Labor Unions

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Labor Unions

Throughout much of the twentieth century, the American labor movement has been a dynamic force for social change. The struggle for workplace representation and social equality has reshaped much of the American political landscape. Yet, the cultural impact and significance of labor unions goes far beyond the political action of shop floor organization. Unions, both through their actions and union imagery, have deeply influenced American popular culture. At different times and in different ways, workers have used their unions to define their own sense of individual and collective identity. Unions have been at the forefront in defining American working-class masculinity. They have struggled with the issues of gender relations both within their organizations and with their imagery and rhetoric. Labor organizations have served as both standard bearers of racial separation and forces for racial integration. While the labor movement has helped to create a forum for social action and some union members have been at the forefront of other social movements, unions have also been a force of conservatism, moderation, and a continuing identity of whiteness. Thus, the cultural impact of unions on twentieth century American popular culture is multi-faceted and conflicted. Through their own actions and the representations of unions in American film, music, television, and literature, labor organizations have served as a focal point for the construction of a sense of community. While this community provided some with a collective identity and a sense of belonging, it also defined whom the community accepted and who remained outside of it.

Racial and ethnic divisions played a significant role in labor organizing during the nineteenth century. In many ways, ethnic communities and similarities fostered organization within that ethnicity; for instance, Irish-American workers were likely to join Irish labor unions. Yet, such actions opened the door for company managers to play one ethnicity, or race, off another. Capital broke the post war strikes of 1919 with such actions. Because of their insulated ethnic and racial communities, workers were not able to transcend the divisions that separated them. Following 1919, both capital and labor leaders tried to learn from their mistakes. Seeing the strength of ethnic-based organizations, businesses tried to diversify their workforce and combine different ethnicities and races. Such work place interaction, however, only assisted the development of trans-ethnic and trans-racial organizing. With the collapse of the economy in 1929, ethnic banks, stores, and other pillars of ethnic cohesion collapsed. As the last vestiges of the ethnic community went bankrupt, workers turned to each other and to their unions to reestablish a sense of community.

Such trans-ethnic and trans-racial organizations proved to be the backbone of the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO). The new labor congress based itself on the concept of clear class-consciousness. Workers would have standing in the industrial union regardless of skill, trade, ethnicity, race, or gender. Although later developments would prove racism and sexism a persistent problem for the labor movement, the CIO's commitment to trans-racial organization remains significant. Many CIO members truly believed in the late 1930s that they had overcome racial and ethnic divisions. However, the career of A. Philip Randolph and the struggle of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters show that the internal conflict over racial identity remained an important part of the American labor movement.

By the first couple of decades of the twentieth century, Pullman sleeping cars had become the epitome of luxury in railroad travel. An essential part of the Pullman experience was the service of the Pullman porter. Always an African-American male, the porter's job was to see to every need of the passenger. When these porters tried to organize into the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters (BSCP) beginning in the mid-1920s, they encountered resistance not only from the Pullman Company but also from the predominately white CIO as well. The Pullman workers appointed as their leader A. Philip Randolph, a veteran civil rights advocate. As president of the BSCP, Randolph took on much of the leadership of the CIO, pointing out to them the hypocrisy of denying admission to a black union. White unionists' backlash against Randolph and the BSCP suggests the persistence of racism within the labor movement. For many white workers, their union jobs helped to define them not only as workers but as whites as well. A white organization that held black workers aside reinforced racial identities and hierarchies.

The porters' selection of Randolph to lead their organizing drive demonstrates the important connections that existed between labor and other social movements. Before he joined the BSCP, Randolph worked for the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). Even after becoming the union president, Randolph remained closely tied to the campaign for civil rights. Randolph and other black trade unionists were an important part of the 1941 March on Washington Movement. By threatening a mass demonstration in Washington, Randolph forced President Franklin Roosevelt to open wartime production jobs to black workers. A. Philip Randolph remained a major figure in the Civil Rights movement and was a prominent figure on the march on Washington in 1963 led by Martin Luther King, Jr. Trade union activity not only helped to define a conservative white identity; rather racial minorities also used labor organizations to foster racial pride as well. Thus, when African-American garbage men struck in Memphis during 1968, they walked their picket lines with the simple slogan "I am a man."

Likewise Chicano farm laborers looked to labor organizations to claim their sense of self worth and racial identity. In the mid-1960s, the United Farm Workers (UFW), led by Cesar Chavez, organized in the fields of California where large producers hired mostly migratory farm laborers to harvest their crops. The farm workers organized mostly to protect themselves from poor wages, dangerous work, and hazardous chemicals, yet UFW demonstrations were full of references to Chicano culture and racial pride. Much like the Irish or Polish labor unions of the late nineteenth century, Mexican-American ethnic cohesiveness fostered labor organization and vice versa. Yet, the response within the AFL-CIO and other trade unions was mixed. Like the campaign of the BSCP, the rise of the UFW threatened the racial identity of many white trade unionists. The International Brotherhood of Teamsters, for example, launched a campaign to both unionize delivery drivers in the California fields and to break the strength of the UFW. In this way, racial divisions and the use of unions to promote racial identity remained a contested aspect of the American labor movement.

