A NEW DAWN

In the last year, Reuben buried a son, sat out the election, watched a brother leave to fight on foreign soil, and said goodbye to his only sister as she headed for Chicago. Labor had taken a beating as factory and mine owners in Illinois hired criminals to club labor leaders in broad daylight and drive striking workers out of their homes in the night. It had been a year of sadness and loss.

But just as loved ones left Reuben’s life, others entered: Rose Jeanne Soderstrom was born in early 1917, bringing with her a breath of fresh air to the little house on Sherman Avenue. Reub continued to support his growing family as well as his mother and Paul’s daughter, 4-year-old daughter Lorraine, while working both as a delegate in the Labor Council and as a printer at Andy’s print shop. As he walked briskly to and from work or into another meeting at the Trades and Labor Council, 29-year-old Reuben took the quiet respite to stir up plans for his future in politics. There was certainly a lot to think about as he set the copy for the morning paper.

A WORLD AT WAR

In 1917, the Great War between European powers had entered its fourth year. Although America strenuously maintained official neutrality—President Wilson was re-elected on the premise that “he kept us out of war”—1917 would see America enter the conflict in short order. Tensions between the United States and the imperial powers of Germany and Austria-Hungary had been steadily increasing for some time: nearly 200 Americans had died in German U-boat attacks of merchant ships, and the Kaiser even proposed in his infamous “Zimmerman note” to create a military alliance with Mexico, promising to help “reconquer” the American southwest. In March of that year, Germany sunk three American ships (the City of Memphis, the Vigilancia, and the Illinois), and by April 2 President Wilson asked a special joint session of Congress for a declaration of war against Germany.

The War Hits Home

That autumn, the war took on a personal dimension for the Soderstroms as brother Paul’s brigade was sent overseas to fight as part of the American Expeditionary Force. A naturally gifted cyclist, he served as courier, carrying important information between headquarters on his bike. The experience profoundly changed him, as Olga recounts, “Paul…was a war casualty. He received a bad leg injury--was hit with shrapnel in his thigh…Paul was not the most stable person after the war, he was often in financial straits and Reub so often had to give him financial assistance.”[1]

In fact, Olga was nearly a victim of the war herself. Many of the troops returning home from war carried with them a deadly strain of flu, and by 1918 the illness had become a full-blown epidemic in the States. Olga, now in the second year of her nurse training in Chicago, experienced the horror where she worked:

It was a tragic thing. Boys would come back from the war and be brought in the hospital and die in less than twenty-four hours. We had no treatment for the flu then and everywhere people died. We lost several nurses with the flu and I contracted it. Apparently, I was on the critical list and the hospital notified my folks. Lafe was living in Chicago at this time and he called Reub. So Reub came up from Streator and both came up to the hospital to see me. I, of course, did not know that they had been called, so I tried so hard not to let them know how ill I was. I just couldn't eat anything and all I wanted and asked for was lemonade...while my brothers were there supper was served, and when they brought my supper, I thought I must eat so my brothers would not know how sick I was, so I ate all on my tray. After they left, I was so desperately ill from having eaten, but they left the hospital feeling I was getting along.[2]

Olga survived, but others were not so lucky. By its end, the influenza pandemic would kill up to 75 million people worldwide.

Reub himself wasted no time in helping the war effort. He became a “War Bond Minute Man” (not to be confused with Charles Dawes’ pro-manufacturers “Minute Men of the Constitution”), appearing at theaters, lodges, churches, schools and union meetings to give three minute speeches selling War Bonds. He was highly effective. And importantly, his public appearances introduced him to a broad and diverse audience of LaSalle County voters, which would prove very valuable.

Meanwhile, Jeanne was at home with two-year-old Carl and baby Jeanne and found ways to adhere to the nation’s war-time rations by feeding the family through meatless Tuesday, wheatless Wednesdays, and porkless Thursdays. She also learned to bake dark “victory bread” using corn or rye flour in place of wheat.

