desert. Hours later, an army camp in nearby Columbus, New Mexico, rescued the deported men and set up housing for them. Because vigilantes continued to police Bisbee's borders, the deportees were not allowed to go home for more than two months, and many never returned. The event became known across the country as the Bisbee Deportation, although it was not a "true" deportation across international borders.

The deportation captured national headlines, but it was only the most dramatic of a series of encounters during the summer of 1917 between Wobblies and their opponents. The mining West had been the Wobblies' stronghold since disgruntled leaders of the Western Federation of Miners (WFM) had founded the IWW in 1905. Led by colorful characters like "Big Bill" Haywood and Mother Jones, the IWW organized across class, race, and gender lines. Unlike the American Federation of Labor (AFL), which organized along craft lines, the Wobblies' goal was to create an industrial union--"one big union"--that included all workers, from the washerwoman to the foreman.

There were over forty-five hundred work stoppages in the United States that year, but in the patriotic fervor of World War I, the IWW's radical politics and antiwar stance elicited especially deep antipathy. Two weeks after the Bisbee deportation, IWW organizer Frank Little was lynched in Butte, Montana, another copper-mining center. Other towns tarred and feathered Wobblies or deported a few dozen striking workers, as occurred in Jerome, Arizona, just two days before the Bisbee Deportation. (3) But nowhere did anti-Wobbly responses reach the precision and scale of the Bisbee Deportation, a distinction that has generated many attempts at explanation. The event prompted President Woodrow Wilson to appoint a federal commission to investigate the IWW and vigilante activities in war industries in the West.

Today, the event remains a mainstay of the scholarly literatures on the domestic front in World War I, western labor history, and the history of nativism. Interpretations have varied. One view portrays the deportation as a simple example of wartime nativism intended to purge the country of foreign radicals during the Red Scare. The second major interpretation, developed in the only book-length study of the event, portrays the deportation as cynical opportunism by the mining companies that used the war effort as an excuse to rid Arizona mining camps of an increasingly powerful union movement. One scholar has sharpened the antinativist thesis by examining nascent interracial collaboration among strikers as a motivation for antilabor opposition. A women's historian has explored the gendered implications of the deportation and its effects on racial division, specifically the deployment of the concept of "domesticity" by both strikers and deputies. (4) While each of these approaches is valuable, no single theory has the power to explain an event that involved thousands of people. What is missing is an interpretation that captures the variety of perspectives among the deportations participants.

In this article, I focus on masculinity--or "manhood" and "manliness," as contemporaries would have put it--to show the links between Bisbee's class, race, and gender anxieties and divisions. As Kristin Hoganson has linked diverse interpretations of turn-of-the-century imperialism to "fighting for manhood," I argue that an understanding of the racial hierarchy of manliness can help explain the multiple motives held by Bisbee residents and also help bridge the multiple interpretations the deportation has generated. (5) The deportation was not about labor relations or race or gender; it was about all of them. Manliness is a useful lens because it colored all of them. Manliness is not a magic interpretive bullet, and I am not arguing that there is only one definition of manliness, even among white men; neither do I argue that manliness is or was inherently violent or militant or pro- or anti-labor. Manliness is a social construct linking male anatomy, cultural identity, and power. What the theme of manliness will do is reveal how several different perspectives on the strike converged in a mass vigilante action. (6) Understanding manliness can help make sense of the links between social categories that we too often isolate for the sake of analytical clarity at the cost of accurate depiction of their deep interconnections. To explore the relationships between manhood and race in Bisbee more closely, I examine their evolution at three stages in Bisbee's history: first in the social world that had developed in Bisbee before 1917; then during the strike, when Mexican workers challenged the terms of Bisbee's social compact; and, finally, in the stunning vigilante response in the form of deportation and its aftermath.


Bisbee's most vivid and public expression of the racial hierarchy of manliness was its reputation as a "white man's camp," which dates to the 1880s. The term's meanings changed over time. At first the term indicated the exclusion of Chinese, who were barred from the town altogether. (7) Mexicans, unlike the Chinese, were allowed to live and work in Bisbee, but the town's status as a white man's camp also referred to its exclusion of Mexican workers from the most lucrative jobs underground. In "Mexican camps" like Clifton-Morenci in Arizona, Mexican workers performed most kinds of work, other than supervisory roles, but in Bisbee they were restricted to only the most menial mining jobs. "Mexican" was a racial label, not a national one, and native-born, lifelong residents of the American Southwest were consigned to the "Mexican" category alongside recent Mexican immigrants.

The place of other ethnic groups in the white man's camp was less clear, however. "Bisbee has always been a 'White Man's Camp,'" insisted one local editorial in 1903, but the new "foreign labor" from Serbia and Italy was threatening that status quo. Eastern and southern Europeans occupied an "in-between" racial category, to use a phrase used by several historians. In Bisbee, workers argued among themselves and with employers over where these "in-betweens" should go in a place self-defined as a white man's camp. Other white man's camps, like Cripple Creek, Colorado, had successfully excluded southern and eastern Europeans in the years before the World War I boom, but not so Bisbee. By 1917, hundreds of Slavs and Italians lived in Bisbee, enough to have their own boardinghouses and distinctive neighborhoods. In part, the Bisbee deportation, occurring in the context of World War I and increasing support for immigration restriction, did reflect fears about foreigners, as many historians have noted. Eighty percent of the men deported from Bisbee in 1917 were immigrants. One third of those counted as foreign-born were of Mexican descent, and another 40 percent were Slavic. (8)

The place of Mexicans and these new "in-between" races in the white man's camp differed, however, and the biggest difference flowed from the dual-wage system of Bisbee's mines. People of Mexican descent doing the same work as other mine employees earned one-half to two-thirds of what their non-Mexican counterparts did. Although northern European workers complained that Slavs and Italians would work for less pay, eastern and southern European workers did not actually occupy a separate racial job category; Mexican workers did. Printed pay scales listed Mexican and white (or "American") wages separately, with Serbs and Italians clustered in mid-level "white" jobs. In a context where race so explicitly equaled class, this distinction was critical because an "American" wage was as racially defined as a Mexican wage. In Arizona, the opposite of a white man's camp was a Mexican camp, not a Slavic camp or even a foreigners' camp. (9) This linguistic distinction suggested some room for racial maneuvering for eastern and southern Europeans in contrast to opportunities for Mexicans.

