People Have the Right to Be Mad: Wildcat Strikes and Labor Relations in the Post-World War II Auto Industry

Abstract

Writing on wildcat strikes, which were usually brief and under-reported, has been limited. This is especially the case in the auto industry, where postwar labor relations were supposedly stable and staid, marked by high rates of unionization and collective bargaining. Scholars have stressed the landmark national contracts that the United Auto Workers (UAW) won in the post-World War II era, particularly with the Big Three automakers. Despite these economic gains, rank-and-file workers had many unresolved grievances, especially over non-economic issues such as high workloads, poor safety, and abusive supervisors. This article examines wildcat strikes at two locations; the New Haven Foundry in Michigan (1962 and 1963) and Ford's Chicago Heights Stamping Plant (1963). It argues that these unauthorized walkouts were symptomatic of rank-and file disaffection over non-economic issues, including failure to get safety and workload grievances resolved. The industry suffered hundreds of wildcat strikes in the 1950s and 1960s, especially at Ford, where resistance to union influence continued. In 1951 alone, there were 56 wildcats at Ford alone, involving over 16,000 workers, with further wildcat surges in 1953 and 1958. The article uses worker testimony before the UAW's international executive board to provide unexpected insights into grievances of postwar autoworkers. These records show that despite the gains of the national contracts, many local issues persisted, complicating images of postwar labor relations in a key industry.

In 1962 and 1963, a series of wildcat strikes broke out at the New Haven Foundry in Michigan, a key facility that made engine castings for the Chrysler Corporation. On May 14, 1962, workers walked out during a heatwave, led by iron pourers who sought “added relief.” Under pressure from the international union, UAW Local 429 reluctantly called off the strike after the company filed a $200,000 suit against the union (United Auto Workers 1963a, 99). Still, unaddressed complaints continued. According to international representative George Merrelli, in 1963 workers launched “another series of wildcat strikes,” reflecting multiple grievances (United Auto Workers 1963a, 71–72). In early July, a wildcat occurred after a fight in the plant between a worker and his supervisor. The worker was discharged before the local union could file a grievance, causing a weeklong walkout. The unauthorized strike was so serious that Chrysler threatened to take its business elsewhere. “It has just about reached that stage that if another instance or two occurs, that the Company will fold up,” reported Merrelli (United Auto Workers 1963a, 72).

On July 3, a worried Merrelli drove to the plant, located 35 miles north of Detroit. Once there, he told the local union leadership that “this had to stop” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 72.) Workers, however, saw it differently, stressing arduous shopfloor conditions, with high workloads, numerous safety problems, and abusive supervisors. “People have the right to be mad when a foreman hits a man in the nose,” explained Willie Petty, justifying rank-and-file actions. “I don’t blame them. But, anyway, we know we are not supposed to walk out. But when a man is mad, what can you do? He gets mad” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 122). At a daylong hearing held by the UAW's international executive board, workers claimed that they no choice but to take matters into their own hands. “We don’t want any wildcat strikes in Local 429 out at New Haven. We don’t approve of them,” summarized worker Herman Dennis. “But if you cannot get the support from the International like you should, there is nothing else for us to do” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 123). In detailed testimony, workers painted a picture of hostile and confrontational labor relations, forcing them to abandon formal processes. The company, summarized Petty, “really haven’t accepted the union” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 115).

The situation at New Haven was typical. Between 1946 and 1963, according to a careful estimate by sociologist James R. Zetka, Jr., there were more than 400 wildcat strikes in the auto industry, particularly in close-knit departments. In 1951 alone, there were 56 wildcats at Ford alone, involving over 16,000 workers (Zetka 1992). There were wildcat surges in 1953 and 1958, especially over line speeds and other grassroots issues. The problem was also acute at smaller automakers, which sat outside big national contracts. In 1948 alone, there were 84 wildcats at Hudson Motor Company in Detroit, causing a loss of 250,000 workforce hours. As the New Haven Foundry case showed, it also spread to many other sectors of the vast auto industry, which by some accounts was responsible for 1 in 6 of all American jobs at the height of postwar production (Serrin 1973, 5; United Auto Workers 1949a, 512). ¹

In the 1960s, the wildcat problem was rife, often with serious consequences. In May 1963, a wildcat strike at Ford's stamping plant in Chicago Heights, Illinois, triggered by workers’ complaints of health and safety violations, gravely damaged Ford's production and had to be ended by court injunction (Barnard 2004, 307–308; United Auto Workers 1963a, 1, 8–14). The case presented what UAW secretary-treasurer Emil Mazey called an “emergency situation,” shutting down 31 Ford plants in what was the costliest unauthorized strike in the giant automaker's history (Barnard 2004, 356; United Auto Workers 1963a, 2, quotation). The wildcat briefly made the national press, the Wall Street Journal reporting on May 20 that over 12,500 Ford workers were idled because of it, including employees at assembly plants in Kansas City and New Jersey and at parts facilities in Michigan, Tennessee, and New York. Ford feared that “most of its car output” could be idled (“Ford Has Laid Off” 1963, 2).

To date, however, there has been little close-grained analysis of wildcat strikes. ² These strikes—which were often fleeting and barely-reported—are significant because they challenge images of postwar labor relations, particularly in the auto industry. The postwar decades, as a chapter title by prominent labor historian Robert H. Zieger puts it, were supposedly a time of, “Affluent Workers, Stable Unions” (Zieger and Gall 2002, v, 182). The UAW was at the heart of the postwar “social accord” or “social compact,” under which companies provided high wages and good benefits while unions promised labor peace in return (see Bowles, Gordon and Weisskopf 1984; Getman 1998; Metzgar 1980; Nissen 1990; Raskin 1986; Rosenfeld 2014; Serrin 1972, 1973, 7, 25).

While the accord had limitations—as some studies have shown—the postwar years have generally been seen as a golden age for blue-collar workers, especially in the auto industry, where UAW contracts were pattern-setting, the envy of many (“United Public Hearing” 1951, 5, 13–14; Nissen 1990, 173–174; but see also Clark 2018, 1–2). As the New York Times later put it, unionized autoworkers were “blue-collar Brahmins.” Postwar labor relations—especially in the high-profile auto industry—were seen as staid and procedural, devoid of conflict and short on member engagement (Greenhouse 1998, A1). Even when strikes occurred, argued influential writer William Serrin (1973, 25), they reflected a “civilized relationship” between the UAW and the corporations (particularly General Motors), with little drama.

In the postwar era, press coverage focused on national bargaining and the pattern-setting nature of UAW contracts, especially with the Big Three (General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler). This shaped images of the union. In 1976, the New York Times dubbed the autoworkers a “spearhead for labor,” citing their high wages and pathbreaking benefits (Salpukas 1976a, 111). A few years later, the Washington Post termed the UAW America's “pace-setting industrial union” (Dewar 1979). As well as winning big wage increases, added another account, the UAW “pioneered” in securing landmark benefits, including generous pensions, supplemental unemployment assistance, and long-term contracts (Salpukas 1976b, 121). The union was seen, as historian John Barnard (2004, v, 496) summarized, as an “American vanguard,” winning wages and benefits that helped millions. “The UAW contracts with the Big Three were arguably the backbone of the entire pattern structure of industrial collective bargaining,” declared historian Kim Moody in 1988 (168).

Yet there was more to postwar labor relations than this. As the New Haven and Chicago Heights cases showed, the picture on the ground was very different. Despite improving wages and benefits, workers had deep-seated grievances, especially over workloads, health and safety, and supervision. These and other examples show that managers were able to use these grievances to drive a wedge between the international union and UAW locals. Companies—and especially line managers who were often rewarded for pushing workers hard and increasing productivity—frequently refused to honor contracts, highlighting the strict limits of the postwar accord at the grassroots level. As Daniel J. Clark (2018, 1) has argued in an important book, little research has focused on postwar autoworkers themselves. Instead, the concentration has been on national union politics, especially the career of powerful UAW president Walter Reuther (1946–1970), a key figure in postwar liberalism. The prevailing image stresses economic gains through collective bargaining for autoworkers, whose real wages doubled between 1947 and 1960, largely because of cost-of-living allowances and productivity-based bonuses negotiated by the UAW. Fringe benefits also improved greatly (see Barnard 2004, 208–313; Boyle 1995; Lichtenstein 1995). Other studies stress the racial privilege of white autoworkers, arguing that the UAW and big automakers worked together to lock African–Americans out of the best paying jobs. In this way, any accord benefited some more than others (Clark 2018, 2; see also Draper 1994; Goldfield 1997; Gould 1977; Hill 1977, 1987, 1998; Lewis-Coleman 2008; Nelson 2001; Roediger 1999, 2005; Sugrue 2005).

