"Working Class Heros" Post a pic of a Working Class Hero from fact or fiction.

My dad

My dad and his crew - front row second from the right



edited to add: all were proud union members and supporters.

Makes me just a little teary.

Woody Guthrie


Pete Seeger

during WWII as a Rosie the Riveter.

"I'll be around in the dark...I'll be everywhere...wherever there's a fight so hungry people can eat, I'll be there."

Who used to call my dad Tom Joad and always referred to us as the Joad family. He did it as an insult. My dad would just laugh at his ignorance in regards to the working man's struggle and what that great book was all about.


A to all the Tom Joads, who stood up for the working class.

your brother-in-law was an ignorant asshole.

to all the Joads.

I so miss shows that depict working people as those to admire.

"The 1966 New York City transit strike was a strike in New York City called by the Transport Workers Union (TWU) and Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU) after the expiration of their contract with the New York City Transit Authority (TA). It was the first strike against the TA; pre-TWU transit strikes in 1905, 1910, 1916 and 1919 against the then-private transit companies had all failed. There had also been some partial TWU strikes in the 1930s, but no citywide actions. The strike led to the passage of the Taylor Law, which redefined the rights and limitations of unions for public employees in New York.

"The strikers were led initially by the Irish-born Michael J. "Mike" Quill, the TWU's founder, who had been the union's president since its founding. The strike effectively ended all service on the subway and buses in the city, affecting millions of commuters. It was an ominous beginning for the mayoralty of John V. Lindsay, but is perhaps better remembered for the jailing of Quill and for his death only weeks afterwards."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1966_New_York_City_transit_strike



http://www.twu.org/OurUnion/OurHistory/CivilRights/TheFightforCivilRightsandtheRoleofLabor.aspx

Growing up, he was a hero in my house.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civilian_Conservation_Corps

Didn't want to single out just one photo:

Google results:

http://tinyurl.com/85nbfl3

among other admirable accomplishments.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Port_Huron_Statement

Mitt Romney

?w=300&h=243
The Village Blacksmith

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate’er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar.
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter’s voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought

A smithy is a workshop, not a working class hero.

Based on a real guy, it turns out.

In 1894 and in 1924 with Battling Bob LaFollette

Very moving song of letter written by Sacco to his son on day of his execution.