FULTON COUNTY t65

'COMMUNISM IS NO BUG-A-BOO": Communismand Left-wing Unionism in Fuiton County,

New York, 1933-1950

byGerald Zahavi

On Dec. 8, 1949, in the midst of a protracted leather workers strike,the Gloversville, New York Morning Herald printed a peculiar adver-tisement paid for by the Fulton County Tknners Association, a localmanufacturers organization. The ad read in part; "To Our LeatherWorkers. Last Notice. Do not be fooled by the Communists. For yourabsolute security VOTE FOR A UNION.'" Bizarre as this advertise-ment seems, equally startling was the position taken by the localCommunist-headed leather workers union. It encouraged its membersto vote against a union in the upcoming National Labor Relations Boardelection. Most workers did just that.

The apparent anomalies suggested by these events are in fact verylogical outgrowths of a struggle carried on by radical Fulton Countyleather workers since the early 1930s, a struggle that bears on our un-derstanding of the origins and growth of Communist influence on localand regional labor movements.^ The evolution of left-wing unionismin Fulton County during the 1930s and 1940s raises several importantand related questions pertaining to the ability of Communists to winand hold the loyalty and support of seemingly ideologically incompat-ible workers. To what extent did a radical left-wing union influence

^Morning Herald, Dec. 8, 1949.'While a number of recent historians have turned to local and regional studies of American com-

munism and labor, this work is just beginning. See, for a few recent examples, Joshua B.Freeman. In 1>ansit: The Thmsport Workers Union in New York City, 1933-1966 (New York.1989); Robert Rodgers Korstad, "Daybreak of Freedom: Tbbacco Workers and the CIO,Winston-Salem, North Carolina 1943-1950" (unpublished PhD diss., Univ. of North Caro-lina, Chapel Hill, 1987); Michael Keith Honey, "Labor and Civil Rights in the South: TheIndustrial Labor Movement and Black Workers in Memphis, 1929-1945" (unpublished PhDdiss.. Northern Illinois Univ., 1987); Robin Kelley, Hammer and Hoe: Alabama CommunistsDuring (he Great Depression (Chapel HiU, 1990).

166 LABOR HISTORY

and shape working-class expectations and aspirations in a conserva-tive. Republican upstate New York county between the years 1933 and1950? What compromises and limitations were forced upon Communistlabor activists by union members, community allies, and the local so-cial and cultural setting? Why, even as the Communist-led union wasdecimated nationally in 1950, did it retain the loyalty of a majorityof local tannery workers? And finally, how were employers and govern-ment agencies able, in spite of considerable worker support for radicalleaders, to limit the horizon of possibilities open to left-wing unionsin the Cold War years?

Since the late 18th century, Fulton County has been nearly syn-onymous with glove manufacturing and leather processing, the staplesof the local economy. The two industries shaped the region's social andcultural composition, drawing in several generations of Northern andSouthern European immigrants—English, Irish, Germans, RussianJews, Italians, and various Slavic nationalities. Through the early de-cades of the 20th century, the county's fine leather glove industry hadchanged little from what it had been a century earlier. For the mostpart, glove shops remained small operations, scattered throughoutGloversviUe and Johnstown, the county's adjacent and diminutive tirbanhubs. Cutters worked in central shops; homeworkers ("makers")—mainlywomen and children—stitched the components into the finishedproduct.'

A decentralized and sexually segmented labor force insured thatonly parochial unions would emerge in the glove trade—especiallyamong the group of workers most prone to unionization, the glovecutters. The male cutters—the aristocrats of the industry—were gener-ally middle aged or older, and strongly independent. They took pridein the years of apprenticeship that led to their elite status. Althoughheavily German and German-Jewish in the 19th century, by the early1930s, the county*s glove cutters included native-born workers, Jews

'Donald Ralph Vosburgh, "GloversviUe, New York: A Community Study of Industrial TYansitionand Social Change" (unpublished DSS diss., Syracuse Univ. 1958), 2, 10; Maryann Hag-gerty. T h e Glove Industry and Immigration in GloversviUe, N.Y. 1890-1915" (unpublishedresearch paper, t>ept. of History, SUNY at Albany, 1971), 22-24, 32-33 (in Zahavi's posses-sion); William Severn, Hand in Glove (New York, 1965), 145-47; Women's Bureau, US.,Dept. of Labor, Bulletin of the Women's Bureau, Na 119: Hours and Earnings in the Leather-Glove Industry (Washington DC, 1934); John Lear, "The Temperamental Wizards of FultonCounty," The Saturday Evening Post, 219 (May 14, 1947), 146; Laura Nuss, "Homeworkin the Glove Industry of Fulton County" (unpublished research paper, Dept. of History,SUNY at Albany, 1988).

FULTON COUNTY 187

from Warsaw, Italians from Naples and Florence, Frenchmen who hadlearned their trade in the glove shops of southern France, and immigrantcraftsmen from Great Britain. They all belonged, through the earlydecades of the century, to an exclusive and conservative American Fed-eration of Labor (AFL) craft union, one hardly willing or able to bea major force in the local labor movement. The glove cutters' union,while it struck often, took little interest in organizing beyond its owncraft boundary; it even abandoned the AFL and adopted independentstatus in 1936. It remained a major bulwark of craft union conservatism.Understandably, local labor activists and radicals had little regard forthe organization; the sentiment was mutual.*

For the most part, the glove workers—the exclusive cutters as wellas the female "makers"—were followers, not leaders, in the local labormovement of the 193(te. The county's tannery workers, however, wereanother matter. Tanning had been a major facet of Fulton County'seconomy since the rise of glove manufacturing. In the first decade ofthe century, when the glove industry was at its peak, 53 tanneries oper-ated in the county. By the early 1930s, although the number had droppedto 30, the industry was still employing over 2000 workers — as manyas it had in former years. Several structural characteristics, in contrastto the glove industry, helped pave the way for militant unionism in thetanneries. Sexual segregation was not an obstacle to unity; few womenworked in the tanneries, and those who did generally worked as officestaff. Homework — absent from the tanning trade — was also not an ob-stacle to collective action; neither was craft autonomy and exclusivity.There were no jobs in a tannery that conferred the status or requiredthe expertise of glove cutting. Only staking, the softening and stretchingof the leather into a uniform thickness, was considered a relatively skilledtask in tanning, but it was hardly comparable to glove cutting.*

Yet, while summarizing the structural basis for labor unity in thetanneries, one should not neglect important obstacles faced by earlyorganizers: decentralization and diversity. Although the county's tan-ning industry was not as atomized as the glove trade, many of the tan-neries were small shops, scattered throughout the community. The av-erage mill in the 1930s and 1940s had a labor force of around 50 workers.Some employed as few as a dozen; a handful, 200 or more." In the early

*John Lear, T h e Tfcmperamental Wizards"; New York State Census of Population, 1925, FultonCounty (Manuscript); Morning Herald, Dec 17,1953; Business Week, June 7, 1933, 20-21;Edward Landy interview by Gerald Zahavi, June 10, 1987, tape recording and notes (in Za-havi's possession).

'Vosburgh, "Glovcrsville, New York," 62: Lydon F. Maider interview by Gerald Zahavi, Feb. 6,1988, tape recording (in Zahavi's possession).

'Workshop in Community Study, "Report on Gloversville" (Gloversville, NY, 1953-54), 8.

168 LABOR HISTORY

1930s, the local tanneries were a complex collection of plants specializingin different types of hides and leather, and organized in a variety ofways. Some were local concerns; others were subsidiaries. Some special-ized in shoe leather, others in glove leather. Some were contractors —processing skins provided on contract by other firms; others weremerchandizers —processing their own hides.'