The dual-wage system existed throughout the Southwest's mining industry, but white man's camps buttressed racial divisions of labor by excluding Mexican workers from the better-paid jobs underground--the work of Bisbee's famed "he-men." As the Bisbee Daily Review explained in 1903, Bisbee "is strictly a 'white man's camp'.... Mexicans are employed only in the common or rough labor" above ground. Sometimes, as at Bisbee's Calumet & Arizona Mining Company (C&A), "Mexican" was a job category as well as a racial label. A detailed "nationality report" compiled by C&A for federal investigators listed categories for "Native Born Citizens," "Naturalized Citizens," and "Foreigners." These were totaled and then, below this total and separated by a line, was a column labeled "Mexicans (not included above)." Wage scales never listed a "foreigner" wage; "Mexican" was the only category that appeared in both nationality reports and wage scales. As a result of this combination of wage and job discrimination, almost all non-Mexican mining employees had better jobs than Mexican workers did. During the 1910s, the average Mexican wage was half the average white wage because of combined wage and job discrimination, and the gap was growing. (10)

The wage system was also highly gendered. Mexican wages were defined as a percentage of white wages, which in turn were defined in terms of "family wage ideology." This principle held that a man working full-time should be not just the primary, but the breadwinner, in his family. As Marsha May and Linda Gordon have observed, family wage ideology enjoyed wide consensus among workers, employers, and reformers. Historian Alice Kessler-Harris has shown that women's low wages suffered from the assumption that women were not breadwinners. (11)

As in other industrial communities, in Bisbee the family wage ideology was useful to employers and workers alike: Bisbee had a reputation as one of the best-paid mining camps in the West precisely because the mining companies wanted to entice family men in order to reduce turnover. As one C&A official explained in 1907, "the robust American with a growing family and home ties is a better man for us than a man without these things." To entice these robust specimens, companies supplemented wages with family-friendly philanthropy like home-owning schemes, school-building, park maintenance, and a preference for keeping on married men during lay-offs. These were offers benefited mainly those who were earning white wages. Just as David Roediger has summarized W. E. B. DuBois to argue that the "wages of whiteness" include the "psychological wage" of being white, so too did Bisbee's family wage package include forms of compensation not found in a pay envelope. The "wages of whiteness" were family wages. (12)

In theory, white workers and managers agreed on the family wage, but in practice they parted company when it came to defining it in dollars and cents. They had competing visions of the family wage's meaning: Employers saw the family wage as an incentive, but those who earned white wages saw the family wage as a right. The mining companies had established a sliding pay scale according to the price of copper; even if these wages were higher than the industry average, this market-determined pay scale conflicted with workers' conviction that wages should be calculated based on a certain standard of living. One of the strikers' demands in 1917 was to replace the sliding scale with fixed wages. In 1917, as wartime inflation deflated salaries, defenders of the strikers invoked the importance of supporting one's family. When the PD company store raised the price of flour, sympathetic newspaper editor John Dunbar argued that the price increase was intended to "starve the miners into subjection," but that all the increases would do was to "starv[e] men out who have families." (13) Dunbar was implicitly admitting that some men would work for the current wages, but not the most desirable workers--the family men.

Bisbee's debates about the family wage usually invoked the "American standard of living," a concept that national trade unionists had been developing since the Jacksonian period. Although the term was clearly subjective and rarely explicitly defined, it generally referred to providing the sole support for a wife and several school-age children, and usually to home ownership ("a comfortable house of at least six rooms," wrote one labor leader in 1898). By 1917, these claims were well established. At Bisbee, the strikers were simply "asking the American right to maintain their wives and children," argued editor Dunbar in 1917. (14)

Home ownership was the most potent symbol of the American standard of living in Bisbee. Bisbee had long been known as a "city of homes," where a high percentage of miners were also homeowners, and promotional pamphlets bragged about Bisbee's "domesticated miners." Beginning in 1906, C&A created a subsidiary, the Warren Company, to build an entire suburb to entice "American" miners to purchase homes for their families. PD bought the real estate company in 1917. This corporate commitment to home ownership for workers gave miners some leverage. If it was company policy to offer home ownership, workers argued, it ought to be company policy to pay men wages that covered the mortgage as well as the grocery bill. Defenders of strikers in 1917 repeatedly pointed out that the majority of the men deported were homeowners. (15)

The case of housing shows that the family wage and the American standard of living were racialized as well as gendered. Both white workers and managers used housing to show Mexican workers' unfitness for an American standard of living. Mexican families' "domestic equipment" consisted merely of "an adobe but with an earth floor." This "lower" standard of living became naturalized in white minds, so that white workers continually opposed the inclusion of Mexican laborers into "white" labor categories by arguing that their lower standard of living allowed them to undercut white wages. Managers did the same. Less than a year after the deportation, PD president Waiter Douglas thought it "desirable that American employees should own their own homes," but rejected a home-owning plan for Mexican workers, because "where the Mexican is concerned, it will be difficult to induce him to obligate himself to pay for the house in which he is living." Better to "build tenements or cheaply constructed houses" for rental that "might appeal to the Mexican." (16)

White workers and mining officials believed that the gap between American and Mexican standards of living--indeed, the dual-wage system itself--was a natural product of racial difference. As Linda Gordon has pointed out, most Anglos honestly believed that Mexicans did not need a family wage. A well-circulated government report used Mexicans' "lower standard of living" to justify their low wages: "The wants of the Mexican peon are hardly more complex than those of the Indian from whom he is descended." Mexican wages quite explicitly could not support an "American standard of living," nor were they intended to. In this sense, the dual-wage system, and with it the racial hierarchy of manhood, appeared natural.

Specifically, white critics believed that Mexican workers were not "real" men. If anything, this is an understatement. As Yvette Huginnie has shown, Anglo workers and managers infantilized and feminized Mexican workers to reinforce their exclusion from the family wage and the American standard of living. "The Mexican worker intellectually is a child. He is governed by emotion rather than by reason," explained one technical journal. Another article warned, "The Mexican workman will misunderstand an attitude of social equality toward him.... He cannot be your equal; he must either be your superior or your inferior." The superiority of Anglo men over Mexican men meshed quite neatly with the superiority of foreman over laborer in a twinned hierarchy of class and race. Mexican workers needed white bosses they could "look up to," according to such articles. (17) That white workers and managers often expressed these stereotypes in terms of benevolent paternalism only accentuates the ways that their rhetoric aimed to emasculate Mexican workers.


