REUBEN THE DEVIL

“Mother had ambitions for her children,” Olga writes. “She was real anxious to get Reub out of the bottle factory. Bottle factory workers were a rough group and usually heavy drinkers in those days, so she was determined that the boys should have a trade.”[1]

Reub’s preacher father shared similar concerns. Soon after arriving in Streator, he insisted that Reuben leave the glass factory for an environment more suited for his son. “My father was a very thoughtful sort of person and had been in the ministry,” Reuben said in a wide-ranging 1958 interview with Professor Derber at the University of Illinois, “And he thought that the environment of a glass plant wasn’t suitable to the growth and development of his son. He said that I either had to return to school or get into some sort of activity where there was an opportunity for education and training. So, not wanting to go back to school, I got myself a place in the print shop.”[2]

Actually, it was Reuben’s mother who found him his new job.  Outgoing and amiable, Anna had made many friends during her first few months in Streator. She knew printers enjoyed a reputation as thinkers and scholars. An apprentice in a print shop was not just working a job or learning a trade; he was receiving an education. As M. Nicholson, a printer from Cincinnati, explained, “Conversation in the composing room was of great aid to the beginner, for he could hear arguments, disputes, sometimes a brief lecture on almost every question from spelling, punctuation, history, on and through to law, medicine, theology and other more or less occult topics."[3]

This was the education Anna wanted for her promising son, and she set out to make it a reality. Olga remembers that “Soon she [Anna] talked to a friend, Walter Boxendale, who was a printer on one of the Streator papers, to see if he would help Reub get a job there.”[4] He did, and Reub became a printer’s assistant, or “devil,” at the Streator Independent Times.

At $3 a week, it was a significant pay cut. Unbeknownst to Anna, the working conditions were also dangerous; toxic lead fumes often lead to tuberculosis (nicknamed “printer’s disease”) and the heavy machinery could easily take a finger or a hand. Yet these hazards gave birth to one of the profession’s great (and for Reuben, influential) creations: The International Typographical Union, or ITU. In this cauldron of ideas, machines, and men, Reuben became both a union member and a scholar; where the miner worked with coal and the twisters worked with glass, the printers worked with ideas, discourse, and words. It was in the 1904 newsroom of the Streator Independent Times where Reuben was propelled into a life of leadership by this fortuitous confluence of labor and letters.

A “Poor-Boy’s School”

Reuben, like all introduced to the print shop, started as a simple assistant or—in shop parlance—a “devil.” A devil like Reuben worked long days that began before dawn and often lasted long past sunset. As Soderstrom later described, “My work consisted at the outset of the lighting of the fire in the old cannon stove in the morning, sweeping the floor, setting heads occasionally, and feeding the flat bed press all afternoon, while the daily edition of the Independent-Times was run off.”[5] He’d typically stay past the 5:00 P.M. closing to prepare for the following day. If the press broke down or paper jammed production, Reub stayed late until the problem was fixed. Soon, he became responsible for the maintenance and repair of the paper’s two linotypes, both of which were complex and cantankerous.  

Technical skills were valuable, but the real education for a devil like Reuben was in the composing room, where the printers discussed the news of the day. As a child laborer he had exhibited diligence and physical endurance, but the print shop was the first venue for his mind. This was Reuben’s school; as he described in this 1958 interview:

Well, the print shop itself is a poor-boy’s school. If a person has a retentive mind, and fortunately I had that, it’s possible to pick up an enormous amount of information—not with respect to the philosophers of the past, perhaps, but current information that happens to be presently appearing in the public press; and the people employed in the print shops, while they are not college trained, are at least well-informed, and information is a very good substitute for education.[6]   

Reuben walked into that Streator print shop with an enormous curiosity for the events of the day. It must have been heaven on earth for the boy to find a job that utilized his mind as much as his muscles. By late 1904, the foreman of the composing room invited the quick-minded Reub to become an apprentice linotype operator, an offer he accepted. He devoured the news of the day, memorizing entire articles as he typed them into the machine, which he recited to his family in the evenings over supper, including stories about President Teddy Roosevelt in Washington DC, the Wright brothers’ flight using a petrol engine at Kitty Hawk, or the Thanksgiving Day snowstorm game between Fielding Yost’s Michigan and Amos Alonzo Stagg’s Chicago Maroon (Michigan won 28-0). Reuben witnessed the life of the newspaper, watched the back and forth between writers and editors, and learned what made for an effective, compelling story.  