Business And Labor During World War I

With so many American men fighting in the trenches in Europe, business asked for a moratorium on union organizing during the war to maintain what they claimed would be “cordial” labor relations. While they publicly preached solidarity, anti-union forces privately used the war towards their own ends. According to the ISFL, “Enemies of Labor…are deliberately circulating false statements to the to the effect that the Council of National Defense has urged the defeat of all progressive labor measures…even [going] so far as to circulate a story, under a pledge of secrecy, that the Secretary of War had advised against the passage of Labor’s injunction limitation bill.”[3] While Secretary of War Newton Baker directly and publicly disputed the assertion, pro-manufacturers continued whisper campaigns to connect labor with shadowy international and anti-American forces to devastating effect. In Illinois, the injunction limitation bill failed that year by a mere four votes.[4]

Labor, meanwhile, took pains to express support for the country without abandoning the rights of workers. While observing that “previous wars, for whatever purpose waged, developed new opportunities for exploiting wage-earners,” the AFL swore to defend the Republic and its ideals, officially declaring upon America’s entrance into the war:

We, officers of the National and International Trade Unions of America…hereby pledge ourselves in peace or in war, in stress or in storm, to stand unreservedly by the standards of liberty and the safety and preservation of the institutions and ideals of our Republic…we, with these ideals of liberty and justice herein declared…offer our services to our country in every field of activity to defend, safeguard, and preserve the republic of the United States of America against its enemies whomsoever they might be, and we call upon our fellow workers and fellow citizens in the holy name of Labor, Justice, Freedom and Humanity to devotedly and patriotically give like service.[5]

In Reuben’s Streator, the local Labor Council issued a similar declaration, throwing its own support behind President Wilson and his efforts. Of course, these declarations and endorsements had a political dimension as well. As Streator historian Dale Bennett observes, the council’s actions “helped [labor] gain public acceptance…The endorsement of the Wilson Administration’s war policy by the Streator Labor movement went beyond patriotism. The labor movement had been accused that it was a socialistic element in society. Although it is not known who made this charge, the labor movement did all it could to overcome this indictment. It was good public relations.”[6]

The Battle of “Open Shop” Vs. “Closed Shop”

Amidst the epic struggle against the Kaiser’s forces abroad and a ruthless whisper campaign at home, there was a local struggle in 1917 that became a growing concern for labor in Streator and soon consumed a great deal of Reuben’s time: the “open shop” versus “closed shop” debate.

In the latter half of 1916, several employees of the local Barely Motor Company were fired for attempting to organize a union. The following January, the workers of the BMC formed Federal Labor Union 15497 and attempted to force the company to rehire the men. In addition to the return of their colleagues, the new union called for grievance procedures, a 25-cent wage increase per day, and most importantly a commitment that the automotive manufacturer would hire only union men (making it closed to nonunion labor, or a “closed shop”). The union drafted and presented the contract to Mr. Stephenson, the plant manager, the following day.

Instead of meeting to consider their demands, Stephenson refused even to read the contract, which motivated nearly all the disgruntled employees to strike in protest the following day. Stephenson immediately called on the Sheriff’s office in Pontiac for deputies to protect company property, as he later told the Streator Free Press, “Just to be on the safe side.” The armed guard was provided, despite the lack of violence and firm assertion by the local’s Chairman Vincent Cox, that “There will be no violence as far as the men are concerned. If any of the men are found guilty of damaging the property of the company, our men will help prosecute them.”[7] The next day, AC Barely, the firm’s owner, came to Streator and doubled down on his manager’s refusal to negotiate. He said he would rather move the plant than negotiate, maintaining that his shop would remain open to nonunion labor (an “open shop”). He further disparaged the striking workers as “men picked off the street…With a few of them we have succeeded and with others our work has been only a complete and miserable failure. We have been compelled to put up with poor workmanship.”[8] True to his word, Barely soon closed the plant entirely and moved it to Kalamazoo, Michigan. All of the employees lost their jobs and the strike ended in failure.

According to historian Bennett, there were several unique factors which allowed Barely’s successful stand against the organized workers. The automotive baron had never significantly invested in Streator, instead buying up the remains of the defunct Erie Motor Carriage Company (a practice he continued in Kalamazoo, where he relocated to the former Kalamazoo Buggy Co. factory). The creeping collapse of Streator’s mining and bottling industries—brought on by resource exhaustion and the growth of the prohibition movement—created high unemployment, allowing Barely to exploit and eventually discard his workers. Barely also managed to keep a low profile; the short, bloodless strike initially received little attention, and the ISFL didn’t even bother to mention it at the time. However, this seemingly small and unique incident had established a dangerous precedent in the city: a hard line against the “closed shop.” As Bennett writes:

