Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Gary Snyder’s "Felix Baran" is a historical elegy, a terse and uncompromising meditation on labor struggles, class conflict, and the often-forgotten sacrifices of working people. The poem invokes the names of labor activists and victims of industrial oppression, centering around the Everett Massacre of 1916, a violent clash between the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) and law enforcement in Everett, Washington. Snyder’s use of stark, unembellished language reflects both the gravity of the events and his commitment to honoring those who resisted economic exploitation.

The poem begins with a list of names: "Felix Baran / Hugo Gerlot / Gustav Johnson / John Looney / Abraham Rabinowitz." This sequence immediately establishes the poem’s memorial tone, as these individuals are not described or contextualized but simply named. The weight of their identities, set apart in isolated lines, speaks to the importance of remembrance. These were not abstract figures but real people, a diverse group of workers, many of them immigrants, whose lives were ended by the forces of industry and capital. By listing them without embellishment, Snyder suggests that their deaths speak for themselves, their sacrifice a matter of historical fact rather than poetic interpretation.

The next line, "Shot down on the steamer Verona", grounds the poem in a specific moment: the Everett Massacre on November 5, 1916. The Verona was a passenger steamer carrying about 250 IWW members to Everett, where they planned to protest brutal working conditions in the logging industry. They were met at the dock by an armed group of sheriff’s deputies and business-backed vigilantes, who opened fire on the unarmed laborers, killing several and wounding many more. By situating the event within the poem so directly, Snyder brings attention to a suppressed piece of American history, highlighting the violence that accompanied labor struggles in the early 20th century.

The poem then shifts to another voice, an unnamed logger who recalls his own diminished status in the wake of technological change:
"Ed McCullough, a logger for thirty-five years / Reduced by the advent of chainsaws / To chopping off knots at the landing."
Here, Snyder moves beyond the historical event to depict the long arc of labor’s decline. The mechanization of logging—symbolized by "the advent of chainsaws"—has rendered older forms of work obsolete, reducing men like Ed McCullough to menial tasks. His statement, "I don’t have to take this kind of shit, / Another twenty years and I’ll tell 'em to shove it", captures the frustration of a lifetime spent working under exploitative conditions, where even those who survived strikes and massacres found themselves discarded by industry. The irony of his words—spoken at age 65, with another twenty years before he could afford to leave—is a bitter commentary on the false promises of labor stability.

Snyder then introduces another historical moment:
"In 1934 they lived in shanties / At Hooverville, Sullivan’s Gulch."
This reference to the Great Depression-era shantytowns known as Hoovervilles—named after President Herbert Hoover, who was blamed for economic collapse—connects labor struggles across generations. Sullivan’s Gulch, a ravine in Portland, Oregon, was one such site where unemployed workers and their families lived in makeshift shelters. By linking these desperate conditions to the logging industry’s decline, Snyder underscores how the exploitation of laborers did not end with the IWW’s repression but persisted through economic downturns and corporate consolidation.

The next image is particularly striking:
"When the Portland-bound train came through / The trainmen tossed off coal."
This detail, reminiscent of John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath, reflects an economy in which workers must rely on small, informal acts of solidarity to survive. Trainmen—who themselves likely struggled under poor labor conditions—secretly helped the unemployed by throwing off bits of coal, a small but vital gift in a world that had abandoned them.

The poem’s final lines return to the violence that has shaped labor history:
"Thousands of boys shot and beat up / For wanting a good bed, good pay, decent food, in the woods—"
This plain, unadorned statement strips away political rhetoric and frames the labor movement’s goals in their simplest form: basic human dignity. By referring to the workers as "boys", Snyder highlights their vulnerability—many were young, impoverished, and desperate for fair treatment. The phrase "shot and beat up" is deliberately direct, mirroring the factual tone of the opening name list. These were not abstract struggles but literal acts of state violence.

The closing line, "No one knew what it meant: 'Soldiers of Discontent.'" refers to the way the mainstream public misunderstood or ignored the sacrifices made by labor activists. The phrase "Soldiers of Discontent" was used to describe IWW members and other militant unionists, often with a dismissive or derogatory tone. But Snyder reclaims it here, suggesting that their struggle was not meaningless but simply unrecognized. The fact that "no one knew what it meant" underscores the way history erases radical movements, reducing them to footnotes or obscured tragedies.

"Felix Baran" is a poem of historical reckoning, bringing attention to the violent suppression of workers’ rights and the relentless pressures of capitalism. Snyder does not embellish or romanticize these struggles; instead, he presents them plainly, allowing their stark reality to resonate. By connecting the Everett Massacre to the mechanization of labor, the Great Depression, and the forgotten resistance of working people, the poem insists on remembering what has been suppressed. It is a tribute to the soldiers of discontent, whose battles may not have been won, but whose sacrifices should not be forgotten.

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