Prior to the early 1930s, few attempts had been made to organizethe county's tanneries. Local grievances in the mills were adjusted byinformal strikes and job actions.' But in the summer of 1933 an all-outorganizing drive took shape. It began not in the tanneries but in a groupof small fur shops in Gloversville and Johnstown. Louis Solomon, aCommunist organizer from the New York City-based Needle TradesWorkers Industrial Union (NTWIU), a left-wing dual union createdin 1928 in response to new Communist International (Comintern) poli-cies, arrived in the county in July to organize local fur workers andobtain employer recognition of their union.' In previous months, hehad already recruited a large number of men into the NTWIU; it wasnow time for them to challenge the handful of fur manufacturers oper-ating in the county. In late July 1933, around 140 fur workers employedby 14 small shops in Gloversville and Johnstown struck their employers.After suffering through a four-week strike, the fur shop owners gavein, recognized the radical union, increased wages by 50 percent, andacquiesced to shop floor reforms.^"

It was during the fur workers strike that Solomon began to workclosely with a group of Mocha tannery workers who had led a suc-cessful strike of their own in June. Employed by three local tanneries —Geisler & Lehr, Mocha Dressing, and Martin-Deischel—the Mochaworkers constituted a unique group among the county's tannery em-ployees. Heavily Slavic—Croatian—and engaged in one of the mostprofitable and best paying branches of the tanning trade, they were con-

'Maider interview; NLRB Submission: "Schedule II: Supplemental Information," Local 202 files.Box 58, Joint Board of Fur, Leather, and Machine Workers Records, {Martin P. Cather-wood Library, New York State School of Industrial and Labor Relations. Cornell Univer-sity, Ithaca, NY) [liercafler Joint Board Records].

•"Brief for the Independent Leather Workers Union." Case No. 3-RC-352, NLRB Petition 3.Local 202 files. Box 58. Joint Board Records.

"The FUr Worker, March 1938,12; Clarence Carr, "The Early Years; Organizing the FuUon CountyLeather Workers," in "The Leather Workers of Fuiton County: A History of Struggle" [pam-phlet] (Gloversville. NY: 1979), 1; George H. Meyer interview by Gerald Zahavi, July 18,1988. tape recording (in Zahavi's possession); Philip S. Foner, The Fur and Leather WorkersUnion: A Story of DramaHc Struggles and Achievements (Newa.ik, NJ, 1950). chapts. 28.39. and passim; Joel Seidman. The Needle Trades (New York, 1942), chapt. 9.

'°Moming Herald, July 27, Aug. 19, 1933; Foner, 542-44; John Sutliff interview by Gerald Za-havi, Jan. 26, 1987, tape recording (in Zahavi's possession).

FULTON COUNTY 169

sidered the working-class aristocrats of the county's tanners. It is notat all surprising, then, to see them take the lead in organizing theirfellow workers in 1933. When they struck in June, demanding a resto-ration of wage cuts instituted in 1932, they took the first step in buildinga local leather union."

Solomon was not working alone. Clarence Carr, a thirty-seven yearold radical with close ties to the more militant Mocha tannery workers,who had worked at various local tanneries all his life, soon joined theNTWIU organizer in helping to give organizational structure to theworkers' militancy. In 1933, Carr was a staker, one of the highest payingand more skillful occupations in the tanneries, working at the FultonCounty Leather Corp. As a young man, he had touched most of themore important radical bases in 20th century America; he had beena Debsian socialist (running on the Socialist ticket for local office),an Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) member, and in the early1920s, a charter member of the Communist Party (CPUSA). How hecame upon his radicalism is a question which, for now, must gounanswered — the sources are mute on this matter. Yet, here in this con-servative Republican community, Carr stood out as a truly indigenousAmerican radical, and in 1933, he was about to enter the most activeperiod of his life.*'

Once the fur workers had won their strike in August, Solomon—riding the crest of a rising wave of local working-class militancy — beganto work closely with Carr and others on organizing all of the county'sleather mills. On August 23, the Mocha mill workers joined the newlyestablished Independent Leather Workers Union of Fulton County enmasse. The new union prepared for a showdown with employers. Whena local manufacturer, with the support of fellow mill owners, refusedto recognize the Independent as the legitimate representative of hisstriking workers, the union's president, Carr, called for a walkout ofall Fulton County leather workers. In spite of the fact that only aboutone third of the county's 2300 tannery workers belonged to the unionat the time, hundreds more followed Carr out of the mills and joinedhim in demanding union recognition and wage increases. The local

"Bernard J. and Evelyn Woolis interview by Gerald Zahavi, June 23, 1987 (in Zahavi's posses-sion); Morning Herald, June 20, 22, 27, 28. 1933.

^^Leader-Herald, Mar. 21, 1974 (see also Federal Bureau of Investigation, Headquarters [FBIHQIFile 100-92637-150 [in author's possession!); Landy interview; Bernard J. and Evelyn Woolisinterview; Virgil Insonia interview by Gerald Zahavi, Jan. 26, 1987, tape recording (in Za-havi's possession); Charles Hildreth interview by Gerald Zahavi, June i, 1987, tape recording(in Zahavi's possession); Bernard J. Woolis, "Clarence Carr. Leather Union Pioneer," in "TheLeather Workers of Fulton County: A History of Suiiggle" [pamphlet] (Gtoversville, NY 1979).

170 LABOR HISTORY

Tanners' Council, a recently formed informal association of tanneryowners, refused to negotiate."

The 1933 tanners' strike, which began in early October and lastedfor eight weeks, was not a peaceful one. Special pohce hired by tanneryowners attempted to bring in strikebreakers on several occasions, andwere met with violent responses from strikers. Angry workers smashedwindows at local tanneries on several occasions. But, with the aid ofNew York State Industrial Commissioner Elmer F. Andrews, the strikewas brought to a close in early December 1933. The "Andrews Agree-ment" re-established calm in the local leather industry. Under this set-tlement, shop committees were recognized, wages were increased (by15-30%), and de facto recognition of the Independent Leather WorkersUnion was achieved."* By early 1934, membership in the new organi-zation topped 1800.

It is now clear that when Solomon came to Fulton County in 1933,he came not only to organize trade unions but also to organize a localCommunist party unit. By the summer of that year, the Party had al-ready established a public presence and numerous contacts in the com-munity. The 1933 strike evidently became an effective catalyst for recruit-ment. A young glove cutter who joined the local Party cell in that yearrecalled how Solomon recruited him: "They called a strike [in the tan-neries] and 1 got involved . . . although that wasn't the trade I was in.Because 1 was active in the strike... Louis Solomon came to my houseand he asked me [to join the Party]. I was very eager. I suggested thathe talk to my father. He didn't want my father." From the strike emergeda small Party unit composed of between 8 to 10 members—practicallyall leather mill workers. With time, non-tannery workers were recruited,including the cell's only black member, a local carpenter. Followingthe departure of Solomon after the successful completion of the In-dependent*s strike and organizing drive, the local Party organizationcame under the leadership of Clarence Carr. Thus, in 1933, Carr headedboth the most powerful union in the county and the local Party unit.Members of the Party, furthermore, with some exceptions, constitutedthe early officers of the Independent Leather Workers Union."

Not surprisingly, from its birth and throughout its existence, theIndependent Leather Workers Union faced charges of Communist domi-nation. Interestingly enough, however, until 1949/50, the union's rad-ical leaders were able to deal quite effectively with often vicious red-

"\foming Herald. June 12, 13, 20. 21, 22, 27, 28; July 13, 14, 20, 27; Aug. 3, 19, 23, 30. 3t,1933; Oct. 5, 6, 7, 9. 1933; Fitr and Leather Worker, June 1939. 4.

''Morning Heratd, Nov. 27, 1933.'^Morning Herald, June 21, 1932; FBIHQ FUc, 100-92637-150, 3; Landy Interview.