In addition to race, the labor movement has a conflicted past on gender relations and gendered identity. For most male workers, union membership defined the nature of working-class masculinity. The campaign for a "family wage" demonstrates how deep this masculinity lies in labor organizations. For most of the twentieth century, a principle demand of labor organizations has been the family wage. This denotes that the company should pay workers enough to support a family, but it also suggests that a man should make enough money to prevent his wife from working. The family wage ideal suggests that work is a masculine space where women should not be present. Likewise, the imagery of labor and labor organizations revolved around the masculine nature of work. Artists often depicted industrial labor as a muscular man engaged in physical labor. When the AFL and the CIO joined in 1955, their official logo became two very muscular arms shaking hands. The images of "Rosie the Riveter" and other women working in wartime plants during World War II reinforced the masculine ideal of labor. Propaganda posters show these women as muscular, tough, and man enough to do the job. Such masculine imagery conflicted heavily with the reality of female labor. Despite female participation in union activity, however, labor identity remained centered upon an ideal of masculinity.

With the rise of industrial unionism and the decline of ethnically based communities in the 1930s, labor unions came to represent more than just a source of racial and gender identity. In many ways, union membership and union activities became the focal point of communities and provided members with a sense of belonging and camaraderie. Organizations such as union bowling teams and softball leagues, along with activities like dances at union halls and union picnics, brought union members together outside of the shop floor. Through such actions, the members of the union became a sort of extended family and promoted what historian Liz Cohen calls a "culture of solidarity." Such an extension of union activity enhanced labor's impact on American popular culture. Unions began to take part in civic activities that were outside the scope of their particular point of production. From such civic activities emerged the concept of the "union town." Some cities became known not only for the strength of their unions but the influence that unions and union members held in that town. Likewise, the culture of solidarity enhanced the impact of the union on family structures. As children attended union picnics or participated in parades, they became deeply aware of being a part of a union family. The prospect of growing up and joining the union became, for working-class males, a rite of passage into American masculinity. The songs of Bruce Springsteen perhaps portray this transition best. Springsteen suggests that the moment of entrance into working-class manhood was the day a young man received his first union card. Once a part of the union, he could then enjoy the communal identity that unions provided.

Bruce Springsteen is not the only example of union imagery in American popular culture. On the contrary, the images of labor, workers, and unions have been consistent in American culture. Much like unions themselves, popular culture has been conflicted over the presentation of union themes and union imagery. Many of the representations have focused on unions as organizations devoted to fighting social inequalities and striving for workplace equality. Yet there exists within American popular culture a common depiction of unions and union members as backward looking conservatives or exploitative, corrupt manipulators. Both images occur with frequency in American popular culture, often present within the same film or other cultural representation.

The first real presence of labor imagery in twentieth century popular culture was probably the proletarian novel. Extremely popular for the first few decades of the century, proletarian novels emerged from the traditions of muckraking journalism. Often these novelists used their work to expose the exploitative nature and conditions of the American working class. Because of this purpose, unions commonly held a revered position within the novels as organizations formed by the workers to tackle the problems of large-scale industrial capitalism. Upton Sinclair presents an excellent example of the proletarian novelist. Arriving in Chicago at the turn of the century, Sinclair announced that he intended to write the Uncle Tom's Cabin of the labor movement. Sinclair's book The Jungle (1906) details the working environment and living conditions in the packinghouses of Chicago. Many attribute his descriptions of meat packing to the creation of governmental regulations and food safety laws. Sinclair continued his descriptions of working-class life and union organization in later works like Oil! (1927) and King Coal (1917).

In a similar fashion, John Steinbeck details the movement of migratory workers from Oklahoma to the fields of California in The Grapes of Wrath (1939). Though his description of the Joad family, Steinbeck presents a family struggling to stay together despite the hardships of the Depression and the exploitation of the California farmers. Steinbeck also creates the character of Tom Joad, who quickly becomes a symbol of the idealistic union organizer. Like Sinclair, Steinbeck offers—in works like The Grapes of Wrath and Cannery Row (1945)—descriptions of working-class life and the struggle for workers to gain, through unionization, a measure of respect. In his USA trilogy (1930, 1932, 1936), John Dos Passos takes a slightly different approach. Several characters within his works are members of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW). However, Dos Passos does not offer detailed descriptions of workers' lives. Rather he uses union members as a foil to the rest of his characters. Dos Passos, Steinbeck, and Sinclair have important similarities. Each of them was an advocate and supporter of the labor movement and their representations of unions in their work portray their politics.

