LEADER BLAZES NEW PATH

Assembly Assails Pensions

Reub was furious. Trudging home from the Santa Fe station through the deep January snows, his imposing frame—usually alight with abounding energy—barreled through the busy Streator streets like a bullet, propelled by an anger that grew with every step. He still couldn’t believe what his friend and colleague, Vic Olander, had confided to him after his last meeting with the State Senate leadership. For over sixteen years, Reuben had led an uphill struggle for the Illinois Old Age Pension Act, a law designed “to help that old couple, gray-haired, bent with age, to live together and dream their dreams out under their own roof, at their own table, by their own fireside.”[1] After a legislative lifetime of fighting, he’d finally won that battle, crafting and passing a bill that meant real relief for the impoverished elderly. He’d banished forever the gruesome specter of the county poor house, placing Illinois at the country’s cutting edge with protections more progressive than its contemporaries, and ahead of national action. And now the State Senate wanted to gut it.

A year earlier, Reuben had struck a deal with the embattled Governor Horner—he would pass Soderstrom’s Old Age Pension Act in return for labor’s support in his re-election fight against Chicago Mayor Ed Kelly’s hand-picked challenger. Horner dutifully lent his support for the bill (taking much of the credit in the process).[2] By January of 1936, however, Reuben’s prized legislative achievement was already in danger of becoming a victim of the Horner-Kelly feud. The Mayor, eager to undermine Horner and gain leverage, had his men in the State Senate team up with the Republicans to propose a series of surprise amendments during a special session of the General Assembly to take control of the pension funds away from the State administration and into the ready hands of county officials (who were in turn controlled by the Mayor’s political machine).[3] Not only did these “home rule” amendments expose the pension payments to likely corruption, but it put the bill at odds with national standards, jeopardizing federal subsidies that were to constitute half of the Act’s funding.[4]

When Reuben heard the news he was beside himself with anger. These amendments were “not for the purpose of doing something for the aged people, but for the purpose of doing something to them,” he bitterly mused, “and the first special session has been working very hard to destroy the Illinois old age security bill, which was enacted into law during the regular session of the general assembly.”[5] His dismay only grew as the General Assembly further undermined his bill’s funding, benefits and protections. Of course, all this had nothing to do with serving aged citizens and everything to do with politics. Republican vs. Democrat, upstate vs. downstate, Illinois Governor vs. Chicago Mayor—political factions were simply using the pension fight to beat each other bloody, grinding away at the bill in the process. The end result was a near-endless carnival act of late-night theatrics, pandering, and chaotic roll calls which House Speaker John P. Devine called the worst he’d ever experienced, complaining “I’ve never seen a session that accomplished so little. You’ve spent three months quarreling about nothing!”[6] In the end, the naked horse-trading produced an overwhelming alliance of Kelly-backed Democrats and Republicans who passed the “revised” Old Age Assistance Act over the Governor’s veto by a vote of 35 to 1 in the Senate and 122 to 8 in the House.[7]

Reub was one of those eight votes. Frustrated and outraged, Reub publicly warned that the new legislation wouldn’t pass federal muster, delaying and limiting benefits.[8] His warnings proved prescient. That summer the federal government found the new Illinois Old Age Pension Act insufficient, sending the legislature into a financial panic.[9] Reuben used the opportunity to campaign for a new bill undoing the worst damage. “If you fail to pass this bill,” he warned his fellow representatives, “it simply will mean cutting in half every old age pension in the state and there’s no sense in that.”[10] While Reuben succeeded in restoring funds, he was far from satisfied. Many of his most innovative measures, such as his $5,000 estate exemption, remained cut from his groundbreaking bill. He vowed to continue the fight, declaring that August that “the old age pension act must be restored to what it was before the raid that was made upon it in the first special session of the General Assembly. That raid practically reduced the original act to half of what it was.”[11]

The entire fiasco left Reuben disgusted and physically ill. This was not the Assembly that he knew. The legislators he’d known were statesmen. Yes, he’d fought fierce battles and faced committed opposition, but at least those were ideological fights and opponents. This Assembly, in contrast, appeared awash in petty jealousy and avarice, torn not just by partisanship but what Soderstrom called “the struggle for supremacy between Democratic party factions.”[12] They argued over nothing and traded for less, using the rights of citizens as their coin. By the end of the session Reuben had become convinced that this was no longer his chamber. If he was going to effect change, he realized, it wouldn’t be from the House floor.

