Word: miner
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...dawn broke hot and clear over the San Gabriel Mountains, the snorting, clangorous power shovels had dug a pit 57 feet deep. "Whitey" Blickensderfer, 43, an unemployed ex-sandhog, was lowered into the crater with a partner-little, gnomelike O. A. Kelly, an out-of-work carpenter and ex-miner. By midmorning, they had tunneled to the well pipe, cut a small exploratory window in its corroded sides. Peering in with mirrors and flashlights, they saw a flash of pink 40 feet below at a bend in the old well pipe. There was no movement...
Said Bevan to the Tredegar Aid Society: "I believe that orthopedic surgery can be of great benefit to many miners and I would fight all the doctors of the British Medical Association to prove my point." Or he would cry in his Welsh singsong: "If a specialist is away in Bristol, why should we not be able to send our men to him? Why should not a miner have the right to the best treatment...
...went down into the pit. Carrying his "snaps" (miner's lunch), he rode to the pithead with his mates in the special streetcars reserved for the miners -so that they would not dirty other passengers. He found that miners lived in a segregated world of their own. He began to carry a big chip on his shoulder. Once a supervisor asked him why he did not take off his jacket while he worked. "There's nothing in the Mine Act that says I have to," snapped Bevan...
...soured early and permanently on the idea of opportunity in a capitalist society. A former boss of his remembers Bevan as a young miner in the Welsh seams. "He was a bad little brat," that man recalls. "He'd lie down right there beside the tubs rather than do one stroke over what was absolutely necessary to earn his minimum wage. Aroused other lads to do the same. 'Why should we sweat our guts out to fill capitalist bellies?' he'd say. You could do nothing with...
...elections since it came to power in 1945. To fill the seat left vacant when Hammersmith's Laborite W. T. Adams died last January, Labor had picked a 33-year-old ex-R.A.F. chaplain and Oxford don named Tom Williams. Tom's father was a Welsh miner who came home permanently crippled from World War I. His mother died when he was three. By scholarships and hard work, Tom fought his way through the Universities of Wales and Oxford, picking up honors as he went. He became a Baptist minister...