STREATOR’S FAVORITE SON

Streator On Saturday Night

Reuben was riding high. His dramatic, massive legislative win made him a bona fide statewide hero, not only for his success but for how it was achieved. His jovial handshaking coupled with a brawler’s determination gave him a reputation as labor’s leading advocate in the statehouse. “Reub was kind, generous and precious,” his sister Olga wrote, “but if you crossed him, he could surely lay you low! He was so determined; like Mother, he dominated every situation. He had his opinions and never budged.”[1] Although unwavering in his convictions, Reub never descended into petty partisanship. “With experience, one learns the ropes, and he [Reuben] skillfully received the cooperation of both Republicans and Democrats to get his labor bills passed into law.”[2] The victory of the Injunction Limitation Act was a momentous occasion for the Illinois laboring class…and for the political career of the junior legislator from Streator.

At 38, Reuben could count nearly 25 years living in Streator, including the very early days delivering water to muddy workers on the city’s first trolley cars. But walking the streets in the mid-1920s and receiving warm greetings from friends and families, shopkeepers, and constituents, Reuben burst with enthusiasm for his hometown. He quickly ran home to Jeanne, where he scribbled out an enduring love letter to the city itself. “I went home on a Saturday night and wrote six stanzas in about forty minutes’ time,” he later said about the paean to his beloved hometown, titled Streator on Saturday Night. “This was a real live town with a lot of pioneer spirit,” Reub said, “but I didn’t show it to anybody for about eight months because my associates were a pretty rough bunch.”[3]

Upon release, the poem was a smash hit in Streator, and even gained state-wide attention. Its captivating cadence and romantic rendering even had important consequences for Illinois labor that year. According to the Bloomington Pantagraph, “A rhyme entitled ‘Streator on Saturday Night’ today won the 1926 convention of the Illinois State Federation of Labor for Streator. Voting was so close that the poetic appeal of Rube Soderstrom, state representative, was counted as the weight in the balance that carried the decision.”[4] Streator’s star legislator was also a poet and promoter!

The poem landed well because Saturday night was both the end of the work week (then six days long) and payday for most laboring folk, making it an especially magical moment. The poem’s hometown pride also struck a chord with an Illinois audience that often felt itself in the shadow of larger, more well-known cities like Chicago and St. Louis. Soon, Reuben found himself being asked to recite the poem at regularly scheduled events. He happily obliged. By the time of the 1926 Convention, everyone knew exactly what Streator Labor Council Secretary JN St. Clair meant when he told visitors he wanted them to see “Streator on Saturday Night!”

A Skilled Operator

Reub was given the personal honor of calling to order the Illinois State Federation of Labor’s forty-fourth annual convention in 1926.[5] He and the Streator Trades and Labor Council made all the arrangements as the city of 18,000 hosted labor delegates from across the state and beyond. The Hotel Plumb—where Reuben had first learned of labor’s cause from John E. Williams all those years ago—was selected as Convention Headquarters, while sessions were held in the Gymnasium of the Streator High School. Convention attendees could stay at the Plumb for $1.50, but if that was too rich for their blood they could stay at Republic Hotel or Santa Fe Hotel for half the price. For those times when attendees were not in session, the Council published city highlights for visitors and encouraged its guests to enjoy all Streator had to offer. The convention was a hotbed of activity, with representatives from around the state pouring through the train depot and crowding the few bars and restaurants of downtown Streator to discuss the plight and promise of Illinois labor. Cigars and whiskey were most certainly in high demand and the late night sidewalks were crowded with both conversation and revelry. The days were filled with long academic sessions on the nature of the labor movement itself, with reports from nearby farmers or from a few men just returning from Europe. Other sessions were filled with angry outcries from manufacturing men fresh off the Chicago picket lines demanding better pay and better conditions. The old survivors of Cherry Mine were heralded as heroes, and their presence urged the adoption of reformed pensions for the aged and infirm.