Reuben Works With IMA

With the House descending into factional bickering, Reuben began looking elsewhere for an effective partner. He found one in the most unlikely of places. Since the beginning of his life in labor, Reuben had been plagued by the Illinois Manufacturers’ Association (IMA). From the era of JM Glenn and the fight against injunctions to the current days of Donnelly and his crusade against the New Deal, Soderstrom had seen the IMA and its parent organization, the National Manufacturers’ Association (NMA), as implacable foes. It was a fight that had developed an increasingly fervent tone, as the Association took to attacking the patriotism of labor and even the President. In speeches and op-eds, they repeatedly attempted to smear New Deal and pro-labor legislation as “nothing but collectivism, Fascism, Socialism, Nazism, or Communism—all members of the same family.”[13] According to historian Alfred Kelly:

In the eyes of the Association, these measures considered as a whole constituted a concerted attack upon the American system of government and the American institution of private property, which it was determined to resist with every means at its disposal. It was its conviction that Congress might better concern itself with some plan ‘‘for suppressing Communistic and other subversive propaganda,” and in accordance with this view it recommended in May, 1935 the adoption of a “rigid anti-sedition law.” The Association also rallied all its members to the support of Constitution Day in October, in the belief that the constitution was the chief guarantee against the “tyranny of dictatorship.”[14]

Labor pushed back, calling the Association’s dispersions the true attack on the American system. The NMA’s statements were “open declarations of war” on the President, and the unions of America were ready to come to his defense. As the United Mine Workers of America editorialized in their Journal:

Big business has openly declared war against President Roosevelt. It is not a veiled threat on the part of big business. Instead, it is an open declaration that anyone can understand...leaders of the National Manufacturers’ Association declared that the association was now at war against the President and that it would be at war to the hilt. The National Manufacturers’ Association is the most notorious anti-union labor aggregation in the United States. It is opposed to all labor unions and opposed to unionism in general. Among its members are practically all of those captains of industry and big employers who have tried for years to kill the organized labor movement…

All right, gentlemen. You have declared war on the President and all those who approve of his policies. You have declared war against labor and against the entire mass of common people of this nation. Labor and the common people accept the challenge. There are more than 11,000,000 people out of work in this country, and you have declared war against them, too, because in your declaration of war you make no provision for them to work and live. Under the leadership of President Roosevelt, these 11,000,000 unemployed are being cared for and kept from starving. You propose to take away that relief and let these people go hungry. Now, you just wait till Election Day and see what those 11,000,000 people do to you at the polls.

Gentlemen of the National Manufacturers’ Association, you have made a colossal blunder in declaring war against the President, against labor and against the common people.[15]

Still, despite the animosity and name-calling (particularly at the national level), there were budding signs of local cooperation. The first occurred after the passage of the national Wagner Act. Donnelly and his counterpart at the Chamber of Commerce reached out to Reuben, hoping to gain his support in working to modify parts of the national legislation. There were some pieces of the Act that the IMA knew labor was opposed to, and they sought a conference to discuss the possibility of finding common ground. Reuben agreed, provided he could bring his trusted friend and advisor, ISFL Secretary Victor Olander. Donnelly approved, and shortly thereafter the parties met in Peoria. Reuben later described the encounter:

Well, the conference was underway and Olander was in attendance and they began to talk about this labor relations act. Olander outlined the situation, stated that it was based on the Railway Labor Act, and the objective was to minimize strikes, don’t you see. And of course it had many good points. He talked to them about the possibility of having things run smoother in industry because of this type of legislation in that delightful Olander-esque way of talking. He seemed to have them hypnotized. And finally he said, “of course the day is coming when we’ll want a small Wagner Act in the State of Illinois and when that time comes, of course we’d like to discuss the features of that act with the representatives of the employers. Until such time, however, we in Illinois have very little to do with federal legislation, it’s in the hands of the AFL and their officers. But until such time, there isn’t much that we can do about it. We’ll be delighted and happy to sit with you folks to work out the proper kind of little Wagner Act in the state of Illinois.” Olander had this way of almost hypnotizing people, and I could see them nodding their heads and agreeing with him, because he was reasoning, constantly reasoning. And his type of reasoning was so engaging that he had the floor about all the time we were in the conference.

