We were living on Greasy Creek in Bell County. That was the time when
Connie and I were arrested and taken to Pineville Jail. Let me see, now,
how did that happen? We were living on Greasy Creek and I was working
over at Kajay in a coal mine. There was a big mine over there. There was
a general miner strike going on throughout a lot of the coal fields. And
the big mine at Kajay had not come out. Three of us decided that we
would go in and get jobs as scabs. You see, then you couldn't go to a
miner's home, even on a week end, go to a home and talk with him. You
wouldn't be in the house more than three or four minutes and there would
be a knock on the door and someone would be there: "What you doing
there, buddy? You don't live here. You get back where you belong?" Three
miners couldn't meet on the street corner, stop and talk, exchange the
time of day. They would be broken up by the gun thugs, you see. So, the
only chance we had to really talk with people was to slip around and do
it secretly or, we thought, now if we get a job in there we can talk
with those men on the job. So three of us went in and got jobs. They
were hiring people because some of them had come out and the others
weren't. So we went in. Didn't take us long. A few weeks before we
pulled the whole mine out. And the day after that happened we were
coming home, about dark. We lived up on old Greasy Creek in a miner's
shack. Two rooms. Had a baby. Our older daughter was just about two
years old. We'd just gotten in the house when suddenly at this door and
this window and all there was an officer with a six shooter, just like a
bunch of desperados were being taken, you know. Arrested. And they piled
all my books and papers and everything into some
trunks and boxes we had and took them along with us, down to the court
house. They confiscated my books and my total library and they put us in
jail. Accused me of conspiring to overthrow the government by use of the
churches. I was a preacher, you know. Eventually I spent about six
weeks. I was taken out, given a trial. I defended myself. And they put
me under $5,000 peace bond. Actually, one of the three people who went
in there was the one who swore out the warrant for me. He was a stooge,
you see. So, as I say, I've had experience with stooges. I mentioned
this Ansel Morrison. I mentioned later Paul Crouch. So I was put under
$5,000 peace bond. Just before we were arrested I had left my car in a
garage to have a little repair work done. And when we got out of jail
the judge's stipulation was that I should leave Kentucky, that I
shouldn't be around there. Immediately when we got out, when we were
released, we got in the car and started over the Cumberland Gap to the
Tennessee border. We wanted to get over in Tennessee where Kentucky
couldn't pick us up. On this mountain road suddenly flammmm, a wheel
went off. All four of those darn wheels ran off of that thing. The nuts
were just barely on there, you know, and on this mountain road I imagine
they thought we would be quick to get out and wreck the car, but it just
didn't. But here we were, flat on the road. That was an experience. We
finally got it fixed and got over the Cumberland Gap. Then I went to
another part of Kentucky. I went under… George Brown golly, what was the
name? Had so many names I don't remember.
Anyway, Allan McElfhesh is writing the story of the workers alliance and
he mentioned the name that I used there. He
explained why I used it. Because I had the peace bond, they would have
arrested Don West. But I could go under… I think it was John Hart or
something. He sent a copy of his manuscript to me to look over and get
my corrections.