National studies give limited coverage to wildcat strikes, especially how the international union reacted to them. In his detailed, leadership-focused history, John Barnard is disapproving of wildcats, noting that they caused “problems” for the international union and generated “layoffs for workers whose jobs were unaffected by the issue and threatened to divide the membership” (Barnard 2004, 355) Adopting the perspective of the international union, Barnard portrays wildcats as selfish actions that served as “a graphic illustration of how a major segment of the union's membership could be damaged by the actions of another” (Barnard 2004, 356). In contrast, Nelson Lichtenstein's fine biography of Reuther is more sympathetic to workers, noting that the national bargaining compact often failed to address grassroots grievances and had strict “limits” (1995, 298). Ultimately, Reuther's hopes of a broader social transformation went unfulfilled, as companies resisted any infringement on their “right to manage.” While noting the downsides of postwar bargaining, however, Lichtenstein's focus remains on Reuther and national priorities (1995, 291; Harris 1982, quotation in title).

In contrast, local studies have explored grassroots dissatisfaction by autoworkers, including alienation on the line and high workloads. In the late 1960s, complaints of racial discrimination and harsh working conditions led to several wildcat strikes by black workers at Dodge, who formed the Detroit Revolutionary Union Movement (DRUM; see Brenner, Brenner and Winslow 2010; Howe 1972; Jones 2010; Lichtenstein and Meyer 1989; Moody 2010; Taylor 2010; Widick 1976). In the 1970s and beyond, grassroots dissatisfaction continued to be a problem in the UAW, with the “New Directions” movement challenging national leaders to prioritize rank-and-file complaints—with limited results (see Moody 1988; 2007; Shotwell 2011). Personal accounts and oral histories have also documented the alienation of postwar autoworkers, as well as the physical and emotional cost of assembly line jobs. Workers’ troubles increased as domestic automakers shed jobs from the 1970s, causing widespread dislocation and loss. These accounts, however, have rarely looked closely at wildcats (see Dandeneau 1996; Dudley 1994; Feldman and Betzold 1988; Hamper 1991, 1–2; Milkman 1997).

This article builds on this scholarship but extends it, looking at wildcat strikes and how they refine ou image of postwar labor relations. There are few studies that blend the national and local, especially how the international union reacted to wildcats. Unauthorized strikes involved a process of negotiation between the local and international union that warrants exploration. This account relies heavily on the UAW's international executive board minutes, but reads them in a new way. To be sure, these minutes detail what made the UAW famous in the postwar period—national bargaining. A surprising number of meetings, however, also dealt with local issues, including firsthand worker testimony. They provide unexpected insights into the grievances of postwar autoworkers, revealing how they frequently caused wildcat strikes that embarrassed the international union. These strikes also did more, however, revealing how the pathbreaking contracts were often violated on the ground, forcing workers to fight for better conditions on a regular basis. The contracts were live documents requiring constant enforcement, and some managers violated them in order to weaken the local, discredit the international, and shift the political economy away from working-class power. This showed the limits of the postwar accord. ³

Postwar auto plants, which were known for high wages and stable bargaining, were actually chaotic, contested spaces, where companies struggled to fill jobs and workers had many problems. Jobs were physically demanding, and workers fought not just companies but also the international union for a better deal. In a fascinating interaction between local and national power, board hearings gave workers the opportunity to speak out, yet—in a postwar industrial relations system that emphasized discipline—the international union had ultimate control. On most occasions, local unions with too many wildcats had administrators placed over them, a severe reprimand. The board had considerable authority, including the power to suspend locals. ⁴ Grassroots grievances, however, continued (see United Auto Workers 1964b, iii–iv, 111).

The July 1963 Hearing: Context

Some cases illustrated these broader issues well, allowing for closer interrogation. On July 22, 1963, the executive board held a daylong hearing to discuss the wildcat strikes in New Haven and Chicago Heights. Both groups of workers ended up under administrators, but not before they had their say. The Chicago Heights Stamping hearing alone lasted three and a half hours, generating 70 pages of transcript (United Auto Workers 1963b, 8). The New Haven hearing was almost as long, and in both cases workers resisted efforts by Mazey—chairing proceedings—to cut their testimony short. Workers fought for their right to “be mad,” providing detailed insights into grassroots frustrations (United Auto Workers 1963a, 1–2).

Workers traveled to Solidarity House, the UAW's impressive new riverfront headquarters in Detroit, for the hearing. Following sustained growth during the 1930s and early 1940s, the UAW emerged from World War II with considerable power. It was America's largest industrial union, and the new headquarters symbolized this (see Barnard 2004, 257–258; Fine 1969, 313–341; Lichtenstein 2003; Zieger and Gall, 2002, 87–92, 108–111). With a membership of about 1.5 million at its peak, the UAW represented virtually all autoworkers, as well as those in related industries such as the aircraft and agricultural implements sectors (“Making Cars in U.S.” 1980; United Auto Workers 1947b, 128). The union's power was considerable. “Our membership is concentrated in automobile manufacturing and it's parts suppliers,” wrote UAW leader Douglas Fraser to an executive in 1982. “We represent virtually 100% of all car assembly workers in North America” (“Douglas A. Fraser to Kiyoshi Kawashima” 1982).

The advent of national bargaining, however, emphasized labor peace, with local strikes restricted or prohibited. At the 1963 hearing, Mazey argued that in order to have “maximum leverage and power in the Union,” it needed “rules and regulations” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 42) Wildcat strikes caused problems on a number of levels. Firstly, they violated the UAW's constitution, which outlined the “proper method” of having an “authorized strike” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 42). Strikes required a special meeting to explain the issues and a secret ballot vote with more than two-thirds of those voting in favor. The union's constitution also mandated the recording secretary of the local union to prepare a statement outlining the strike issues and to submit it to the international union. Any walkout had to be authorized by the international executive board. As spontaneous actions, wildcats did not follow these processes (United Auto Workers 1963a, 43).

There were further restrictions under the 1947 Taft-Hartley Act. The law was a response to the 1945–1946 strike wave, which saw more than 3 million Americans protest for better wages and benefits. Overall, 1946 was the single most strike-affected year in U.S. history, helping the UAW—which led a successful strike against General Motors in 1945–1946—to cement its place as a talismanic union (Lichtenstein 1995, 232, 234; Pettengill 1945; Zieger and Gall 2002, 152–159). Business groups hit back. Passed by the new conservative congress, Taft-Hartley stipulated that if an illegal strike occurred, management could sue the union and collect damages. “The Company considers the lawsuit against our Union as its principal asset,” warned Mazey (United Auto Workers 1963a, 43). When the board gathered in July 1963, the UAW was facing a $6 million damage lawsuit for an illegal strike at the Benton Harbor Malleable Company. In addition, wildcat strikes violated most local contracts, further exposing the union (United Auto Workers 1963a, 43).

Aggrieved workers, however, were rarely aware of these national restrictions—or ignored them. Like many others, the Chicago Heights group did not request strike authorization, and refused to call off their wildcat even when told to do so by the international. “The strike that took place was in violation of the contract and it was in violation of the Constitution, and it was in violation of the law,” concluded Mazey (United Auto Workers 1963a, 44). The international union was “concerned” about the walkout, arguing that following the constitution was the “only way” that problems could be resolved (United Auto Workers 1963a, 45).

Other wildcats generated similar worry. At the New Haven Foundry, an independent operation with about 400 workers, the unauthorized walkout in May 1962 led to serious consequences for the UAW. “A year ago there was a wildcat strike,” reported Merrelli, introducing the case, “not giving the committee or the officers a chance to settle the grievance. The membership walked out” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 71). The corporation then filed a suit against the UAW charging it with violating the contract. The international, which pressured managers to drop the suit, summoned the local's leaders to Detroit (United Auto Workers 1963a, 71). Just before the board met in July 1963, there was a further “rash of wildcat strikes” on an “in and out” basis, as Merrelli reported (Merrelli 1963). A common trigger was discharges of key workers, which were often downgraded when workers walked. Other complaints included “speedups, wage cutting, health and safety violations, coercion (and) drunken foremen.” Merrelli insisted, however, that wildcat strikes were “irresponsible” (Merrelli 1963).