And so the meeting finally broke up and I thought I’d be polite to the people that represented the Chamber of Commerce and the Manufacturers’ Association and I walked them down to the door of the hotel to say goodbye. When I got down there the leader of their crowd, he began to laugh. He said, “Well, this is great. We came down here hoping to make use of the representatives of labor to get rid of a portion of the Wagner Labor Relations Act on the national level, (but) I’m damned if we don’t sit here and agree to extend the darn thing into the state of Illinois!”[16]

The conference failed to form any lasting alliance on the issue of the Wagner act, either nationally or on the state level. It did, however, start an important precedent. A door had opened between the representatives of labor and their employers. They had stopped demagoguing and began a dialogue. These meetings instilled a mutual respect, a new cordiality that led IMA Director Sewell Avery to formally invite Reuben to their thirty-eighth Annual Dinner. “We would very much like to have you attend this dinner as the guest of the Illinois Manufacturers’ Association,” he wrote to Reuben that year. “We will be grateful if you will notify us at your earliest convenience whether we may have the privilege of your presence at that occasion.”[17]

Warmer relations eventually led to important action. In 1935 the State Supreme Court had undone 24 years of safety legislation by ruling the Occupational Disease Act unconstitutional. The decision to peel away this basic protection was devastating to working men and women, and soon righting the wrongs of “Black Wednesday” (as the day of the ruling came to be called) became a top priority of labor. Shortly after the regular legislative session ended, Reuben spoke with Governor Horner about the possibility of working outside the confines of the Assembly to reach a solution. Horner agreed, and had Director of Labor Martin Durkin establish a joint committee. Reuben negotiated for labor while Chairman Angsten of the Industrial Commission represented the administration’s interests. To sit for the employers, Soderstrom suggested the representatives of the Illinois Manufacturers’ Association. The IMA agreed to the talks, and before long this joint committee quietly began to get to work. “While it is not generally known, representatives of industry have been holding conferences for approximately seven months, trying to agree on adequate occupational disease and health, safety and comfort legislation,” Reuben later reported to his fellow laborers. “Representatives of the employers and their legal counsel, representatives of the Illinois State Federation of Labor and their attorneys in the above mentioned conferences were able to draft legislation designed to meet the objections of the Illinois Supreme Court.”[18]

When Governor Horner called a third special session of the Illinois legislature that February, Soderstrom took advantage of the opportunity, passing new occupational disease legislation based on the joint negotiations. The main bill, House Bill 10, provided for a “Workman’s Occupational Disease Act” very similar to the Workmen’s Compensation legislation. To satisfy employers, the Act was elective, meaning companies could choose whether or not they wanted to be covered. If they chose not to be, however, they could be subject to suits and damages, and would be deprived of the common law defense that employees assumed a level of responsibility for workplace risk. It also improved upon the old law by doing away with lists of approved and non-approved diseases. As Reuben wrote, “The act is thus a combination of the compensation theory and the right to sue. It provides for general coverage of occupational diseases and is not limited by any schedule or list of diseases.”[19] At the ISFL convention later that year, Reuben was quick to focus on the benefits the act would bring to the working men and women of Illinois. “It will put thousands of dollars into the pockets of workers that could not reach their pockets without it. It means that those who might become afflicted by an occupational disease will receive the same benefits in the future as if they actually suffered an accidental injury. The minute a doctor says a patient is disabled he will receive the same compensation as if he were injured.”[20]

Even more importantly, the dialogue started between Reub and his counterparts at the IMA, moderated by government representatives, had helped to create a new process that brought order to an increasingly broken legislative system. It helped labor and employers to find common ground where they could. Despite the dysfunction in Springfield, Reub had found a new way forward.

ILLINOIS UNITES AS NATION DIVIDES

The CIO Is Born

While relations with employers were coming together (at least on the state level), the ties binding labor continued to tear. Long simmering tensions had come to a boil the previous year at the AFL conference in Atlantic City, culminating in the creation of the Committee for Industrial Organizations. The struggle was both ideological and personal. While there unquestionably was a divide between those who wanted to continue organizing by craft and those seeking to unionize along industrial lines, it was the personal fight between the upstart United Miners President John L. Lewis and the AFL establishment led by William Green that drove the argument to the brink of secession. “The split between the CIO and A.F. of L. flowed from substantive issues,” explains historian Melvyn Dubofsky, but “the clash between Lewis and Green derived from more personal and psychological roots. Lewis had cast aspersions on Green’s manhood, no small insult to an ex-coal miner…Thus Green’s intransigence about the CIO perhaps derived more from a need to assert his manhood and equality with Lewis than from the substantive issues in dispute.”[21] By 1936 this feud threatened to rend labor in two. In the wake of the 1935 AFL convention, Lewis and his CIO had vowed to take any industrial union it organized and “bring them under the banner and in affiliation with the American Federation of Labor.”[22] Green and the Federation’s leadership, however, distrusted Lewis, and quickly moved against the organization. In January of 1936, the AFL Executive Council took action against the CIO, sending a memorandum to all AFL members that read in part:

1. That, in accordance with the laws of the American Federation of Labor, you are required to recognize and support the organization plans and policies adopted by the Atlantic City convention of the American Federation of Labor.