These racialized, emasculating characterizations assumed by white bosses and coworkers had little to do with how Mexican workers viewed themselves, however, and the strike was a vivid assertion of their own manly identities. Their strike participation and demands rejected nearly everything about the racial hierarchy of manliness, which, by then, shaped nearly everything about life in Bisbee, from gender to wages, family structure, and housing. No one understood the hierarchy's ideological and material power better than Mexican workers themselves. In the strike of 1917, Anglo Wobbly leaders were calling for an end to the practice of blacklisting, a solidarity strike for copper miners striking in Butte, Montana, and--lastly--a slight wage increase. However, Mexican workers called for dismantling the dual-wage system by demanding the family wage and the right to an American standard of living. Above all, they were rejecting the social compact of the white man's camp, one that denied them full male economic and social citizenship.

Scholars have not adequately explored the challenge Mexican workers raised against the ideology of the white man's camp. Most histories of the Bisbee strike have ignored the prevalence of Mexican workers in the strike or have depicted them as passive, unknowing dupes of Wobbly leaders. One reason, no doubt, is that Wilson's Mediation Commission failed to interview any Mexicans in Bisbee. Few sources exist about Mexicans in Bisbee except quantitative ones (which are difficult to use in the noncensus year of 1917). Others mention groups of Mexicans in only the most vague, stereotypical terms--generally as faceless peons or revolutionaries. The lack of sources on Mexicans in Bisbee is, in fact, prima facie evidence of the power of the white man's camp ideology, because sources on Mexicans elsewhere in Arizona, while not abundant, far outnumber those for Bisbee. I have borrowed from these other sources where necessary. Because of this scarcity of sources, general histories of Arizona's Mexican mine workers have focused on Mexican strikes in Mexican camps--an important story. But that focus has underplayed the ideological significance of their participation in strikes on the white men's camps of Bisbee and Globe-Miami, Arizona. The challenges mounted by Mexican workers in 1917 against the very tenets of the white man's camp were unprecedented. Bisbee had faced union conflict before, in an abortive Western Federation of Miners strike in 1907. But in that incident, strikers had called not for equality for Mexican workers, but for an end to Mexican labor altogether! The 1907 strikers intended to preserve Bisbee's reputation as a white man's camp, not to destroy it. Not so in 1917. (18)

By 1917 Mexicans made up a significant portion of Bisbee's population and workforce. When the strike broke out in late July, the Copper Queen had about three hundred Mexican workers, which added up to nearly 15 percent of the official workforce, second only to "Americans." In addition to the Mexicans employed at the mines, hundreds of new immigrants from Mexico had come to Bisbee looking for work in the month before the strike. The story of Amado Villalovas, the deportee rounded up at the grocery store, is typical in several ways. Countless others suffered injuries and indignities as Villalovas had; two men--a deputy and a deportee--were killed in the confusion of the morning. In addition, at least two hundred twenty-six deportees had wives and families to support, and many of them were Mexican workers like Villalovas, belying the fiction that only white workers needed a family wage. (19) Finally, Mexican workers like Villalovas were disproportionately represented among the deportees. Several witnesses testified that "foreigners," especially Mexicans, were rounded up indiscriminately. It is not even clear that Villalovas was a miner, much less on strike, and in this, too, he was typical, because many of the deportees did not work for the mining companies. A perusal of the deportees' testimonies reveal that they represented many different occupations.

What is clear is that Mexican workers participated in the strike in disproportionate numbers. Several witnesses claimed that at least half of the men on strike were Mexican. Bisbee's mining labor force was about 13 percent Mexican, but at least 27 percent of all deportees were Mexican--and probably more. One mining manager echoed several others when he observed that, alone among the working men, the Mexican workers quit "practically in a body at the first announcement of the strike." At one mine, three hundred of three hundred and fifty Mexican workers appeared on the picket line the first day of the strike. (20) They were the most loyal of the strikers in a workforce of thousands. The question is, why?

Mexican workers had concrete goals and ideological reasons for joining the strike. Above all, Mexican workers were on strike against the dual-wage system. Their chief demand threatened to yank the linchpin from the racial hierarchy of manliness. This demand proposed to raise the wages of all surface laborers, regardless of race, from $2.50 to $5.50 per day, while raising wages of underground (white) miners from $5.75 to $6.00--an increase of less than 5 percent. Had both these demands been met, the wages of surface laborers would be within $.50 of what white underground workers earned. If surface workers earned $5.50 per day and underground workers earned $6.00, the dual-wage labor system would have effectively ceased to exist. (21)

Anglo Wobbly organizers had concocted this extraordinary wage demand to entice Mexican workers to their cause, not because of a genuine commitment to it. Strike leaders intended for the Bisbee strike to show support for Wobbly strikes elsewhere, especially in Butte, Montana. As a Wobbly spokesperson explained, "This is a solidarity strike and we must concentrate on that phase of it. The demands made are wholly secondary." (22) Anglo strike leaders were pursuing a national political agenda, while Mexican miners were striking for local demands with broad consequences.

Despite these differences with Anglo leaders, Mexican workers flocked to the Wobblies for sound ideological and practical reasons. The IWW was the first union to take a friendly interest in Bisbee's Mexican workers. The union hired two Mexican organizers, Benito Garcia and Joseph Robles--a first for organized labor in Bisbee. Moreover, while some strikers were surely ignorant of the finer points of Wobbly doctrine, many others would have known about the connections between the IWW and the Partido Liberal Mexicano (PLM), the anarcho-syndicalist organization headed by the Flores Magon brothers. Many Bisbee miners had come from the Mexican copper town of Cananea, where the IWW had participated in the PLM's first important strike in 1906. There, too, PLM members had been striking against the dual-wage system, where "American" workers imported to Cananea earned twice what the Mexican miners earned. In Bisbee, the sheriff's department used the terms "Magonistas" and "Mexican IWW" synonymously, and a year before the strike, the leader of the Mexican IWW was also a representative for the PLM's newspaper. (23) The PLM had close ties with the Wobblies and the Bisbee area. In other words, Mexican workers, far from being the Wobblies' dupes, knew exactly what they were doing.