In the wake of his legislative victory, Reub was a star, courted by many. It was most likely at this time that no less a figure than national union leader, socialist, and US Presidential candidate Eugene Debs paid Reuben a high honor by visiting the young leader in his home. Mr. Debs soon found himself deep in discussion with Reub on his porch, sips of Jeanne’s homemade tea taking the edge off the humid night. Debs, a former Democrat and standard-bearer of the Socialist Party, thought it strange that Reub should be seated on the Republican side of the aisle. In his 1958 interview with Professor Derber, Reuben recounted their conversation in detail:

Eugene B. Debs one time came to my home and he thought it was strange that I should be seated on the Republican side. In fact it amazed him. He said, “I don’t see how you can get along with these high-finders on the Republican side.” He’d been talking about one big union. I said, “Well, there are some things about you, Mr. Debs, that I don’t understand either. You were discussing the possibility of one big union. Now, you don’t believe that, do you, Mr. Debs? That you want to organize the thing on that basis?”

Well, he said he did. “But do you believe that a section hand should be paid as much as an engineer?”

He said, “It costs as much for the section hand to maintain his family as it does the engineer, and without the section hand the engineer wouldn’t have a job.”

“That wasn’t what you folks did.” I said. “I know you’re a railroad man, Mr. Debs, and an engineer. You folks formed an organization of engineers. You’re paid about four times as much as the section hand.”

“Yes, that’s what we did,” he said, “But that doesn’t make it right. See, it ought to be one big union.”

I kidded him about his socialism at that time, and explained to him that I didn’t think he was arguing his socialism right. And he said, “No? What do you think it ought to be?”

“Well,” I said, “in this community where I live there wouldn’t be any change made with respect to the way people work even if we had socialism. Here we all live together, and we belong to the same lodges together. We work in these plants together. We produce everything together, except sharing in the profit. That part of the evolution hadn’t taken place. Now why don’t you argue your socialism that way? Profit sharing proposition.”[6]

Reuben no doubt personally walked Debs through the busy streets to downtown Streator, as he did ISFL President Walker and Secretary Olander as they arrived for the convention that September. After a successful convention, all the attendees bid farewell and carried the inspiration of the experience back to their towns, factories, and union halls. For Reuben, hosting the event had been a personal delight, and raised his profile even higher. Being a star meant also being a target, however, and the next few months would be bumpy.

RETRIBUTION

Reuben’s Recount

The Industrialists of Illinois wanted Reuben out of office. As in previous elections, anti-labor forces knew the only chance to unseat Reuben would be in the Republican primary, set that year for April 13. With established Republican John Wylie certain to secure one of the two Republican seats, Reub’s opponents needed only one candidate to defeat him and thereby deny him a spot in the general election. LaSalle County Sheriff EJ Welter became the manufacturers’ candidate of choice, despite charges of corruption for his improper use of county jail funds.[7] Welter was promoted heavily to industrialists throughout the state, handily outspending Reuben. He ran huge newspaper ads for weeks prior to the election. Reub, who only had enough funding for very small ads, relied on word of mouth and public appearances to make his case. Still, he could count on allies like Walker and Olander to hold large rallies on his behalf.[8]

Despite snowfall and cold temperatures earlier in the month, pleasant weather on Election Day spurred a huge voter turnout, with Reub’s supporters working overtime to turn out the vote for their man. One local newspaper recounted scores of workers drumming up votes and ensuring that every voter in the city was marking a ballot.[9] By the end of the day, news accounts reported Reuben beating Welter by 295 votes.[10] Reuben’s lead continued to climb as the official vote count progressed; by the week’s end his lead grew to 1,087.[11]

Still, Welter would not concede. He demanded a recount the day his loss was announced, and refused to withdraw even as the gap between Reuben and himself widened. His petition was granted that summer, and the vote-counting process—overseen by Welter himself in his capacity as LaSalle County Sheriff—began.

