CROWNING ACHIEVEMENT OF A LEGISLATIVE CAREER

Winning at Any Cost

When Reuben bought his tickets for the 1935 University of Illinois Homecoming football match, he’d pictured a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon spent with his son Carl in the marching band and daughter Jeanne in the student section, cheering on the fighting Illini as they tore into the hated Michigan Wolverines. Sitting next to her was Carl’s love, Virginia Merriner, outfitted in wool coat and cap, along with her girlfriends from the Theta house. Reuben imagined later celebrating Jeanne’s success joining her brother in Champaign after graduating Streator High with honors.

But November 9, 1935 was dark, rainy, and cold. Everyone was wrapped tight in heavy winter overcoats and furs, draped in raincoats and capes trying (and failing) to keep dry. Reub watched in frustration as the Illini, who had yet to score a touchdown in Big Ten competition, failed again and again to carry it home, with not one but two fumbles on the five-yard line. But they finally scored a 22-yard field goal by Illinois Sophomore halfback Lowell Spurgeon.[1] It was a wet and grinding game, and Reub was sure to stay afterward and watch Carl play his trumpet with the band. Two happy co-eds, Virginia and Jeanne, joined Reuben arm-and-arm and followed the band back to the band house to hear one last rendition of the Alma Mater.

Just like Homecoming, 1935 for Reuben had been a nasty, brutal, grinding experience, full of fumbles and frustrations. It was the flash point of the fights and divisions that would nearly tear labor apart, rifts Reub would spend the next 35 years trying to overcome. But it would also deliver Reub some of his biggest wins, victories he’d spent a lifetime trying to accomplish. And of course these successes would carry a price from the enemies of labor, always lurking around the edges of his political life and ready to pounce at any time.

Attacked from All Sides

1935 was a rough year for organized labor. After the Great Depression, pro-union Democrats had taken control of the Governorship and General Assembly for the first time in a generation. Unions had done even better in the 1934 elections, picking up two more friendly seats in the Senate and another five in the House.[2] By 1935, however, dark clouds had begun to gather. Reuben’s re-election in the Republican primary had been unexpectedly close—the political price for furthering the Democratic President’s policies. Meanwhile, the National Industrial Recovery Act, the centerpiece of FDR’s New Deal, was under renewed assault by industry, congress, and especially the courts. Even the President’s own officials stood feebly by as predatory industrialists ignored the law, refusing to recognize duly elected unions and choosing to “negotiate” with company-appointed union representatives instead. These officials had “driven a knife into the very heart of labor,” the fiery John L. Lewis thundered in testimony that year before the U.S. Senate. “I say that [they] betrayed the President!”[3] The AFL President Green agreed, warning the President that employers were disregarding NRA codes with impunity while blaming all negative outcomes on the very policies they defied.[4]

Worst of all, unemployment continued to hang around the nation’s neck like a lead weight. By the beginning of 1935 the national unemployment rolls had swelled by 5,000,000 people, while the cost of relief had doubled.[5] Re-employment figures stubbornly refused to show any gain, holding flat despite increased manufacturing production.[6]

The recovery had stalled, and the public was starting to blame the New Deal for their troubles. Attacks on the President’s agenda started coming from all sides. On the right, America’s industrialist elite formed the American Liberty League, a political organization dedicated to undoing FDR’s reforms restraining millionaires and protecting laborers, the elderly, and the unemployed.[7] On the left, demagogues like Louisiana Senator Huey Long called for a radical plan to “Share Our Wealth,” while new parties like the Farmer-Labor Political Federation demanded “a fundamental program striking at the roots of the profit system.”[8]

In the face of such opposition, the common wisdom among New Deal politicians was to keep your head down. Reuben (perhaps predictably) did just the opposite. If the threat against the New Deal (and him) was growing, then this, he believed, was the time to strike—now, while labor’s influence was at its peak and before his enemies could take their revenge at the ballot box. He announced an aggressive legislative agenda for labor, one that included bills for a 30-hour week, unemployment insurance, an eight-hour day for women, and a six-day week. At the center of Soderstrom’s efforts, however, was the Old Age Pension bill. It would prove one of the hardest—and costliest—fights of his political life.

