On they came, a dark surge of humanity, under a cloudless blue sky. Their dark clothes and grim silence were in stark contrast to the bright flags and pennants under which the brass bands and black uniforms, shining swords and white plumes of the Knights of Pythias had paraded the day before. On they came, in an unending stream, rank after roughly formed rank: strikers, sympathizers, supporters, the Women's Auxiliary of the ILA, and wives and children.

No one agreed on the number. Ten thousand, fifteen thousand, were frequently used counts. "At least 15,000," said the San Francisco Chronicle, but still "uncountable." "Fifty thousand is more like the correct figure," remembered Henry Schmidt, a longshoreman and a strike leader. 2 Whatever the number, more thousands rounded the Steuart Street corner, making their way between silent ranks of onlookers lining the sidewalks on Market Street for blocks. No talk. No strike signs. No banners. No police.