2. The authority of the American Federation of Labor over state federations of labor, city central bodies and directly chartered federal labor unions is supreme. For this reason these organizations, chartered directly by the American Federation of Labor, cannot give allegiance, assistance or support to the Committee on Industrial Organization or any other organization which attempts to usurp functions of the American Federation of Labor.

3. The Executive Council cannot and will not permit division and discord to divide the forces of the American Federation of Labor represented in state federations, city central bodies and federal labor unions which are subordinate to and directly under the supervision and control of the American Federation of Labor.[23]

The heavy-handed nature of the Executive Council’s decree underscored the personal animosity at play. In relying on their authority, and not on the merits of their argument, Green and his cohort played right into Lewis’ hands. He wanted to portray the AFL leadership as dictatorial and out-of-touch, and by issuing statements stressing their “supreme” authority and what they would and would not “permit,” the Council only fed that perception. Lewis took advantage of the moment, using Green’s scorn as fuel for his growing fire. In the summer of 1936 the Amalgamated Association of Iron, Steel, and Tin Workers rejected a proposed organizing campaign from the AFL Executive Council and instead accepted an offer from Lewis and affiliated with the CIO. The Automobile Workers and Rubber Workers soon followed. Outmaneuvered, the Executive Council again fell back on its legal authority, holding hearings on the charges that:

1. The CIO is a dual organization within the AFL. The specified 12 organizations are engaged in supporting that dual organization.

2. By doing so each of the organizations has violated the contract it made with the AFL when it accepted a certificate of affiliation.

3. The CIO is acting in violation of the policies established at the AFL’s 1935 convention.[24]

On August 5, 1936, the council formally suspended 10 of the 12 unions, with the exception of the Hatters, Cap, and Millinery Workers and Reub’s International Typographers Union, as their Presidents declared they were acting as individuals and not on behalf of their unions.

Reuben Unites ISFL behind FDR

Reuben found the entire drama playing out on the national scene to be small-minded and destructive, driven by personal animosity and hurtful to working men and women. “I’ve watched this fight develop for years,” he told one reporter. “Until recently it was a fight among officers of the federation. Now it is affecting the rights of working people. It is all so foolish.”[25] Reub committed to do all he could to preserve unity. Despite the Council’s decision, he sat Lewis’ UMWA and the other CIO union delegates at the Illinois State Federation of Labor Convention in Quincy and allowed resolutions in support of industrial unions to be heard, reasoning that the Executive Council’s expulsion “could have no effect until the suspension is approved by the annual A.F. of L. convention, scheduled for Tampa, Fla., in December.”[26]

Reuben knew the national spotlight would be on the convention in Quincy, Illinois. With 500 craft union representatives and another 200 delegates from unions facing suspension, the convention hall was a tinderbox. While Lewis, a Springfield resident and former member of the Illinois Miners Union, cast a long shadow, all eyes (and reporters) would be trained squarely on Soderstrom. Reuben was both a state representative and a member of the ITU, a union whose President endorsed the CIO while the organization itself remained with the AFL. This unique set of circumstances allowed “Soderstrom to act as a mediator between Lewis supporters and those opposed to the Lewis plan, although federation leaders anticipate[d] a knock-down, drag-out fight in Quincy.”[27]

Reuben worked hard to make sure that wouldn’t happen. While acknowledging that he anticipated “some strong discussion” and a “most interesting” convention, Soderstrom emphasized that he believed the ISFL would emerge united. He laid the groundwork for a meeting of reconciliation, publicly stating before the convention’s start:

The strength of any labor organization is unity. If this fight continues we may even go as far as to see two national federations—one for skilled workers favoring craft unions, and the other of unskilled workers favoring organization by industry…There is a place for both industrial and craft unions. There are many makes of automobiles, greatly different in performance, appearance, and ability, but nonetheless they are all automobiles. So in this fight. Whether craft or industrial, labor organizations are still unions and should stay together. If the question comes to the floor of the state convention, I expect to tell the delegates the same views.[28]

The question of course did arise, and Reuben handled it with a mix of soaring oratory and realpolitik. In his opening remarks, the president avoided attacking the CIO or even directly mentioning the conflict, instead calling on the delegates to “hold fast” to labor’s foundations:

I have made some sacrifices for this movement. As a spokesman for labor I have heard discussion in high places the question of occupational disease, the problems of accidental death, in an atmosphere where human life seemed to be as cheap as the air we breathe. I naturally have some care for the welfare of the plain people and for the future of my state and nation. And yet I have an abiding faith, I have a dream that when I turn my eyes to behold my flag for the last time I shall see it still waving over the land, still waving over the sea, still waving over the happiest and freest and most enlightened people under the sun.