FULTON COUNTY 1T1

baiting attacks. The earliest assaults against them came during the 1933strike in the form of attempts to sever the links between the Indepen-dent and NTWIU. David Canfleld, a member of the tannery union*sexecutive committee, led the first of several revolts against Solomonand his union comrades. He told local reporters, "I have concrete evi-dence that this influence [of the "Communistic element"] exists andwas injected into the local labor situation by Mr. Solomon who camehere from New York City. . . . I am fighting for American principlesand will not cease my fight for those principles, until 1 feel that theRed Flag is no longer waving over local industries."'*

While Canfield was waging his war against the leaders of the LeatherWorkers Union, local fur workers seemed on the verge of their ownbloodletting as a result of a right-wing rebellion growing out of a re-cent indictment of and public revelations about their national presi-dent: Ben Gold's membership in the Communist Party had been pub-licized in local papers. Solomon returned to the community to pleadGold's case before the fur workers. In order to clear the air and to pre-vent future red-baiting attempts, it was necessary for Solomon to gopublic with his own political beliefs and to defend them. He did thisat a mass meeting on November 9th, when he argued

The Communist party is a political party . . . just the same as the otherpolitical parties. In the Republican party you have Hoover, Mellon, Roths-child and Bernard. In the Communist party you have the mine workers,the coal workers, the leather workers, the fur workers and all friends of theworking man. . . . Communism is no bug-a-boo. Communism fights forthe workers. Vm fighting for the workers, and proud of it.

His arguments were apparently persuasive; the right-wing rebellionamong the fur workers was stifled. The secretary of the fur workerslocal, a leader in this movement, tendered his resignation. The left hadwon, for now."

Carr and fellow leather union leaders took their cue from Solomonand decided to face red-baiting head-on. A successful counter-offensivewas waged against Canfield and his supporters, forcing him to resignhis position on the executive committee. The Strike Committee of thetannery workers, which had earlier encouraged Solomon to leave town,reversed its position and voted to ask him to "remain to advise the unionin future actions."'® By the end of November 1933, it was clear thatthe charges of union right-wingers were falling on deaf ears. Employer

"Morning Herald. Oct. 24, 1933."Moming Herald, Nov. 9, 1933; FBIHQ FUe 100-92637-150.4-8; Moming Herald, Nov. 11,1933."Morning Herald, Oct. 16, 23, 26, !933, May 7, 1934; Leader-Republican, Oct. 21, Nov. tl, 1933.

172 LABOR HISTORY

attempts at red-baiting likewise proved ineffective; the solidarity of theworkers remained firm. While most of the workers had hardly "turnedred" in the course of the 1933 strike (a fear expressed by local manufac-turers and a threat employed by union members) they had assimilatedCommunism into their horizon of toleration. This was a direct out-growth of the willingness of Party members to affirm rather than apolo-gize for, or disguise, their ideology.

Yet the union's victory in the 1933 strike and a general acceptanceof Communist leadership did not mean smooth sailing for Carr andhis followers. The right wing of the union hardly gave up. and 1934brought with it a renewed "red scare." Many Party members persistedin not explicitly identifying themselves as CP members. Clarence Carrwas clearly the exception, ln May 1934, when some union membersaccused him of being a pawn of distant Communists and under thedomination of Louis Solomon, Carr replied at a mass meeting of 200union members: "It is crazy to think such a thing. When Solomon wasa little boy wearing short pants on the East Side of New York I wasalready a 'Red.' Do you think he dominates me?"" Carr never disguisedhis sympathies for Communism, and even ran for Congress in 1934and 1936 on the CPUSA ticket.̂ ** Yet he seemed to wield his ideologygently. As a fellow union member and right-wing opponent recalled:

Clarence Carr would get right up and tell you — his expression was . . ."I don't try and tell you what to be, but I am a Communist." He saidit. Many times right in the meetings. . . . And I have to say this literallyand honestly, of all the years I worked with Clarence, and I done a lotof things for bim, and many things, eventually, against him, at no god-damn time did that man ever approach me to join the Communist party.But [he] told me and told people right in the room, "Yes, I am a Com-munist.""

Carr's popularity rested on a genuine affection for him and an unyieldingfaith in his honesty and integrity —characteristics attested to even byhis enemies. And after all, he was a native son.

Because the membership of the local Party cell and union leader-ship so closely overlapped, it was understandable that Carr and theParty would continue to emphasize their trade union work throughoutthe Popular Front years (1934-1939). And it was in that realm that local

"Leader Republican, May 26, 1934. This remark was later used against Carr by local manufac-turers in the 1949/50 anti-coramunist drive. See advertisement "HOW RED IS CLARENCECARR?" in Morning Herald, Oct. 1, 1949.

'"Morning Herald, Sept. 27,1934; Carr only garnered 39 voles in Oloversville in 1936. See Leader-Repubtican, Nov. 4, 1936.

"Sutliff interview.

FULTON COUNTY 173

Communists established their credibility by winning countless wage andbenefit concessions from management. From late 1933 until the comingof World War II, militant union tactics—selective short-term strikes—aswell as the effective exploitation of the legal machinery provided bythe National Labor Relations Act, improved working conditions andkept wages up. By the mid-1930s, as a result of the union's growingprestige and power, the closed shop became standard practice in FultonCounty tanneries.^^ Ironically, the very strength of the union duringthose years led to at least one major case of "corporate flight" whenthe Surpass Leather Company abandoned its Fulton County plant aftera lengthy fight with the Independent.^'

An emphasis on union work by the local CP unit did not meana narrow focus on shop-floor issues. Legislative lobbying aimed atshaping New York Governor Herbert H. Lehman's "Little New Deal"was also an important component of the Party's agenda. Clarence Carr,along with several other trade unionists from throughout the state, spoketo Lehman in support of unemployment insurance and relief for smallhome owners. Party members were also heavily involved in the localunemployed workers movement, encouraging unionists to participatein hunger marches on the State Legislature. By de-emphasizing theirradicalism and emphasizing common ground with all pro-labor andliberal forces, the Communist leaders of the Leather Workers Unionsoon transformed their union into the hub of union activity in FultonCounty, helping to organize "silk workers, store clerks, textile workers,garage workers," as well as the unemployed. The formation of the UnitedLabor Committee of Fulton County (soon known as the United LaborUnions) in December 1937 was a ctilmination of their efforts. It reflected,in concrete terms, their hope and vision of working-class unity.̂ ^

The United Labor Unions (ULU) at its height included more thana dozen unions —each represented by one or two delegates. The or-ganization's monthly publication, the Progressive News, was edited byCarr. It disseminated information on local and national labor issues.In its editorials and features, it clearly strove to cultivate and broadenthe working-class consciousness of the County's laborers. The FBI,which kept a close watch on the ULU, noted in one of its reports that"most of the articles appearing in this paper follow the Communist

*Leo Cyril Brown, Union Policies in the Leather Industry (Cambridge, MA, 1947), 14O-l4t.*Fur Worker, Mar. 1938, 12; Uader-Republican, July 19, 1938, Sept. 16, 26, 27, 28. Oct. 27,

1938, Dec 21, 1938, Mar. 19, 31, 1939.'Morning Herald, Aug. 1, 1934, Oct. 25, 30,1934; aarence Carr, "The Eariy Years," 11; Morning

Herald, Jan. 6, 1938; Leader-Republican, Mar. 3, 1944.

174 UBOR HISTORY

Party line." Locally, the paper was sometimes referred to as the "RedPaper.""