THE FIGHT FOR OLD AGE PENSIONS

Reuben Versus the Governor

Emboldened by the President’s Social Security proposal to Congress in January of that year, Reuben again introduced his most treasured legislation, the Old Age Pension Act—a bill which sought to bring “a note of humanity” to the impoverished elderly by enabling them to live out their final years in comfort with their loved ones. Many otherwise friendly politicians, however, worried about the impact of such an ambitious agenda, starting with the man who had undone the Pension bill in the last session—Illinois Governor Henry Horner. A former probate judge, Horner was locked in a fight for his political life with Chicago Mayor Ed Kelly, who (together with Cook County Democratic Chairman Patrick Nash) ran the powerful and corrupt Chicago political machine. By 1935 Kelly had developed an intense personal hatred of the Governor, whom he viewed as too independent, and rumors circulated that the Mayor wanted a more pliable replacement. The news plunged the Governor into a bitter depression. According to biographer Charles Masters, Horner’s once “remarkably kind nature” turned “depressed, disillusioned, and cranky…Once conciliatory and cordial, Horner now seemed to have almost given up trying to get along with other politicians. Instead of working to smooth over disagreements, the tired and disillusioned governor now often uttered bitter and cynical responses in the direction of his political critics.”[9] The bachelor Governor had locked himself away to brood over his options, “submerged in melancholy.”[10]

It was in the midst of this struggle that Soderstrom met privately with the embattled executive to secure his support for old age pensions, a meeting he later recounted in a colorful letter to his brother and confidante, Lafe. He recalled being surprised by the dark mood that permeated the Governor’s office as his assistant and confidant Ella Cornwall led him back to where Horner sat, absorbed in a piece of Lincoln memorabilia. With a half-hearted gesture, he offered Soderstrom a seat.

They briefly shared pleasantries, lingering for a few moments on talk of the film “Bright Eyes” and its breakout star, Shirley Temple. When the conversation shifted to talk of labor’s agenda, however, the Governor grew terse. Pressed for support, he flatly repeated what he’d already stated publicly. “I believe this principle is sound and that eventually it must become a part of our general economic plan,” he told Reuben, but “whether this is the opportune time in view of the present financial condition of the state is questionable.”[11] Besides, Roosevelt had already promised to bring a Social Security bill before Congress, and “we should await a presentation of his plan before final consideration of this question.”[12] Reuben protested vigorously, insisting that the President’s plans made his bill all the more urgent. This was Illinois’ last chance to shape the conversation; if they failed to act now, any political will for Reub’s pension plan—which was almost certainly stronger than anything that could come out of congress—would fall apart.

Horner remained unmoved, and Reub could guess why. Although he viewed himself as a man of the people, the Governor was notoriously miserly, and not the least bit inclined to support new spending. After all, he’d just pulled the state out of debt by a politically costly sales tax—a measure Kelly was now using against him to great effect.[13] “I’d be for an old age pension bill if it didn’t cost anything,” the Governor had said the last time they’d discussed the matter. “Governor, it is going to cost something,” Reub had replied through gritted teeth, “But it will be the best money you can spend.”[14]

Reuben realized he could argue the merits of pensions until he was blue in the face and still not change the Governor’s mind. Undaunted, Reuben tried a different track, telling Horner:

Governor, you’re a high-minded personality, fine and decent in your personal humanitarian attitude. But you’ve failed to keep with the President of the United States. There’s a lot of social vision down in Washington but no corresponding vision of a social character in Springfield. The President is making many fine declarations on behalf of labor and humanity, but no corresponding declarations have been made by the Governor of Illinois. People are beginning to believe we have a New Deal in Washington and a mis-deal in Springfield. Now, look at President Roosevelt. He is absolutely immune to all successful political criticism. No mud-slinging politician can successfully attack Roosevelt. It’s more of a disadvantage to do so than an advantage to attack him. You could make yourself immune to all unsuccessful political criticism by getting in step with the President of the United States through the simple process of declaring for organized labor’s legislation. It wouldn’t only be a good humanitarian policy, but a good political policy, because it’s a successful one.[15]