And friends, that dream can be realized if we hold fast to the principles of those who laid the foundations of our free institutions, if we hold fast to the principles of those who laid the foundations for the formation of this great labor movement of ours, a labor movement that has been called upon again, and again, and again during this depression to safeguard, protect, and defend our free institutions. God bless the labor movement of our country, because I believe it has done much to save America![29]

Reuben’s efforts did not appease some, most notably Illinois United Mine Workers President Ray Edmundson, who sought to stir trouble with a resolution endorsing Lewis and his actions.[30] A Lewis man through and through, Edmundson was described as a “faithful lieutenant” personally appointed by Lewis in 1935 to “keep the rebellious Illinois miners in line”[31] He shared many of his mentor’s attributes, including his ego and belligerence. Unlike Green, however, Soderstrom refused to let his own ego get in the way. Instead, while engineering the rejection of the resolution on Lewis, he accepted another of Edmundson’s resolutions—an endorsement of FDR. This was no small act; as Murphysboro’s Daily Independent noted, “In adopting the resolution, a copy of which was forwarded to President Roosevelt at Washington, the state federation broke a precedent of 54 years standing which had prohibited endorsement of political candidates.”[32] The move was as ingenious as it was bold. By issuing such a groundbreaking endorsement, Reuben not only gave crucial support to the President he idolized at a critical moment; he also electrified labor, changing the narrative from one of conflict to one of unity. As newspapers reported from Quincy:

A demonstration that lasted for five minutes preceded adoption of the resolution endorsing Mr. Roosevelt. During the demonstration President R.G. Soderstrom and Secretary Olander of the State Federation acted as cheerleaders. The resolution stated President Roosevelt “is the real proponent of the real purpose of the American Constitution. His enemies are its enemies.” It urged the federation’s “consistent membership and all liberty-loving citizens” to aid in re-electing Mr. Roosevelt.[33]

In the end, there was no knock-down, drag-out fight in Quincy. Instead the delegates gave a public show of unity, a message to all those who threatened the unity of labor—whether they be politicians, employers, or their own leadership—that they were singular in purpose. The representatives issued a unanimous declaration “amid the cheers of the delegates in attendance at the largest convention ever held by the Illinois State Federation of Labor” which read in part:

It is our opinion that all concerned within our labor movement are actuated by good motives… It is our judgment that the problem could be worked out within the ranks of the American Federation of Labor…It is our opinion that the whole problem is largely one of administration, daily effort, and work, and management. Discussion and conferences between leaders, the exercise of tolerance and patience, a calm interchange of opinions and views, various possible forms of experimental activities, and in general a closer contact between the leaders of our various organizations within the American Federation of Labor, rather than defiance on one hand and penalties on the other would lead to workable plans to which all might give whole-hearted cooperation….

We not only request, but urge, the representatives of the Executive Council of the American Federation of Labor and the trade union officials now comprising the Committee for Industrial Organization to consult and confer with one another for the purpose of developing some agreeable arrangement that will increase rather than diminish unity of the union movement and that will effectuate the desire of all concerned to extend trade union organization among all classes of workers in the United States. In conclusion, we express the opinion that the vast majority of the trade unionists in the State of Illinois desire to and will remain loyal to the American Federation of Labor.[34]

REUBEN WINS ACCLAIM, LOSES ELECTION

Soderstrom Advances On The National Stage

Unfortunately, Reuben’s call for unity went unheeded by the national leadership of both the AFL and the CIO. Unlike Soderstrom, Green refused to seat delegates affiliated with the CIO at their annual convention that November, where the vote on their ultimate fate was to be held. Reuben, who attended the convention, reported on the event:

At three o’clock in the afternoon the long-awaited report of the Resolutions Committee was begun. John P. Fey, head of the Metal Trades department…accused the rebels of attempting to wreck organized labor. The newspaper guild wanted the suspension dropped. So did the teachers. Some charged the federation with high-handed tactics by not permitting CIO representation in the convention. The discussion lasted from three o’clock in the afternoon until after midnight with two hours out for supper.

It would have continued all night except for President Green who, shaking with emotion, made a final plea for the Federation to stand together…He charged the John L. Lewis faction with flaunting the will of the majority…He told how he had been humiliated “for trying to save a great movement. But, my friends, I would do anything to preserve unity. I have got on my knees. I have silently suffered from insult. I would suffer again if I could save the movement.”