Carr was naturally the leather workers' delegate to the ULU in itsearly years, and in fact was the organization's first chairman. But toachieve unity across trade and ideological lines, it was often necessaryfor the leather workers to deny themselves titular leadership of the UnitedLabor Unions. The officers of the more conservative glove cutters unionespecially feared left-wing domination." Likewise, in their own union,Party cell members had to walk gingerly on an ideological minefield.The vast majority of the leather workers cared far more about laborissues than they did about the Soviet Union, or about socialism. At-tempts to interject extra-local political or ideological questions intoeveryday union business proved counterproductive, often leading tocharges of Communist domination by the union's ever-present and vocalright wing. While red-baiting consistently failed to dislodge the union'sleaders, it did require time, attention, and compromise; it distractedunion officers from more important union business.

"Generally," one Party worker recalled, the "Party would push tohave us more open." But this was extremely difficult to do, as localParty operatives learned in the 1930s and 1940s. During the 1933 strike,for example, the distribution of CP literature itself became an objectof contention. At a strike meeting held in Gloversville's Eagles Hallin early October, a young woman was ejected for handing out copiesof the Daily Worker. Years later, when Carr himself sold the DailyWorker outside the union hall during a major strike in 1949-50, hefaced similar hostility, in spite of his overwhelming popularity amongthe workers. Union members appealed to the strike committee: "Whatthe hell do we have to have the Daily Worker for? We don't have enough[trouble] now!?" Similarly, when the local's left-leaning attorney, HarryPozefsky, distributed political literature at union meetings, right-wingersin the local protested.^' The union faithful—those who persistentlydefended Carr and the union's left-wing leaders—were loyal becauseof the excellent track record they had established locally; but they wereimresponsive, or even intolerant, of ideological arguments. "The majorityof us were born Americans," recalled one former union member:

^^Progressive News [United Labor Unions of Fulton County], June, 1943. I was able to locateonly a handful of copies of the Progressive News in Local 202 files, although FBI reportscontain summaries of various issues (FBIHQ File 100-92637-150, 56).

"Hildreth interview; Leader-Republican, Aug. 11, 1938."Landy interview; Morning Herald, Oct. 11,1933; Bernard J. and Evelyn Woolis interview; Sut-

liff interview.

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We were American. I used to see Jewish people, Polish people, all of themthat were up here—the way they talked. I never would hear them breatheabout Russia, Communists. All they ever used to talk about was getting

. good labor conditions. . . . Of course . . . maybe they knew our unionleaned a little to the left, but [their attitude was] 'I don't care what youdo. You get for me. 1 don't care what you do.' But, in the same token,though, don't step on the American flag.**

The very real obstacles faced by Party and union officials were mostevident in their decade-long struggle to bring the independent unioninto the fold of a national organization. Beginning in 1937, and in eachsucceeding year till 1940, the left-wing leaders of the Independent triedto move their members toward affiliation with the Congress of Indus-trial Organizations (CIO). Back in 1933, Solomon and Carr had hopedthat with the successful completion of the union's organizing strike,and its newly acquired prestige and strength, the Independent LeatherWorkers Union would affiliate with the recently established Massa-chusetts-based National Leather Workers Association and transformit into a national left-wing union.^' But persistent conflict betweenlocalist-inclined unionists and nationalist-inclined leaders frustratedtheir efforts.

The first serious push to join the CIO came in the Spring of 1938.The right wing faction of the union, headed by Willard Bennett, raisedthe traditional litany of charges and suspicions about Carr's real inten-tions. Bennett questioned the overall wisdom of affiliation with theCIO, and more specifically with the National Leather Workers Associ-ation and the Communist-headed Fur Workers union (the two werethen negotiating a merger). Carr, in order to convince more conserva-tive union members (many of whom—including Bennett—were Cath-olic), called upon Father Charles Owen Rice, a priest active in CIOorganizing campaigns in Pittsburgh and elsewhere, to speak to the In-dependent's membership on the advantages of joining the CIO. Rice,who distanced himself from the politics of the Independent*s leaders,nevertheless supported their immediate aims. He addressed unionmembers on the day of the vote. His speech may have influenced someworkers in the audience, but the final tally defeated the affiliation pro-posal by a margin of 20 votes.̂ ° Union members were apparently con-

"Insonia interview.^Morning Herald, Oct. 14,1933; Clarence Carr to John Brophy, May 3,1937, Box 27, CIO Papers,

Catholic University of America; Bernard J. Woolis and Evelyn Woolis interview.^Morning Herald, April 13, 1938; Charles Owen Rice interview by Ron Filippelli, April 5, 1968

(transcript), 12, Oral History Program, Historical Collections and Labor Archives, PatteeLibrary, The Pennsylvania State University, State College, PA; Charles Owen Rice to Most

176 LABOR HISTORY

vinced that "the Independent could do for itself whatever an outsideunion could do for it," and objected to sending their dues "to be spentby somebody in an office in Boston." As a former advocate for affilia-tion recalled: "I think a lot of workers that were opposed to affiliationthe first couple of votes thought that we might lose our militancy andhave to take direction from somebody else." '̂ Whatever the source ofhostility to affiliation, the defeat of Carr and his supporters on thisissue in the late 1930s suggests the limits of class consciousness amongthe county's leather workers. National solidarity with the working classwas incompatible with autonomy and localized control—values appar-ently highly cherished in Fulton County.

Not only did persistent localism continue to be an obstacle in 1938and 1939, but the successful completion of merger negotiations in thespring of 1939 between the National Leather Workers Association andthe Communist-headed International Fur Workers Union (IFWU) wasviewed by right-wing members of the union as doubly damning to theIndependent. A second drive to join the IFLWU, initiated in June 1939.was also defeated—this time by a margin of 50 votes." Thus, the finalyears of the decade were years of political and ideological struggle forthe Independent, as members gravitated into factions supportive andcritical of the leadership's goals. These disputes were vividly recalledby one former right-wing partisan, John Sutliff:

We'd have a membership meeting, and at that time we'd have maybe ahundred people to a meeting. They'd take over the goddamned meeting.And if we got up and said twenty words, we were out of order. They gotup and said twenty-five hundred words, they were alright. Jesus Christ,they were peddling the bullshit everywhere it went, and if one of our guysgot up and tried any of this shit —bang, down he'd go! . . . . We beat'em three, four times. But like they said, the Commies'U get you sooneror later. And I guess they even proved it to me eventually.^^

In the summer of 1940, after years of trying, Carr's persistent ef-forts finally paid off. The union voted—this time by a margin of 3to 1 and with double the turnout of the previous poll—to affiliate withthe IFLWU; the Independent was transformed into Local 202 of the

Rev. Edmund F. Gibbons, May 1,1938, File folder 612, Box 25, Charles Owen Rice Papers,Archives of Industrial Society, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA. Morning Herald,April 20, 1938. I would like to thank Sleven Rosswurm of Lake Forest College for callingRice's letter and interview to my attention.

Union Policies, 141; Hildreth interview." / ^ r Worker, May 1939, I, June 1939, 4; Morning Herald, June 2, 9, 1939."Sutliff interview.