“Fomented by the Company”: The New Haven Foundry Case

The New Haven Foundry was typical of the smaller operations that supplied big automakers. While the Big Three dominated media attention, the UAW also represented workers across a diverse and sprawling auto sector, where the pattern of labor relations could be quite different. Workers could be excluded from broader patterns, and there was often ongoing resistance to the union (United Auto Workers 1948, 599–603; 1949b, 90–92). In 1926, wealthy industrialist Sumner Larkins established the foundry, running the operation until his death in 1974. For decades, the factory was the town's largest taxpayer and employer, and its large smokestacks—as the Detroit News put it—“silhouetted” the skyline (“Foundry Abruptly Closes” 2001, 5D). As the main employer in a town of only 3,000 residents, the foundry wielded considerable political and economic power, and workers charged that Larkins never accepted Local 429, which had organized in the late 1930s (Cardenas 2001, 5D; “Foundry Abruptly Closes” 2001, 5D; United Auto Workers 1963a, 71–72).

The hearing revealed how poor labor relations were at the foundry. On May 14, 1962, the wildcat strike resulted in five workers being suspended. Reacting to what they saw as arbitrary punishment, the rest of the workforce walked out. Two days later, the company filed its lawsuit against the union. UAW attorney John Fillion advised the IEB to “do whatever possible” to get the case resolved (United Auto Workers 1963a, 97, 99–100). In the hearing, however, staffer Frank Fagan admitted that accumulated grievances were a problem. Relations between the two sides were very poor, and management had “uncontrollable anger” toward the local union. The limits of the postwar accord were clear (United Auto Workers 1963a, 99, quotation 100).

Subsequently, other wildcats occurred. On January 9, 1963, workers walked again after an intoxicated supervisor sexually harassed a group of women workers. “A drunken foreman—and here are the people who were in the department—a drunken general foreman staggering down the department upsetting the women, making them upset. We wrote a grievance on it, and the plant went down,” explained local union president Chris Alston. “The women went down. What should they do? Take his insults? And the Company answers and he answers, ‘You won’t have to worry about it again, boys. It won’t happen.’” According to Alston, incidents like this were “fomented by the Company,” which knew that the grievance procedure was ineffective (United Auto Workers 1963a, 79). Such harassment was common in the auto industry, where the workforce—especially in white-collar positions—was overwhelmingly male. As late as 1967, 92 percent of auto industry workers were male (Barnard 2004, 454; Gabin 1990, 1; United Auto Workers 1963a, 79). ⁵

New Haven workers—male and female—had multiple complaints. According to Alston, the July 1963 wildcat reflected a grievance that had started six years earlier. Local union files also showed that Alston had been active in the union—and pursuing these complaints—since becoming president in 1958 (“Christopher C. Alston and George Groce to Emil Mazey” 1960; “Samuel D. Hise to Larry Gettlinger” 1958; United Auto Workers 1962). The July 1963 walkout occurred after a fight between an aggressive foreman and a worker, causing the worker to be fired. Alston backed his member. “Again a foreman comes up and conks a man on his nose a few days ago,” he explained. “What do you want him to do? He bounces him back on his nose. He better, or you better not come into that local union.” Overall, the plant had experienced a series of wildcat strikes since the union's formation in 1937, along with a legal strike (United Auto Workers 1963a 79). The latter occurred in 1948—in the wake of Taft-Hartley—and the union lost, emboldening managers to refuse grievances and foment discord (United Auto Workers 1963a, 123). In the July strike, the worker was discharged before the local union could file a grievance. Merrelli claimed that Local 429 was in “serious difficulty,” with officers lacking control over events. The rank-and-file saw it differently (United Auto Workers 1963a, 72–74, quotation 73).

Summoned to Detroit, Alston spoke first, resisting efforts to talk “without emotion and without great length.” This was, he insisted, inappropriate. “The last time we were trying to convince some guys to join the union, Brother Mazey said, ‘Talk up, speak up, get these guys in,’” he retorted. “And now here he tells me to cut it short. But I do want to speak on this matter.” When Mazey called for the “essentials,” Alston replied, “I am going to give it without flourishes, without the dash, and that is difficult.” Leaders, he concluded, suffered from a “lack of knowledge” of local conditions (United Auto Workers 1963a, 74).

A key issue was the large number of grievances. In tense testimony, Merrelli disputed the local's claims that the international had not offered “assistance” in filing grievances (United Auto Workers 1963a, 89). Workers pushed back with specific examples. In September 1960, for example, bargaining committee chairman Gaston Jernigan wrote the international union seeking help. Jernigan related that there was “unrest among our members” as a result of “arbitrary” workload changes that required more work for less pay. Jernigan called for the international to send a representative to meet with management about these issues (United Auto Workers 1963a, 89–90, quotations 90). Despite this, no staffer was dispatched, and the company “took our wages and they cut it.” In response, Merrelli insisted that Local 429 had not done enough to bring its grievances to his attention (United Auto Workers 1963a, 91).

Differences continued. A worker with over fifteen years experience, Jernigan testified that in 1961 Fagan told him that local grievances were secondary, and the union should seek to “wrap this thing up, these small things here.” For workers, grassroots conditions – especially workloads and safety – were key issues. “It is about five things in that shop which are real bad, and that is dust, the amount of iron pourers pour, and that is non-automated machines on automated lines that they have got right now. I don’t see why the plant is not closed down tonight, if you want to hear the truth about it.” Jernigan resisted suggestions that local problems were illusory. “These things exist right now,” he insisted (United Auto Workers 1963a, 108).

Grievances continued to mount, generating further tension. In May 1962, Local 429 again wired Merrelli for help. “The New Haven Foundry has embarked upon a policy of gross contract violations, provocation, and incitement and of punitive action against its employees, their local union and their international union,” it asserted. When a worker was suspended in violation of the return to work agreement, the local asked for strike authorization. It insisted it had followed due process. “We set the deadline for the strike,” asserted Alston. “I had big signs ready. It is all right in here (indicating), right on through, getting ready to hit the boys with everything, and everybody in tremendous excitement” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 92).

On the ground, preparations continued. In late May, recording secretary Lena Reynolds relayed the strike authorization to Merrelli. Her letter revealed the poor relations between the company and union. “It has become increasingly clear that this Company is intent on destroying our Local and its effectiveness as a defender of the rights of the workers in the plant,” she wrote (United Auto Workers 1963a, 95). On June 12, the local union informed the company that it wanted to go on strike. Merrelli, however, insisted that the local had not made an “official request” for a walkout (United Auto Workers 1963a, 95–96, quotation 96).

Other New Haven workers painted a picture of harsh conditions and a company that did not respect the union. The grievance procedure failed to function correctly, forcing workers to act independently. “We haven’t come down to the problems that we have at the New Haven Foundry,” asserted Herman Dennis. “In my opinion, there is a lack of cooperation. We haven’t got the cooperation from the International we should.” According to Dennis, the UAW caused wildcat strikes by not addressing grassroots problems: “when they have the International out here, they go around the bush with us and tell us this and that and have us go back into the plant and work under the same conditions, and they don’t do anything about it. Then the membership gets together out on the streets” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 114). International staff only visited briefly; they did not experience the daily grind that was workers’ lot. “They come out there and they look,” he explained. “They don’t stay in there eight hours, like we do, and they don’t work….The people who work in that plant, they knows the conditions in that plant.” As Dennis concluded, workers needed more assistance (United Auto Workers 1963a, 115).

Other testimony revealed that there were repeated grievances over the arduous conditions faced by workers, especially the iron pourers, who labored near hot furnaces to make engine castings. The job was essential for the automaking process (United Auto Workers 1963a, 111). In a June 15 letter, C.F. Royster wrote regional representative Ken Bannon that, “we HAVE looked to the International Union for leadership and counsel. Conditions here at the Chicago Stamping Plant have been deplorable for so long the Membership just cannot understand WHY this leadership and counsel, has NOT been forthcoming.” One of the workers discharged as a result of the wildcat strike, Royster asked for reinstatement (“C.F. Royster to Ken Bannon and Robert Johnston” 1963). Rather than an administrator, workers demanded that an investigating committee be sent to witness what Alston called “the grievances and…the conditions in that shop” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 111). Worker Oliver Pelham summarized feeling well. “What we need is an investigation concerning the working conditions in this plant where we are working,” he noted. The company, had “disrecognized the committee, they disrecognized everything” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 125). Supervisors even threatened workers who prepared new grievances (United Auto Workers 1963a, 111, 125).

