FIGHTING THROUGH ILLNESS

It had started off as a fine trip. Olga loved her summer getaways to Minnesota with her brother Reub. She liked pushing him outside his usual routine, taking him away from his traditional haunts and habits to visit new towns and old friends. Last year—after much prodding from Olga—they had visited the daughter of their dearly departed brother Lafe, a fine young woman whom Reub had helped in the years after her father’s death. Most of all she enjoyed listening to him practice his presidential address for the coming labor convention. She later remembered:

When we’d reach the hotel, he’d recite his speeches to me—and ask my opinion. Reub never read his speeches at the conventions or anywhere when he addressed the group or introduced his guests. He had memorized every word, he’d never miss a word, or forget any part of his speech. He always performed beautifully.[1]

This time, however, something went wrong. On their first day in their old hometown of Duluth, Minnesota, Reuben grew very ill, deteriorating in front of Olga’s eyes. She wanted to call Reub’s grandson Carl, now a resident physician at the Mayo Clinic, but Reuben refused. After much argument he finally relented, and together they made their way to Dr. Carl’s home in Rochester. Olga continued:

Reub went immediately to bed. Inside of an hour, Dr. Carl took his grandpa to the hospital—much against Reub’s will. The doctors there wanted to do surgery, diagnosing his trouble as a bad gall bladder, but Reub refused! He had the national convention coming up in Atlantic City and he insisted he had to attend. So attend he did. He kept writing that he was fine, but we knew he wasn't; for while there he wrote to the clinic and made an appointment to return. He never would have done this had he been well, or he never would admit to being ill.[2]

While everyone who knew and loved him desperately wanted Reuben to take it easy, they knew better than to try to dissuade him. Soderstrom would never slow, never quit. Still, it was hard to ignore the toll these last few years had taken on the legendary leader. They had been fraught with war, dissention, assassination, riot, and chaos. An era which had begun in unbounded hope and peaceful protest was ending in disillusion and brutality, as the youth and communities of color that had once flocked to the message of Martin Luther King Jr. now turned to ideologies often defined by violence and a deep distrust of authority. Soderstrom, for decades a fixture in the Illinois and national labor movement, had long managed to keep his organization whole despite its unwinding around him. Even as the Democratic Nation Convention in Chicago descended into nationally televised chaos, Reub kept his own Illinois AFL-CIO convention free from violence. Still, his gathering had not been without drama of its own; fights over civil rights, recognition of public employee unions, the right to strike, and national union politics had nearly unseated Reuben in the last convention. He faced unprecedented opposition from union leaders and membership whose own agendas—from the preservation of segregation to the desire for personal power and influence—led them to push the Illinois AFL-CIO to potential fracture.

Despite the pain in his belly, Reuben soldiered through the summer to the national convention in New Jersey and then back to Springfield.

LEGISLATION AND LITERATURE

Tax Fight

The Illinois AFL-CIO’s Springfield office began its normal buzz as the general assembly convened. Once again, Reub put forth an aggressive agenda, including a state minimum wage and recognition of public unions. He sounded an upbeat tone, indicating to reporters that labor expected “their voices will ring out louder in the 1969 legislature than they have in past sessions.”[3]

There was every reason to be skeptical, however. Labor was facing an unprecedentedly conservative legislature following an electoral drubbing in 1968. Republicans held a 13-seat majority in the Illinois House and a nearly two-to-one lead in the Illinois Senate.[4] They were also plagued with internal disorder and struggle. The public union leadership, hungry for recognition at any cost, still seemed ready to bargain away the right to strike, a move that Soderstrom feared would have disastrous consequences not only for public employees but workers of all stripes. Meanwhile, other unions like the International Association of Machinists (IAM) had grown so frustrated with the legislature’s failure to pass a state minimum wage that they threatened to take matters into their own hands. IAM District 123 President John Drennan hinted at the possibility of a march on the state capitol if the senate again excluded his membership from the wages that many other Illinois workers currently enjoyed through the expansion of the federal minimum wage.[5] Ultimately, these divisions led to legislative stalemate; no new laws acknowledging public unions or prohibiting strikes were passed, while Drennan’s threatened march failed to materialize.