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parent union/* The overwhelmingly lopsided vote suggests that a majortransformation had occurred in worker consciousness and that the re-sult was not the product of "manipulation," as Carr's opponents hadcharged. Workers' views of national industrial unions may have changedin 1940. Perhaps a rising war economy and the growing clout of na-tional unions made affihation with the CIO more acceptable to them.According to one Carr supporter: "The tanners kept getting tougherand tougher and tougher. The workers came to realize . . . you know,as the unions were getting stronger nationally, and everything, a lotof the independent unions here were standing still. They realized thatthey had to have more muscle than they had."^'

The linkage ofthe local leather union to a national left-wing labororganization was the culmination of a decade of active support by rad-ical New York fur workers and the achievement of an important partof the local Party unit's agenda. Yet, IFLWU affiliation came not withoutsome cost. In the fall of 1941, after a NLRB election, Local 202 lostits bargaining rights for employees ofthe G. Levor and Company lan-nery in Gloversville. The firm's workers, who had joined the Indepen-dent in 1939, voted to withdraw from Local 202 and the IFLWU andjoin the newly organized Adirondack Leather Workers' Union, a com-pany union. At Levor's, the arguments of right-wing localists effec-tively shut out Local 202. Nevertheless, the defeat ofthe union at Levor'sshould not belittle its radical leaders* general success. Through theirpersistence, ideological honesty, and trade union effectiveness, Carrand fellow left-wing leaders had brought 2000 members into the mostradical and openly Communist-led CIO union in the country—no smallaccomplishment! And it would not be their Iast.̂ *

When World War II came, Carr and fellow CP members becamethe bulwarks of local **win-the-war" efforts. After the awkward German-Soviet pact years of 1939-41, which seemed to have little impact onthe union leaders' popularity, the defeat of Nazi Germany became theirmain concern.̂ ^ Lx)cal 202, like hundreds of AFL, CIO, and left-ledlocals throughout the country, subscribed to organized labor's "no strike"pledge. The pro-Soviet and deeply anti-fascist sympathies ofthe Local's

''Morning Herald, Aug. 6, 9, 1940; Leader-Republican, Aug. 9, 1940; Fur and Leather Worker,Aug. 1940, I; Ibid., Oct. 1940. 9.

^'Hildreth interview.'*Uader-Republican. Nov. II, 1939, Feb. 26, 1941, Mar. 21, 1941; Brown, Union Policies, 142;

Louis Nicolella interview by Gerald Zahavi, Sept. 2, 1987, tape recording (in Zahavi's pos-session); Fur and Leather Worker, Jan. 1941, Aug. 1941, 2.

""We Report to Our Members and the People of Fulton County" (1943], Local 202 files. Box58. Joint Board Records; Morning Herald, Sept. 8,9,1942. March 31.1943; Fur and LeatherWorker, May 1942, 12.

178 LABOR HISTORY

leaders naturally contributed to their general adherence to the pledge.^*Yet, it is also clear that while the union had committed itself to labor-management cooperation for the duration of the War, such a standdid not preclude all forms of coercive pressure on intransigent ownersand managers.

Maintaining strength and prestige among the tannery workers duringthe war required Communist leaders to make certain compromises withmilitancy. When disputes arose over rates and division of labor, workersoften resorted to wildcat strikes. Union leaders — locally and in NewYork City—ordered the men back to work, in strict adherence to the"no strike" pledge. But the public assertion of discipline disguised amore subtle militant strategy. As one former worker recalled: "Theymade a show to get the men back . . . but if they had a grievance thatcouldn't be resolved by the company, they told the guys that walkedout *we'll make believe we're trying to get you back—but in essencewhat we're trying to do is show our power and that we mean business.'"^'In War Labor Board disputes, IFLWU leaders exploited the threat ofshop floor militancy to urge government bureaucrats to speed theirdeliberations. When a wage controversy broke out in March 1942 be-tween Local 202 and tannery owners, it was appealed to the NWLBafter union members first threatened to strike. But when the disputeremained unresolved through the summer, IFLWU District 3 headGeorge O. Pershing conveyed his concern to the War Labor Board thatworkers might take matters into their own hands: "Rumor of 'wildcat'action is rampant and the morale of the entire local membership hasbeen badly damaged. . . . Therefore may 1 urge you to expedite thismatter and . . . to aid us in compliance with our no-strike pledge."In early 1944, local Mocha mill workers did take matters into their ownhands, and waged an eight-day strike in violation of the pledge.*"

Although World War II functioned to ease tensions between theleft and the right wings of the Local, as well as between the radicalunion and more conservative glove trade unions, the termination ofhostilities abroad signaled a renewal of local factionalism. The rightwing of the Local remained a minority, but the relationship of the Local'sleaders to the International and their adherence to the CP line on for-eign and domestic affairs continued to feed mistrust among some

^Morning Herald, Aug. 10. 1943; Leader-Republican, Oct. 23. 1943; FBIHQ FUe 100-68912-8,16-17 (in author's possession).

"Nicolella interview. See, for example, Morning Herald, Aug. 6, 1942, June 23, 24, 1943.*°Progressive News, May 1942,1-2; Morning Herald, Mar. 5, 11. 1942; Fur and Leather Worker.

May 1942, 12, Sept. 1942, 5, and Dec 1942. 8; Morning Herald. Oct. 9. 20, 1942; GeorgeO. Pershing to National War Labor Board. Aug. 28. 1942; Clarence H. Carr to George O.Pershing, Mar. 13, 1944, Local 202 files. Box 58, Joint Board Records.

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workers.̂ * Still other changes also exacerbated the Local's troubles. Dis-putes with manufacturers increased, as the local mills — freed from thegovernment regulation of the war years —tried to take advantage ofpost-war conditions. As the Local's ex-secretary recalled: "They startedbringing in these goddamned great big hides and they expect[ed] a guythat's stakin* glove leather to start staking these damn big sheepskinand all that stuff for the same rate. . . . We started getting in all thesefights —mill after mill after mill as they brought this other big stuffin."*' An interviewed employer also recalled growing friction in thepost-war years, though he placed the blame squarely on the union: "Itwas after 1945. They were starting again to get raunchy. They werestarting to get very, very —they were changing policy. They were goin'back to the old ways again. . . . They became very Russianized duringthat time."*^

The culmination of growing union-management tensions came ina nineteen month lockout-turned-strike that began in early July 1949and extended into March ofthe following year. The immediate originsof the strike lay in Local 2O2's quest for a third-round wage increase(to match increases given by other tanners throughout the industry).The union, in 1949, sought to make adjustments in rates — particularly,to bring up the rates of the day workers who had fallen behind theother leather workers. Some increases in piece rates were also sought,in order to address the grievances outlined above. When the union de-mands were met with a unanimous refusal by the then 18 members ofthe Tanners Association of Fulton County, the Local's leaders decidedon a plant-by-plant strike strategy. The first workers to strike, employeesof the independent Leather Co. of Gloversville, went out mainly overthe wage issues. The manufacturers, however, had clearly decided theywould make their stand together. When they began to lock out em-ployees, leather workers throughout Gloversvilie and Johnstown in re-sponse asserted their own demands.*"

To understand the events of late 1949 and 1950, and particularlyhow it came to be that the Local's officers would encourage workers,in December 1949, to vote against union affiliation, we must turn ourattention briefly to the Tanners Association. It is not surprising that

^'FBIHQ File 100-92637-196 (In author's possession); Leather Workers News [Local 202], Nov.1947; Clarence H. Can to "member," Oct. 28. 1948, Local 202 files. Box 58. Joint BoardRecords; Ben Gold to Clarence Carr. Dea 8,1945. "Local 201 & 202" file. Box 27a. Interna-tional Fur and Leather Workers Records. Martin P. Catherwood Library, New York StateSchool of Industrial and Labor Relations. Cornell University, Ithaca. NY.

"Morning Herald, Oct. 25, Nov. 16, 1945. Ffeb. 27. Mar. 20, 1946; HUdreth interview.*^Mcycr interview.**Hildrrth interview; Maider interview; Meyer interview.