The union men fought a very clean fight and lost. Barely’s apparent success in breaking this particular local would be a prelude for other open shop campaigns in the next decade…The local labor movement, in spite of its moderate approach to labor relations, probably did not realize the full significance of the open shop campaign at the Barely Motor Company. Actually, the moderate approach may not have been adequate when dealing with employers who could move their plants rather than recognize a union. Labor was confronted with a new environment, a factor, which it would have to cope with and find a solution.[9]

Emboldened by Barely’s example, Streator manufacturers would soon try to follow suit, putting them on a collision course with Reuben and his fellow leaders of labor.

THE ELECTION OF 1918

A loser in 1914 and absent from the 1916 contest, a different Reuben Soderstrom stepped up to the plate in the 1918 election; he was more realistic, cunning, and experienced. He spent four years strategically planning this race with colleagues and was ready for another swing at the IMA’s candidate, Ole Benson. This time, Reuben had a dramatically different game plan.

A Winning “September” Strategy

As we’ve seen, the unique “Plump Three” method of electioneering in 1918 allowed Illinois districts to elect three representatives every term to the statehouse. The state law was intended to provide two seats for the majority party and one seat for minority in every district. In Republican-heavy districts like LaSalle County, this meant that the two Republicans and one Democrat who won their party’s respective primaries were virtually guaranteed a general election victory, even though they were often joined by a number of scrappy candidates from smaller third parties like Socialists and Progressives.

This method of voting created an interesting strategic decision for Reuben; should he run in the general election as a third party candidate, where he was guaranteed to make the general ballot but would not have the protection and support of a major party? Or should he officially join a party and try to unseat one of the major party incumbents in the primary?

Reuben knew two things. First, Democrat Lee Browne was a longtime incumbent and a pro-labor man. Reub did not want to unseat him. And Reub also knew that Republicans dominated LaSalle’s District 39, outnumbering Democrats two to one at the ballot box. For that reason, a long-term political career in LaSalle County necessitated being a Republican.

Reub set his sights on unseating anti-labor, pro-manufacturer candidate Ole Benson, a Streator sand mine operator and an outspoken opponent of labor’s beloved Anti-Injunction Bill. Taking on Benson in the Republican primary was both strategic and gutsy. Benson was moneyed and entrenched, one of the longest-serving representatives in the General Assembly. But Reub knew that the other major Republican, Will Scanlon, would win the Republican primary, which was fine because Scanlon voted for many labor measures, including the 1917 Anti-Injunction Bill. Reub didn’t need to finish ahead of all Republicans in the primary; he just needed to finish in front of Benson. If Reub could beat out Benson, all three reps from Streator would be pro-labor.

This meant that Reuben Soderstrom, progressive labor leader, would run as a Republican. It was not a love marriage but an arranged one, orchestrated by none other than Reuben himself, brilliantly demonstrating his skills as both an operative and an opportunist. Reub was no longer a hopeless idealist, but an expedient politician. He needed to get from Andy Anderson’s print shop to the halls of Springfield, from news printer to news maker. But the party wasn’t the most natural place for Reuben, as party leaders well knew. “They said I wasn’t a real Republican, which was true,” Reuben later humorously recalled. “I was running on the Republican ticket. I may have been a visionary, and idealist, but I was practical enough to ride on the kind of vehicle that would get me to the place where I wanted to go.”[10]

With the traditional party leadership (and its money) aligned against him, Reuben cultivated a powerful personal organization with his friends in the “September Club.” Together, they came up with a support network of their own—a league for political education. As Reuben later recounted to Professor Derber:

In the county of LaSalle when I started to aspire for public office and antagonized those who have control over the affairs of men, I found it necessary to form a political league. We called it the LaSalle County Voters’ Defense League. It was made up of representatives of about 70 unions in the county of LaSalle and we would meet each Sunday for seven Sundays before Election Day. I would address these people—we had about 75 or 80 people attend these meetings—and they would go back home and on Election Day they would act as precinct committeemen, don’t you see. And they’d man every precinct in the industrial centers of the county and that was why I won…they came from all of the local unions of LaSalle. They formed my organization because I couldn’t get support from the political organization, don’t you see, and many merchants supported me.[11]