Soderstrom and his lieutenants were markedly more successful, however, in their fight for the soul of the state’s tax policies. By 1969 Illinois was facing financial catastrophe, with revenue at dangerous lows and inflation at fearful highs. All the powerful interests of Illinois had packed the assembly halls with lobbyists clamoring for solutions that best advantaged their paymasters. Many conservative groups like the Illinois Retail Merchants Association (IRMA) demanded a “broadening of the sales tax base” before they would entertain any talk of an income tax. The Chamber of Commerce, fearing the inevitability of an income tax, called instead for a “flat tax” that would shift the burden from its wealthy donors to the working poor. Labor pushed hard against a host of new regressive tax proposals aimed squarely at working families. They took aim at the IRMA, insisting it the “completely inequitable” sales tax should not be raised but rather reduced for necessary goods.[6] They also testified against other proposed “working class taxes” like an increase in home mortgage interest rates, fearing that such a move would prevent working families from owning their own piece of the American Dream.[7]

Instead, labor leadership argued, new revenue should be found in the institution of a graduated income tax and especially higher corporate taxes, noting “there is no comparison between personal and corporate income taxes. Corporate income taxes will not drive industry out of the state.”[8] In this they met with broad success when the state introduced its first-ever income tax. True, it was a flat tax, collecting on 2 ½ percent of all personal wealth. However, it held a separate, higher rate of 4 ½ percent on corporate wealth—a major victory for Illinois labor.[9]

A Man on the Moon

Yet while the newspapers were filled with news of labor’s legislative success, they were largely devoid of something else: Reuben’s name. Many references to Illinois labor’s policies and positions were instead attributed to Executive Vice President Stanley Johnson. To some extent, this was the continuation of an existing trend; Reuben had for years been assigning increasing responsibility and visibility to the man who would, it was assumed, succeed him as Illinois AFL-CIO President. Johnson, not Reuben, was now referred to as “Chief Lobbyist for the AFL-CIO.”[10] It is important to note that many of Stanley’s positions and opinions contradicted Reuben at least in tone if not in actual substance. For example, Johnson appeared to be quite engaged in the constitutional convention process after the passage of the 1968 ballot initiative. He put himself forward as a candidate to the convention, declaring himself in favor of a “flexible, easily understood Constitution modeled after the federal prototype” (a comment widely viewed as endorsing a change from the existing constitution’s format).[11] This was in stark contrast to Reuben, who continued to assail the ConCon affair as “needless,” adding it to the list of labor’s failures in his speeches and correspondence.[12]

1969 also witnessed a flurry of some of Reuben’s most stirring, eloquent, and honest writings. His Labor Day message was a stark examination of the traumas and failures that had befallen labor and the nation over the past year:

It is with mixed emotions and an apprehensive attitude that I sit down to prepare my 1969 Labor Day Message.

Wage-earners have survived a year of unusual incidents ranging from the Onassis-Kennedy wedding, Two Men on the Moon, the Pueblo incident, the [Robert Kennedy assassin] Sirhan Sirhan trial, the sentencing of the killer of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the war in Vietnam, a disappointing Legislative Session, and a disastrous State and National Election.

With respect to the election, we in the State AFL-CIO believe the same now as we did during the campaign, that our State and Nation must move forward if we are to solve the problems of our cities and our people; that is to say, the problems of poverty, the problem of slums, inadequate education, inadequate housing, inadequate medical care, and all the rest. We will continue to fight for these goals… I desire to officially thank all of the voluntary workers who participated in the campaign because I believe that to the extent in which union people participated we have made this a better world in which to live and in which to work.

Labor lost the national election by about 10% of the vote.

Labor lost the State election by about 10% of the vote.

Labor failed to stop the needless Con Con by about 10% of the vote.

What can be done about that? Obviously the remedy lies in building up and strengthening the labor movement at least ten percent.

We ought to build up and strengthen our local unions at least ten percent.