By the age of 15, Reuben had become a fixture at the press. “Of course, everybody in the office knew Reub,” writer and Soderstrom interviewer Walter Myers later wrote. “The hand compositors, pressmen, foremen, editor, reporters and special writers were his intimate friends.”[7] One writer, however, took a particular interest in Reuben and his abilities: 51-year-old John Williams, legendary leader, scholar, and in-house columnist at the Times. Reuben became his apprentice, a relationship which would have the single greatest impact on Reuben’s life course.

A Mentor

In 1904, John Williams was well-known throughout the Midwest as an arbiter, labor leader, and columnist for the Streator Independent Times. He also wrote for various magazines and papers, including his weekly column “Francis of Fabius” (which took its name from the Fabian Society, a British organization that helped organize that nation’s Labour Party in 1906).[8]

Like Reuben, Williams was a product of child labor. Born in Wales in 1853, he moved with his family to America in search of a better life, but he instead found himself—at the age of twelve—working in the mines alongside his father.  He despised the “drudgery of the mines,” and saw education as the best means of escape. In 1871 at age eighteen, Williams moved to Streator and began a program of self-education by borrowing books from the private libraries of prominent citizens and reading into the night after twelve-hour days in the mines. At nineteen, Williams sought out others like himself, creating a study group with twelve of his peers to examine the issues of the day, especially the betterment of the working class. “John Williams’ quest for education was not a selfish venture,” writes Dale Bennett in his examination of the leader. “He desired not only self-betterment, but the betterment of all society.”[9]

So it is no surprise that the seasoned Williams soon became impressed with the character of the curious boy who set his weekly columns in the print shop. The 51 year-old Williams soon took on 15 year-old Reuben as an informal pupil. Bennett tells us: Williams liked the young apprentice and encouraged him to pursue a program of self-education similar to that which Williams had pursued so many years before. Williams told Soderstrom that he ought to read the classics of literature and economics. Williams arranged for Soderstrom to borrow books from the private libraries of people in the community so that he could benefit from all the resources available. From time to time Williams would question Soderstrom about his reading and discuss the material that he had read.[10] 

In a 1958 interview, Reuben told historian Milton Derber:

John Williams was a great man…The man was brilliant, and he liked people that could discuss matters with him. He used to come up with his column for the newspaper and there would be some point in there—something he would point up—and I was interested in [it] and I’d discuss that with him…“why don’t you go down to the library and get this book and get that book,” and he had a list of them. I read every one of them that he pointed out, so I didn’t waste any time in my reading. It was stuff that was really helpful to me.[11]  

An education commenced. Williams designed an ambitious curriculum for Reuben, which the young student eagerly devoured during daily visits to Streator’s grand Carnegie library, where he would pick up another book on Williams’ list or to read regional newspapers. Under his guidance, Reub read works by labor leaders like John Mitchell, economics professors like Richard Ely, and progressive legislators such as William U’Ren and James W. Sullivan. Williams also encouraged Reuben to read the daily newspapers from Chicago, especially the editorial pages. Reuben read them all, from established papers like The Sun Times to the often xenophobic Chicago Tribune to the Chicago Daily News and Chicago Daily Herald.  

Reub also read the works of the up-and-coming “muckrakers,” reform-oriented investigative journalists who exposed abuse, fraud and scandal. The most famous of these, Upton Sinclair, wouldn’t write his famous work The Jungle, on the horrid conditions in Chicago meatpacking plants, until 1906. But Ray Baker’s Right to Work, published in 1903, paved the way by shedding light on coal mine conditions, coal strikes, and non-striking workers. Reuben also used the library pass Williams procured for him to check out anything else of interest. “Whatever early education I think that I came by,” Reuben later said, “I was indebted to the library of the city of Streator, because on the shelves of that library I was able to secure…the rather heavy type reading before I had attained the age of twenty.”[12]

Perhaps most impactful for Reuben was Williams’ invitation to attend the “Sunday Evening Forums,” informal salons created by Williams for collegial debate over matters of the day. As manager of the Plumb Opera house, Williams hosted weekly lectures on the old wooden stage by inviting academics and politicians to speak. The events were open to all for 25 cents. As Reuben related, “We had folks come there that were famous ministers and famous priests and also famous rabbis. Clarence Darrow appeared many times and I had the privilege of hearing him.”[13] One can imagine the smoky air and cramped quarters of the small opera house as men filled every seat to attend Williams’ events.

