by Bill Bailey
There was another week to go on the contract. We did not want to give the employers an excuse to say we provoked the lockout. With only a few more days to go before the men would officially come off the ships, word came from the federal government to continue negotiations until October 15. Both sides agreed. The charade of negotiations went on.
On October 13, Washington again requested that negotiations continue and promised some investigative machinery to be put into effect and finalized by arbitration. This request was relayed to the rank and file. The union knew it was important to keep the public on our side; we also knew how vital it was to keep the onus of responsibility for a strike on the employers' shoulders. The membership up and down the coast was polled: should we allow the extension, and if no results were forthcoming by October 29, should we strike? The vote was overwhelming: extend the cut-off day to the 29th.
Not a single man on the entire waterfront had illusions that the shipowners would cave in by the 29th. We elected our strike committee and prepared for the showdown. I was elected to the Firemen's strike committee which consisted of ten men. From our own craft strike committee we elected delegates to the joint strike committee. I was also elected to that important group.
On the West Coast, the waterfront unions had a unique labor unity. After the 1934 strike, it had been agreed by the unions that there should be one overall labor body to coordinate the actions the unions undertook. This one centralized body came to be known as the Maritime Federation of the Pacific. Each union elected delegates to meet weekly and review all impending actions against the shipowners. Once an agreement was reached in this body, all unions were then notified of the proposed action. The Federation strengthened all craft unions in the maritime industry.
Men were still irritated by the deliberate slowness of the shipowners in living up to their part of the contract since the '34 strike. Before the Federation, the frustrations of the rank and file had erupted weekly into spontaneous picket lines at different ships or piers. At this rate, it was difficult for anyone to get a full weeks' work. You did not know from day to day whether you would be confronted by some craft union's picket line around your job. The Federation eliminated much of this "job action."
While this helped to stabilize the shipping industry for the employers, the employers still hated the Federation. They welcomed chaos in the industry. They were screaming for Washington to do something about "this mess." The more disruptions on the waterfront, the better for the employers. They feared stabilization, and the Federation was sticking in their throats like a bone.
At midnight on October 29, 1936, every facet of maritime transportation, with the exception of a few steam schooners working under separate contracts, came to a halt. Hundreds of firemen, engineers, mates, cooks, sailors and longshoremen stopped work up and down the coast.
The problems of conducting a strike of such magnitude were great. Many obstacles had to be overcome. Feeding and housing thousands of seamen away from their homes was a major one. Discipline had to be maintained. A health-and-welfare plan for strikers had to be organized. Committees on almost every facet of life were set up. Volunteers accepted responsibility. A huge empty loft on the Embarcadero was rented. Members of the Marine Cooks and Stewards took over the job of cooking thousands of meals for the strikers. For three months, progressive farmers and ranchers near San Francisco donated a large part of the food needed to feed the strikers. No strikers went hungry.
A committee dealing with housing contacted landlords to ask for their cooperation in allowing the strikers to stay housed in their hotels and apartments without pressure of meeting rent deadlines. A written guarantee was made stating that rents would be paid when the men were again earning paychecks. This satisfied the landlords and hotel keepers and alleviated pressure on the men.
Doctors and nurses were asked to donate time to care for the men's medical needs. They responded with enthusiasm. Those needing clothing had their problems taken care of by a special committee which solicited donations from many of the clothing shops near the waterfront that catered to the seamen in good times.
A security committee which became known as the Maritime Federation Patrol appeared on the front. Their job was to keep drunks off the front and to maintain order and discipline. Throughout the strike, not one man was arrested, nor any bloody noses counted. If someone became inebriated and showed signs of disorientation, he was escorted back to his waterfront hotel by the union patrol. If he persisted in threatening the tranquility of the waterfront, his union book was taken from him and he faced a disciplinary committee of his union peers. The men came down hard on the offender. Two weeks of peeling potatoes or onions or washing pots and pans encouraged most to stay sober and out of trouble.
From the very first we were well aware that it could be a long strike. All the unions settled down for a war of attrition. All paid officials were immediately cut off the payroll. They, like us, ate at the soup kitchen. Requests for funds from the treasury were scrutinized before being fulfilled.
The word along the front was, "Watch out for provocateurs," and "An injury to one is an injury to all."
Our publicity committee was housed on the upper floor of the Union Recreation Center. Here some 25 members of the committee worked on daily bulletins. Leaflets were sent to different communities in the city, and articles and fact sheets were sent to newspapers and unions throughout the country. We even supplied information about our strike to unions in foreign countries. Every hour of the day someone was working at one of the two dozen typewriters in the Center. Artists donated sketches or cartoons for the paper.
My job was publicity. I was in the midst of some of America's best trade union strategists. These old-timers were experienced fighters for trade unions and human rights. Most of them had been in the front ranks of the 1934 strike. What I had experienced in the past was child's play compared to what I was engaged in now.
It has been said that the 1934 strike was one of blood and class struggle from its inception, while the 1936-37 strike was fought with the typewriter.