As Green spoke the clock crawled past midnight. When he sat down, almost breathless, the delegates rose in a body, milling and shouting “Question-question!” It was fully five minutes before Green, pounding the gavel, was able to restore order.[35]

In the end, the convention delegates (which did not include representatives from unions under sanction) approved the action of the Executive Council, suspending ten CIO unions with a membership of over a million for “insurrection.” Labor was now officially at war with itself.

The convention and its actions did bring some good news for Reuben, however. Victor Olander, Reuben’s close confidant and a fixture on the AFL’s powerful resolutions committee, lost his seat when he resigned as Secretary-Treasurer from the beleaguered Seamen’s International Union. In his place, the labor elder nominated Soderstrom, who for the last five years had been serving on the Education Committee. AFL leadership agreed, promoting Reuben for the 1936 convention.[36] It was a huge step; now Reuben would be working intimately with the likes of AFL Executive Council Members Matthew Woll and John Frey, who acted as Chair and Secretary, respectively. He would help set AFL policies, crafting the AFL’s agenda and voice.

As Ruben’s influence in the national labor movement grew, so did his involvement in the national political landscape. In the heat of the 1936 Presidential election, Reuben took unprecedented steps to demonstrate labor’s support for Roosevelt and his New Deal. Of all of his efforts that year, however, one event in particular stood apart—a labor rally for the President that would shift his political fortunes both within the key battleground state and throughout the Midwest in the crucial closing weeks of the election. Reuben’s “Meeting at the Madhouse” would prove a political event for the ages.

The “Meeting at the Madhouse”

Olga could barely contain her excitement. True, much had changed since her childhood days in Streator when she sat at the station, eagerly awaiting her big brother’s return. At 39, she was now a mature mother and wife, living out her days in the serene quiet of Kankakee. Still, waiting there on the Santa Fe platform with Reuben and his family in the early hours of October 14, 1936, she felt herself transported back to those early days, bounding with excitement as the train to Chicago approached. This was no ordinary trip; today she was going to see the President.

When they finally arrived at the Dearborn station, Olga, Reuben, and his family were warmly (if hurriedly) greeted by brother Lafe and his eldest daughter Esther. A typographer like Reub, Lafe was also a rising star in the world of Chicago labor, a member of that city’s powerful Executive Council. He had helped Reuben plan for this, their most ambitious event yet – a gigantic labor rally in the heart of Chicago to welcome their hero, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, in these crucial final weeks of his presidential campaign.

The stakes couldn’t have been higher. Although the 1936 election ended in a landslide, at that moment a Roosevelt victory seemed anything but certain. “Various pre-election polls and most political forecasters of merit agree that the presidential election is going to be close,” noted the Oshkosh Daily Northwestern just the day before.”[37] The situation was even worse in the critical state of Illinois, where the polls had Republican challenger Governor Alfred Landon beating FDR by 52%-48%.[38] Landon’s choice for Vice President, Chicago Daily News publisher Frank Knox, gave the Republicans an added advantage in the state. Just five days earlier, Landon had held his own rally in the Windy City, large crowds braving the heavy rain to cheer his parade along Michigan Avenue as it made its way to the Congress Hotel.[39] That evening the Governor spoke to a packed house at Chicago Stadium (also known as the “Madhouse at Madison”), his audience spilling over into the rain outside, promising to bring an end to the New Deal.[40]

Now it was the President’s turn. He had to strike back with an event of his own that beat Landon’s showing. If he failed, the perception of weakness could doom his chances of capturing the state and its 29 electoral votes. It was in this crucial moment that the President turned to his greatest ally – organized labor. Reuben’s ISFL had already gone to unprecedented lengths to demonstrate its support for FDR, giving a presidential endorsement for the first time in its history that September. Now Illinois labor went even further, taking the lead for the President’s reception at Chicago’s Grant Park and subsequent parade to the stadium. Soderstrom and his colleagues promised an escort of more than 35,000 union workers “wearing the garbs of their crafts” to accompany Roosevelt on his two-mile march.[41] They boasted to the press that they anticipated a crowd of over 100,000 to welcome him.[42]

They were wrong. As Reuben and his family approached Grant Park that day, they found not a crowd of 100,000, but of nearly 1,000,000 men, women, and children, all eager to cheer the President.[43]

Olga couldn’t believe her eyes. Surveying the seemingly endless sea of supporters, she saw a beautifully muddled mix of class, color, and costume, all united in celebration. The rapture was deafening; Reuben and Lafe could barely hear State Attorney Thomas Courtney’s welcome as they made their way to the front. She basked in the jubilant circus, the fervor catching like contagion, pushing all differences and divisions to the wayside. Even Governor Horner and Cook County part chairman Pat Nash, longstanding political enemies, cast aside their rivalry in this moment of welcome. Olga watched entranced as Reub and Lafe began making the rounds, shaking hands and setting the final preparations.