Reub soaked up these speeches like a sponge, and he spent hours with Williams exploring details of how to improve government and the workplace. Soon Reub began writing his own thoughts for the first time. He quickly grasped the weight of words or the turn of a phrase. During their regular meetings, Williams reviewed Reuben’s work and encouraged him to write more, cultivating the boy’s keen intellect and quick tongue.   The lessons Reuben learned under Williams’ tutelage would last a lifetime. Years later, Reuben would maintain that it was Williams who was responsible for sparking his interest in labor relations and encouraged him to become active in the labor movement. “I got to know him pretty well,” said Reub, “and it was John E. Williams who wanted me to get into economic activity because he thought there was a chance to do something worthwhile, explaining all the time, of course, that you can’t expect any appreciation and darned little credit for this type of service, but men in that field are so badly needed.”[14]

OF HEARTH AND HOME

During these years, Reuben’s personal life changed as quickly as his professional life. His family added new members, lost others, and became closely interwoven in the daily rhythm of Streator’s bustling streets. Reuben, meanwhile, would soon meet the other person who would change him in a more profoundly personal way than Williams ever could.  

Family Matters

Guests were a large part of Soderstrom family life. Some were Chicago relatives who traveled the 80 miles via train to visit Streator. Reub’s grandfather, Anders Soderstrom, was one of the most frequent. Grandpa Soderstrom lived in Chicago with Aunt Emma Lind. Olga fondly recounted his visits.  “He was a grand old gentleman,” she later said of him. “He used to make acorn dolls and acorn pipes for we kids.”[15] Sometimes other members of the boisterous Lind family would show up to visit.  The guests were always a breath of fresh air in the Soderstrom house. Often, the Soderstrom family would make its way to Aunt Sophie Johnston’s house. Though somber, she still knew how to entertain guests. “I remember eating meals with Auntie Johnston,” wrote Olga.  “What a table she would set; so much variety and if you didn’t take a second helping, Aunt Sophie was insulted.”[16]  

Often family visitors would bring “adopted” members, including Reub’s new “cousin” Tina. Olga explains, “Aunt Emma, like our Dad, wanted to help homeless girls so Tina was adopted by our grandparents, probably not legally, was nevertheless very much part of the family, and she visited us in Streator on several occasions.  She too had a happy personality.”[17] As Olga noted, the Linds weren’t the only ones to take in those without a home. “In Minnesota, Dad and Mother always had a homeless girl in their home or one who needed help. So it was when we settled in Streator, we had Nettie Johnson living with us for several years. She found work with a wealthy family by the name of Barlow, but our home was her home.”[18]

The brothers Soderstrom were growing up quickly. Reuben’s work and study had an impact on his family, especially on his younger brother Lafe, who was undoubtedly captivated by Reuben’s suppertime reports from the newspaper print shop.  In June of 1905, 15-year-old Lafe moved to nearby Minonk to begin work as a printer’s devil. Like Reuben, Lafe would eventually complete his apprenticeship as a linotype operator and gain membership in the ITU.

Meanwhile, Reub’s rambunctious older brother Paul continued to thrive as a mechanic. “Automobiles were just coming in and he would work on cars as well as bikes,” Olga recounts. “I remember he’d come home at lunch on every type of bike--huge one-wheel ones, sometimes a bike with a small wheel in the front and a huge wheel in the back, like you’d see circus riders use.”[19] 

Of course, working on cars and bikes was exciting for the thrill-seeking Paul. The Streator Motor Company was established in 1905 to build the “Halladay Auto.”[20]  They needed testers to drive a heavily loaded, stripped down version of the car for 500 miles at high speed, and Paul soon signed on to drive alongside daredevils like future World War I Ace Eddie Rickenbacker and the Fisher brothers.[21] The work was dangerous. The dirt track on the north end of Bloomington Street was bumpy and wet and the new automobiles were unpredictable and dirty. But by all reports, Paul would return home muddy, greasy and happy.

Reuben’s little brother Joe, sister Olga, and mother kept the home and practiced English; little Olga spoke only Swedish when she first moved to Streator. Reuben’s father continued as a cobbler and preacher, acting as the peacemaker and conscience of the family. “He was the kindest man that ever lived” Reuben remembered.[22] Olga concurs, writing, “I remember Dad as the most patient man…[he] never raised his voice, he was angelic.”[23]  About his mother, Reuben said “Well, she is of course the mother, probably more practical than father, don’t you see? And had the responsibility of raising the family.”[24] Olga was more direct. “In our family, Mother dominated completely.”[25]  

As teenagers, Paul, Reuben, and Lafe collected a mismatched group of friends from the glass factory, print shop, bike shop, and the mines. In the bustling, small city, teenage immigrant boys from Italy, Scotland, and Sweden most likely bumped into each other fishing on the Vermillion River, hunting for mushrooms in the woods or competing for candy at Hill Brothers. There were baseball games, brawls, and bike races on muddy streets against trolley cars that carried sneaky, non-paying boy passengers.  