The shipowners issued daily bulletins to the press that characterized the strike as "another Moscow takeover" or a "training ground for the Bolsheviks." Our publicity committee had to counter these assertions with facts and figures showing the strike for what it was, a matter of survival for the seamen and longshoremen.
One outstanding leaflet issued by the strike committee showed how to become a millionaire: simply get a loan from the government, rent or buy a ship, then get a government subsidy to run the ship. No need to risk a penny.
Facts and figures were given about the millions of dollars paid to shipping companies to keep their buckets of rust afloat and profitable while conditions for the men were intolerable. At first strikers merely answered the attacks of the shipowners, defending themselves against the gross charges leveled at them. But soon they took the offensive.
It had been common knowledge before the strike that a number of smaller shipowners had a strong desire to avoid the strike by meeting the demands of the unions. The three main companies on the Pacific Coast, the Matson, Dollar and American and Hawaiian Lines, however, whipped the smaller companies into line. Thus the seeds of discontent among the shipowners had been sown, and it was this that the unions took advantage of. We called them the "Big Three," and much of our propaganda was directed against these powerful companies. From a publicity point of view, the shipowners were losing the battle.
The shipowners also counted on several good hole cards that they hoped to play. One was the presidential election. But that hope was smashed to pieces when the voters reelected Franklin D. Roosevelt by a landslide.
One day a striker came running into the Firemen's hall shouting that 200 strikebreakers were marching down to the Embarcadero to enter the piers. Within seconds the union halls emptied as we dashed into the streets to intercept them. I was surprised to see a long column of negroes veer in from Market Street toward the waterfront. I and a dozen other
men approached them. "Where you guys going?" we asked.
"We're going to work. That's where we're going," the leader replied.
"Not on this front, you're not. Not while there's a strike going on," we said.
"Since you guys don't allow blacks to work on the front when there is work, we have every right to work now," came the adamant reply.
Within seconds dozens of black longshoremen and members of the Marine Cooks and Stewards converged on them. "Take a good look at us," they said. "We're black and members of the unions, and it'll be a cold day in hell when we allow any of you to take our jobs when we're on the picket lines."
We attempted to explain how they were being used as strike breakers by the shipowners. They were hell-bent on making their way to the front. The black strikers laid down the law and between hot words a few punches were thrown. Their ranks broke and they fled back toward Market Street.
If the shipowners had hoped for some sort of "race riot" they were wrong from the start. They forgot the fact that the waterfront unions had long before adopted a pledge of no discrimination based on race, creed or color, and blacks were now a small but active part of the life and vitality of some of our trade unions, like the Longshoremen's and Cooks'; others, however, like the Sailors' Firemen's and Officers' unions, would remain "lily white" for years.
Having failed thus far to weaken the unions, the shipowners had another gimmick up their sleeves. They figured that if they negotiated contracts with one or two unions they could divide the workers. One day Lundeberg of the Sailors' Union and Ferguson of the Firemen's Union were called to a conference with the shipowners and they negotiated contracts for their two unions.
The Firemen held a special meeting and Ferguson made his report about the new contract. While the terms seemed favorable, the rank and file demanded that we stick to the pledge made before the strike, that "We all came out together; we'll all go back together." The rank and file quickly recognized this maneuvering for what it was, a way of playing one group against another, divisive union splitting that played into the shipowners' hands. Under no condition was the rank and file of the Firemen's Union going back to work while the rest of the unions lacked contracts. Even the rank and file of the Sailors' Union, over Lundeberg's objection, took this position. Again the shipowners were rebuffed.
The Communists in the Firemen's Union had urged the rank and file to support Ferguson for secretary. What had gone wrong with Ferguson? Were there flaws in his character that we failed to detect before his election? We discovered later that he had entered the country illegally. Investigative work by the FBI and the Department of Naturalization, urged by the shipowners, uncovered this. He was given the choice of a long prison term and deportation or playing ball with the shipowners. He chose to play the shipowners' game.
Since Lundeberg was anti-Bridges, the shipowners were inclined to favor him. Lundeberg lured Ferguson over to his camp and bit by bit cracks in the tight unity of the unions started to show up. Lundeberg had one way of dealing with the shipowners. He would simply tell them, "Come across with a good contract for my sailors or the Communists will take control of the union." His method paid off with good contracts for the sailors, with conditions unequaled by any of the other seagoing unions. With Ferguson now being drawn over to Lundeberg's tactics, the shipowners were not hesitant to play ball with him.
One of the sharp differences of opinion between Lundeberg and the rest of the maritime unions was related to the issue of releasing perishable cargo. The shipowners called perishable cargo still lying in the ships' holds as cargo "vitally needed by the people." It was a gimmick they felt would arouse anger against the unions. Many people, not realizing it was a ruse, did react favorably to the shipowners' propaganda and urged the unions to reconsider their policy of leaving the cargo in the holds. There was not actually that much perishable cargo remaining strike-bound, but irritation against the strike was beginning to be felt.
The matter came before the Joint Strike Committee and we debated it for several hours. The representatives from the Sailors' argued for Lundeberg's policy of not moving one ounce of the cargo. But the more mature on the committee urged that the cargo be worked so that one more argument of the shipowners could be deflated. The majority of maritime workers were in agreement.