The proletarian novelist aimed his work mostly toward a middle class audience. Yet in the first several decades of the century, a nationalized consumer economy emerged that was capable of creating mass cultural images through film and music. For the first time, the working class became the audience for much of American mass culture. Thus, as the working class began to receive the images of unions and union activities, labor and labor-related themes came to dominate American culture. In the genre of film, Hollywood started to create movies about working people and their organizations. These included the film version of Steinbeck's novel The Grapes of Wrath (1940), starring Henry Fonda as Tom Joad. However, Hollywood did not always follow the direction of the proletarian novelists. Instead, Hollywood presents conflicted imagery of unions and union organizations. Unions and union members come to represent both social possibility and conservative regression. In addition to the characterization of Tom Joad, there is the story of corrupt unionism in On the Waterfront (1954). In the film, Marlon Brando portrays worker Terry Malloy's fight against a corrupt union boss who rules the organization through violence and fear. Yet the imagery within On the Waterfront is conflicted as well. On one hand, the film presents unions and union leadership as a corrupt and dictatorial organization, yet underlying Brando's fight is the notion that a worker's union is something worth fighting for.

For the most part, Hollywood films during the early Cold War were rooted in anti-communism and anti-radicalism. The Hollywood black list prevented many filmmakers from making sympathetic labor films. The exception is the production of Salt of the Earth (1954). Made by a blacklisted crew and starring many amateur actors, Salt of the Earth tells the story of Chicano miners in their struggle to maintain their solidarity and bring some measure of safety to their labor. Such a depiction of a successful strike and class-based solidarity was uncommon for its time.

Hollywood soon returned to stories celebrating workers and their desire for union organization. Norma Rae (1979), starring Sally Fields, is one such movie. In the film, Fields plays a textile worker who struggles, against seemingly insurmountable odds, to establish a union in her plant. Likewise, Matewan (1979) offers a story of a union organizer and the miners who organize trans-racially to battle the mining company. Even Sylvester Stallone took a spin as a tough but idealistic Teamster organizer in F.I.S.T. (1978). Yet for every sympathetic representation, there are also films like Hoffa (1992) which offer a darker picture of union activity. As Jimmy Hoffa, Jack Nicholson presents a labor leader who rules the Teamsters through violence, corruption, and absolute power. In Hoffa, workers only protest when the leadership tells them to do so. Hoffa, however, does remain a semi-sympathetic character because he suggests that everything he does is in the interest of the membership. Ultimately, though, Nicholson's Hoffa is closer to the representation of the working class in television. From Jackie Gleason in The Honeymooners (1955-1956) to Archie Bunker in All in the Family (1971-1979), television has represented working-class males as self-centered conservatives who are lovable yet ignorantly out of touch with the rest of society.

Beyond movies and literature, the labor movement's greatest cultural legacy is probably the labor troubadour. Many labor organizations have used folk songs and folk music as a way of promoting their cause. From this has emerged the tradition of socially conscious folk and rock music. The first well-known labor troubadour of the twentieth century was Joe Hill (1879?-1915). As an organizer for the IWW, Hill wrote songs relating the desire for union representation. Convicted for murder on questionable charges, Hill was executed in Utah in 1915. Since then, his name and his songs have become an important part of union mythology. Taking up where Hill left off, Woody Guthrie (1912-1967) became the voice of the labor movement in the 1930s. Through songs such as "This land is your land," Guthrie expressed not only the struggles of Southern migrant labor but suggests to his listeners the importance of joining a union and claiming the rights of an American citizen. Similarly, Pete Seeger's (1919—) roots lie in the traditions of the labor union folk singer. Like Guthrie, Seeger sings of the pride of working and the desire for equality and union representation. Yet, Seeger and his style of folk music achieved an influential popularity within American culture, eventually leading to socially conscious folk singers like Bob Dylan (1941—).

Labor's influence on music does not end with folk music. Rather, several rock and roll artists explore in their music the impact of working-class origins. Perhaps the best example of this is the music of Bruce Springsteen (1949—). Through stories about the acquisition of a union card or the closing down of the local textile mill, labor unions and working-class culture represent a major part of Springsteen's music. In songs such as "My Hometown" (on Born in the USA [1984]) or "Youngstown" (on The Ghost of Tom Joad [1995]), Springsteen confronts the meaning of union membership and working-class culture in a de-industrializing society. Springsteen even evoked the memory of past labor imagery by entitling one of his albums The Ghost of Tom Joad after the Steinbeck character. Because of such imagery in music, films, and other cultural mediums, unions and the American working class remain an important aspect of American popular culture. The industrial worker is never far from the American cultural mind and, in the twentieth century, industrial labor is closely tied to union membership and the forms of communal organizations and identities unions create.

—S. Paul O'Hara