Soderstrom watched as the wheels began to turn in Horner’s head. If he adopted Reuben’s plan, he could use it to insulate himself against Kelly and restore his public image. Further, it might help him gain the President’s endorsement in the upcoming primary fight. The possibilities began to percolate. If he supported the Reuben’s agenda, the Governor asked, could he count on Labor’s support in the primary? Soderstrom replied that the Joint Labor Legislative Board had a long-standing policy of supporting the incumbent, provided he proved himself friendly to labor. Coming out in support of pensions, Reub mused, would certainly be seen as friendly act. The Governor gave Soderstrom his support.

Battling Public Opinion

With the support of the Governor in hand, Reuben turned his attention to the General Assembly. Again, he faced a crucial problem—party affiliation. Although pro-labor, Reub was a Republican, and the Democratic Assembly would not bring a bill from a member of the opposing party up for a vote, no matter its merits. Selflessly, Reuben removed his name from the bill he’d spent his political career crafting, opting instead to orchestrate behind the scenes. As he described:

I urged many members of the legislature to draft an old age pension bill and introduce it. The result was that the name of nine state representatives appeared on seven proposals…A subcommittee was appointed to select the best features of the seven bills and draft them into one measure. I served on the sub-committee and stuck pretty close to every move made.[16]

Learning from his mistakes, Reub also decided to remove the revenue section and pass it separately to secure more votes. “I knew that if members of the House and Senate would vote for it without a revenue producing section,” he later revealed to brother Lafe, “that they would be committed to the legislation—sort of tied to it—and could not consistently run out on the appropriation bill when it came up for action.”[17] When the President’s Social Security bill offering up to $15 per recipient per month in matching funds to states with pension plans was announced, it lent further strength to Reuben’s efforts. After sixteen fraught years, victory finally appeared within sight.

As Reuben inched closer to victory in Springfield, however, he had to fight off a surprising new foe: progressives pension supporters. In recent years Dr. Francis Townsend, a retired physician, had been pushing a radical pension plan of his own. His “Townsend Plan” called for paying every person over the age of 65 a monthly pension of $200, well over the $30 maximum payment Reuben was advocating. Millions were enticed by the plan—as much as 56% of the American public, according to some surveys.[18] This included a large number of union workers, many of whom pulled Reuben aside at local meetings and Eagle lodge dinners, warning him to “plump” his bill or risk losing their support. Reuben pushed back hard; any attempts to exceed Federal matching funds would give his more reluctant votes in the legislature the excuse they needed to pull their support. “Finally I decided that it wasn’t important to have a bill that met with the views of organized labor or the view of the lodge of Eagles, or any particular group,” Reub said. “It was important to draft a bill that was consistent with the views of the federal authorities down at Washington, because the federal government in the pending social security legislation was offering to pay up to half of the expense to maintain an old age pension system up to $15.00 per month per pensioner.”[19]

Other opposition came from more traditional quarters. Many in the press pounced on Reub’s efforts. The conservative editorial page of the Bloomington Pantagraph in particular savaged Soderstrom’s Pension bill and the proposed national Social Security Act. “It is questioned whether this measure is in fact a ‘social security’ program, or one tending in an opposite direction,” they wrote. “A less ambitious and tumultuous start on a far reaching program which may take years to perfect would come nearer suiting the present conditions, in which the business and industry of the country looks in vain for signs of governmental encouragement, but sees instead frequent political attempts to penalize and stultify it.”[20] Reuben wasted no time responding to the charge, writing back to the editors:

The editorial writer of the Bloomington Pantagraph does not seem to understand the full meaning of these two words ‘social security.’ The cold-blooded truth is hungry men are dangerous men and it is my honest judgment that there is more social security and protection for employers in the enactment of an old age pension law than they will be able to find in the military department or all the police departments in the state combined. For more than 400 years, legislation, almost all of it, has been designed to help the big fellow and big businessman, and the time has come when legislation designed to help the ordinary man must be enacted into law…

I am personally moving heaven and earth to get this kind of legislation out of the Industrial Affairs committee at the earliest possible date, and I trust that the Bloomington public press will refrain from doing everything they know how to do, to discourage the enactment of this sorely needed piece of legislation.[21]

Soderstrom would not sit idly by while a newspaper board smeared his noble efforts.