From the very beginning the situation was suspicious. News leaked from inside the clerk’s office painted a chaotic picture of ballots being trampled and tossed aside. Others told of the Sheriff directing the counters, all personal friends, to manipulate the counts in his favor.[12] Soon, ballots from districts that heavily favored Reuben went “missing.”[13]

Suddenly (if unsurprisingly), Reuben’s ballot lead began to plummet. His 1,000+ lead dwindled to just under a few hundred.[14] Alarmed, Reuben took legal action. He went to the court, demanding that the count be conducted fairly or not at all. When the Sheriff assigned two of his men to guard the clerk’s office, Reub insisted on hiring men of his own to keep watch on the ballots and on Welter’s watchmen.[15] The four state highway patrol officers Reub enlisted to protect the ballots did not come cheap. Neither did his legal defense, which was growing more complex by the day. The entire state paid attention as the weeks stretched into months and labor’s rising star was clinging to a cliffhanger victory, battered daily by challenges and lawsuits. The situation became so urgent that the ISFL created a Defense Fund for Reuben to help cover his mounting legal fees, and encouraged its members to contribute:

Enemies of organized labor in Illinois are attempting to force RG Soderstrom out of the state legislature by challenging his recent nomination through court action. They know that his income as a linotype operator is not sufficient to enable him to meet the cost of such litigation…The additional burden of court costs is more than [the Trade Unionists of LaSalle County] can carry, however, and now they are appealing to trade unions in other districts to assist them financially…. [and] request contributions to the Soderstrom Defense fund.[16]

Despite Welter’s tricks, Reuben won the recount by a mere 55 and a half votes.[17] The Sheriff tried to contest the outcome yet again, petitioning for yet another recount. However, Judge Edgar Eldridge threw out Welter’s case, complete with a stinging denunciation of the state in which the ballots had been kept. “It was the grossest negligence, inefficiency and utter disregard for legal duty on the part of the county clerk,” Judge Eldridge declared in disbelief. “[The ballots] were strewn around on the floor and treated as waste paper…It is the grossest carelessness ever to come before the knowledge of any court I think.”[18] The ISFL Weekly News Letter reported that “as the jurist finished speaking, a pin could have been heard to drop in any corner of the room…the jurist had not minced words and gave no indication of any desire on his part to cover up or excuse the carelessness with which the ballots had been handled.”[19]

After surviving this ignominious primary, Reuben earned the right to run in the general election that fall, where he would run as “an outstanding progressive leader of the House, a champion of people’s rights.”[20]

Legal Challenges

The IMA also sought to undo Reuben’s signature legislation through the courts. Just two months after its passage, the Injunction-Limitation Act would have its first day in court. Earlier that summer, pro-manufacturers Judge Denis E. Sullivan granted an injunction on behalf of the International Tailoring Company against its union. Union attorney William Cunnea, knowing he could not get a fair hearing from “Injunction Judge” Sullivan, applied for a change of venue to argue the validity of the injunction in light of the new law. Seeing an opportunity to defeat in court what they’d failed to stop in the legislature, the Chicago Employers’ Association and the Associated Employers of Illinois dispatched lawyers to argue on behalf of the ITC that the law itself was unconstitutional.

In a decision by Judge Hugo Pam, the Cook County Superior Court found the law to be constitutional. Judge Pam left no question regarding the law’s status. “Now, gentlemen, you have my opinion. I am upholding the constitutionality of the act,” He said after issuing his ruling. “I will refuse to grant an injunction in this case which prohibits picketing itself. I recognize the right of labor to peaceful picketing and persuasion.”[21]

Pam’s definitive statement did not stop labor’s opponents. They appealed to Judge Sullivan—the very Judge whom Pam had overruled—for relief from injunction limitations, which he was happy to provide, this time in Isidore Ossey v. Retail Clerks Union Local No. 195. The case involved a group of union retail clerks from the Ossey Brothers Department Store who peacefully picketed outside the shop in violation of an injunction placed on the union six months earlier. Lawyers for the men argued the injunction was now illegal under Reuben’s Injunction Limitation Act. In a radical decision openly dismissive of the legislature, Judge Sullivan declared the law unconstitutional, stating “The court finds that the said Act of the Legislature aforementioned is unconstitutional and therefore null and void.”[22] Sullivan’s decision, while listing multiple sections and articles, was in substance as vague as it was broad. By agreeing with the argument that the Injunction Limitation Act was somehow an “unwarranted invasion by the General Assembly of the constitutional powers and duties of the courts,” Sullivan struck down Reuben’s law.