Mexican workers also challenged the racial hierarchy of manliness by appropriating the language of manhood long denied to them. Federal and state investigators ignored Mexican workers while they were collecting testimony in Bisbee, but statements gleaned from the Mexican camp of Clifton, where Mexican workers represented such an overwhelming majority that investigators had to question them, speak clearly. When New York reporter Robert Bruere asked Mexican miners in Clifton why they were on strike, they said it was "for an American standard of living," and more say in the improvement of working conditions. Federal investigator Felix Frankfurter, then a young Harvard Law School professor and assistant secretary of labor, was even more concise, specifically invoking the role of manhood. After visiting Bisbee as a member of the Mediation Commission three months after the deportation, Frankfurter observed that the strike had been "a fight for the status of free manhood." The Mexicans and Slavs, he concluded, "feel they were not treated as men." One Mexican striker in Clifton touched on this multiracial alliance, casting the racial hierarchy of manhood in the stark terms of slavery. Critics "were sure that the Mexican element and the Spaniards and Italians would not hold together. [But] the times in which the master class were imposing on us are past and gone.... The times of slavery are gone forever." Given the racial division of labor, this was a powerful metaphor, even more so because it appropriated a language many white union workers had long used to embrace free labor ideology. (24)

As this Clifton striker recognized, perhaps the most revolutionary aspect of the Bisbee strike was its ability to subvert and reevaluate established "racial" truths. Surviving on a "Mexican standard of living" had been outstanding training for a war between capital and labor. One white carpenter admitted that "the much vaunted superiority of the so-called Anglo-Saxon fades into a myth" in the face of the dedicated resolve of Mexican strikers, who "lived on less than half of what the average [white] striker would consent to remain loyal on." (25) Did it occur to the carpenter that Mexican workers had been enduring similar conditions for decades?

By claiming their manhood and demanding the American standard of living, Mexican strikers pulled up the stakes that secured the white man's camp. Outsiders like Bruere and Frankfurter recognized this, but local Anglos could not. To admit the manhood of Mexican workers would be to topple the teetering racial hierarchy of the white man's camp. This is why the sheriff responded to the strike so forcefully.


When asked by federal investigators about the strike, Sheriff Wheeler announced, "This is no labor disturbance. We are sure of that." (26) That Wheeler could make the extraordinary statement that a strike was not about labor indicated how deeply racialized the class system was. Race and nation were commingled in a borderlands town populated largely by immigrants, where questions of patriotism and national loyalty were always questions of race. For Wheeler, opposing the strike was a matter of national defense, racialized fears, and--by his own assertion--being a man. Wheeler's commitment to the tenets of American manliness was extraordinary, but it demonstrates the way that divergent views of white manliness could still converge in the decision to participate in the deportation.

For good reason the New York Times called Wheeler a "vigorous personage." With his slight stature and modest height, it was not Wheeler's physical stature that made him stand out, but rather his reputation as "a man of splended judgement [sic], cool--skillful, daring, and the right man in the right place at all times." Wheeler had authentic and well-known western manly credentials. The son of a West Point graduate, Wheeler was born and raised on western army forts. After apparently serving in the Spanish-American war, Wheeler worked his way up the ranks until he was captain of the Arizona Rangers, a state militia that patrolled the border, pursued cattle rustlers, and "kept the peace" in labor disputes. (27)

Critics and defenders alike described him as moral and honest. Married with several children, Wheeler was an upright military man and a teetotaler--stern, moralistic, and uncompromising. The Arizona Rangers had sometimes found their captain inflexible and condescending (twenty-six resigned under his watch), but he could also be deeply caring and contemplative. He "grieved" after dismissing an officer whom he had found drunk, praising the fallen man's "exceedingly good character and most lovable traits." Wheeler believed that men were made, not born; he admitted that he had once "fought down some personal habits, but it took me a long time ... before I gained the mastery over myself." (28)

Wheeler's role in the deportation deserves special mention because, unlike company officials who were eastern aristocrats, the sheriff had a good reputation among union members. As captain of the Arizona Rangers, Wheeler had intervened in several strikes in Arizona, most notably the 1903 strike of mostly Mexican workers in Clifton-Morenci. Yet he had gained a reputation as a fair-minded third party who insisted on equal treatment and nonviolence for both sides of labor conflicts. Mother Jones herself had vouched for Wheeler's good character, calling him "a pretty fine fellow," despite her distrust of law enforcement. She admitted that Wheeler "was an exception to that rule." Because of Wheeler's reputation for fairness, he had not been the mining companies' chosen candidate for sheriff. Wheeler once explained to a friend that he had not run for office until 1911 because "The Copper Queen [management] does not want me and that settles it in this County." (29) In spite of his concern, Wheeler was elected twice, and was immensely popular in the mining towns and the large ranching areas that surrounded Bisbee.

Wheeler's moral probity made a strong impression on federal investigators. After meeting with Wheeler for hours, the commission--although they disapproved of Wheeler's actions--dismissed allegations that Wheeler had been paid off by the mining companies. One commission member, an AFL leader from Illinois, echoed the sentiments of several others when he averred, "I believe [Wheeler] is absolutely honest and clean and courageous." The federal secretary of labor called Wheeler "a man of the type" immune "to any corrupt influence of any kind of character whatever." (30)

Wheeler was neither a company man nor crooked. So why the deportation? Why cooperate with the mining officials? Although his plan of action may have converged with theirs, and he may have even worked at their behest, Wheeler fully believed that he did so for his own reasons and on his own terms, and so did the commission. He did not defend the rights of industrialists, but he did believe that maintaining wartime industry was a patriotic responsibility. In Wheeler's mind, he was preserving national interests, not material ones. It was not antilabor attitudes that led Wheeler to organize the deportation, but rather what he called "pure Americanism," and by that he meant patriotism and loyalty. Wheeler believed that anyone striking against a war industry was potentially treasonous. For him, choosing sides became a question of "Are you an American, or are you not?" He defined his Americanism against the actions of "foreigners," and for him, wartime labor activism, foreignness, and disloyalty were inseparable. He insisted, "We intend to make this an American camp where American working men may enjoy life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness unmolested by any alien enemies of whatever breed." (31)

The Mexican Revolution, which had begun in 1910, had a galvanizing influence on Wheeler. For people on the U.S.-Mexico border, the war-related tensions had begun long before America's entry into World War I. The Zimmermann telegraph, in which the Germans promised to return Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas to Mexico, if Mexico would attack the United States, suggested to Wheeler, and to many others, that the strike was the work of pro-Germany provocateurs who had allied with the Mexicans. The telegram--sent just five months before the Bisbee strike--only confirmed Harry Wheeler's worst suspicions. He believed rumors that Mexican workers kept a cache of rifles just over the line, though he had no evidence. After the deportation, he admonished federal investigators that any one of them would have done the same thing, had he "been a sheriff on this border for six or seven years, and a captain of the Rangers years before it[,] and had seen the things which occurred on the border as I have seen them." Living on the border, he explained, "put a new complexion on" the strike. (32) His choice of the term "complexion" unconsciously captured the racial subtext of the fear over labor troubles.