We ought to build up and strengthen our City Central Bodies at least ten percent.

We ought to build up and strengthen our State Conferences and our great Illinois State AFL-CIO at least ten percent.

If we can do this during the next twelve months we will have turned disaster into success, and will have accomplished the basis for what is needed in the next State and National election to attain reasonable progress.

Labor’s march onward and upward will continue until we have attained a land without an overlord, a land without oppression, a land radiant and resplendent, a perfect triumph of the brotherhood of all mankind!

On this 1969 Labor Day we are closer to that objective than ever before in our history as over a million union members in Illinois tip their hats and applaud the day by day accomplishments which have brought this goal within sight.”[13]

This message, filled with a wild mix of fire, self-examination, and flourish showed both Reuben’s hope for the future and his condemnation of the present. The current age was one rife with “overlords” and “oppression” who had visited a host of ills upon the nation. Yet, despite this stinging rebuke, Reuben lived not only in hope but in impatient expectation that tomorrow would bring a “radiant” and “perfect triumph.” To Soderstrom, the accomplishments of the modern age were both wondrous signs of what mankind could accomplish and damning evidence of society’s failure to adequately care for one another. The marvel of that year’s moon landing, which drew the eyes of the world, prompted Reuben to write:

For more than two hours Sunday night, July 20, an audience estimated at more than half a billion people watched one of the great events of history as it unfolded. What they saw was two human beings walking on the surface of the moon, performing assigned tasks with skill and efficiency.

The landing of these two members of the crew of Apollo 11 on the moon testifies, first of all, to the courage and abilities of the astronauts. But the cool confidence of the crew was also perhaps the greatest tribute ever paid to American industry. Some 20,000 companies participated in the development and manufacture of the enormous complex that is the Apollo system. And most of the parts, down to the humblest valve and smallest transistor, are critical; if they fail, the lives of all those aboard the spacecraft are imperiled.

The price paid for such perfection has been high. In dollars, Apollo has cost some $21.4-billion since May 25, 1961, the day on which President John F. Kennedy laid down the challenge before Congress of a manned moon landing before the end of the 1960s.

This puts it in a class by itself. Apollo is the most expensive scientific project ever sponsored by the American people. It outranks the Manhattan Project, which developed the atomic bomb, some 15 fold.

Even as the astronauts settled down for the trip home, debate began building up over the future of so expensive a program. The National Aeronautics & Space Administration wants to move up to the next plateau. It is asking funds to continue manned exploration of the moon at the rate of about three flights a year. It is working on plans for a manned earth orbiting space station and a shuttle vehicle to support it; and it is starting some of the advanced research that will be needed some day to support manned flight to the planets - first Mars and then beyond.

NASA officials say that a manned Mars flight may well be possible within the next 17 years. A plan, including estimated costs that run only slightly over $3 billion a year, is now being prepared for submission to President Nixon. In the near future, the people of the U. S. will have to decide whether to commit the nation to that plan and that expense.

The question is by no means open and shut. There are urgent and costly problems to be dealt with at home - especially in the cities. If the manned space program is diverting resources and talent from such problems, then it is hard to justify giving it new and still more difficult goals.

But there is good reason to think that our great domestic problems go unsolved not for lack of resources but for lack of motivation and inefficient use of the resources we have. This nation has resources - scientific, material, and human - never assembled anywhere on earth before. As one Frenchman said as he watched the landing, “America has shown in one glorious moment that it literally can do anything it wants to do.”[14]

Soderstrom’s most eloquent writing that year, however, dealt with a far more somber affair: the death of John L. Lewis. Although often fierce and sometimes bitter rivals, John L. Lewis and Reuben Soderstrom had come to hold a deep and abiding respect for each other, coming in the final years of their life to a form a bond of mutual fondness and friendship. Reub was deeply moved at his former rival’s passing, and in tribute wrote a eulogy in the Illinois AFL-CIO Weekly Newsletter:

To a great extent former U.M.W.A. President Emeritus John Lewis was a son of Illinois…To attain reasonable goals he brought his defiant personality into action, defying anti-union employers, state and federal administrations, Presidents, Governors, court injunctions, and even his fellow union leaders when they withheld their co-operation. He looked like a labor leader should look and was acclaimed by all as possessing the qualities of a superb bit of a man. Not the kind of person that one can easily forget…

He was my personal friend. The name of John L. Lewis is emblazoned in our hearts and minds in huge letters of gold and seemingly on the skyline of eternity in recognition of his contribution in making almost a half million poorly paid and poorly protected coal miners the best paid and best protected coal miners in all the world.[15]

Reuben’s words were a tribute both to Lewis the man and to the sometimes caustic and confrontational tactics he employed. Yet, however aggressive his rhetoric, Reuben respected that Lewis had always stopped short of advocating violence. It was a sad fact, he believed, that the same could not be said of what he termed a “youth in revolt.” In an essay prepared for the executive board that year, Soderstrom savaged what he viewed as desire by some within the current generation for violent confrontation, as well as a media he believed was too eager to reward such immature action with lavish attention:

Young people today are very much the same as they have been since the beginning of time, impatient with conditions as they are, in some instances not quite sure just what they want, but a majority do have definite ideas for the future.

Those with constructive ideas go about the business of making changes with quiet, courage, and intelligence which is seldom ever noticed in newspapers, television and radio, because it is not sensational enough for their readers, viewers and listeners.

I am sure no intelligent person will object to reasonable demonstrations which are intended to dramatize a need for the constructive progress of humanity.

We do, however, deplore and condemn the actions of a small percentage of attention seekers who are interested only in the destruction of anyone or anything with which they may disagree, without giving thought to constructive programs.

During the 1930s this nation came through one of the greatest social revolutions in recent world history. We rose from a practically bankrupt nation to one of the most affluent and richest in the world. This was accomplished by the efforts of men with vision and courage of their convictions.

Any idiot can start a fire or incite mob rule for the destruction of anything with which they may disagree. The public news media should devote less time to glorifying irresponsible actions of the few and give more support to the constructive ideas of the majority if we are to continue making progress in the interest of integrity and freedom for humanity.[16]

He was about to come face to face with some of these youths.

1969 ILLINOIS LABOR CONVENTION

Turn Toward Militancy

In the wake of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., disillusioned black youth increasingly turned militant. In 1966, Stokely Carmichael, who replaced the nonviolent civil rights leader John Lewis as head of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), gave a name to this more confrontational philosophy: Black Power. According to historian Jeffrey Ogbar:

SNCC’s promotion of Black Power was an affirmation of militancy, as well as a challenge to the psychological effects of white supremacy…For many in the SNCC, chants of ‘Freedom Now!’ were ineffective. “That don’t scare white folks,” Carmichael asserted. “The only thing that’s gonna get us freedom is power.”[17]

Even some among MLK’s inner circle, sensing the changing winds, shifted their rhetoric and tactics. The most dynamic of these was Jesse Jackson, a young protégé of King’s who had risen to prominence in Chicago as a both a charismatic Reverend and leader of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference’s Operation Breadbasket. In an interview in the summer of that year, reporter Debby Ranking described the man and his organization:

His church in the heart of the ghetto is packed by a faithful congregation of 4,000 to 5,000 that returns every Saturday for the minister’s oratory – a heady mixture of Baptist theology and black power. With his dashing dress, grasp of urban problems and disdain for Establishment procedures, the 27-year-old preacher is a natural magnet for the alienated in search of a leader. But critics contend he is an opportunist with ambitions beyond a church pulpit. They claim he’s been able to mobilize only a fraction of Chicago’s one million Negroes, mainly the young and middle class…

The mistake of his race in the past, he says, is that “we saw ourselves as moral agents. We’re not moral agents in the eyes of white people, we’re economic entities to be seen as profits and losses, assets and liabilities.” The minister’s aim is to create “a sophisticated state of black nationalism, realizing our conditions are the same from Maine to Miami, so we can move simultaneously and collectively upon a given issue.”[18]

Of course, Jackson’s rising popularity put him on a collision course with the SCLC’s then-leader, Ralph Abernathy. According to one account:

Jesse Jackson was a maverick in the SCLC…After Martin Luther King’s assassination in April 1968, Jackson’s rebellion became more pronounced, more open. Since he was running the only going concern within the organization, he felt the mantle of power and responsibility should be heading in his direction. The board of the SCLC thought otherwise, and appointed Ralph Abernathy as King’s successor….