Another thing that Lundeberg found fault with was the way the committee conducted publicity for public support. He felt that this method of conducting a strike was hogwash and playing footsie. But on this issue, too, the majority of the strikers agreed with the Joint Strike Committee. They believed that every conceivable legitimate weapon should be used by labor to win this strike; publicity from the workers' viewpoint could play a major role in winning support for our cause. Lundeberg eventually boiled everything down to two viewpoints: his and the "Commies'." With Ferguson a vacillating element in the Firemen's Union, the Communist within had to be on guard to prevent further sweetheart deals.
Lundeberg and Ferguson went to Washington, presumably to consult with some pro-labor congressmen. They wired back that the congressmen urged that unless the strike were ended, anti-labor legislation would be forthcoming. They urged the rank and file to make immediate peace with the shipowners. When these telegrams were read, the membership, enraged, called for Ferguson's resignation. Ferguson got the message. He returned to San Francisco and never mentioned the Washington caper again.
While things looked peaceful in the shipowners' ranks, the opposite was true. Since all the major policies were engineered and pushed through by the Big Three, much discontent was voiced from the smaller operators who wanted to settle and get their ships to sea. The unity of the strikers could not be broken, and the smaller companies began to exert pressure on the Big Three for an end to the strike. Finally the shipowners caved in and negotiations began in earnest. Agreements were worked out with all the unions and the terms put to a vote. The strike that had lasted 90 days came to a victorious end, and all crafts went back to work at the same time.
Overall, the results were good. All unlicensed crafts received a monthly increase of $10. The shipowners offered us nothing. We won the right to control and operate our union hiring halls. The shipowners had opposed this vigorously. Furthermore, we had won the right to receive pay for any overtime. Previously, the shipowners had offered us only time off in port. The officers also won a wage increase.
The cost to the shipowners of the 1934 strike was estimated at slightly more than $500 million. The 1936-37 strike had cost them around $686 million. Aside from their financial losses, there was a rebellion of small shipowners against the Big Three prompting the resignation of T. G. Plant, the president of the employer group. (T. G. had earned his nickname during the 1934 strike by standing and smiling while police lobbed tear gas shells at the strikers--Tear Gas Plant.)
The Party evaluated victories and defeats after every major battle in order to draw lessons for the future. Two days after the strike was ended, such a meeting was called for all Party functionaries and members within the waterfront unions. The meeting hall was packed. The last such meeting had been called a week before the strike. The attendance at this one was twice as large. Success breeds success.
The report at the meeting characterized the strike as an effort by the employers to smash the unity of the strikers and their unions. Reports were made about the strength of the Party forces in various crafts, the difficulties they faced and how they overcame them. After three hours of discussion the chairman summed it up: we, the members of the Party, had done an excellent job throughout the strike. In forging unity within the ranks of labor, we had upheld the best traditions of the revolutionary working class. The plot of the shipowners to destroy the waterfront unions had been dealt a crushing defeat. As Communists, we had won the respect of our fellow workers and trade unionists. In the eyes of our fellow workers we had conducted ourselves responsibly, honestly and courageously. To safeguard the gains won in the strike it was necessary to increase our influence by continuing to distr
ibute Marxist literature and recruit new members among the workers.
Chapter XIX: Assignment in Hawaii
Slowly the waterfront began to operate again. Pier doors were opened to receive cargo as trucks waited in long lines to enter. Ships' smokestacks, which for three months had had a night cap over them, started to belch smoke as firemen and engineers busied about the engine rooms, putting life back into an old friend. The union dispatching halls were crowded with men waiting for jobs to be posted and for the dispatcher to call them out. On the Embarcadero, the sheltering shacks the pickets had built were being ripped down, their lumber returning to just another pile of dunnage alongside the pier. Waterfront landlords and hotel keepers were happy the strike was over. They had not seen any cash for three months. A few more weeks and the men who owed their room bill would make a draw and start mailing the money back from ports around the world.
It was time for me to think of what to do in the immediate future. I found it hard to decide just where I wanted to go. South America? Australia? Around the world? I would have to decide quickly. There was no money left. The soup kitchen had closed down. The hotel keeper was giving me questioning glances, wondering why I hadn't shipped yet. While thinking of possibilities, I received a phone call from the Haight Street Party office summoning me uptown. The Party organizer greeted me. He was quick and to the point.
"Here's the way things are," he said. "we have very little going for us over in the Hawaiian Islands. We've had a comrade there for the past five months, but we hear he has left the Islands; there's no one there to take his place. You have been proposed by several comrades as someone who could do a job over there and establish a permanent Party organization. Now, no one is suggesting you spend the rest of your life over there, just a minimum of six months or until you have a stable, functioning apparatus. You know from experience that the Islands have great possibilities for Party work. There's much poverty and terrible housing, and the conditions on the plantations border on serfdom. It will require someone with a lot of guts and a pioneer spirit. You have all the prerequisites to do the job."