Wheeler and the deputies targeted Mexicans as a group, whether or not they were on strike. As one deputy explained, "It is hard for an American to tell the faces among the Mexicans." As a result, according to one source, "Innocent suffered alike with guilty." Labor Secretary William B. Wilson asked the sheriff how he had ascertained which residents of Mexican descent were revolutionaries or at least "alien." Wheeler responded, "They were practically all aliens, Mr. Wilson." The labor secretary pressed on, "What steps were taken to take charge of those Mexicans" who were explicit supporters of Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa? To this, Wheeler responded, "How could you separate one Mexican from another?" When Wilson asked whether the deputies had even tried to distinguish among the men, Wheeler concluded the exchange by announcing that, "I honestly believe today that 80 or 85 per cent of these men were foreigners, some of them Austrians and Germans and Mexicans, and none of them loved the country I love." He rounded up many men whose only crime was their foreign appearance--and Mexican men were the most obvious targets. When Secretary Wilson continued to needle Wheeler about his dragnet techniques, Wheeler replied, "I would repeat the operation any time I find my own people endangered by a mob composed of 80 per cent aliens and enemies of my Government." (33)

To Wheeler and others, foreigners--especially Mexicans--were a faceless crowd of mindless, dangerous followers. By 1917, the docile children of years past had been transformed into dangerous revolutionaries in the testimonies of deputies and their defenders. No one articulated this metamorphosis of Anglo perceptions better than did Wheeler, with his references to dangerous "mobs," and his repeated mention of rifle-caches. This was a new tune for Wheeler. Just one year before the deportation, Wheeler had received reports from deputies that "there does not seem to be any plotting and organizing going on" among Bisbee's Mexican population. On the contrary, Mexicans in the area were "somewhat timid for fear that they might be molested by the Americans." At the time of the deportation, however, Wheeler claimed that "all Mexicans hate Americans," and his every action flowed from this premise. Wheeler had little patience with federal investigators who questioned his conclusions. "You eastern people haven't had much experience with Mexicans, but ... we figured they might do anything." (34)

The Mexican Revolution had surprised many people who had assumed Mexicans were simply childish nuisances incapable of insurrection. Close to home, the border towns of Agua Prieta and Naco, both just miles from Bisbee, had been the sites of significant battles to which U.S. residents had flocked to participate as spectators. Sheriff Wheeler repeatedly referenced "border troubles" in general and the Battle of Naco in particular as he defended his role in the deportation. Then, too, the Mexican camp of Clifton-Morenci had been the site in 1903 and 1915 of large-scale strikes led by Mexican workers, as well as wildcat strikes so common that a new Spanglish term arose to describe them--strikitos. (35) Both the revolution and this new labor activism forced many Anglos to revise their stereotypes.

The new stereotype of the Mexican as dangerous revolutionary was not as distant from the older one of the docile child as it might appear, however, because neither was manly. Both failed to resemble the ideal resident of the white man's camp: the independent, loyal, family-supporting "American" worker. Even sympathizers reified this ultimately passive vision of Mexican workers. Mining officials warned Bruere, the New York reporter, that the Mexican camps surrounding Clifton-Morenci were "unsafe" because of the "terrible Mexicans," although the muckraking adventurer reported somewhat disappointedly that he found them to be "the most docile people imaginable." (36) For Wheeler, revolution had not made Mexicans manly and independent, because in his view, they had simply switched their allegiances from American foremen to foreign provocateurs. The Zimmermann telegram indicated to the sheriff that Mexican strikers were dangerous because they had fallen under the sway of "Prussians."

If ideas about manliness shaped Wheeler's understanding of Mexicans' place in the deportation, his own gender identity was inseparable from his decision to take a leadership role in the event. Typical was his statement to investigators that, "I don't shirk anything. If I have done wrong, I am willing to suffer for it. I am not the kind of man who will whimper, and I am not running away from it." (37) Wheeler felt the deportation was necessary to protect Bisbee's most precious social boundaries--those that separated working-class Mexican men from "white women." He worried for weeks, he said, about "foreigners" bothering "women." For Wheeler, the two categories were separate, because "women" were implicitly American, even though thousands of foreign-born women lived in Bisbee.

When Mexican Wobblies approached a group of white female laundry workers to join the union, this was the last straw. In Wheeler's words, "They were so terrorized by visitations of a committee of Mexicans ... that the women one day left in a body in abject terror. Think of white women in an American town so terrorized by foreigners that they were compelled to quit work in terror of their lives." (38) Like race, gender seemed natural to Wheeler and, thus, the perfect arsenal with which to defend his position. In Wheeler's mind, protecting white womanhood was just as natural as self-defense, and both were at the heart of his understanding of manhood.

Although it was relatively minor, the incident at the laundry came up again and again when vigilantes defended their actions. It was bad enough in their minds when Mexican workers demanded nearly the same wages as Anglo men in Anglo jobs. But when Mexican strikers approached white women to join their union--to make common cause with them--the strikers were also challenging gender hierarchies that built upon racialized fears. In a world where class differences rested on race and racial boundaries rested on gendered rules, single white women joining a mixed-race miners' union was literally unthinkable. Wheeler could not conceive of it as anything except a potentially violent threat to white womanhood, indeed to "pure Americanism itself."

The deportation was a messy affair, and so were its causes. Unitary theories are tidy, because they insist on parceling race, labor, nation, and gender into separate categories. These interpretations also suppose that one justification trumped another. Yet what is far more striking is the confluence of these ideas. Although the meanings of these categories seemed self-evident, in fact all of them were fluid. The conflation of race and labor was so deeply entrenched in the social system that it was manifested in the most visceral, unself-conscious justifications and behaviors--manliness among them. An emphasis on the role of masculinity--something seemingly natural but never stable--highlights the connections between gender, race, family, labor, and national identify. A threat to one meant a threat to all.