Just then a roar unlike anything she’d ever heard overtook the park. “He’s here! He’s here!” Esther began to shout, her normally reserved manner overwhelmed by a childlike enthusiasm. Olga turned to see the president’s motorcade approach, ready to lead the frenzied throng. The crowd began to follow, creating a spectacle unlike anything Reuben’s sister had ever seen. According to UP White House Correspondent Frederick Storm:

All the trappings of a No. 1 political rally were turned loose as [Roosevelt] drove through the streets to the Chicago Stadium…At frequent intervals bands blared “Happy Days” and “Thanks a Million.” Customers flocked from taverns, perched on piles of beer kegs and waved foaming glasses and steins. Parade dress varied from Sunday best to overalls. Ariel bombs, colored lights, red fire and placards emblazoned the route.[44]

As the rowdy procession descended upon the Chicago Stadium, it erupted into an ecstatic chaos worthy of the “Madhouse on Madison.” Storm continues:

At least 200,000 tried to jam into the stadium with its 25,000 capacity, to the dismay of 1,500 policemen who finally gave it up for a bad job and “let the best man win.” Two stadium ushers were knocked unconscious in the crush Four policemen were cut and bruised trying to control the surging crowd or to rescue men and women who fainted. Ten men and women required first aid after collapsing in the melee. In the end, the stadium was jammed to overflowing.[45]

The pandemonium began to quiet as the opening speakers addressed the crowd. Pat Nash, Governor Horner, Senator H.J. Lewis and State Attorney Courtney all gave rousing addresses to both energize and focus the crowd. Finally, it came time to hear from the evening’s host—R.G. Soderstrom, the voice of Illinois labor. Leaving his family in Lafe’s care, Reub took a deep breath and pushed forward toward the platform. Olga watched the spectacle in wonder. Decades later, she was still able to recall it with perfect clarity, writing:

The mass of humanity at this meeting was almost beyond anyone’s imagination. Reub had difficulty getting through the crowds. People were out in the streets and the hall was crowded beyond capacity. By the time he reached the podium his clothes were ruffled, his shirt torn, hair mussed, and his tie askew. He was greeted by F.D.R. When introduced, he gave a rousing endorsement for the re-election of President Roosevelt.[46]

Of course, Reuben wasn’t only president of the ISFL. He was also a sitting Republican legislator. His endorsement of the Democratic nominee for President was sure to cost him in the coming election. Still, Reuben felt a moral duty to stand publicly in support of Roosevelt. “These were depression years,” Olga continues, “and we had a brilliant President anxious to bring our nation back to prosperity, and Reub felt F.D.R. could do this deed.”[47]

Reuben’s rally was an unprecedented success. In the wake of Roosevelt’s visit Illinois began to swing firmly into the Democratic column. By the time the ballots were counted, Roosevelt had taken the state with a whopping 57.7% of the vote, beating his Republican rival by an even larger margin than he had in 1932! However, this victory was, for Reuben, bittersweet. His actions on FDR’s behalf carried a heavy cost—the seat he had held for nearly 16 years.

Reuben Loses His Seat

Reuben always knew his support of FDR would cost him Republican votes. In a normal election year, this honestly wouldn’t have bothered him much. After all, Reuben had always been known as a political maverick who relied on the independent vote (and even a share of the Democratic) in the general election. By October, Reuben was well past the primaries where he traditionally faced his fiercest opposition. Besides, he had done much for his constituents, earning the respect of those he represented as well as his peers. As his colleague Rep. Thomas J. Lenane, who sat on the Democratic side of the aisle, told those assembled at the ISFL convention later that year, “I have worked in the House… with your President Soderstrom, and I can say this for him, he is one of the finest, one of the most conscientious and honest members of the House. I will say for Reub…… that whenever I want to know about anything and am a little too dull about it, I can go to the other side of the House and say, ‘Reub, how about this?’ and Reub will tell me it’s all okay.”[48]

This was no normal election, however. This year, instead of nominating two candidates for the 39th district as they had always done, the Republicans decided to place three names on the ballot. Publicly, the party professed optimism that they could perform a “clean sweep” of the traditionally Republican district, taking all three seats.[49] The case for this, however, seemed dubious at best. The Democrats were only fielding two candidates, one of whom was an incumbent. Further, the Democrats had nearly taken two of the three seats in the last election, when they faced only two Republican challengers. Spreading their share of the vote amongst three candidates almost guaranteed a loss.

