In the sweltering summer of 1911, while most children ran through fields and played carefree games, nine-year-old Nan de Gallant was already burdened with adult responsibilities. Living at 4 Clark Street in Eastport, Maine, Nan would rise early each day and head to Seacoast Canning Co., Factory #2, where she worked as a cartoner—sealing tin cans filled with fish. Hour after hour, she placed lids with practiced precision, her small hands sore from handling cold brine and sharp tin. Sometimes her mother was by her side. Often, she worked alone, enveloped by the hiss of machinery and the sharp scent of salt and fish. Nan’s story was far from unique. Her entire family, including her mother, sisters, and even her brother, worked in the factory. One sister once packed a whole crate of “Arie Hasit” brand fish during a shift that ran from 7 a.m. to midnight during the hectic rush season—no extra pay, no rest. Her brother hauled heavy loads from the boats, also caught in the same punishing cycle. Originally from Perry, Maine, the family migrated to Eastport each summer in search of whatever seasonal work they could find. The labor was grueling and the pay meager—but it meant survival. An old photograph of Nan still exists—her young face framed by a stoic expression, her eyes reflecting the quiet resolve of a child who had learned to endure far too early. There are no tears in her eyes. No smile. Just the haunting resilience of a girl who traded childhood for hard-earned strength.
Always have to remind people about stuff like this .... decent regulated work hours? weekends? over time pay? child labour laws? health care? worker benefits? worker protections? minimum wage?
All those things came about because workers unions fought to get them in place. I have family and friends who picketed in strikes in the 1940s and 1950s and had to fight and even get killed for standing in the way to get these basic rights. I have one old friend from my wife's family ... a crusty old Irishman who looked like Popeye, short, stout with big massive arms and hands. He was Merchant seaman and worked on both coasts of the country during the war ... he said he wanted to go overseas but he was too young at the start of the war and by the time he came of age, the war was over. So instead, he ran away from home and worked on ships who didn't care how old you were, as long as you looked the part and could lift 100lbs. Their mother was a communist, when communism wasn't a hellfire, demonic idea in Canada. They grew up knowing and understanding that they had to look after themselves and that companies and corporations would always exploit them. After the war, he and his brother joined workers unions and dock workers unions on the west coast of Canada. They took part in lots of ugly strike actions and work stoppages in the 1950s ... and in one of those standoffs, late one night, his brother was killed ... murdered because he was high ranking union leader.
My old Irish friend Freddie always reminded us of why we live in the world we have now. It was because people fought and died for it ... it wasn't given freely by government or corporations ... people fought for it.
If you want a ride, and enjoy metal, listen to the album "Kentucky" by Panopticon - tons of sound bites in it talking about how things were in the mining industry not very long ago.
If you don't like metal, just look up the term 'Breaker Boys' or 'Oyster Shuckers' to get a sampling of the things we now take for granted.