Others made similar pleas. Sam Etta Tipton opposed stronger international control, stressing that turbulence on the ground reflected harsh working conditions. “I don’t feel that there is so much trouble that we should have an administrator placed over our local,” she explained. “You should just come out there and work under those foreman. I mean, the things that they do to employees and the things that they say to them, the way they shove them around, you cannot blame the people.” Workers followed the grievance procedure, she added, but managers refused to deal with them in good faith. “It has gotten so out there now that the Company won’t recognize the committee,” she explained. “If they bargain with you, the first thing they will say, they want to tell you what Tom did out there on the streets, what Sally did; which is not any of their business. That is their own private life. That is no way to bargain” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 112).

Other testimony from female workers, who made up an undisclosed but significant proportion of foundry employees, was especially eloquent. This cohort, most of them African–American, faced extra burdens of combining their jobs with care giving responsibilities. Lena Reynolds explained these realities well, using them to refute UAW allegations that local membership meetings were infrequent. “You know, Mr. Fagan, he is talking about our membership meetings; it is true we haven’t had them for quite some time,” she explained. “We are completely tired. I leave home at 2:00 o’clock in the afternoon. I get back at 2:00 o’clock in the morning.” Women worked six days a week, often with the overtime that was a feature of the industry. “Now, we are ladies,” noted Tipton. “I maintain a home. Now, when I leave home or when I get home on Friday, it is about 3:00 or 4:00 o’clock when I get to bed. Now, I have got to get right up to come back to the union hall at New Haven. I live in Detroit. It is quite a job. People are tired, and a lot of our members depend on others for their rides. They don’t have cars. I take a load.” Compounding the problem, union meetings were often held on weekends (United Auto Workers 1963a, 113). Getting time off was also very difficult, as employees had to use company authorized doctors. As one observed, they had to be “absolutely dead, almost” to secure a medical absence (United Auto Workers 1963a, 114). Out of desperation, workers turned to wildcats (United Auto Workers 1963a, 113–114).

African–American workers also drew on a wider climate of civil rights protest. The hearing occurred during the summer of 1963, which witnessed a wave of black freedom protests across the country. In April and May, millions of Americans watched the landmark campaign in Birmingham, Alabama, where nonviolent civil rights protesters faced mass arrests and violence, pushing President Kennedy to introduce a comprehensive civil rights bill (see Eskew 1997, 3–17; Fairclough 1987, 111–139; Washington 1986, 217–220). Reflecting these influences, some African–American workers equated international control with racial oppression. “An administrator to me is like being under bonds,” asserted Jernigan. “It spells that in my books. Everybody, people all over the world, are fighting for their freedom today. This local union had existed from 1937 up to the present time without an administrator. Now you are telling me that we need an administrator, that it is too big for we boys to handle” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 109). Others referenced broader human rights struggles, including decolonization abroad. “As for putting on an administrator, I am against that,” declared Herman Dennis. “The people in the South, the European countries, Africa, those people are getting away from bonds; and here I don’t see why he [Fagan] wants to put an administrator over us.” With citizens “all over the world…getting away from the booting proposition,” New Haven workers should not move in the opposite direction (United Auto Workers 1963a, 116–117).

Even workers who reluctantly accepted an administrator stressed the depth of local grievances. Jimmy “Buck” Jones, a former local union president, emphasized arduous conditions. “When you have a job in these plants, you know, a foundry is no Paradise,” he testified. “I have put in thirty years in the foundry. I stand here today 66 years of age and I am still working.” Jones, however, insisted that problems should be addressed through the grievance procedure (United Auto Workers 1963a, 118). Worker George Groce, who stressed the good faith of the international union, espoused a similar viewpoint. He acknowledged, however, that workers were physically exhausted (United Auto Workers 1963a, 121).

Following lengthy testimony, Mazey brought the hearing to a close. Cutting short efforts by other workers to testify, he recommended an administrator in order to correct “a very serious problem out there.” He rejected claims of heavy-handedness – or more. “Everybody is opposed to bondage,” he argued. “This is why we organized our union. We organized it so that we can get the petty foreman and the supervisors off our backs” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 126). He argued that the UAW supported the civil rights fight, a battle that president Walter Reuther had given prominent backing to nationally. Rules, however, had to be followed (United Auto Workers 1963a, 124).

Softening the blow, international staff acknowledged grassroots grievances. “A foundry is not a pleasant place to work; even the most modern foundries aren’t,” admitted Mazey (United Auto Workers 1963a, 127). Merrelli added that workers faced numerous problems, especially regarding safety and workloads. “This is a very bad situation in that foundry,” he testified, “where iron is being poured; there is metal, and something has to be done about it.” Despite this, workers had to follow correct procedures (United Auto Workers 1963a, 109–110).

The board ruled quickly. Mazey noted that a “lengthy hearing” had uncovered “problems” that needed the international union's help. Although most workers testified against an administrator, Mazey recommended it, claiming that four of the local's executive board were in favor (United Auto Workers 1963a, 127). He also cited the support of Merrelli and Fagan, along with the fear that further wildcats would cause the foundry to lose its lucrative Chrysler contract. “Unless we can end the wildcat strikes that have plagued this local union recently,” he concluded, “that one of these days the Chrysler Corporation will make its own castings and we will have some four hundred-odd people out of work, and we are concerned about their jobs” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 128). The motion was carried unanimously, with Merrelli given “full power” to take over local union affairs (United Auto Workers 1963a, 130).

Affecting the Entire Nation: The Ford Stamping Plant Case

The other case involved Ford's stamping plant in Chicago Heights, located 30 miles south of Chicago. This was a massive facility, employing over 5,000 workers. The local union was formed in 1956 and had a high level of membership (United Auto Workers 1963a, 40, 49). The plant was a crucial supplier for Ford, the second biggest automaker in the country. Any strike at Chicago Heights, Bannon explained, “would affect the entire nation.” In May 1963, when workers walked out for eleven days due to safety complaints, the impact was considerable (United Auto Workers 1963a, 12).

Although ordered to do so, Local 588 refused to end the strike, which was “finally terminated” by court injunction (United Auto Workers 1963a, 1). For the international, this was an “emergency situation” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 2). Shutting down over 30 Ford plants, the ramifications were serious. The international union's order to end the strike created great resentment on the ground. Eventually, the local was placed under an administrator, and president Bernard Fox – who had started a movement for the local's withdrawal from the UAW – was expelled. Once again, the picture that emerged from the case was one of harsh working conditions, chaotic and adversarial labor relations, and a strong degree of rank-and-file disaffection (Barnard 2004, 356; United Auto Workers 1963a, 1–46).

The case revolved around local grievances, especially over health and safety. As “Brother Hamby” related, problems originated with pending “Health and Safety grievances,” which workers then struck over. On May 7, 1963, the local union committee found a press in the factory that they felt was “operating under unsafe conditions.” They asked the company to stop the press, but Ford refused (United Auto Workers 1963a, 8). On May 7, the local union allegedly stopped the press from operating. Two days later, Ford took action against five workers who were involved, including union leaders Fox and Conway. On May 11, the wildcat strike began after workers protested about Fox and Conway receiving a sixty-day penalty, while the other three participants received a week off. The strike ran until May 22, when a Chicago court ruled it illegal (United Auto Workers 1963a, 9).

All the while, grievances mounted. Hamby testified that a meeting that the international union had arranged on May 13 to try and process 162 grievances got delayed by the wildcat. By the time it was held in July, 800 grievances were pending. Even the international expressed concern (United Auto Workers 1963a, 9, 69). According to Donald “Marty” Martinson, chairman of Local 588's Trustees, the local had a “terrific backlog” of grievances, and officials required support. “We need help, but I don’t think we need an administrator,” he concluded (United Auto Workers 1963a, 60). The build-up of grievances, a continual problem, suggested a concerted effort by management to force the international's hand by refusing to address workers’ problems, undermining their power and trying to weaken the union (United Auto Workers 1963a, 56).