Close to City Park, the Soderstrom’s small house near the railroad tracks was a natural gathering place for Reuben’s friends. At Reub’s encouragement, the group started weekly poker nights, but his attempt to hold the game at his house did not end well; Anna chased them all out of the house. According to Olga, Rub “had some friends up in his room and they were playing cards. Mother caught them and she had a stove poker in her hands and chased them out of the house and she destroyed the cards.”[26]

In the summer of 1905, the family went to the first Streator Chautauqua together. A ten-day traveling tent show providing intellectual uplift as well as entertainment, the “adult education” event had spread across the country since its start at Chautauqua Lake in New York State in 1874. The Streator version was an affair to remember; “The Villa Park grounds…were enclosed with a wire fence, lights were strung in, and a tent seating 1,500 was erected,” writes Streator historian Paula Angle. “By the opening date…fifty families had put up their own tents as temporary living quarters…Indeed the enthusiasm had become so great that a ‘permanent’ auditorium of wood, seating nearly 2,000 persons, was later built.”[27]

Here families like the Soderstroms enjoyed a festive atmosphere filled with music, games and nature talks. Local children like Joe and Olga attended demonstrations to make crafts, while housewives such as Anna joined in cooking lessons offering special recipes. Reuben and Lafe, likely at the urging of John Williams, attended a lecture by famed socialist and labor leader Eugene V. Debs simply titled “Social Problems.” The boys braved record rains under the crowded tent to hear Debs inveigh against Rockefeller and Carnegie and call for a more equitable distribution of wealth.[28]

These were good years for Reuben. He was surrounded by family and busy as a typesetter, student, and adventurous friend. He was happier than he’d been his entire life, and it is appropriate that as a 17-year-old in the summer of 1905, he would meet the love of his life.  

Reuben Meets Jeanne Shaw

Jeanne Shaw rejected Reuben on his first attempt to court her at the Hill Brothers Confectionary; it was only after repeated attempts that she agreed to a date. It is most likely they met each other there with a gaggle of other teenagers on a weekend night, when most residents of the town went walking on Main Street under the new street lamps. Before long, however, Reub was spending most of his time outside of work with Jeanne. They wiled away Saturday afternoons together, sharing popsicles in the park and seeing plays like “A Fight For Love” at the Plumb Opera House, and attending dances like the Elks Ball.[29]

Born in Scotland, Jeanne had emigrated to the United States with her parents when she was a child. She quickly procured work in Streator as a telephone operator, often working nights and weekends at the switchboard connecting calls to residences or placing long distance calls to Chicago or Urbana.

A date for Reuben and Jeanne was typically a long walk or a chaperoned visit to the porch of Jeanne’s home, therefore making it public for all to see. Reuben, proud of his appearance and new suit, would avoid the muddy streets and walk the wooden plank sidewalks to see Jeanne, or wait to walk her home from her operator job. Full of the vitality and knowledge that would become his lifelong characteristics, young Reuben most likely talked a lot during his outings with the Scottish Jeanne, and she was undoubtedly attracted to his curiosity, confidence, and energy. Some correspondence from the time shows him to be quite smitten with her, and there’s no doubt that he often plucked some wildflowers for her or surprised her with candy or a soda.

Jeanne was a good match for the brainy Reuben.  She was smart and independent, supportive yet unafraid to speak her mind. “There was nothing shy about Jeanne,” recalled Olga.[30] In her Reuben had found a partner who could match him in conviction and care. As Reuben later described her, “She was a grand person…[who] encouraged me in most of the things I did, and maybe my severest critic…she was very proud and glad to have me engaged in this type of [labor] activity.”[31] Although strong in spirit, Jeanne suffered from poor health, suffering from a persistent and life-threatening struggle with asthma.

In addition to her Scottish beauty and wit, Jeanne had other essential qualities that made her an excellent companion for young Reuben: she was adventurous, stoic, and could endure radical changes of fortune without losing faith. He most certainly appreciated her resilience, support, quick wit and fortitude. As we will see, she maintained a life of her own while encouraging him in his political career. These qualities would be important for their blossoming relationship, because soon they would endure long periods of separation as Reub began his years barnstorming the great cities of the Midwest.  

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