One of the enduring myths about the U.S.
Supreme Court is that in its lofty
supposed impartiality it is above
and immune from popular pressure, politics,
or protest. Of course, since it first asserted its right to
rule on the Constitutionality of
laws enacted by Congress and executive
actions of the President as a Federalist thumb-in-the-eye to Thomas Jefferson, decisions by the court have often been nearly nakedly political.
Over most of its history the
Court was in the continuous hands of
the most conservative elements of society and naturally served
the interests of the national elite from which its members were almost unanimously drawn. Which is why until the Warren Court shifted into liberal
hands, you never heard charges of judicial activism as it routinely
struck down social reforms and efforts to regulate the excesses of unfettered capitalism.
But today we are going to tell the all but forgotten tale of how a conservative Court bowed down before a powerful
and united labor movement
that had in its hands the power to bring the economy of the United States to a dead halt.
On March 15, 1917 the Court
surprised the nation by ruling that the Adamson
Act of 1916 that established an eight-hour
workday, with no loss in pay,
for interstate railroad workers was Constitutionally
sound. The Court voted 5-4 to reverse a lower court decision which had ruled
the legislation unconstitutional. The majority
cited the emergency nature of the Act and conformity to the “public character” of interstate rail transportation. It represented a significant broadening of the interpretation
of the interstate commerce provision
of the Constitution in that it covered a government
action that went beyond regulation.
What moved the Court in this unexpected
direction? It was quite simply the sure knowledge that 200,000 members of the Railroad Brotherhoods acting in full cooperation were prepared to go on a strike that would paralyze the nation.
Those same railroad workers had
already forced the hand of both the President
of the United States and Congress.
The eight-hour workday had
been the holy grail of the labor
movement for 60 years. Wage workers in the rapidly industrializing nation
routinely worked 12, 11, and 10-hour days, six days a week in often brutal conditions. Such drudgery
dramatically shortened the life expectancy of
laborers, disrupted ordinary family life, and contributed to a culture of heavy binge drinking
once a week on paydays as a release from the stress and misery of the job.
In the post-Civil War era the National
Labor Union, the country’s
first national labor body, launched a series of strikes to demand an eight-hour workday with no decrease
in wages. Although the strikes failed, Congress was alarmed enough to pass weak 8 Hour legislation in 1868. But there was no enforcement mechanism,
and no proscribed punishments for employers who ignored it.
The law was essentially dead before the ink dried.
In the 1870s and ‘80s the Knights of Labor took up the call. A nationwide strike for the eight-hour day
supported by the Knights and by the craft
unions which would later become the American
Federation of Labor (AFL) was
called for May 1,
1886. After the so-called Haymarket Riot in Chicago the executed
anarchists became martyrs to the movement.
For the next decades virtual open class warfare raged in America. In some local
situations and in some industries the 8-hour day would be
won—often to be snatched away later when the repeated cycle of panics of
those years routinely drove down wages and set workers fighting amongst themselves for the scraps.
In the early 1890’s Eugene V. Debs united craft divided workers
into a powerful industrial union,
the American Railway Union (AUR).
Their first great victory against the Great Northern Railway included an eight-hour day. But in 1892 Federal troops smashed
the AUR’s Pullman Boycott and sent
Debs and his fellow union leaders to jail. Although the eight-hour day was not an issue in the Pullman affair, the
destruction of the AUR effectively ended progress to winning
that goal in the railroad industry.
By the early years of the 20th Century the old Railway
Brotherhoods, who regarded themselves
as the aristocracy of labor, had learned the bitter
lessons of being divided by craft. They agreed
to act in concert for a new push for the eight-hour
day.
The time could not be better than 1916. The country had emerged from yet another
Panic and was in a solid boom caused
in no small measure by the horrible war raging in Europe. American
industry was stepping in to fill a global market
disrupted by the war. It was also in the process of re-arming America in Preparedness in case the country was dragged into the foreign squabble.