At these monthly meetings, Reub energized those in attendance and always reminded them of Rep. Benson’s annual opposition to labor’s agenda. Support swelled for Reub among union members. Soon, an able and willing cadre of volunteers lined up to help him. The Trades Council and Reuben’s personal local helped pay for campaign flyers, while volunteers distributed them throughout the entire 39th district. Reuben also put up a tremendous personal effort, visiting the homes of people in key locations. “I could pick out 25 or 30 homes that I would get into in a day, just talk to the people—‘I’m a candidate for the office of State Representative. I need your help, and if you can help me conscientiously, I’ll thoroughly appreciate it,’ you see. And that type of campaigning paid off.”[12] Further, it didn’t hurt that Reuben was freshly known around the county as a compelling and patriotic “Minute Man” selling war bonds. Reub even used his Scandinavian heritage to his advantage for the first time in the northeastern section of the country, where his people’s camaraderie helped secure perhaps a few hundred more votes. Politician Reuben G. Soderstrom had arrived.

Reuben Soderstrom: State Representative

In the Republican primary on September 9, Reub collected more votes than incumbent Ole Benson and therefore earned the right to be one of two Republicans on the general election ballot (with Will Scanlan). On the eve of the general election, Reuben had the supreme pleasure of receiving an endorsement from the paper that first employed him as a young apprentice. The Streator Independent Times wrote in unqualified support of him, stating:

Another Streator man who is going to be elected by a tremendous vote is RG Soderstrom, who is a candidate for the legislature. Mr. Soderstrom is prominent in labor movements and has been sought for as speaker at all the patriotic demonstrations in the county. During the several liberty loan campaigns he has been one of the four-minute speakers, and his earnestness won for him thousands of friends who didn’t know him before his appearance in this way. Mr. Soderstrom is capable, he is honest, and he is fearless. He is the champion of right anywhere and at all times. Streator will be proud to give Reub a unanimous vote tomorrow.[13]

Because LaSalle County was heavily Republican, the general election on November 5, 1918, in Illinois District 39 was a formality; the top three vote getters were going to Springfield, and Reub Soderstrom was number three on the list:

The IMA’s candidate, Ole Benson, had been out-crafted and unseated by the 30-year-old labor upstart. After the successful election, ISFL President Walker (who had first convinced Reub to run in 1914) trumpeted both the success and the method behind it, emphasizing the need to implement Reuben’s successful campaign tactics statewide:

Because the workers were aroused, had organized themselves and acted intelligently and unitedly, Mr. Ole Benson was defeated and Reub Soderstrom of Streator, an active trade unionist and a bright, able, honest and clean young man, was nominated in his place…Their method is the method that will have to be put in practice in some other localities to assure final success. Nearly every local union in the 39th Senatorial District sent one or more of their members to central meetings and there laid their plans that brought success. The trade unionists of LaSalle County are to be congratulated on their intelligent and just action…Reub Soderstrom will fight honestly and persistently to give workers of this state the same protection in the state courts, in the right of peaceful assemblage, free press and free speech that the labor section of the Clayton Bill gives us in Federal Courts. He will also fight intelligently and persistently from the beginning to the end to put a law on the statute books that will bring Illinois out of the dark ages with reference to women’s labor and give them the eight-hour day.[14]

Six days later, on November 11, 1918, the “Great War” came to a close as Germany signed the Armistice Agreement and the world would enter a tenuous peace. After years of hard work, narrow defeats and personal loss, it was a great time for thirty year-old Reub to head to the Illinois General Assembly. Thus began the illustrious and staggeringly productive legislative career of Reuben G. Soderstrom, who would serve with only one two-year absence as a State Representative from 1918 through 1936. Though young, Reub would not sit quietly, nor waste a single moment, introducing his first bill—a momentous one—HB No. 32, in his very first week in office. This act would set the stage for the most important fight Reuben and Illinois labor had faced up to this point: the struggle against a corrupt court system, injunctions, and the great open shop debate.

It was a beautiful Christmas that year with a dusting of snow on December 24, the traditional Swedish time of celebration. Reuben celebrated with Jeanne and their two young children, his sister Olga, his mother Anna, and a jubilant Lafe who was back for the holidays. As gifts for himself, Reub bought two new neckties, a small suitcase, and a train ticket to Springfield.

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