Sacrificing for the Win

Despite all odds and over any opposition, Reuben’s Old Age Pension Act was signed into law that summer. The vote was a testament to Soderstrom’s political acumen; it passed the House and Senate without a single vote cast against it.[22] Reub had to sacrifice much for such a win, including any official public acknowledgment of his success. However, Reub’s lifelong friend and ally, University of Chicago Economics Professor (and eventual US Senator) Paul Douglas, wrote an editorial for the Decatur Herald trumpeting Soderstrom’s role, writing in part:

The battle to get an old age pension law through the legislature has been a hard and bitter one and it has taken sixteen years…Representative Soderstrom and the State Federation of Labor introduced and improved the bill. In order to get the majority party behind it, Mr. Soderstrom gladly consented to have his name taken off the bill and those of three Democrats substituted. In doing this he showed that he cared for the old people of Illinois and not for his personal glorification and for this he deserves the gratitude of all those who care for the welfare of the state.[23]

Soderstrom himself described the bill’s passage as “the crowning achievement of my legislative career.”[24] While aware of the bill’s shortcomings, he was nevertheless proud and relieved to bring this sixteen-year struggle to a close. As he wrote in the pages of the ISFL Weekly Newsletter:

The bill is not perfect. No legislation ever is when first passed, but it has been established- and that is something- and can be improved from time to time in future sessions of the General Assembly. Even $30 per month, while not enough, compared with nothing now, is looked upon as a mighty blessing by many penniless and helpless old men and women who have had more than their share of anxiety and worry during the past five years of hopeless unemployment. This legislation will bring smiles to their faces and the aged people of Illinois will be happy and contented with the comfort, peace and security that even this small sum of money paid periodically, can and will produce. I rejoice with them in the wonderful promise that this fine beginning offers.[25]

Illinois organizations representing the aged celebrated the bill’s passage, and while Reub’s name may not have been on the bill, those who had followed and fought for this bill through the years knew who was responsible for its success. Some, such as director Michael Whalan of the Association for Pensions for the Aged, invited Reuben to share in their revelry. Lightheartedly tweaking Reuben for his relative youth, he addressed his correspondence:

Dear “Boy”:

I hope that you will receive and accept this letter as a special invitation to be present and to appear on the speakers’ platform as one of our principal speakers at our Old Age Pension celebration over the victory of the passage of the Old Age Pension law by the recent General Assembly. This celebration will be held at the Water Works Park, Peoria, Illinois, on Sunday, September 29th, 1935. Let me say that the rank and file of our membership will be very much disappointed if anything should occur to prevent your presence on this important occasion. Now my dear ‘boy,’ please notify me at the earliest possible date whether or not you can accept this invitation so that we may be able to have your name inserted on the program.[26]

Unfortunately, Reuben was unable to attend; the national AFL convention instead drew him to Atlantic City for one of the most memorable meetings in the organization’s history.