The case also spoke to broader conflict between the UAW and Ford Motor Company, the last of the Big Three to recognize the union (Barnard 2004; Reuther [ca 1945], 8; Zieger and Gall 2002). Owner Henry Ford had fiercely opposed dealing with the UAW, and after the 1941 settlement – forced on the company by a strong organizing campaign coordinated by the national CIO, along with increasing defense demands that strengthened labor's hand – relations with the union remained adversarial. “The Ford Motor Car Company does not appreciate they have signed a contract with the International Union,” Walter Reuther told the board in December 1942 (United Auto Workers 1942, 8). At Ford plants, away from the headlines about pattern bargaining, there were numerous tensions and a poor relationship with the UAW that persisted for decades (United Auto Workers 1947a, 32).

After World War II, Reuther clashed with Ford managers who claimed that the union's demands for wage and benefit hikes were excessive (United Auto Workers 1949a, 213). For the UAW chief, Ford was a “classic example” of how companies spent profits on expanding factories rather than boosting workers’ purchasing power, one of the “basic problems” of the postwar era (United Auto Workers 1949a, 216). In the 1940s and 1950s, Reuther and his aides pushed Ford to pay for pensions and other benefits for their workforce. “Where did the wealth come from, that made it possible for the Ford Motor Company to start out as a puny little concern and grow up to a billion dollar outfit?” he asked the board in 1949. “It came out of the sweat and toil of the workers – and by God they are going to get security!” For Reuther, this was a matter of “elementary justice” (United Auto Workers 1949a, 218–19).

Despite improving wages and benefits, problems with workloads and line speeds remained endemic. “For years and years and years,” Reuther told the board in 1949, “the Ford Motor Company, instead of developing efficient management procedure, just drove the guys. You didn’t have to be efficient – just kick the guys along when they were behind” (United Auto Workers 1949b, 141). Issues of workload – along with health and safety violations – provoked frequent conflict. In May 1949, workers at the massive Rouge plant in Dearborn – which employed over 60,000 people – and the Lincoln factory in Detroit struck for 24 days after refusing to work at higher line speeds. With its assembly lines idle at a time of strong domestic demand, Ford was forced to agree, after arbitration, not to increase line speeds without consultation. In the 1950s, however, wildcat strikes were a constant occurrence (Asher 1995; Barnard 2004, 306; U.S. Department of Labor 1949, 5).

It was in this context that the Chicago Heights case occurred. According to Fox's account, on May 7 he received a call from District Committeeman Dick Walsh about a “problem” on line 4 with press No. 1. One worker had already been “knocked down twice” by the malfunctioning press, refusing to run it. Another worker failed to operate the equipment “because of the overhanging ramp and the bolster plate was directly underneath him.” The company refused to make the job safe, supervisor James Gunther telling workers, “run it the way it was before” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 23).

When the case was formally referred to Local 588, it was participating in a second stage health and safety meeting for the second day in a row. It filed a grievance about the press. Ford then instituted a disciplinary procedure, charging the union with “interfering with production” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 25). As a result, several workers were given between four days and two months off work (United Auto Workers 1963a, 23, 26). As Fox explained, members then “took it upon themselves” and set up a picket line outside the plant. “I was home on Saturday,” he explained. “I got a phone call stating to the effect that the plant had been wildcatted.” Fox drove to the union hall, where members demanded a meeting, insisting “that all officers return with no discipline, that no employee be disciplined for the wildcat.” For leading the unauthorized walkout, Fox was fired and arrested. When the hearing was held on July 22, he remained unemployed (United Auto Workers 1963a, 28, 34, 39, all quotations 26).

Workers mobilized behind their grassroots leaders. At a meeting on June 9, members voted to pay Fox and Conway all lost time while they were discharged, with the money to be refunded if they won their case. Reuther, however, later wrote Local 588 that due to a “review of the circumstances which caused the action of the membership,” their action did not meet the international union constitution's definition of a “necessary expenditure.” Local union funds, he warned, should not be used in this way (“Gerald A. Peterson telegram to Walter Reuther” 1963; “Walter P. Reuther to Gerald A. Peterson” 1963).

The strike was well-supported, and came after a period of growth and engagement for Local 588. The meeting that authorized the wildcat was attended by almost 4,000 workers. Fox termed this “the biggest turnout that we have ever had for strike authorization at that plant since 1956.” In June 1963, per capita tax records showed that Local 588 had 3,702 dues-paying members (United Auto Workers 1963a, 50). In the early 1960s, the Local had built a large new union hall that cost members around $200,000 (United Auto Workers 1963a, 58). Donald Martinson testified that the hall was a “beautiful building,” with many facilities that were enjoyed by members, including basketball, table tennis, and cards. Third shift workers would play basketball at the hall until 3.30 a.m. “We have tried to bring the people together to congregate at the hall any way that we possibly could,” he explained. Members donated their time to the upkeep of the building. The local also put out a newspaper, overseen by two dedicated workers (United Auto Workers 1963a, 58–59).

Despite good pay and benefits, jobs were hard. The Chicago Heights group was stretched, especially by mandatory overtime and high workloads. Jess Norton answered questions about low levels of attendance at some union meetings – again a key international argument – by stressing demands on workers’ time: “A lot of people get the idea, well, what the heck, if I don’t vote, that is a Yes vote, anyway. They are working a lot of hours; they put in a lot of time….They put in six days a week. They put in overtime. They get one day off a week. That is Sundays. That is when we hold our meetings, and that is one day that they get with their families. So what do they do, they take the time and they spend it with their families, instead of coming to the union meetings” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 63). Refuting accusations that Fox and other local leaders were undemocratic, Norton insisted that the rank-and-file were so busy that they trusted their officials to make decisions. “These people are one hundred per cent in back of our president,” he asserted. “They still think of him as a president. Nobody is perfect. Everybody is liable for some mistakes. But I think he has done a very good job” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 64). According to Norton, there was no “confusion” in the local, making an administrator unnecessary (United Auto Workers 1963a, 65).

As at New Haven, there were deeper problems. Most of the 162 grievances that had been appealed to the international union reflected health and safety “violations,” including practices that led to injuries (United Auto Workers 1963a, 27). The company refused to honor its commitments. “They would send word down to the management on the floor not to violate it,” charged Fox. “They never enforce it” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 28). Fox charged that the international was also slow to process grievances, particularly over health and safety (United Auto Workers 1963a, 29–30). Mazey rejected the accusation, stressing that the board contained four former Ford workers. “The other members of our Board have all come from plants,” he noted. “We have all worked in the shop, and many of us are pioneers in the Union” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 41). Although top officers were concerned about rank-and-file grievances, unauthorized strikes were not the answer. “The question isn’t will we fight the Ford Motor Company,” he summarized. “The question is how do we fight the Ford Motor Company. And that is the problem” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 42).

Although Ford was one of the “Big Three,” with pattern-setting contracts, labor-management relations in Chicago Heights were anything but harmonious. “For some period of time now we have been having problems with the Ford Motor Company,” related Bannon, who directed the UAW's Ford Department. In October and November 1962, international staff met with local union leaders to discuss “Health and Safety problems” in the plant. After the UAW failed to get redress from Ford, it issued a strike notice. In December 1962, a settlement was reached, but the union charged that Ford violated the agreement, causing local dissatisfaction. “Furthermore,” added Bannon, “there were many other problems, new problems, that had originated down there. They were all Health and Safety problems” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 11). In April 1963, Bannon promised workers that he was going to “get into” these issues and take decisive action. “I was sick and tired of their complaints down there to the effect that the Ford Motor Company was not living up to the agreement,” he related, “that I had hoped that the local union would conduct a very successful strike vote so that we could really take Ford Motor Company on” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 11–12).

Problems were deep-rooted. In November 1956, Bannon wrote Reuther that Ford and the UAW were “deadlocked” about assigning wages and classifications for workers at the plant, and disagreed about many “other issues.” Frustrated, the local union took a strike vote, a move that concerned Bannon. “As you know, the Chicago Stamping Plant is essential to the production of Mercury cars,” he wrote. “A strike at this location would shut down all Mercury assembly plants and curtail production in those manufacturing plants which produce parts for the Mercury car” (“Ken Bannon to Walter P. Reuther” 1956). Local union files documented a plethora of other grievances, including workers protesting dismissal and reassignment and workload and seniority fights. Many resulted in NLRB charges (for example, “John Balough to Walter P. Reuther” 1961; “Peter Vranich to Larry Gettlinger” 1961).

