Labor Day, Workhorses and Revolutions

“Standing at the fringe of a crowd watching the men from the slaughterhouse, in blood-stained aprons, struggling to cut away a horse that had collapsed in its tracks while pulling a wagonload of coal,” writes Robert Littell in “The Revolutionist,” Zander thought about companions and relatives who had died in horrific workplace tragedies. “The horse, which had blinders on its head and ribs bulging out of its hide, whinnied and lashed out feebly with a hind leg, catching one of the workmen on a shin. Cursing, he hobbled off. A young fresh-faced policeman bent over the horse and pressed the tip of his revolver to its ear. Most of those watching looked away … The young policeman squeezed the trigger. The pistol jerked in his hand. Blood and foam gushed from the horse's mouth. The animal heaved once and lay still.”(1)