While the passage of the Old Age Pension Act was an historic win for Soderstrom, he didn’t stop there. He oversaw a flurry of bills at the start of the fifty-ninth General Assembly, including legislation on Unemployment Insurance, Workman’s Compensation, Occupational Disease, and a variety of wage bills. By session’s end, Reuben had passed a record number of pro-labor bills though the Assembly. He won extensions of the Minimum Wage Law for Women and Minors and an expansion of the Mother’s Pension, securing appropriations for their funding. He also passed legislation establishing a six-day work week, which he’d been fighting for since his first term in office. Even Reuben’s earlier legislative victories enjoyed renewed success during this time. The Soderstrom Injunction Limitation Act—a litigious target for manufacturing interests for a decade—was declared constitutional by the United States Supreme Court.[27]

POLICE BRUTALIZE WOMEN WORKERS

Reuben took his aggressive agenda outside the halls of Springfield as well. In February of that year, a strike by the Ladies Garment Workers of Decatur, Illinois, turned violent when local police, acting as armed escort for strikebreaking employees, fired tear gas into a crowd of 25 singing and shouting female picketers outside the Decatur Garment company.[28] “There was a lot of police brutality over there,” Reuben later explained. “One of the girls was hit in the eye with this tear gas. Well, it blinded both of her eyes, and she was in the hospital.”[29] The courts responded to the chaos by issuing an injunction against the brutalized workers. Undeterred, the striking garment workers vowed to protect themselves by any means necessary. “Our pickets have been instructed to carry on their duties in an orderly manner,” union president Carolyn Burke told the press, “But if those workers who have not joined our ranks begin a battle, we will protect ourselves.”[30]

With tempers aroused on all sides, one of the business’s representatives, fearful that the tense situation might explode, sought out Soderstrom in search of a solution. As Reuben later recalled:

I requested him to call a meeting, and call it tonight. Call it in City Hall. “Well,” he said, “there’s an injunction over there.” “That’s good,” I said, “You call the meeting and make sure that you’ve got a big crowd. Call it where the police are close because I’d like to defy that injunction!”

So I got over there at eight o’clock and the place was jammed. People were sitting on window sills and hanging out the doors. I gave them a rousing talk on strike matters, inflamed the crowd, and then I finally made up my mind to defy the injunction. I announced from the platform that I was defying that injunction. “I hold that court in contempt, and I hold that injunction in contempt!” I felt that they were going to fight me before I got out of the building, but nothing happened, and I returned to Springfield.

But about four days later, Victor Olander called me over the phone and said, “Were you in Decatur the other night?” I said, “yeah,” and he said “What the Hell did you say down there?”[31]

Victor had been called by judge who’d issued the injunction, and he wasn’t happy. He drove straight to Chicago for a meeting with the two labor leaders. In the hours-long negotiations that followed, the judge agreed to drop the injunction. Reuben, however, didn’t stop there. He wanted release for the workers jailed during the strike. The judge finally relented, agreeing to probation if the ISFL would send an attorney to file a proper motion before the court.

There was a problem, however. The ISFL had no attorney. Olander was a great legal mind—one consulted and even offered jobs by the likes of Clarence Darrow—but he was not qualified to file the motion. It was then that Reuben remembered a law professor from Northwestern University that he’d met through his work in the House, a lawyer by the name of Dan Carmell. Carmell was happy to help, going to court and freeing the imprisoned protesters on Reub’s request. It was the first act of what would soon prove to be an important and fruitful relationship.

LABOR SPLITS AND STUMBLES

Black Friday Shocks Illinois Workers

Not all of Reuben’s struggles ended in victory, however. One of his most stinging losses that year came at the hands of the infamously conservative courts over the important question of worker health and safety. On April 17, 1935, legal protections against occupational disease took a leap backwards when the Illinois State Supreme Court declared large swaths of the Occupational Disease Act unconstitutional.[32] Reuben deplored the “Back Wednesday” ruling, writing:

The effect of these decisions is to wipe out the right of workers to sue for damages under the Occupational Disease Act in cases of industrial ailments contracted while at work, a right which they have had since the passage of the Act in 1911. At the same time, through the decision of the court against Sections 12 and 13 of the Health, Safety, and Comfort Act, they lose the protection afforded them by that law since its enactment in 1909 and revision in 1915…What is the Illinois legislature going to do about it? Are the workers in Illinois to be set back a full quarter of a century in the matter of protection from occupational diseases and safeguards against industrial hazards?[33]