Popular with members, Fox took up the cause. In eloquent testimony, he stressed the urgency of workers’ complaints. “We do have a serious condition at the Company as far as the problems,” he explained. “We have been trying to get them resolved. When I took office, for crying out loud, there were pretty close to 500 grievances in each of the procedures. As far as I am concerned, they had about four or five hundred third-stage grievances two years before I took office.” Relations with Ford were very poor, with workers accusing managers of never accepting the union. “Every time we tried to get something resolved, bambo, they would keep us busy on the floor,” complained Fox. “We would have to stop and get out on the floor and try to resolve a lot of problems….Management would keep us busy. As far as the Company is concerned, I have no use for them and I never will” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 32). By 1963, the backlog of health and safety grievances dated back at least six years, exacerbated by Ford's ongoing violations. For Fox, Ford was the “troublemaker” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 33).

The breakdown of the grievance procedure ensured that workers were determined to press ahead with the wildcat. On May 9, two days after the initial stoppage, workers picketed. “Initially the pickets had, I guess you would refer to them as the tops of silk stockings over their faces so that the Ford Motor Company could not distinguish who they were,” explained Bannon (United Auto Workers 1963a, 13). The city police, however, told pickets to remove the garments. On May 13, the leaders of Local 588 requested a meeting with Bannon to discuss the strike; he refused and told them to return to work (United Auto Workers 1963a, 14). The local union's files show that it made an official request that international representatives attend their meeting, set for 2 pm (“Local 588 Executive Board telegram to Walter Reuther” 1963). In a telegram to Local 588 that day, Bannon stressed that the strike was illegal under the UAW constitution, but pledged his support. “We will do everything possible to support the Ford workers against the tyranny of Ford Motor Company,” he claimed (United Auto Workers 1963a, 14).

Still, tensions escalated. Local 588 refused to return, insisting that the five discharged workers, along with any employees disciplined by Ford for picket line activity, be made “whole.” On the afternoon of May 14, in a meeting at a Chicago motel with Ford management, Bannon passed on this request. Ford, however, refused to reprieve the disciplined workers. There was also a discussion of the “Health and Safety issue,” but without results (United Auto Workers 1963a, 15). Rather, complaints of harassment of strikers by managers mounted. According to the local union, for example, a plant supervisor went to the house of striker Clarence Gould and informed his wife he would be “fired because of his participation,” adding that the company had photographic evidence (“Executive Board and Membership” 1963).

After this, the international union worked to get the strike called off (United Auto Workers 1963a, 15). On May 17, Bannon related that he had secured agreement from Ford that Fox and Conway, who had been laid off by Ford for 60 days, have their penalty reduced to four weeks. The union asked that three other workers who had been given a week off should be allowed to return immediately, based on the fact that the wildcat strike had run that long. Ford agreed that workers who had taken part in the picket line would not be discharged, but there would be “some penalties.” When Bannon reported this, local union leaders became “somewhat apprehensive about Ford Motor Company giving one or two individuals or more a six-month period of discipline.” Workers mistrusted – and feared – Ford (United Auto Workers 1963a, 16). Although Bannon tried to secure commitments that only small numbers would be disciplined, Local 588 subsequently rejected – by “unanimous” vote – his recommendation to return to work. On hearing this news, Ford declared they had had “enough.” They took the UAW to court (United Auto Workers 1963a, 17).

Other efforts to settle the strike continued. On May 20, Bannon met with umpire Harry Platt in Chicago, utilizing a key part of the machinery of Big Three bargaining. ⁶ Revealingly, Bannon did not invite Local 588 representatives to attend, fearing that they would testify that they were “in full support” of the wildcat. As Bannon admitted, he was “very apprehensive” and wanted strikers to avoid further discipline (United Auto Workers 1963a, 17). At the meeting, Platt ruled that the workers should return, but again they refused. The matter was then referred to the Illinois state courts, which mandated that workers had to go back. When they did, Ford fired Fox and Conway and disciplined seventeen other strikers (United Auto Workers 1963a, 18).

Key health and safety concerns remained unresolved. Following the return, representatives from the UAW's Ford Department met with the company to discuss the 162 health and safety grievances that had been referred to them. A further 236 health and safety grievances had not been appealed. Staffers tried to solve both groups of cases, but again Ford resisted. “These meetings have been going for a considerable period of time,” Bannon told the executive board in July. “We have not resolved to our satisfaction all of these grievances as of this time. We are still working on them” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 18–19, quotation 19). Workers’ frustration built, with Local 588's newspaper blasting Ford and the international union. Both, it charged, would “not exert themselves a little to try to keep safe working conditions in our plant. When injuries and even human lives are endangered, there isn’t time for cutting deals. If Ford Motor would work half as hard on keeping safe conditions as they do on disciplining employees, we wouldn’t have these problems” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 19–20). In response, the international insisted it was trying to help. “We want proper conditions in the plant in Chicago,” asserted Bannon (United Auto Workers 1963a, 21).

In the aftermath of the wildcat, the international union argued that local leaders lost control of the situation. According to Mazey, Ford managers did not “recognize” Fox as president after his dismissal, a claim Fox disputed. Mazey argued that due to “dissension” on the ground, an administrator was required (United Auto Workers 1963a, 45). Some international staff, however, acknowledged the veracity of grassroots issues. Vice-president Pat Greathouse, a former Ford worker, admitted that employees had “what everyone considers legitimate grievances,” especially over health and safety, adding that “several hundred” remained unresolved. The UAW needed to help, however, in order to reduce “confusion” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 53).

Rank-and-file workers disputed this. The hearing had a chaotic tone, a far cry from the image of staid postwar bargaining. In all, 55 Chicago Heights workers traveled to Detroit for the hearing, and the international union struggled to control proceedings. “We are not trying to conduct a mass meeting as they suggest,” explained Mazey. “They invited us to their membership, to conduct our board meeting on their stage, which I rejected on behalf of everyone here. I will try to control this. We will give them an opportunity of presenting their case adequately” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 2). Sounding flustered, Mazey added that it was “unusual” to have so many workers appearing (United Auto Workers 1963a, 5). Fox was defiant, claiming that the membership backed him and that the strike had united workers. “We have had 100% cooperation from the people,” he asserted (United Auto Workers 1963a, 40).

At the hearing, workers were determined to speak. “I want my people to hear what I have to say,” explained Fox. “They are going to be called upon.” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 22). He resisted Mazey's efforts to stick to the “essentials.” “This is going to be a little long,” he asserted, “….I just want you to bear with me” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 23). Fox won his day in court, his testimony taking two hours (United Auto Workers 1963a, 53). Many workers also spoke, despite repeated efforts by Mazey to shorten proceedings (United Auto Workers 1963a, 54). Several opposed an administrator, criticizing the international. “The only advice that they could give us was to go back to work,” one noted, “it is reasonable but it is not solving the issues that were at hand.” Worker Jess Norton added: “I don’t think there is that much confusion to put an administrator over the local” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 54, quotations 65). ⁷

Others, including local union officers Tom Dowdy and Richard Garner, supported an administrator. They stressed the need to back the international union and retain its support in rectifying local complaints. “We just want some plan down there whereby we can process the grievances that we have got in procedure,” noted Garner, stressing local confusion (United Auto Workers 1963a, 61–62). Fox insisted that many other workers backed him, but Mazey brought proceedings to a close without more testimony. He could not, he concluded, “conduct a hearing as a mass meeting” (United Auto Workers 1963a, 67). It was a messy conclusion, with Fox and Mazey interrupting each other before Mazey excused the local union representatives. He tartly thanked them for attending (United Auto Workers 1963a, 54–68).

In concluding remarks, Mazey described the case as a “very serious matter,” involving “dissension in the local union” and a “bad wildcat strike.” The leadership had displayed a “lack of responsibility towards the rules of the Union, the contract with the Company, and the law.” He acknowledged that “a lot of grievances which are in the mill require action.” Ultimately, though, an administrator was essential to restore order. Mazey introduced the motion, which Merrelli seconded. It passed unanimously, with international representative Robert Johnson appointed to the role (United Auto Workers 1963a, 1).

The case rumbled on. On October 16, the UAW held a further hearing – at the La Salle hotel in Chicago – to consider charges that Fox was campaigning to set up an independent union at the plant. In a bizarre twist, Fox refused to attend the meeting and picketed the hotel lobby. The board sent a committee to try and persuade him to participate, but he refused (United Auto Workers 1963c, 1). The hearing revealed that Fox had organized the “Committee for Freedom and Justice in Ford.” Seeing this as a decertification attempt, the IEB voted to expel Fox from the UAW. According to Reuther, there was “conclusive evidence” for the decertification charges (United Auto Workers 1963b, 1–2, quotation 2). This was not the end of the matter, and later that month the IEB discussed charges from Local 588 that “we ran a kangaroo court, etc.” This led to “off the record” discussion, with the decision upheld (United Auto Workers 1963c, 1).