180 LABOR HISTORY

the organization of labor that was born back in 1933 was accompa-nied by an organization of capital. From 1933 until 1945, Fulton Countytannery owners belonged to a somewhat informal employers* associa-tion. Only toward the end of World War II did they begin exploringmore formal arrangements. Attempts to rationalize labor relations bythe county's tanners in the mid-1940s seem to have been an indirectoutgrowth of labor-relations lessons learned during the war. Growingbureaucratic links between government agencies, labor, and manage-ment forged during World War II suggested to many corporate leadersthat a more centralized approach to labor relations might better regu-late potentially militant unions/* The Association's lawyer, LydonMaider, who had been employed by local tanners in the years precedingthe War, came back from his Navy wartime labor-relations duties inthe New England shipyards with exactly this view:

My experience during the war in handling the problems over there gotme to believe . . . what they needed was to have some kind of centralizedcontrol over their labor relations problems . . . You have to realize thatthese tanners basically were fellows with very little backgrounds, educa-tionally and otherwise. Anybody running a tannery of—let's say —fiftypeople, was probably somebody who came up through the tannery some-place. And here this whole labor relations thing was a new problem thatcame up during his lifetime. They weren't very well suited to deal witha lot of these things. And some labor relations situations that might turnup in one tannery might have effects some other place, so there was agreat need for a leveling of policy.*"

Maider encouraged local manufacturers to formalize their relationship,and they did. In December 1945, they hired a professional labor rela-tions director, John N, Forster, a former New York State labor medi-ator. Forster became the new organization's executive secretary andDirector of Labor Relations. Of the 28 tanneries that were operatingin the county in the mid-1940s, 19 joined the recently incorporatedTenners Association of Fulton County."'

Unfortunately, contract negotiations between Local 202 and theTknners Association had come at a very poor time for the union. Localleather mills had entered a slump period in the late 1940s. Many workerswere working for only three or four hours a day. By the late summerof 1948, as Clarence Carr admitted to District 3's director, FultonCounty's tanning industry was "at its worst level in the Local's history.

**On the national context for these changes, see Howell John Harris, The Right to Manage: In-dustrial Relations Policies of American Business in the 1940s (Madison, Wl, 1982).

**Maider interview; Morning Herald, Dec 11, 1942.*^Morning Herald, Dec 6, 1945; Maider interview; Meyer interview.

FULTON COUNTY 181

Many shops are practically closed." His conclusion anticipated the prob-lems faced by union officers: "This of course makes our negotiationsthe more difficult.""" But not only did the union face dire economicconditions, it also faced increasing isolation. Already the CIO wasmaking ready to expel its "Communist-dominated" affiliates; the IFLWUwas one of them. With a domestic Cold War disrupting national laborunity, Local 202 could only anticipate yet another confrontation withred-baiter's and this time, it would be more vulnerable.

Economic realities and political expediency shaped employers' strikestrategy in 1949, encouraging them to take advantage of a dividing labormovement. The steadfast position taken by union leaders on wage con-cessions contributed to the Association's adoption of red-baiting asa weapon against the Local. Both the refusal of IFLWU leaders to sign"non-Communist" affidavits, as required by section 9(h) of the Tkft-Hartley Act, as well as the CIO's intention to oust left-wing memberunions fell into line with management's strategy. Withdrawing theirprevious offer to renew the contract without a wage increase, the tannersnow declared that they would not deal with the "Communist-led Local202 of the IFLWU'""According to Lydon Maider:

The policy that was adopted was this: we can't operate this industry un-less it's unionized. We are looking to have our people represented by aresponsible union. This is a Communist union. After T^ft-Hartley, youcan't make us negotiate with you unless you file affidavits. Therefore, thisis a thing to do. If we can't negotiate with these people, we might justas well say, all right, we'll have a lockout . . . . We want a good responsibleunion that represents our people in a practical way, and we can get alongwith anybody who would do it. We can't get along with this Communistbunch. It was as simple as that.*"

The local press helped the Association's cause. CIO President PhilipMurray's threat to member left-wing unions, including the IFLWU, to"get in step with CIO policy or get out," was front page news in thecounty's two daily papers." The tanners also placed advertisementsin Fulton County newspapers proclaiming the union's "red" af fihations,and hoped that, with time, loyalty to the Local's leadership would

"Clarence H. Carr to Geor«e O. Pershing, Sept. 16, 1948, Box 58, Local 202 files. Joint BoardRecords.

*'Morning Herald, Aug. 13, 17, 18, 1949; Maider interview; Martin Fishgold, The GloversvilleStrike (1949-50)," in The Leather Workers of Fulton County," 5.

'"Maider interview.^'Morning Herald, Aug. 31, 1949; On the growing ideological rifts within the CIO in the post-

War era, see Harvey A. Levenstein, Communism. Anticommunism, and the CIO (Westport,CT, 1981).

"Morning Herald of Aug. 24, Oct. 1, 5, 1949; Maider interview.

182 LABOR HISTORY

But when the workers continued to remain loyal to their Communistleaders. Association members began to take more desperate steps. Inlate August, a group of tannery owners and nine employees met in Syra-cuse to discuss with AFL representatives the possibility of setting upan alternative union. When their attempts were exposed in the localpapers (with the help of a union informant), the employers responded:"SURE WE WERE THERE. Because, many of our employees askedfor help to escape from the domination of Communist led Local 202and to bring in a NEW union which will calm the troubled waters ofthis industry. . . . It was most refreshing for all to meet true AmericanLabor leaders who are not Communists, who are not up for deporta-tion or on trial for conspiracy to overthrow the government by force.""

Once the AFL's efforts were disclosed, it publicly entered the fray.On Sept. 3rd, 1949, it came out with a half-page advertisement in thelocal Morning Herald calling on workers to abandon Local 202 andjoin the United Leather Workers Union, AFL. September and Octoberwitnessed more of the same. IFLWU organizers active in the county,like Bernie Woolis, were attacked in the local press. Front page editori^slambasted the union*s local and International leaders, encouragingworkers to abandon their union. The editor of the Morning Heraldrhetorically inquired: "Why should any group of workers in Glovers-viUe and Johnstown want to continue affiliation with such a group whenthere are good national unions - certified by the government—of whichthey can become a part?" The CIO also joined the assault against Local202, with the Leather Division of the Textile Workers Union beginningits own organizing drive. Finally, in early October, the AFL UnitedLeather Workers Union filed for an NLRB representation election, an-nouncing in a local advertisement: "The Flag of tyranny, the Red Flagof Moscow will be torn down from the union halls of Fulton County,and the Battle Flag of Freedom . . . will be unfurled in its place.""

Already, the labor unity that the leather workers had helped buildduring the Popular Front years and World War II was showing signsof strain. While the early weeks of the strike had witnessed widespreadlocal labor backing, by mid-September, after the injection of the Com-munist issue, some members of the county's United Labor UnionCouncil began to separate themselves from the left-wing union. Theconservative Consolidated Glove Cutters and Shavers Union rejected

"Morning Herald, Aug. 26, 1949.^*Morning Herald. Sept. 10. 1949; Bernard J. and Evelyn Woolis interview; International Fur

and Leather Workers Union liFLWU], Proceedings of the I8th Biennial Convention of theInternational FUr and Leather Workers Union (Atlantic City, 1950), 65,136; Morning Herald,Sept. 3, 8. 10, Oct. 1, 5, 8, 11, 1949.

FULTON COUNTY 183

a resolution "to give full support to the leather workers (Local 202)in their struggle for wage increases and a contract," and instead wenton record as "being in favor of any true, democratic labor union" thathas "complied with the law of our country." Other members of theCouncil, however, remained loyal to the Local. Nonetheless, FultonCounty newspapers took notice of the break in labor unity and pro-nounced the cutters' stand "a triumph of Americanism.""

The Tknners Association had hoped to maintain control over itsbattle with Local 202, and end it in triumph. But with each passingweek, voices of moderation from the community injected themselvesinto the conflagration, appealing for labor peace. On September 19,1949 a group of Fulton County clergymen placed an advertisement inthe Morning Herald. It read, in part: "This industrial conflict has runalong so far it has become a major community concern. It involvesthe welfare and future of the whole community. It is time both fac-tions realized that their responsibility to the community overshadowsany special interest." But this seemingly benign appeal for reason, signedby 13 local clergymen, soon triggered concerted efforts by both manage-ment and labor to steer local clergy to one camp or the other. Conser-vative clergymen defended the tannery owners-often from their pulpits.Others, like Reverend Martyn D. Keeler, pastor ofthe First PresbyterianChurch in Gloversville, and one of the more liberal members of thelocal clergy, continued to appeal to both sides in weekly sermons. WhenKeeler took a more active role in bringing the two groups together, hemet with stiff resistance from the Tanners Association. According tothe Association's attorney: "He was going to try to influence the tannersto do business with this Communist union. And I remember a definiteeffort on the part of some of the tanners —some of the people, andmyself included—to try and get to him, to try to influence him notto do that, because we didn*t think he understood what this thing isall about. The thing is that every time something like that happened,it tended to delay the ultimate end of it, because this looked like somenew and important event and it tended to influence these men to stickto Carr.""