Unfortunately, the legislature failed to act on these important protections; three House and two Senate bills aimed at restoring the act went down in defeat. In reaction, ISFL Secretary-Treasurer Olander resigned from Illinois Emergency Relief Commission, stating:

This action on my part is in the nature of a protest against the failure of the administration and the legislature to provide remedial legislation necessary to guard against the legal effects of the ‘Black Wednesday’’ decisions of the Illinois Supreme Court...I and my associates have worked almost incessantly since the very hour of the court decisions in an effort to bring about the necessary remedial action before the adjournment of the legislature. The action of the Senate in defeating the bills today is a very plain indication that little attention has been given to our pleas…The subject has been made into a political football, as between factions in both political parties. It has been made a political issue, not because I desired it, but through the maneuvering of the Illinois Manufacturers Association and members of the legislature which that association and its allies succeeded in bringing to the support of the reactionary employers of the state. Very well, I can play that game, too.[34]

For the moment, however, the only move left to Reuben and his faithful partner was to register and remember this defeat. The IMA had won the current battle on occupational hazards, and Soderstrom would soon need to place his full attention on a growing storm within labor itself.

Death and Rebirth of the New Deal

While Reuben was fighting for workers within Illinois, labor suffered several setbacks nationally. The first crisis came that May, when the US Supreme Court dealt a near fatal blow to the New Deal by declaring the National Industrial Recovery Act unconstitutional. The decision was disastrous to labor. Reuben took the decision particularly hard, writing in his column at the time:

What now? Before the passage of the Act, in June 1933, labor and business alike found it impossible to make any progress. Conditions had been growing steadily worse since 1929. After the passage of the Act business improved and labor began making substantial gains in organization and consequently in wages and working conditions……Is labor and industry now to be plunged back into the chaotic condition which prevailed prior to the passage of the national recovery act in June, 1933? That is Unthinkable! It is idle to quarrel with the decision of the court which, under all circumstances, has the last word. The thing to do now is to seek a way to restore the recovery program in a constitutional form.[35]

Reuben didn’t have to wait long. That July, the President signed the National Industrial Recovery Act. Commonly known as the Wagner Act (after New York’s Senator Robert Wagner), the bill was a huge boon to labor. At the heart of the Act was Section 7, which affirmed “Employees shall have the right to self-organization, to form, join, or assist labor organizations, to bargain collectively through representatives of their own choosing, and to engage in concerted activities, for the purpose collective bargaining or other mutual aid or protection.”[36] Finally, labor had the force of law to fight industrial opposition. “The passage of the Wagner Act revealed not only governmental favor but a willingness to form a partnership with labor,” writes labor historian Joseph Rayback. “To ensure the right of organization, and the correlative right to bargain, governmental aid was needed. The New Deal announced itself ready to grant that aid.”[37]

Reuben cheered the signing of the act, declaring in his Labor Day message, “This legislation definitely outlaws the company union and compels recognition by employers of labor’s right to organize and bargain collectively through representatives of their own choosing.”[38] At the annual ISFL convention in Belleville, Illinois, Works Progress Administration Director Carl Bauer gave the keynote address, reaffirming the government’s support of organized labor, including higher wages and a 30-hour week. Reuben, who followed Bauer on stage, expressed his appreciation for the show of solidarity:

Just think of it, friends! A representative of the Government of the United States in a convention of the Illinois State Federation of Labor, willing to help us make the contracts comply with the provisions of the rules and regulations which provide for a six-hour day, a thirty-hour week and the prevailing union scale. I have always believed that government ought to make things favorable for those who live under it, and the Government of the United states, through the Public Works Administration, is making things favorable for those who work for a livelihood, and those who happen to belong to the trade union movement— and all this has come through the efforts and through the mental energy and through the dynamic leadership of one great, outstanding citizen, the President of the United States![39]

Reuben had good reason for such praise and optimism. This “Second New Deal” had arrived by forging a meaningful and muscular partnership between government and agents of labor. Just who those agents would be, however, soon became an issue of dispute as labor took its new power and looked inward.