The split between Jesse Jackson and Ralph Abernathy grew wider, and the dislike on both sides was genuine. Jackson was annoyed because he had not inherited King’s authority. Abernathy would not hear of an upstart like Jackson taking over the American Civil Rights movement.[19]

By 1969 the American civil rights movement was thus characterized by two challenges—an increasing propensity for militancy and an internal power struggle pitting charismatic upstarts against a comparatively uninspiring, old-guard leadership.

Unionism and Race Relations

Unions were not exempt from the movement’s ire. There had always been tension between the organized labor and civil rights movements. The fact that the earliest leaders in the fight for racial parity emerged from organized labor—most notably Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters President A. Philip Randolph—virtually assured that the first battleground for equal rights would be within the union halls. For years, Randolph had submitted resolutions at the national AFL convention calling for an end to union segregation, only to have AFL presidents demure that they had no power to compel such change. As Philip Taft writes:

Although the A.F. of L. was officially opposed to discrimination for the reasons of race, creed, or color, discrimination against Negroes and other minority groups was tolerated in practice throughout the years. Only this much can be said for the federation’s policy; the A. F. of L. had no power to compel international unions to obey its pronouncements against racial discrimination. Even directly chartered central bodies could not be forced to accept Negro delegates if they lived in sections of the country where strong prejudices existed. The Federation leadership had long since learned the limits of its power; it had become accustomed to avoiding the use of force against its affiliates whenever another—however unsatisfactory—solution presented itself.[20]

Labor unions in 1969 bore the scars of racial prejudice. As it had in the civil rights movement, the frustratingly slow process of racial integration created widening divisions within labor leadership. AFL-CIO President George Meany and former CIO chief Walter Reuther had for years fought over how to handle the question of race, with Reuther pushing for more active union involvement in the arena of civil rights. Meany, for example, had chosen not to give the AFL-CIO’s endorsement of King’s March on Washington in 1963—a decision Reuther voted against and publicly opposed.[21] By 1968 their disagreement on this and other issues led to a formal split between the AFL-CIO and Reuther’s United Auto Workers (UAW). The divide between the two leaders reflected a growing chasm between many unionists—especially those within the older trade-based unions—who wanted to maintain segregation, and a younger generation unwilling to sacrifice progress on the altar of solidarity.

These problems were particularly acute in Chicago; while some unions actively pursued equal rights, others were still segregated, and some, such as the building trades, tried to bar black workers altogether. According to labor historian Milton Derber:

Traditionally, blacks in Chicago had been denied entry into most crafts. Discrimination by unions included exclusion from union membership by constitutional provision or by ritual; segregation of minority group members in separate “auxiliaries”; the use of work permits for minorities instead of union membership; and denying minorities full participation in union activities and equal employment opportunity. The Washbourne Trade School, the major Chicago school training plumbers, electricians, carpenters, and other building trade workers for many years, had a policy of admitting only apprentices named by the unions, which rarely accepted blacks as apprentices.[22]

Tensions finally erupted in 1969 when a group of 61 black community organizations united to form the Coalition for United Community Action (CUCA), a group dedicated to directly confronting the issue of racial discrimination in construction hiring. On July 22, 17 black youths wearing red berets—identifying them as members of the local street gang the Black Stone Rangers—stormed the Building Trade’s offices, shouting “We’re taking over. Get out!” They held the facilities for several hours before relinquishing control.[23] As the summer progressed, the CUCA, backed by Rangers, closed down more than 20 construction sites at a cost of over $100 million.[24] Organized labor, which had pioneered the tactics of strikes and work stoppages, now found itself in the middle of a whole new dynamic. The trades initially responded with denial, claiming that it was a lack of qualified workers, not racism, that was responsible for the dearth of black members. As the protests continued, they offered to create new training programs for African Americans seeking an entrance to the trades. Negotiations between the CUCA and building trades, however, seemed impossible. The CUCA demanded elimination of the union referral system (by which union workers were referred to construction jobs) as a precondition for talks, which the building trades viewed as a non-starter. When the Illinois AFL-CIO got involved, neither side seemed ready to budge.[25]