The Association continued to view any interference in its affairswith employees as unwarranted and counterproductive to achieving ahasty resolution of the matter. Thus, it was similarly hostile to an at-

"Radio Broadcast transcript, Oct. 28,1949, Local 202 files. Box 58, Joint Board Records; MorningHerald, Sept. 14, 1949.

"^Morning Herald, Sept. 19,1949; Leader-Republican, Sepl. 21,1949; Maider interview. Sec Leader-Republican, Sept. 22, 1949 for the tannery owners' immediate response: they continued lobe unwilling to deal with Local 202.

184 LABOR HISTORY

tempt by a local textile mill owner to arrange to bring in New Yorkstate mediators. "We tried to keep people out of here," declared theAssociation*s lawyer. "We didn't need any mediation; we didn't needanybody to talk with us about talking with the union people. We'd talkwith anybody, except we wouldn't talk with this Carr bunch.'"'

Besides the intrusion of local peacemakers, equally threatening tothe tannery owners was the prospect of defections by one of the com-panies involved. According to Lydon Maider, "One of the problemshere with this whole thing was to keep these people from defecting.Actually, some of these people were financially very weak. And theTknners Association created a fund to keep some of these people alive."Any defection constituted a major setback for the Association. Thus,when Marshall McKay of the Teetz-McKay Leather Corporation ofJohnstown broke from the ranks of the Association and signed a sepa-rate agreement with the union, it demoralized the manufacturers: "Any-time anything like that happened, you could immediately feel it in allthe developments. It was difficult for these people. . . . This incidentwas really bad.'*'̂ Yet as "bad" as this event might have been, the pros-pect of a democratic vote on union representation constituted a moreformidable threat to employers.

Because it could not hope to participate in a local NLRB election(since IFLWU leaders had refused to sign non-Communist affidavits).Local 202 announced it would disaffiliate with the IFLWU and re-establish its independent status as the Independent Leather WorkersUnion of Fulton County. As early as mid-September 1949, the Local'sPolicy Committee, in a statement to the Membership, noted that, "OurInternational Union has advised us that in order to secure a victoryover our greedy employers, if we should find it necessary to sever ouraffiliation with the International Union, our parent body would gladlyaccept such severance and would continue to support our strike as theyhave until now." Ben Gold, head of the IFLWU, gave his blessings tothe union's action. He wrote Clarence Carr: "I recommend to you thatyou withdraw from the International Union, comply with the FascistTaft-Hartley Law and defeat the tricksters in the election." But leathermanufacturers, their lawyers, and the AFL objected to the participa-tion of the Independent Union in the upcoming election, and argued

"Maider interview. ' ' •-"Meyer interview; Maider interview; for more on employer strategics during ihe strike, see Gerald

Zahavi, "Fighting Left-Wing Unionism: Voices from the Opposition to the IFLWU in FultonCounty, New York," in Steven Rosswurm, ed., Tlie ClO'sL^t-Led t/nioay (New Brunswick,NJ, 1992).

FULTON COUNTy 185

that it was a "front" for the IFLWU." Exploiting some gross technicalerrors on the union's part (including their failure to take down an oldLocal 202 sign), the Tknners Association won its point. The NLRB ruledthat the Independent could not appear on the ballot in the upcomingDecember election.**

Now union officers faced two choices: encourage their membersto vote for either of the unions on the ballot — the AFL United LeatherWorkers Union or the Textile Workers Union—or suggest that they vote"no union." The choice was an easy one: a "no union" vote would bea pro-Independent vote.*' In response, the tannery owners began anintensive campaign to encourage tannery workers to vote for one ofthe two opposing unions—hence the apparent anomaly of an employers*association advocating to workers to vote for a union, and a union ad-vocating a **no union" vote.

The result of the December 9th vote suggests the level of loyaltythat Carr and other union leaders could still command. "No union"won, obtaining 536 votes. The CIO union received 180 votes; the AFL,144, After close to six months of striking, loyalists were still able totriumph over their opponents by considerable margins. Red-baitingfailed, as the Tanners Association attorney admitted: "I do not thinkthat the rank and file of tannery people . . . were impressed with theCommie angle at all. Basically—most of them —I think they weren'tconcerned much with what color their leader was so long as he dida good job for them. And I think you could say that Carr was trustedas somebody who would do a good job for them."" But whatever satis-faction the union leadership and loyalist workers obtained from their"victory," they soon realized that so long as they continued to face ahostile employers* association, and an unsympathetic NLRB, they wereleft with few viable alternatives, except to continue their struggle. Thereality of the matter was that the vote had created a vacuum of leader-ship in the county. Who represented the leather workers now that theyhad voted "no union?"

••"Resolution and Statement Presented By the Policy Committee of Local 202," Sept. 15, 1949,Local 202 files. Box 58, Joint Board Records; Ben Gold to Clarence H. Carr. Oct. t l , 1949,cited in Morning Herald, On. 14, 1949; Martin Fishgold, "The GloversviUe Strike (1949-50)"in "The Leather Workers of Fulton County," 7.

**Maider interview; National t^bor Relations Board, Decisions and Orders of rhe National LaborRelations Board, Vol. 87 (Washington, DC. 1949), 211-214; Frank McMaster deposition,Nov. 9,1949, Records of Layers-Off and Glove Workers Union, Local 292, Glove Cities JointBoard (Amalgamated Clothing and Textile Workers Union] Files, Gloversville, NY (here-after, Records of Layers-Off and Glove Workers Union].

^'Leader-Republican, Nov. 29, 1949."IFLWU, Proceedings ofthe I8th Biennial Convention, 65; Fur and Leather Worker, Feb. 1950,

2; Foner, 670-71; Maider interview.

186 LABOR HISTORY

By early 1950, the long strike was taking its htiman toll. The county'sDepartment of Public Welfare reported an increase in appeals for publicassistance. In February 1950, unemployment claims had risen by morethan 2000 over rates of the previous year. Local retailers were also suf-fering. Yet workers persisted in their strike. Support continued to comefrom the IFLWU, from sympathetic local unions, and from small localmerchants. As one worker recalled; "There was a lot of support for theworkers. Back in those days, they had little stores on the comers whereyou could go into the store and you could charge your groceries. . . .People just ran up bills and bills and bills. And so the small man car-ried them, for as long as he could."*^

In the weeks following the election, worker loyalty to the Local stoodfirm. Few broke ranks and returned to the mills when the Tanners As-sociation declared the mills open in late January. By March, however,after nine months on strike, the union members' resolve finally beganto weaken. Thus, when the CIO, in alliance with local employers, tookthe initiative in leading a back-to-work movement, the Independentwas unable to block it. Former Local 202 right-wingers and a groupof younger workers, with the backing of CIO national organizers, ledthe insurgency movement that helped establish the foundations of anew union," As one of them, Harold Thylor, recalled:

We could see the handwriting on the wall. In fact, most of us were allex-members of 202, but were just lucky enough to go get jobs. . . . Itbecame apparent to us that these people just were not gonna deal withClarence Carr. . . . I thought it was a good idea [to start another union]because I had suffered too. I had gone —as a young fellow —I had gonemany weekends without being able to go out and buy a beer and be oneof the gang, and 1 lost my car. We did have a home —we moved in withmy inlaws. So how would you actually feel? You*d want to have it settledand get it over with, and get out on your own.'*

Eight members ofthe Tanners Association quickly agreed to recog-nize the new right-wing CIO local. More followed. Tannery workerssoon began to trickle back into the mills and, by management fiat, intothe newly-formed United Tknnery and Leather Workers, Local 1712—

"Vosburgh, 'Gloversville, New York," 118-19; Harold R. Tiylor interview by Gerald Zahavi. June1, 1987. tape recordirtg (in Zahavi's possession).

