Chain Reaction [1]
Max von der Grün [2]
Translated by xia23
In September 1969 after spending several weeks in Turkey with my friend I came back to the federal Germany. At the Austrian-German border we bought a pile of German newspapers. In the end, we were hungry for information.
In every newspaper we read from more or less the large headlines, that the workforce of a large steelworks has gone on a wild strike, in my hometown Dortmund. I was excited, I had to be there. I stepped on the gas. In a non-stop drive 700 km to Dortmund.
The wild strike (the one is not authorized by the labor union, therefore is not supported by the labor union) was caused by the company’s unbelievable high profits and the wages that had not been raised for workers and employees for one year and a half.
The next morning I rode my bike to my bank to get some money. I live in the middle of this working class suburb, which was the center of the strike. On the way there I had to pass “Minister Stein” mine. The workforce of this mine had joined the strike of the steelworkers, that I did not yet know.
On the square in front of the main gate there were about two thousand men, some of them were silent and helpless, as it seemed to me, but other groups were discussing heatedly with each other. I leaned my bike against the house wall of the square and tried to understand some words, which were being shouted out on the square.
But I didn’t understand what it was all about.
Then I heard someone called my name, when I turned around, Karl came towards me violently, excited, flailed his arms. I sometimes stand in the counter with Karl in my local bar. We drink beer and discuss.
Come together, your big mouth. He shouted from afar. Take a look what the business management has posted on the gate. Many of the men knew me of course. A writer is not unknown in the working class suburb, they blasphemed, laughed and teased. It was not meant nasty. You have to speak their language in order to know what it means.
Someone shouted behind me, our poet comes, make way, he will rule us for now. – And everyone laughed.
The notice on the gate read, anyone who does not resume his work at 2 PM, i.e. at beginning of the afternoon shift, will be fired without notice.
I said to Karl and the other people who had followed me: so what? What have you waited for. Do you believe, the management will prescribe a 14 days additional vacation in Mallorca for you, for doing your strike?
All around me: laughter, sneer. One shouted: aha, a very clever one! But I just said: then you have to defend yourselves.
I saw faces, in which the amazement seemed freezing. I too was helpless. sometimes you come to the most obvious things at last.
I asked Karl: tell me, in which seam do you work?
Me? Sunshine, he answered.
Is that a good seam? I asked.
Good? The best. Forty percent of the production comes from the seam .. Do you want to know more?
The bystanders looked at me with interest. They didn’t know what I was getting at, they all knew me, although some of them probably had read few lines of me, perhaps saw me on TV sometimes, heard me on the radio, not more.
And how many are you overall in the seam? I asked.
How many… well, there are about 80 men on two shifts, Karl answered.
I said: look Karl, if you don’t work at noon today, then they can fire you. If Emil or Kurt or Gustav doesn’t work, then they can probably also fire him. But if you all 80 people don’t work, do you believe seriously that they could fire you all 80 people? I’d like to see the company, that can fire the entire workforce from a seam. After all 800 meter underground, people can‘t be replaced overnight like a rail or a wooden prop. Experience isn’t interchangeable, finally understand that. You are the stronger ones.
The men, who had surrounded me, looked at me, as if I had told something monstrous, it seemed like an eternity had passed. Nobody spoke. They looked at the ground, until Karl finally said: there is something to what Max says.. and what do you think we should do now?
First of all, make sure that your wild strike becomes a lawful one. Nothing more, I said. What do you think? He asked.
I went across the square, Karl followed me. Then the men who had surrounded us in front of us joined us. On the street we were already around a hundred and we formed ourselves, without any instruction, a marching column. And because curiosity is something contagious, more and more men joined our procession. And then two thousand men marched in a closed formation the seven kilometers into the inner city to the labor union building.
In front of the labor union building there were then over seven thousand, because also some part of the striking steel workers had joined. The crowd then demanded in speech chorus that officials declare their justified work stoppage as a legal strike. The next morning I heard the news on the radio, that the labor union had approved the strike of the miners - and steelworkers and was seeking negotiation with the employees.
I have asked myself then and now, what would have happened, if I had not ridden my bike to the bank that morning to get money.
I don’t know.
Max von der Grünimes in my .
[1]. p. 69. Kettenreaktion. Kontakt mit der Zeit. Dieter Stöpfgeshoff. Max Hueber Verlag. Germany, 1995.
[2]. Max von der Grün. 5/25/1926 – 4/7/2005. A German novelist. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_von_der_Gr%C3%BCn