The racial hierarchy of manliness subsumed race, gender, nation, and class into a conception of manliness that did not cause the deportation, but did filter multiple motives into a worldview of white male supremacy that provided a frame for participants to understand their decisions and roles in the strike and the vigilante response to it. For Wheeler, this was the crux of the dual-wage system: to naturalize racial difference to such an extent that any challenge to it was a threat to gender relations and to the integrity of "America" itself.

Ultimately, the strike was a failure by any measure. Many of the deported men never returned. Even worse, Bisbee embraced its status as a white man's camp and "American town" with renewed vigor. As late as 1929, Bisbee advertised as "the last stand of the American miner." (39) Conditions for Mexicans worsened, and with the same circular reasoning they had used before 1917, white workers scapegoated Mexican workers for low wages and labor conflict. Given the odds that were stacked against the workers, it is hardly surprising that the strike was unsuccessful. Still, to attempt it at all meant that the goal of the white man's camp--to make Mexican workers less than men, to deny them agency--had failed.


I would like to thank Thomas Andrews, Antonia I. Castaneda, Hal Cohen, Flannery Burke, Linda Gordon, Alexander Shashko, and Marienka Sokol Vanlandingham for their readings and assistance.

(1.) The President's Mediation Commission appointed by President Woodrow Wilson concluded that the strike had been peaceful (U.S. Department of Labor, Report on the Bisbee Deportation Made by the President's Mediation Commission to the President of the United Sates, November 6, 1917 [Washington D.C.: Government Printing Office (GPO), 1918, hereafter cited as PMC], 4; George E. Kellogg testimony, PMC, 13; "Women and Children Keep Off Streets Today," Bisbee Daily Review, July 12, 1917, 1; and "Arizona Sheriff Ships 1,100 IWW's Out in Cattle Cars," New York Times, July 13, 1917, 1).

(2.) Testimony cited in reports to Gov. George W. P. Hunt, July, 1917, probably from sworn statements to Arizona Attorney General Wiley Jones, RG 1 Governor's Office, Hunt Papers, box 8, Arizona State Legislative and Public Records, hereafter cited as Hunt Papers and ASLAPR.

(3.) The classic account of the IWW is Melvyn Dubofsky, We Shall Be All: A History of the IWW (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1969). Thomas E. Sheridan, Arizona: A History (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1995), 183. Vernon H. Jensen, Heritage of Conflict: Labor Relations in the Nonferrous Metals Industry up to 1930 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1950), 400.

(4.) Major interpretations of the deportation include John H. Lindquist and James Fraser, "A Sociological Interpretation of the Bisbee Deportation," Pacific Historical Review 37:4 (1968): 401-22; Philip Taft, "The Bisbee Deportation," Labor History 13:1 (1972), 3-40; lames Byrkit, Forging the Copper Collar: Arizona's Labor-Management War of 1901-1921 (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1982); Philip J. Mellinger, Race and Labor in Western Copper: The Fight for Equality, 1896-1918 (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1995); Colleen O'Neill, "Domesticity Deployed: Gender, Race, and the Construction of Class Struggle in the Bisbee Deportation," Labor History 34:2/3 (1993): 256-73; and Colleen O'Neill, "A Community Divided: A Social History of the Bisbee Deportation" (master's thesis, New Mexico State University, 1989). The most recent study is Christopher Capozzola, "The Only Badge Needed is Your Patriotic Fervor: Vigilance, Coercion, and the Law in World War I America," Journal of American History 88:4 (2002): 1354-82.

(5.) Kristin L. Hoganson, Fighting For Manhood: How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998). Other works that have influenced my focus on manliness and masculinity include Susan Lee Johnson, "'A Memory Sweet to Soldiers': The Significance of Gender," in A New Significance: Re-envisioning the History of the American West, ed. Clyde A. Milner II (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 255-78; Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1995); and Matthew Basso, Laura McCall, and Dee Garceau, eds., Across the Great Divide: Cultures of Manhood in the American West (New York: Routledge, 2001).

(6.) I focus here mainly on men. On women in Bisbee, see O'Neill, "Domesticity Deployed," and "A Community Divided"; and Katherine A. Benton, "What about Women in the 'White Man's Camp?': Gender, Nation, and the Redefinition of Race in Cochise County, Arizona, 1853-1941" (Ph.D diss., University of Wisconsin--Madison, 2002).

(7.) Bisbee's exclusion of the Chinese was in explicit contrast to Tombstone, its nearby silver-camp neighbor, which included a sizable Chinese population. See Odie B. Faulk, Tombstone: Myth and Reality (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972), 199; William B. Shillingberg, Tombstone, A.T.: A History of Early Mining, Milling, and Mayhem (Spokane, Wash.: Authur H. Clark, 1999), 130-32; and U.S. Bureau of the Census, Eleventh Census of the United States, 1890, Population, Part 1, Statistics of Population (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1892), 610.

(8.) "No Foreign Labor Wanted," Bisbee Daily Review, May 27, 1903. Robert Orsi, "The Religious Boundaries of an Inbetween People: Street Feste and the Problem of the Dark-skinned Other in Italian Harlem, 1920-1990," American Quarterly 44:3 (1992): 313-47. According to Orsi, John Higham coined the term "'in-between' races." James R. Barrett and David Roediger, "In-Between Peoples: Race, Nationality and the 'New Immigrant' Working Class," Journal of American Ethnic History 16:3 (1997): 3-44. Elizabeth Jameson, All That Glitters: Class, Conflict, and Community in Cripple Creek (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1998), 140-60. "Census of the Columbus I.W.W. Refugee Camp," comp. by Ben H. Dorcy, Cavalry Major, Intelligence Officer, Columbus, New Mexico, Hunt Papers, ASLAPR.