The railway unions announced that
they were ready to launch a nationwide strike unless they were given an eight-hour workday with no decrease in wages and time
and a half pay for overtime. Railroad operators were intransigent but were aware that the
Brotherhoods were well organized, had strong rank and file support, and
could rely on broader support from the labor movement.
In the White House President Woodrow Wilson had a problem. Although he was running for re-election with the boast “He kept us out of war,” he was increasingly convinced that the United
States would sooner rather than later
be ensnared. He launched his highly publicized Preparedness campaign to quickly ramp up
production of war materials and supplies for a huge new Army and modernized Navy. A railway strike would disrupt all of that.
Moreover, he had a political problem. He was running as a progressive Democrat, but unlike 1912, the Republicans were once again
united and Deb’s
Socialist Party was making serious
inroads in his support among urban workers. He could not afford to force the railroads to continue operations with military force like another Democrat, Grover Cleveland had done in the
Pullman Strike. Such action would
alienate the big city working class without which no Democrat could hope to be elected. And armed action
against the strikers would inflame
general anti-war sentiment and threaten national unity
he would need to go to war.
Wilson called the Railroad operators
and the Railway Brotherhoods together for a meeting at the White House where he offered to act as “an honest broker.” Wilson
proposed the eight-hour work day, but without wage guarantees. The railroads agreed but the unions balked. They would not accept a plan that essentially reduced the take home pay of their members. They walked
away from the negotiations and noisily resumed plans
for the strike.
Wilson had no good options. On August
29, 1916 he appeared before a joint session of Congress and demanded
emergency legislation to prevent the looming strike. In a virtual total capitulation to labor he called for the eight-hour day
with no loss of wages and the overtime provision that would discourage bosses from simply continuing to schedule long shifts.
Enabling
legislation was introduced by Democratic Congressman William C. Adamson of Georgia. It sped through congress and passed both houses beating a
September 4 strike deadline.
Even though a special commission was set up to allow the railroads to raise their freight rates,
which were regulated by the Interstate
Commerce Commission, there was no doubt that the Railroads would turn to the courts to block the new law. Wilson not only expected it, but he was also pretty sure that the operators would prevail. He himself had vetoed far less sweeping reform legislation in the past based on his
constitutional doubts about the authority
of government to meddle in private industry. None-the-less, he directed his Justice Department to defend the expected attacks.
The Act was quickly struck down as unconstitutional by the United States District Court for Western Missouri. The unions announced that they would
resume preparations for a nationwide strike.
May Day, traditionally tied
to the struggle for the eight-hour day, was a likely target which enhanced
the possibility that it might even
spread into a general strike.
The Justice Department urged the
high Court to rapidly consider its
appeal of the lower court decision. Questioning of lawyers on both sides of the case by the
Justices led the press to
widely speculate that the law was doomed. The Brotherhoods
allowed scattered local “wildcat”
strikes to occur as demonstrations of power and major demonstrations were held in
cities across the country. The labor and radical press was full of news and offers of support in
solidarity.
Finally, on March 15 enough justices
bowed to the pressure of an impending national emergency to uphold the
Adamson Act by the narrowest of margins. Chief
Justice Edward D. White, a Louisiana Democrat first appointed to the Court by Grover Cleveland
and made Chief Justice by William Howard
Taft, was the surprising author of
the 5-4 majority opinion.
Soon the U.S. was at war. In
December Wilson nationalized the railroads for the duration. They continued to operate under the
provisions of the Act, however. And the law remained in effect after the operators resumed control of their lines.
The war proved to be a body blow to militant labor. Wilson enthusiastically
intervened time and again against
strikes in “essential” industries like copper mining and timber. He equated the most radical wing of the labor movement, the Industrial Workers of the (IWW),
major champions of the eight-hour
day, with treasonous interference with war effort. An unprecedented
wave of repression stung not only the IWW but Debs and the Socialist
Party, and even AFL unions’
After the war was over the great Red Scare saw thousands of labor leaders
deported or jailed.
Under those circumstances
moves to extend the eight-hour day to other elements of the economy fizzled. It did not become the law of the land until late in the New Deal when the Fair Labor Standards Act finally went into effect in 1937.
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