After this, the international sought repair. Addressing the wildcat strike problem at an October 31 meeting, Reuther admitted that UAW leaders had an “educational job” to do, especially in reaching young workers who were increasingly frustrated with grassroots conditions – and not just in Chicago Heights. “These fellows lead wildcat strikes,” he noted. “They either do not understand that there is an established procedure by which we are contractually and legally and constitutionally obligated to work through in an effort to resolve problems, or they just tear up the Constitution and defy the law and defy the contract.” Reuther defended the UAW's record in addressing rank-and-file needs. “Now our Union,” he concluded, “we don’t have to apologize for the effort that we have made to struggle to try to resolve workers’ problems. Many of these fellows are young people. They don’t know anything about the Labor Movement. They don’t know anything about the UAW.” His remarks spoke to broader challenges, as the union struggled to keep in touch with an increasingly young membership who were less willing than their parents to tolerate arduous and unsafe working conditions (United Auto Workers 1963b, 1–2, quotation 2). By 1970, for example, 42 percent of Chrysler workers were under 30, representative of a new generation building America's cars (United Auto Workers 1970a, 12).

Adding to leaders’ challenges, the Chicago Heights wildcat – like many others – secured results, emboldening workers to repeat it. The day after the walkout ended, Ford installed a new loader to replace the unsafe one. The speed of the fix seemed to indicate willful provocation by management in refusing to settle grievances. “I went right down to Line No. 4, right where this whole thing started, and I came to find out, lo and behold, the next day, right after the walkout, after they went back, the Automation Department scheduled in a brand new loader for Line No. 4, the same job that we had fought about. It was there, a brand new one,” explained Fox (United Auto Workers 1963a, 35). The company replaced the loader in three days, a rapid turnaround. Other wildcats – as at New Haven – gave psychological satisfaction to workers who felt that management did not respect them, especially if they only worked through a system that companies frequently subverted (United Auto Workers 1963a, 113).

Aftermath and Conclusion: The Broader Meaning

These cases had broader significance. Throughout the postwar era, the media focused on national bargaining, or what the Washington Post in 1953 summarized as the UAW's “industry-wide demands” (“UAW to Seek Guaranteed Annual Wage” 1953, M6). For them, industrial relations in the auto industry was a tri-annual battle for a new national contract. Between contracts, the industry frequently dropped out of the news (Ruch 1949, 19).

For rank-and-file workers, however, local issues remained plentiful. They were a constant, daily problem, revealing the gap between winning the contract and applying it. Wildcat strikes were rife, revealing a broader disaffection underlying the postwar bargaining system. Many workers also took strike authorization votes, using the threat of walkouts to win concessions from recalcitrant managers. Approving these requests was a major item of board business, a problem dating back decades. In 1948, the UAW authorized 386 strikes, the Bureau of Labor Statistics reporting that more work hours were lost because of strikes in Detroit than any other city in America. Workload disputes were the most common trigger. Over the succeeding decades, the situation changed little. At its December 1964 meeting, the board waded its way through a list of strike authorization requests that board member Larry Gettlinger called “so voluminous.” The record ran to seven pages and included the names of over 250 companies, including parts makers and foundries as well as assembly plants (United Auto Workers 1949b, 87; United Auto Workers 1964b, 223, quotation). Taken as a whole, these events challenge us to refine our image of “affluent workers” and “stable unions” (Zieger and Gall 2002, v, 182).

The UAW's files threw up other many other cases of grassroots disaffection, including conflict with union leaders. In 1958, over 11,000 grievances were unresolved at General Motors alone. When the UAW carried out a comprehensive survey of its membership in the 1960s, workers agreed with strikes over workloads and local issues more than those called over national matters. Most also viewed the handling of such strikes as “only fair” or “poor” (Lichtenstein 1995, 291). In November 1961, workers at GM's large plant in Oakland, California, wrote an eloquent memorandum that epitomized rank-and-file alienation. “The Membership of our Union faces a rapidly deteriorating working conditions, loss of seniority and transfer rights, worsen speed-up conditions that affect everyone on the job and rivals the pre-union days of the 30's,” they charged. The workers spoke out against the “slow and cumbersome grievance procedure,” along with no-strike clauses in national agreements that left members “powerless to resolve their problems on the local level.” Members, they argued, needed to build a “militant, vibrant, and dynamic union with rank and file democracy as our guiding influence.” At the 1962 UAW convention, activists in Local 1031, the Oakland plant, even moved to challenge the union's top leaders (“Local #1031 UAW to Brother” 1961).

While the position of Reuther – and his aides – was secure, in succeeding decades these calls for new forms of leadership increased, finding voice in the “New Directions” movement of the 1980s and 1990s (Tucker 2011, xii). Led by disaffected Michigan autoworker Jerry Tucker, the movement gained considerable rank-and-file support by highlighting the toll of auto jobs and ongoing safety problems. As the domestic automakers began to shed jobs from the 1970s on, it also provided a critique of concessionary bargaining (Runk 2008; Tucker 2011, xi, xii).

Even when big national strikes occurred, local issues were plentiful. During a strike at General Motors in 1970 – involving over 400,000 workers—little-known grassroots grievances were again important. During the walkout, related international affairs director Victor Reuther, the UAW faced an “enormous backlog of grievances over local issues.” The central issues for many rank-and-filers were “the speed of the line, health and safety conditions and a host of other factors.” Overall, these questions were “more important in the minds of the workers than more cash in their pay envelope” (United Auto Workers 1970c). Again on the front-line, Merrelli admitted that member disaffection was at the heart of the 1970 strike. “Key to the solution is to get the Local issues solved,” he told the executive board on October 22 (United Auto Workers 1970b, 12). Confirming this, some locations remained on strike well after the national settlement. In another strike at GM's Lordstown, Ohio plant in 1972, younger workers, again less willing to tolerate arduous and unsafe working conditions, led a struggle that secured considerable publicity (“Emil Mazey and William Serrin” 1973, 3; United Auto Workers 1970b, 12–13). The Lordstown walkout was a wildcat, delivering plenty of what historian Jefferson Cowie has termed “proletarian drama” (Cowie 2010, 44). Clearly, representative issues were raised in New Haven and Chicago Heights (Cowie 2010, 45).

The GM and Lordstown strikes were part of a broader grassroots upsurge. As one key study has found, in the 1970s a “rebel rank and file” asserted itself, not just in autos but across American industry (Brenner, Brenner and Winslow 2010). In 1970 alone, more than three million U.S. workers took part in strikes, part of an international wave of labor militancy. The grievances of African–American autoworkers, which found expression in the Detroit Revolutionary Union Movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s, were a further reflection of this. In the 1960s, black workers were hired in increasing numbers by the Big Three but were disproportionately placed in lower-paid jobs, battling on-the-job discrimination that generated numerous grievances. As at the New Haven Foundry, these workers grew frustrated with both companies and the international union. Inspired by the civil rights movement, they took matters into their own hands (see Brenner, Brenner and Winslow 2010; Cohen 2008; Lichtenstein and Meyer 1989; Widick 1976).

As a result of this ongoing militancy, scholars have used the 1970s to challenge notions of labor's decline. As Lane Windham argues in Knocking on Labor's Door, the decade offered “fresh promise for America's working class” and featured “tremendous organizing efforts” (2017, 1, 3). This was especially the case through grassroots struggles, where the picture was very different to national images. As Windham shows, workers had lots of grievances and kept organizing, conclusions that resonate with the New Haven and Chicago Heights cases (Minchin 2017, 9–10; Rubio 2020, 2, 4; Turk 2016, 5–6). This article also builds on the work of Daniel Clark, who argued that even in the 1950s, at the height of the industry's dominance, autoworkers’ lives were dominated by “economic insecurity,” very different to the national image. The New Haven and Chicago Heights cases connect the work of Windham and Clark, revealing mounting grassroots frustration in the 1960s (Clark 2018, 4).