Riot At The Convention

Chaos. That was the only word to describe the scene on the floor of the AFL Annual Convention in Atlantic City on October 19, 1935. A sea of delegates swarmed atop one another, the hall ringing with shouts as AFL President Green angrily beat his gavel in a futile attempt to regain order. At the center of the scene were two men, John L. Lewis of the United Miners and William Hutcheson of the Carpenters Union, trading blows after what had been a heated exchange. It didn’t last long (only a few minutes, by most accounts), but by the end Hutcheson’s face wasn’t the only thing to emerge bruised and bloodied. Union solidarity—and the Federation itself—had suffered an irreparable breach, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Reuben, attending as a delegate from the Illinois Federation, watched the events in shock. He was well aware of the contentious issue behind the fight: the question of industrial unions. For years, Lewis and his supporters had tried in vain to convince the AFL to allow mass-production industries like steel, lumber, and automobiles to unionize as a whole. Traditional trade unionists, who dominated the AFL leadership, insisted that such unions undermined the character of organized labor by allowing workers “not yet prepared for the trade unions’ institutions of self-government” to build “cheap unions with no effort.”[40] Of course, underneath the argument of trade vs. industry lied dangerous social and racial tensions. Proponents of industrial organization were often poorer and from immigrant populations, and many of the criticisms of the “virtue” of industrial workers were thin proxies for attacks on the moral character of these groups.

As long as the AFL had the power to decide what was and was not a valid union, there was little industrial unionists could do. The 1935 Wagner Act, however, changed everything. Now the National Labor Relations Board, not the AFL, had the power to define jurisdictions and certify worker representation.[41] This led Lewis to launch a new push at the AFL Convention to create a plan for the organization of industrial workers. The call went unheeded, however, and the AFL-affiliated craft-union principle of organization was upheld by a vote of 18,024 to 10,933 after a heated and impassioned debate.[42] When Hutcheson tried to silence a protesting delegate on the convention floor, Lewis stormed down the aisle and pulled the AFL Vice President aside, launching into a war of words that ended in fisticuffs.

Hutcheson’s and Green’s hopes that the convention vote had ended the debate over industrial organization were soon dashed. In the weeks after the convention, Lewis gathered the heads of eight major unions, including president Howard of Reuben’s own Typographers’ Union, to chart a possible course of action. The result was the creation of the Committee for Industrial Organization, or CIO. While it maintained that it was working within the framework of the AFL, the CIO promised to promote industrial unionism, an action Green had expressly forbidden. Lewis ended 1935 on a collision course with the Federation, an earthquake that would split the American labor movement for many years to come.

Reuben thought the entire affair “foolish.”[43] While he personally preferred trade organization, he felt that there was “room for both kinds of unions” within the AFL.[44] What mattered to Soderstrom was unity. This was why for the past year he had been fighting on Lewis’s behalf against the Progressive Miners Association (PMA), a rival to the AFL’s United Miners. The “mine war” had devastated Illinois miners whe n it turned violent, claiming numerous lives, including twelve members of the Illinois National Guard and a woman in the small town of Taylorsville, Illinois.[45] While no fan of Lewis’s divisive and dictatorial style, Reuben pulled no punches in his fight against the PMA, speaking out strongly as recently as that September:

The American Federation of Labor is the greatest power for good in our country, and wage earners everywhere ought to stop their bickering and work together unitedly, in closer unity than ever before, and those Progressive Miners ought to drop their indefensibly policy of fighting organized labor and come back to the legitimate Mine Workers’’ organization where they properly belong…it is their moral duty to help advance the common interests of all those who toil to live and who ask not “What has the union ever done for me?” but “What can I do to help the other fellow?[46]

Now Lewis, president of the United Miners, was the one threatening the unity that Reuben held so dear. Soderstrom clearly saw the threat such defection posed; what could not be foreseen, however, was how deep and devastating the divide between the industrial unionists of the CIO and the traditional trade unions of the AFL would become, or the monumental effort it would take to eventually heal the breach. It was an issue that Reuben would spend the next 23 years wrestling to resolve.

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