(9.) Mexicans working at the Copper Queen smelter in nearby Douglas earned two-thirds what other men in the same jobs did. I have not found wage scales for Mexicans in Bisbee on the eve of the strike; but the proportional difference between white and Mexican wages would be similar. Copper Queen Smelter Rate Scales, May 16, 1917, Henry McCluskey Collection, MSS 54, box 2, Arizona Collection, Arizona State University. See Phelps-Dodge Corporation Payroll Records, 1885, Arizona Historical Society, hereafter cited as AHS, and "March 13, 1923 Report Re: Wage Scale for Reduction Works Employees in Douglas," Copper Queen Mining Company Wage Scales, Samuel Truett private collection, Albuquerque, New Mexico. The author wishes to thank Truett for access to these materials. See Michael Parrish, Mexican Workers, Progressives, and Copper: The Failure of Industrial Democracy in Arizona During the Wilson Years (San Diego: Chicano Research Publications, University of California, San Diego, 1979), 12-13. Linda Gordon describes the ways that Phelps-Dodge manipulated the dual-wage system in her book, The Great Arizona Orphan Abduction (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999), 181. The racial underpinnings of American identity were best articulated by Theodore Roosevelt, who believed that, as Gail Bederman has summarized, "the manly American race was forged of various immigrant races, [and] all of those contributing races were European" (Bederman, Manliness and Civilization, 179).

(10.) Ralph Rollins, "Labor Situation in Arizona Points to Mexicanization," Arizona Mining Journal 4:4 (1920): 13-14. Bisbee Daily Review, World's Fair Edition (1904). "Nationality Report of Men Employed on June 26th, and of Men Deported to Columbus on July 12th, Who Were in the Employ of the Calumet & Arizona Mining Company When Strike Was Called on June 26th," PMC reports, 288-89. The Mexican workers were also the only ones whose marital status was not recorded. Roediger and Barrett found that managers drew up elaborate lists of which races should do which work ("In-Between Peoples," 17). On the average Mexican and white wages, see Joseph F. Park, "The History of Mexican Labor in the Territorial Period" (master's thesis, University of Arizona, 1961), 245. Park found the average wage for Anglo workers to be about $4.00, and the average Mexican wage to be about $2.05 during the early 1910s. Phylis Cancilla Martinelli, unpublished manuscript.

(11.) Linda Gordon defines the family wage usefully as "the sex/gender/family system that prescribes earning as the sole responsibility of husbands and unpaid domestic labor as the only proper long-term occupation for women," in Pitied but not Entitled: Single Mothers and the History of Welfare, 1890-1935 (New York: Free Press, 1994), 53. For more on the family wage, see Martha May and Ron Rothbart, "'Homes Are What Any Strike Is About': Immigrant Labor and the Family Wage," Journal of Social History 23:2 (1989): 267-84. See Martha May, "The Historical Problem of the Family Wage: The Ford Motor Company and the Five Dollar Day," Feminist Studies 8:2 (1982): 404, 419. Mice Kessler-Harris, A Woman's Wage: Historical Meanings and Social Consequences (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1990), 1.

(12.) Cleveland Van Dyke report to Kendric C. Babcock, president of the University of Arizona, December 16, 1907, Warren Company Papers, Private Collection of Charles Parrott, Lowell, Massachusetts, 8-9. My thanks to Parrott for sharing these valuable materials with me. On the family wage ideology and its relationship to the homeowning plans in the Bisbee suburb of Warren, see Benton, "'What about Women,'" 192-253. David Roediger, The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class (1991; reprint, New York: Verso Books, 1999).

(13.) Byrkit, Forging the Copper Collar, 158. John O. Dunbar, "Editorial Comment," Dunbar's Weekly, July 7, 1917, 8.

(14.) Lawrence Glickman, "Inventing the 'American Standard of Living': Gender, Race and Working-Class Identity, 1880-1925," Labor History 23:2/3 (1993): 221-35. On its relationship to the family wage, see May and Rothbart, "Homes," passim, and, in the Jacksonian period, Jeanne Boydston, Home and Work: Housework, Wages, and the Ideology of Labor in the Early Republic (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). Glickman, "Inventing the 'American Standard,'" 221; quotation from 226. Dunbar, "Editorial Comment: Kill The Strikers," Dunbar's Weekly, July 14, 1917, 6.

(15.) World's Fair Edition, Bisbee Daily Review. The census of deportees in Columbus found 773 out of 1003 to be "men owning property," including Mexican and those of Mexican descent (Dorcy, "Census," Hunt Papers). For a published example of such defense, see Edward T. Divine, "The Bisbee Deportations," Survey, July 21, 1917, 353.

(16.) Victor Clark, "Mexican Labor in the United States," Bureau of Labor Bulletin, 78 (1908): 477-92, as cited in Dru McGinnis, "The Influence of Organized Labor on the Making of the Arizona Constitution" (master's thesis, University of Arizona, 1930), 18. See Glickman, "Inventing the 'American Standard,'" 228. Walter Douglas, president of Phelps Dodge Corporation, to A.T. Thompson, assistant to the president, Douglas, Arizona, March 7, 1918, Truett collection.

(17.) Gordon, Great Arizona Orphan Abduction, 180. Clark, as cited in McGinnis, "The Influence of Organized Labor," 18. My discussion of Mexican workers is indebted to A. Yvette Huginnie's "A New Hero Comes to Town: The Anglo Mining Engineer and 'Mexican Labor' as Contested Terrain in Southeastern Arizona, 1880-1920," New Mexico Historical Review 69:4 (1994): 323-44. Alonzo Crittenden, "Management of Mexican Labor," Mining and Scientific Press 123 (1921), 267, as cited in Huginnie, "A New Hero," 330.

(18.) O'Neill, "Domesticity Deployed," 258. Other scholars have made a similar choice. When Michael Parrish tried to offer evidence of Mexican workers' attitudes in Bisbee, he was forced to cite the testimony of Antonio Rodriguez, an immigrant from Spain who lived on Chihuahua Hill. Rodriguez was the only Spanish-surnamed or Spanish-speaking witness at the Presidential Mediation Commission hearings in Bisbee (Parrish, Mexican Workers, 16-7; and PMC, 546-57). On the 1907 strike, see Mellinger, Race and Labor in Western Copper, 73-79; and Benton, "'What about Women,'" 216 -20.

(19.) Of the two thousand two hundred one surface and underground workers as of June 26, 1917, three hundred fourteenwere Mexican (PMC, 217). These numbers are generally consistent with the testimony of Copper Queen General Manager G. H. Dowell in the PMC reports. Secretary Wilson had eased immigration restrictions from Mexico in June (Parrish, Mexican Workers, 18). Mellinger, Race and Labor in Western Copper, 188. This figure comes from Dorcy, "Census."