" T h e Leather Workers of Fullon County," 9; Conversation with Fred Sitnek, Jan. 26,1987 (notes);Fur and Leather Worker, May 1950, 2-3; Foner, 671-73; IFLWU, Proceedings of the ISthBiennial Convention, 134-42; Tiylor interview; Sutliff interview.

•*Taylor interview. Among the men who were active in the founding of Local 1712 were ReubanTodd, Willard Bennett, John Noone, Brace Shepard, John Sutliff, and Harold Taylor; formore of Tiylor's recollections and the formation of Local I7I2, see Zahavi, "Fighting Left-Wing Uniotiism."

FULTON COUNTY • 187

a local industrial union affiliate of the CIO."" The solidarity of theworkers had finally been broken.

Although many older workers, who had lived through the 1930sand World War II, stuck to Carr, younger workers acted otherwise.They had entered the mills only a few years earlier, and had little commonhistory with, or loyalty to, the established leadership. They found theappeals of right-wingers and the reality of months without work suffi-ciently convincing to abandon the Communist-led union. Some hadalready found jobs in the handful of operating non-union and non-Association-affiliated mills. Others joined Local 1712 in order to re-gain their former positions. According to Harold Tkylor: "The youngermen, like myself . . . the fellows who just got out of the war—tookthe bull by the horns and changed things around a little bit. The oldermen didnt do this so much, Tm talking about the fellows who wereforty, forty-five, fifty years old at that time. They were more-or-lesshanging in there with Clarence Carr.'*"'

When it became clear that the strike was defeated, Carr and fellowunion officers decided that little more could be gained by keeping theworkers out of the shops. "After a few of them went back, we startedsending them back," recalled Charles Hildreth, Local 2O2's former secre-tary. "Otherwise the scabs were going to take over the plants. Boy, itwas tough to convince a lot of them to go back. A lot of them neverdid go back either. They just refused." Carr and other officers wereblacklisted in almost all of the local tanneries. Although the Teetz-McKaytannery continued to deal with the Independent (Local 202), which votedto re-affiliate with the IFLWU in June of 1950, Carr's leadership ofthe tannery workers and the local labor movement was broken. Yet heremained hopeful of the future. He reported to the IFLWU ExecutiveBoard: "The workers now are back to work a few months. They havepaid up some of their back bills, after being out for nine months. Theyare commencing to getting their courage back. They stop to talk tome on Main Street and invite me into their houses, in spite of the CIOand the employers who threaten every worker that if he is caught goingto the leather workers' office or talking to Carr—you're fired,""

But Carr's optimism was ill-founded. Divided and demoralized.

**Morning Herald, Mar. 14, 20, 30, May 5, June 15, 1950; Frank E. McMaster to Gladys Dick-ason, Junes, 1953, Recordsof Layers-Off and Glove Workers Union; Morning/Z^m/d, June10, 1950; Fur and Uather Worker, Sept. 1952, 12, Feb. 1954, 19. In 1953 the union affiliatedwith the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America, Morning Herald, Dec 19, 1953.

•Taylor interview. Several older right-wing leaders, such as Willard Bennett, were present to givethem guidance.

••Hildreth interview; Fur and Leather Worker, Feb. 1950, 1; Poner, 671-672; Morning Herald,June 10, 1950; Fur and Uather Worker. Dec 1950, 12.

188 LABOR HISTORY

the workers were unable to regain their confidence and power; neveragain would they be as unified and militant as they had been in theyears preceding these events. A worker who abandoned Local 202 in1950 suggested just how high a price the workers of the county paidin 1949/50: "After the strike, they all wanted something [but for] yearsafter they didn*t have the guts to say, 'Well, this is it, and we're gonnafight for it—again.' And it just never happened—they never got anybig lump sum; they got piecemeal - crumbs. Over the years, that's whatthey've had, crumbs.'*"

For the Tanners Association, the 1949/50 strike was a dearly-purchased victory. For nine months, production was halted. Some ofthe smaller tanners, in spite of the Association members' commitmentto stand together, were on the verge of bankruptcy. Yet it was also evi-dent that with the elimination of Local 202 as a major force in the localleather mills, tannery owners had removed a major fbcal point of FultonCounty labor militancy.'" As is obvious from the recollections of theTannery Association's attorney, the new breed of labor leaders whocame to dominate the mills in the years after the strike were far moremoderate and tractable than the previous generation of leaders:

Whereas instead of negotiating with Clarence Carr and the local peoplewho were just ordinary guys, now we had some professional type peoplecoming in here. . . . And the people who came up here from the Amalga-mated were good, sound, professional people that you could talk busi-ness with. I've always looked upon the coming of the Amalgamated asa very definite and positive improvement in the whole situation. They tooka very proper view of things and were a good influence

The strike of 1949/50 constituted the local labor movement's "greatdivide." And it is significant that local oral tradition recognizes it assuch. Clarence Carr's name is still enshrined in the memories of old-timers, and new workers entering the tanneries soon learn the laborhistory ofthe mills and the story of Local 202. As a former participantin the "great strike" relates, "Even the new workers that come in today—that's the first thing I hear when I go in the shop is Clarence Carr.'"^

Ironically, the legacy of Carr and his union's struggle was a busi-ness unionism reminiscent of the 1920s. While Communists helped un-ionize the leather industry of the county in the early 1930s, and helpedbuild bridges between local unions and a national labor movement.

'•Taylor interview."Local unionists clearly acknowledged this. See Frank E. McMaster to Gladys Dickason, June

8, 1953, Records of Layers-Off and Glove Workers Union.^'Maider interview.^'Hildrcth interview.

FULTON COUNTY teg

in 1950 they were displaced by business unionists—conservative laborleaders who sought to accommodate, rather than challenge, local in-dustry leaders. It is important to note that most workers did not freelychoose that course in 1950; it was forced upon them. The process ofdisplacement was one shaped by local antagonists - plant managers,right-wing unionists, lawyers, hostile newspaper editors—as well as moredistant government and union agents. While Communist union leaderswere unable to effectively radicalize or transform local working-classconsciousness beyond a militant '*trade union consciousness," they hadachieved a rapprochement with more conservative unionists in thecounty, and had obtained the loyalty of most of their union members.That loyalty, however, was not strong enough to sustain the unionthrough the Cold War years. The pyrrhic victory achieved in the De-cember 1949 NLRB election—in which local Communist union leaderscould only appeal to workers to vote against unions-was a productof a struggle waged with and lost to capital. It was, moreover, a strugglewhich suggests both the achievements and limits of American Com-munism, as well as the formidable institutional and ideological bound-aries faced by left-wing unions in the United States.

'An exciting fesldnient to theline qu.ility of work being donehy historians of l.ibor ,indr.ictic.ilism."—Joshua B.I rcem.in, Columbia University

In 1949 and 1950, the Congress ofIndustrial Organizations (CIO)exf>elled many left-wing unions,representing 750,000 workers, becausethey were supposedly Communist-donunated. This collection of previ-ously unpublished essays explores thehistory of those eleven Ieft-I«i unions.230 pp. Paper, $17.00; Cloth, $45.00

THE CIOSLthT-LED UNIONS

STKL ROSSNXURM

Rutgers University Press109 Church Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901