This, then, was the situation as Reuben and his colleagues began their planning for the 1969 Illinois Labor Convention in Chicago. A union body bitterly split between advocates for change and a preservation of the “old order,” on a collision course with a disillusioned black community angry at being shut out of the labor force and led by increasingly militant members who now saw the path to victory in direct confrontation. Chicago labor was loaded with tension.

“Tear the Whole Place Up”

Soderstrom understood these stakes. As the convention approached, his driving concern became how to repair the breach between the labor and civil rights movements in Chicago. He was determined to use the event to demonstrate organized labor’s commitment to equality, and made it a priority to secure a civil rights leader as keynote speaker. He first sought Martin Luther King Sr., the “father of a martyred son who was loved by organized labor,” to address the delegates, but the elder King was unable to attend.[26] In his place, Reub turned to an old friend: Ralph Abernathy, MLK’s right-hand man and successor. He offered the SCLC leader carte blanch, telling him, “You are free, of course, to select any subject you may choose and devote whatever time you may need for the delivery of your address. I know your presence will be an inspiration to our delegates and visitors, and I can assure you an attentive and appreciative audience.”[27] Abernathy agreed to once again address the labor delegates, bringing a message of cooperation even as he called on labor to do more for the black community:

It is always good to come here for the purpose of fellowship with our brothers and sisters who are engaged in a struggle that is common to all of us. Today, right here in the City of Chicago, young black workers are calling upon organized labor in the construction industry to help them open the doors of opportunity. These young black workers have put aside the slogan, “Burn, baby, burn” and replaced it with a constructive slogan for social change, ‘Build, baby, build…

We have learned many lessons from labor. The lessons are too valuable to be thrown away. We are going to profit by what we learned, and what you taught us so well. We believe we shall overcome, black and white together… The Southern Christian Leadership Conference has marched with organized labor in many areas of the country including teachers’ strikes, hospital workers’ strikes, and sanitation workers in Memphis, in fact, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. died fighting for organized labor…

Let us forget the things that separate us, and know the things that bind us together as a nation and a people. We must go on from here, however, to fulfill the objectives of feeding the hungry, housing the ill-housed, and finding useful employment for the jobless. The greatest monument we can build to Martin Luther King is the continuation of his feeble efforts to redeem the soul of America, and cause this wealthy nation to stop spending its billions and billions of dollars for the destruction of life, and start spending it for the building up of life.[28]

However, not everyone was happy with Abernathy’s presence. Chicago was, after all, the home of Abernathy’s chief rival, Jesse Jackson, who had not been invited to address the convention. And the SCLC’s presence at the Illinois AFL-CIO convention during the height of tensions between the building trades and the CUCA injected a new, unpredictable factor into the equation. The night of Abernathy’s speech, Jackson unexpectedly reached out to Reuben to request a meeting with the Illinois AFL-CIO executive board. They agreed to meet the following afternoon over lunch.[29]

Soderstrom was excited by the offer; this, he thought, was finally an opportunity to directly discuss the standoff between the building trades and CUCA. The following day, Jackson arrived at the Conrad Hilton hotel along with CUCA Coordinator CT Vivian, spokeswoman Meredith Gilbert, and a contingent of the Black Stone Rangers, clad in their signature red berets. According to then-Secretary Treasurer Bob Gibson, the presence of the members alarmed some of the board members, but Police Superintendent Orland Wilson (who was also present at the meeting) received assurances from Jackson that “just a few boys” would be attending the lunch as his bodyguard. The comment struck Gibson as almost comical. “They weren’t boys,” he later recounted. “Hell, these guys were in their 30s and 40s, a lot of them.”[30]