(20.) Figures cited by witnesses ranged from 50 percent to 85 percent (Strickland testimony, PMC, 502; and Wheeler testimony, PMC, 166, 256). Workforce numbers compiled from statistics at two major companies on June 26, 1917, the last day before the strike. Percentage of strikers (which no doubt included people born in Mexico as well as Mexican Americans) compiled from Army census of deportees conducted in August, the most reliable figures available. Company officials and IWW leaders concurred on this (G. H. Dowell testimony, PMC, 353; and Grover H. Perry, secretary-treasurer of Metal Mine Workers' Industrial Union No. 800 to William [Big Bill] Haywood, July 6, 1917, Exhibits in State of Arizona v. Henry Waters, and Michael Simmons v. El Paso and Southwestern Railroad [1919], hereafter cited as Simmons v. EPSW Railroad, box 1, University of Arizona Special Collections,).

(21.) O'Neill briefly suggests these same points in "Domesticity Deployed," 258.

(22.) Jack Norman, Columbus, New Mexico, to Perry, July 25, 1917, Simmons v. EPSW Railroad, box 1.

(23.) O'Neill, "Domesticity Deployed," 82, 83. J. L. P., Report on "Mexican Matters," to Harry Wheeler, June 5, 1916, in Simmons v. EPSW, box 8. The best source on the strike is Michael Gonzales, "United States Copper Companies, the State, and Labour Conflict in Mexico, 1900-1910," Journal of Latin American Studies 26: 3 (1994): 651- 81. For a typical example of the claim that the Cananea strike was the opening shot in the revolutionary battle, see Ramon E. Ruiz, Labor and the Ambivalent Revolutionaries: Mexico, 1911-1923 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1993), 3; and the classic, though now outdated, Rodney D. Anderson, "Mexican Workers and the Politics of Revolution, 1906-1911," Hispanic American Historical Review 54:1 (1974): 94-113. Other sources include Jonathan C. Brown, "Foreign and Native-Born Workers in Porfirian Mexico," American Historical Review 98: 2 (1993): 786-818; and Marvin D. Bernstein, The Mexican Mining Industry, 1890-1950 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1965), 65. See also C. L. Sonnichsen, Colonel Greene and the Copper Skyrocket (Tucson: University of Arizona Press), 1994.

(24.) Robert Bruere, Following the Trail of the IWW: A First-Hand Investigation into Labor Troubles in the West--A Trip into the Copper Camps and the Lumber Camps of the Inland Empire with the Views of the Men on the Job (New York: New York Evening Post, 1918), 3. Frankfurter, as cited in Parrish, Mexican Workers, 30, 29. Critics as cited in Parrish, Mexican Workers, 14. See Glickman, 222-23. On immigrant workers and free labor's meanings, see Gunther Peck, Reinventing Free Labor: Padrones and Immigrant Workers in the North American West, 1880-1930 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000).

(25.) Worker as cited in Parrish, Mexican Workers, 11.

(26.) Wheeler testimony, PMC, 138.

(27.) "Arizona Sheriff Ships 1,100 IWW's Out in Cattle Cars," 1. Sheriff John White to Gov. Joseph Kibbey, August 15, 1907, Arizona Ranger Papers, ADLAPR, as cited by Bill O'Neill, "Captain Harry Wheeler, Arizona Lawman," Journal of Arizona History 27:3 (1986): 303. There is inconsistency regarding documentation of Wheeler's participation in the Spanish-American War. The soundest overview of Harry Wheeler is Bill O'Neill, "Captain Harry Wheeler."

(28.) Bill O'Neill, "Captain Harry Wheeler," 304. Capt. Harry Wheeler, Naco, Arizona, to Gov. Kibbey, Phoenix, Arizona, October 30, 1908, Arizona Ranger Papers, RG 42, ASLAPR, emphasis added.

(29.) See John Greenway's correspondence during these years, passim, John C. Greenway Collection, MS 311, AHS, and discussion of Douglas in Byrkit, Forging the Copper Collar, 32, 87, 99, 139, 178, 299, 301. Mellinger, Race and Labor in Western Copper, 24. Philip Foner, ed., Mother ]ones Speaks: Collected Writings and Speeches (New York: Monad Press, 1983), 379. Capt. Harry Wheeler to Mr. Sims Ely, secretary to governor, Phoenix, Arizona, February 23, 1908, Arizona Ranger Papers.

(30.) Walker testimony, PMC, 589, William B. Wilson testimony, 492.

(31.) "Sheriff Wheeler's Statement on Strike," Courtland Arizonan, July 21, 1917, 2.

(32.) On the impact of the Zimmermann telegram, see Friedrich Katz, The Life and Times of Pancho Villa (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998), 612, 660, 663-64. Wheeler testimony, PMC, 161.

(33.) This pro-company miner thought that around 50 percent of the strikers were Mexican (I. H. Stricldand testimony, PMC, 502). See testimony cited in reports to Gov. George W.P. Hunt, July, 1917, probably from sworn statements to Arizona Attorney General Wiley Jones, 20-21, box 8, Hunt Papers. Wheeler testimony, PMC, 166, 256, emphasis added.

(34.) [J.L.P.], police informant, to Sheriff Wheeler, "Re: Mexican Matters," June 5, 1916, in Simmons v. El Paso, box 8. Wheeler testimony, PMC, 224.

(35.) Linda Hall, "The Mexican Revolution and the Crisis in Naco: 1914-15," Journal of the West 16 (July 1977): 27-35. Wheeler testimony, PMC, 161-62. See also Bruere, Following the I.W.W. Trail, 13-14. A[ndrea] Yvette Huginnie appropriately named her dissertation for these ongoing challenges to management. "'Strikitos': Race, Class, and Work in the Arizona Copper Industry, 1870-1920" (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 1991).

(36.) Bruere, "Following the I.W.W. Trail," 1.

(37.) Wheeler testimony, PMC, 165.

(38.) Wheeler testimony, PMC, 253.

(39.) "Bisbee, the Most Southern Mile-High City in North America," Arizona Labor Journal, May 31, 1929, 27.

KATHERINE BENTON-COHEN is an assistant professor of history at Louisiana State University, where she teaches U.S. women's history and the history of the American West. An Arizona native, she is a graduate of Princeton University and the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She is writing a book about the role of gender in the history of racial division in Arizona.
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Title Annotation:Part 2: contextualizing
Author:Benton-Cohen, Katherine
Publication:Frontiers: A Journal of Women's Studies
Date:Jun 1, 2003
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