Of course, the strength of local grievances did not detract from the UAW's record in winning pathbreaking wages and benefits. These gains were important, especially in providing unprecedented economic uplift. Some locals that led wildcat strikes recognized this. “We believe that during the years our Union (the U.A.W.) has been organized, our members have made gains in all fields and respective areas of Bargaining that is unequalled by any other Union existing today,” wrote Local 588 secretary-treasurer Rayburn Frey, answering the Oakland workers’ charges. “We have been the fore runners and pioneers in negotiating benefits that were thought impossible for the working people to ever attain.” As a result, Local 588 did not support a challenge to the international union leadership (“Rayburn Frey to Local #1301” 1962). Even at the July 22 hearing, some praised the UAW's record. “I feel that we have the best Union in the world,” exclaimed member Richard Garner (United Auto Workers 1963a, 60).

Still, the task was to make Ford “live up to the contract,” as Garner acknowledged. The economic gains were important, but they did not cover the many local issues that workers faced, especially over workloads and safety. These non-economic areas were constantly contested. At New Haven and Chicago Heights—as in many other locations—such problems were not resolved quickly (United Auto Workers 1963a, 61).

Local problems were particularly protracted at New Haven. In December 1964, Merrelli reported that Local 429 remained under an administrator, with members pushing many grassroots grievances. He recommended that the arrangement continue “for at least another three or four months” due to rank-and-file restlessness (United Auto Workers 1963a, 116, quotations 115). Alston had appealed the decision to appoint an administrator, asking to appear again before the board. The international also accused Alston of accepting $82.80 to attend a union conference in Lansing, Michigan but not turning up. These allegations were, however, inconclusive (“Christopher C. Alston to Emil Mazey” 1963; “George Merrelli to Walter P. Reuther” 1964; “William Beckham to Emil Mazey” 1963).

Local 429's outspoken president remained a thorn in the international union's side. In an extraordinary telegram to Reuther on August 14, 1964, Alston claimed that conditions in the foundry were “appalling.” The main problem remained poor safety, causing workers to suffer “crippling accidents.” One worker had even died in an industrial accident. Alston also detailed that there was “racial discrimination in hiring and in placement,” generating tensions. Management was exacting “reprisals” against workers who had testified against the company, while workers who had attended the 1963 March on Washington “were penalized when they returned.” Claiming that “emergency action” was required, Alston called for the local to resume control of its affairs (“Christopher C. Alston to Walter P. Reuther” 1964). In reply, a piqued Merrelli asked Alston to submit more “factual evidence,” denying the request to abolish the administrator. The board did not remove the administrator until January 1967 (“Emil Mazey to All Departments” 1967; “George Merrelli to Christopher C. Alston” 1964, quotation).

In the months and years that followed, local complaints from New Haven continued to mount. This occurred even with new local leadership in place. In March 1967, the local submitted a list of unresolved grievances to the international union, appealing directly to Reuther for help. They included allegations of refusal to bargain and workers being denied overtime pay. Reuther termed it “a breakdown in your grievance procedure,” but again referred the matter to Merrelli, whose relations with the local were tainted (“Walter P. Reuther to Robert B. Moses” 1967). In another 1967 letter to Reuther, shop chairman Robert B. Moses asserted that the international union was not supportive as the company continued to cause problems. “Our employer, the New Haven Foundry Company has been, and still are running wild with not only contract violations but in many cases racial discrimination,” he charged. Workers, he reiterated, walked out illegally as a last resort. “We have had numerous Wild-Cat Strikes in the past simply because our people feel that they must do it on their own,” he concluded (“Harry Lee Boglin and Woodrow W. Cherry to Walter P. Reuther” 1967; Robert B. Moses to Walter Reuther 1967, quotations). In the years that followed, the international continued to receive complaints, especially about worker injuries and allegations that Merrelli was not sufficiently responsive (for example “Otha to Larry” 1970).

Such cases were not unusual. Minutes showed that local problems—particularly unresolved grievances and wildcat strikes—continued to take up an inordinate amount of the executive board's time. Rather than national bargaining, local cases took center stage, often having “special” meetings to hear them. At the December 1964 meeting, for example, seven locals were summoned to show cause hearings, with administrators appointed in six of these cases and the charter revoked in the other. The locals covered by new administrators came from three different regions in the union (United Auto Workers 1964b, iv–v). At a similar “special” board meeting on April 26, 1965, two locals—one large, one small—had administrators placed over them due to local problems, with companies “failing to honor” contract provisions (United Auto Workers 1965, ii–iii, 1–9, quotations 19). Overall, what Mazey called “the problems of the people” remained a central concern (United Auto Workers 1964b, iii, quotation 111).

Even when the UAW reported on national agreements, there were extensive reports of “local negotiations” (United Auto Workers 1964a, 77–88, quotation 81). These took longer to resolve, as workers raised intractable issues about workloads, safety, and other non-economic matters. The process of ratifying national gains was slow, relying on local cooperation and agency. UAW leaders frequently expressed frustration with the intractability of plant issues, the limits of top–down bargaining. “With the national contracts settled we ought to try to achieve a greater sense of urgency in terms of resolving the local problems,” Reuther told the board in fall 1964. The 1964 Big Three contract delivered major gains, including the principle of early retirement, yet scores of grassroots battles remained unresolved (United Auto Workers 1964b, 84 quotation 81).

Problems were particularly acute at Ford. The company's workers, Bannon admitted in 1964, had “hard core issues” that management refused to address (United Auto Workers 1964b, 83). It was important to see “what can be done to recreate a better relationship.” Workers had repeated grievances not just because of dissatisfaction “on our side” but “primarily on the part of management, where they keep stirring this thing up” (United Auto Workers 1964b, 84).

Ford workers continued to strike. On November 6, 1964, nine Ford plants walked out over what the New York Times termed “unsettled local issues” (“Strikes at Ford” 1964, 1). Over 25,000 workers were involved, cutting Ford's national production by some 12 percent. Chicago Heights was at the heart of the walkout, workers angry about the company's unwillingness to agree to a formula to regulate overtime that it had granted workers at its Cleveland stamping plant. Other local issues included health and safety matters, proposals for extra wash-up and relief time, seniority problems, and calls for better ventilation. As a result, ratification of the landmark 1964 contract was delayed (“Strikes at Ford” 1964, 1, 12).

In the longer term, Chicago Heights and New Haven emerged from having administrators and continued to be vociferous, independently minded locals. Like most UAW locals, they appreciated national gains, but also viewed them through the filter of local experience. Local 429 operated until the New Haven Foundry closed in 2001, while the Ford Stamping Plant—with Local 588 in place—remained an important facility when the UAW struck the Big Three in 2023 (Cardenas 2001, 5D; Channick 2023).

As the 2023 strike showed, rank-and-file workers retained plenty of deep-seated grievances. Assembly jobs remained physically demanding, producing familiar complaints about injuries, lack of work-life balance, and alienation. Even during the landmark 2023 dispute—the first time the UAW had struck all of the Big Three at once—workers across the U.S. spoke to local issues as much as national priorities, reminding us how arduous building cars remained. “Thirty-eight years in jail,” was how Jeep worker Todd Gibson described his job, explaining why he was striking for a better deal. “Not everybody is molded to be a factory worker. You have to be able to handle the long-term, repetitive nature, let you mind go into a different place” (Isidore and Yurkevich 2023; Kaufman 2023, 42–51, quotation 44).

As events in New Haven and Chicago Heights showed, there was a lot more to the UAW's history in the postwar era than the push for what the New York Times termed “a new national contract.” This encourages us to push back against the postwar accord narrative, and see the importance of building rank-and-file power on the ground. In 2023 and 2024, this was a conclusion the UAW returned to with success, especially under the leadership of grassroots reformer Shawn Fain. Emphasizing working-class mobilization, Fain oversaw important gains at domestic and foreign-owned automakers, especially in the successful strike agreement, which produced substantial wage and benefit increases. ⁸

Even in earlier decades, behind the image of stable bargaining the UAW fought an ongoing battle for recognition, with many executives never accepting the union. Despite the gains in wages and benefits, jobs remained hard; it was understandable that workers needed to “be mad” sometimes (Ruch 1949, 19). The UAW's national bargaining strength produced the Big Three contracts, but local conditions—and compliance—varied greatly. On the ground, building cars on a day-to-day basis remained contested, chaotic, and demanding, as workers and managers fought over the meaning of their contracts. As events at Locals 429 and 588 illustrated, workloads and health and safety remained key battlefronts. Ultimately, both rank-and-file grievances and strong national contracts could exist together, part of the rich history of American labor relations in the postwar era (United Auto Workers 1964b, 138–140).