The meeting continued well past noon, delaying the resumption of the convention’s afternoon session. When it finally ended, Reuben emerged with a statement that he believed would be a first step towards healing, a resolution which validated the concerns of the CUCA, denounced violence, and stressed the all-important need for unity. He planned to have a vote on the language that very afternoon.[31]

But the old tensions returned almost immediately. As the convention reconvened, Jackson’s entourage moved to the front of the hall, positioning themselves at the tables closest to the stage.[32] Stanley, visibly ill at ease, called on “our guests in the red berets to please sit over on the other side.”[33]

Some of the other delegates went even further. “Mr. Chairman!” shouted a white delegate, Joseph Botica, of the Chicago Iron Workers, “I see in our group here seated in this house of labor, in the house of God, in the soul we are all governed by, people here with red berets. Are they delegates to this convention? If not, I move we adjourn this meeting as of now!”[34]

The call instantly split the delegation. Half the hall thunderously applauded while the other burst into a loud chorus of boos. When Reuben insisted that the guests be allowed to stay, Botica grew even angrier, his voice rising to a fever pitch. “Let us have them remove their hats then!” he shouted. Denouncing the Rangers as “extortionists,” he demanded Soderstrom “check their credentials…There is a motion on the floor. Check their credentials!”[35]

Reuben had had enough. He pounded his gavel, silencing Botica and his compatriots. “These people are not delegates,” he stated. “They are uninvited guests, but they have come here to sit through the proceedings. Our proceedings are public anyhow. I think the smart thing and the courteous thing to do is to let them sit here.”[36]

At this, the hall began to cheer, the mood turning. One after another the delegates rose in support of Reuben and the Rangers. “If the Chair intends to let them have a voice, I think we make a mistake to take an ironclad or closed mind,” said one. “Mr. Chairman, now we may not agree on the young brothers in here, but no delegate has a right to get up in any convention and call anyone extortionists,” said another.[37] When some of the delegates left in protest, even more rose to condemn those who would choose to leave rather than listen. Mr. Jack Siegel of the Shoe Workers Joint Council No. 25 rose to make an especially passionate appeal, telling all who remained:

Mr. Chairman, I know that the problem that we are facing here, and the discussion that we are facing is something that is going to occur from now on because the black people of this country are beginning to make the kind of demands that we in the labor unions started making 100 years ago…I say, brothers, we are glad that you are here. We ought to congratulate ourselves that we attract young, black militants who come to hear what the labor movement, which has also had a tradition of militancy, has to say.[38] Reuben nodded in approval as some in the crowd cheered. “I quite agree,” Soderstrom said. “I hope that someday all our black brothers will be unionized and seated in this convention as delegates.”[39] Slowly, the convention returned to order. They continued to debate resolutions and listen to guest speakers. Finally, after a scheduled speech by Congressman Abner Mikva, they reached the moment Soderstrom had been waiting for. Bearing down on the podium, he presented the statement he created with Jesse Jackson over the lunch hour; “Now the statement that was developed out of the conference that we held during the noon hour is now ready to present to the delegates to this convention. I hope it meets with the approval of every delegate seated here. We have done the best we could.” He then turned to Vice President Joe Germano, who stood and read the following “Statement On Equal Employment Opportunity”:

We want to express our strongest moral position in favor of equal employment opportunity and in support of the aspirations of our Black Brothers. We want them on our side in our joint efforts to obtain the best possible conditions for all workers and all citizens of the United States.