Given this, it seems more likely that the Republican leadership was looking to lose. For the last several years Reuben, always an outsider, had increasingly been viewed by Republican leadership as a “lame duck,” a political animal unwilling to fly in formation and unable to take direction. His endorsement of FDR was the clearest signal yet to the establishment that Reub had to go. By nominating three candidates the leadership could do in the general election what they’d failed to do in primary contests for the last fourteen years—defeat Soderstrom.

Their plan worked. For the first time in a generation, the Democrats won two of the three House seats in La Salle County. Reub left the Statehouse as he entered it: an independent, a maverick, beholden to no man or party. He was a legislator nor more, nor would he be again. He would have to find a new way forward.

* * *

EXCERPT:

Manufacturers Battle the NLRA

1935 had been a good year for Illinois workers. Section 7 of the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA) guaranteed employees the legal right to organize for the first time, and Reuben’s Federation had used this protection to its fullest advantage. By 1936 Illinois led the nation in industrial activity and union density. According to a report issued by the AFL, 10% of all goods manufactured in the United States were made in Illinois, and 10% of all organized wage earners lived in Illinois. Reuben believed that number hinted at even greater potential:

There are another five hundred thousand wage-earners in Illinois who are eligible to join legitimate A.F. of L. trade unions and who do not belong…We have ten percent of the country’s union membership—that is true—but if we had every organizable, employable wage-earner inside of some bona fide Illinois labor union it would mean this state would have nearly twenty percent of the present membership of the American Federation of Labor.[50]

However, these gains brought challenges of their own. A host of lawsuits were launched against the NLRA as companies sought to stop the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) from intervening on behalf of workers’ rights. Thankfully, appeals courts upheld the constitutionality of the NLRA, writing, “This act does not hamper the legitimate rights of the employer who may discharge his employees for inefficiency or any other cause agreeable to him, provided he does not use the power to discharge as a weapon for interfering with the right of employees to organize and bargain collectively.”[51]

Organized business pushed back hard, with Illinois and its powerful Manufacturers Association leading the charge. Owners took particular offense at the idea that they were legally compelled to treat their workers with dignity. As Gus W. Dyer, a professor of economics and sociology at Vanderbilt University, articulated at a lecture to the Employers’ Association of Chicago that year:

Moral obligations have no place in the industrial field in settling industrial questions. When you have paid your men the price fixed by the law of supply and demand for their services, you do not owe them another penny, not another penny. They have no right under the sun to demand a single penny from you when you have paid them that price. But some economists will tell you and reformers will say, “Yes, but when you are dealing with men you are dealing with human beings. Dealing with commodities is another thing.” My friends, there is not a single fundamental difference between dealing with men as employees and commodities.[52]

The ISFL mounted a strong rhetorical and legal response, charging that Dyer’s case was both immoral and illegal. As Olander wrote in the pages of the Weekly Newsletter:

The theory that “men as employees” are simply so much raw material, like bales of cotton or bushels of corn, is simply the old outlawed theory of chattel slavery… the hidden philosophy of Dyer and his crowd. It is worse than anything ever advocated by any political dictators, whether communist or fascist. It is as unfair, as ruthless, as immoral, and as un-American as anything I can think of.[53]

As for the constitutionality of the NLRA, Olander pointed to the Thirteenth Amendment of the US Constitution, which barred involuntary servitude. He quoted from the US Supreme Court:

The plain intention of the labor article is to make labor free by prohibiting that control by which the personal service of one man is disposed of or coerced for other’s benefit, which is the essence of involuntary servitude…The Supreme Court has pointed out that the term “involuntary servitude” has a wider meaning than the word “slavery.”[54]

The NLRA—and the reactions to it—drew a clear line between organized business and organized labor, and in the 1936 election voters overwhelmingly chose the side that believed morality did have a role to play in industry. The public affirmed what the courts had proclaimed earlier that year, that working men and women were indeed deserving of dignity and respect. In the words of Secretary of Labor Frances Perkins, speaking before the delegates of the AFL Convention in Tampa, Florida, shortly after the re-election of President Roosevelt:

The vote of the people on November 3 is perfectly clear, that the people are committed to a policy of advanced civilization, and it must be an inclusive civilization, to include all people, not one for the benefit of the few at the expense of many… we will have to think of cooperation between employers and employees and they never can be real without an equal bargaining power.[55]