The defendants, whom Sullivan had punished with up to $200 in fines and 30 days in jail, appealed. With two Superior Court judges delivering diametrically opposed decisions, the Supreme Court of Illinois took up the case. The Justices were faced with an unsavory choice: would they affirm Reuben’s law and overturn Sullivan’s decision—further undermining the well-connected judge—or affirm Sullivan and overrule the clear will of the people?

In an expert example of judicial politics, they chose neither. In June 1927 the Supreme Court ruled that since the injunctions in the case were issued prior to the law’s enactment, the injunctions and the law forbidding them could both be valid:

For immunity the appellants rely upon the act entitled “An act relating to disputes concerning terms and conditions of employment,” approved June 19, 1925, in force July 1, 1925 (Laws of 1925, p.378)…The complainants, on the contrary, assert that the act contravenes the due process and equality guaranties of the fourteenth amendment to the federal constitution and certain provisions of the State constitution…In our view it is not necessary, in the case before us, to determine the validity of the act and we refrain, therefore, from deciding that question.[23] Though this decision may have been unfortunate for the picketers of Local 195, it did send a clear signal to the IMA and others that the Supreme Court viewed the Injunction Limitation bill as constitutional. The enemies of labor had to swallow this bitter pill and prepare for the next fight.

Labor, meanwhile, decided to go on the offensive, targeting so-called “injunction judges” like Sullivan at the ballot box. Judges in Illinois were elected, not appointed, and the ISFL made a concerted effort to remove abusive judges. The campaign achieved some important victories. In the spring of 1927, labor forces managed to eliminate Circuit Judge Crow from nomination at the St. Claire County Republican Convention after a riveting battle that saw the local pro-Crow Sheriff barring anti-Crow delegates entrance to the convention.[24] In the fall of 1929 the ISFL even targeted Sullivan himself, although that effort failed due in large part to Sullivan’s powerful supporters—a group that included US Vice President Charles Dawes, who took personal credit for the judge’s election.[25]

The Road Ahead

Reub continued to work three days a week as a linotype operator at the Streator Daily Independent Times. He also tended to family matters, including caring for his mother Anna. Later that year, Anna stunned the family when she suddenly announced that she was remarrying! Reub pleaded with her to reconsider. “Reub tried so hard to impress upon her that it would never work, but she accepted no counsel from either of us and she married.”[26]

With unsettling speed, Anna moved in with her new husband and sold the family house. Although married with a place of his own, Reub’s heart still sank as he said goodbye to the only real home of his childhood. This wasn’t just where he’d grown up; it was where his family had become whole for the first time. Reuben watched as they carried away his father’s desk with the roll-top and the organ he’d use to practice for Sunday service; as they packed the books filling the shelves and crammed underneath his bed. He watched as they emptied the house of the furniture bought second-hand from Barlow’s so many years ago. He walked outside on the porch he’d built with his brother Lafe and wandered to the empty lot and railroad lines behind his house. Staring at the Santa Fe tracks, he relived picking the loose coal dropped from the passing cars, fuel they’d burn to make it through the freezing Midwestern nights. One last time, he closed the door to the room he’d shared with Paul and Lafe, as well as the room his mother had shared with Olga and baby brother Joseph. One last time he let his thoughts turn to memories good and bad, of celebration, of mourning, of family distant and gone, before returning to his new home, warm with cheer, and to his son Carl, now 11, and daughter Jeanne, now 8.

Putting the past squarely behind him, he readied himself for yet another legislative session. With their Injunction-Limitation Bill alive and well, Walker, Reuben and Olander looked forward to passing the next of the “47 bills” they had plotted out all those years ago: legislation creating old-age pensions, one day rest in seven, eight-hour workdays, and more. With the passage of the Injunction-Limitation Act, could these be far behind?

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