We urge all of our affiliates to give strong heed to the times and to the protests of Blacks and of youth, and to give their best efforts in support of training programs which will open up job opportunities to all persons regardless of race, color, creed or sex. We will not yield to threats of violence—we will at all times continue to do the right thing and urge all of our affiliated labor unions to do all that they can to dedicate themselves to the goal of making Labor Day 1969 a day of unity and cooperation between all workers, as we go forward to make our country a better land in which to live in freedom and liberty.[40]

In the official convention minutes, the motion was accepted by an overwhelming margin, with Reuben declaring that “The moral support of this great organization is on the side of the blacks.”[41] Newspaper and eyewitness accounts, however, tell a different story. The resolution sparked a loud, heated debate between the delegates and the Rangers, who demanded that the statement include language specifically condemning the building trades. Amidst the clamor, the Rangers leapt from their seats and sprang to the stage, pushing Reuben away from the podium. According to the Chicago Tribune:

Members of the Coalition for United Community Action, led by the Rev. C.T. Vivian and Meredith Gilbert, charged onto the stage amid threats to “tear the whole place up.” They seized the microphone, denounced the resolution as inadequate, and ordered the delegates to “go home, get out of here!”[42]

Reuben was in near-shock at the pushing and shoving. Again from Gibson:

They went up and took over the platform and they grabbed the gavel from Reub. They took the microphone off of the podium and were walking up and down the platform yelling, “We’re going to shut this place down, burn this and tear it up” and all this. Tom Burk was there, he was a VP and member of the board, he stands up and he’s got his gun up in the air and he said, “You wise guys want to stay here and see what this will do?” It was out of control. I think that shook up Reub more than anything I’d ever seen…

So they were saying they were going to burn the city down, tear this building down and burn up everything, and Jesse was sitting there listening to them. So I talked to Stanley: “I don’t want to listen to this bullshit, do you?”

“No,” he said. “What do you think we ought to do?”

“Well,” I said, “I think we ought to call Jack Conlisk.” Jack was the superintendent of the police.

“Call Jack,” Stanley said. So I called him up…At that time they had a group of Chicago policemen just for labor disputes, but they were intended more along the lines of strikes. But hell, it didn’t take 30 minutes, here they come. They had like a semi loaded with guys—they must have had 50 cops in there![43] The police stood outside the convention hall, but did not enter. Reuben reclaimed the microphone and hastily gaveled the chaotic convention to an early close. The police gathered outside on the sidewalk as rattled and discordant groups of delegates filed out of the hall. Reuben left with Gibson and Johnson. The newspapers the following day were filled with stories of “convention chaos” and tales of strife between black and white workers. The fiasco undermined the goodwill built during Abernathy’s visit and torpedoed negotiations between the Illinois AFL-CIO and the CUCA.[44]

The events in Chicago took a heavy toll on Reuben’s spirit as well as his body. “You know he became sick after that,” Gibson said. “Not long after that he went to Mayo.”[45] Shortly after the convention, Reuben returned to Rochester, Minnesota where he underwent major abdominal surgery to remove his badly damaged gall bladder. The medical tests also detected indications of heart failure. He recovered for many weeks in Rochester and then in Streator. As Olga recounted:

When he returned to the Clinic he was admitted immediately. They knew he was in serious trouble. When they operated they found the gall bladder had ruptured and had deteriorated to such a degree that it had to be taken out in pieces—in fact, they said it laid like a mud pie. He was called “the miracle of the Mayo Clinic.” He was eighty-one years old and to recover from such surgery was indeed a miracle. He recuperated in Streator for about six weeks (not nearly long enough) and then returned to his work in Springfield, Illinois…(it was) a heavy schedule to leap into after serious surgery, but Reub was determined and back to work he went.[46]

Reuben returned to ruminating on the upcoming issues for labor, including the own power dynamic within his own organization. Stanley Johnson, Reub’s long-serving Executive VP, was eager to grab the reins as leader of Illinois labor. But Reuben had long been skeptical of Stanley’s governing ability, particularly in these trying times. He would prefer to hand the reins to Bob Gibson, but bypassing Johnson in favor of the Secretary-Treasurer—Stanley’s junior and a former CIO man—could rip the young Illinois AFL-CIO alliance apart. Like his great peers in labor—Gompers, Green, Reuther and Meany—Reuben would not retire. Illinois labor needed him; if he could, he would become 50 years old again and work another 30 years. But those powers were not available to him.

He was 81 and moving forward into another year.

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