'Grandmaw' and the Middletown strike

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By WEINSTEIN In the February issue of Socialist Action there was a story on Middletown, Ohio, and the workers there at Armco Steel who are fighting for decent working conditions. Middletown was my hometown, and the story brought back many memories from my youth.

I moved to Middletown in 1935, when I was nine years old. It was a real working-class town, quite different from Lexington, Ky., where I was born and lived until we moved "north." In Kentucky, there was no work except in tobacco warehouses or around race horses.

My father's first job in Middletown was at the Sorg Pulp and Paper Mill. Today's environ -mentalists would have declared the Sorg Paper Mill a disaster area. You could smell the chlorine a mile away.

After two years at Sorg's, my father landed one of the most coveted jobs in Middletown-at Armco Steel Mill. Armco had the reputation of being the best employer in town.

My father believed every word of Armco's benevolent repu - tation. Dad would work any amount of time that was demanded of him. The company did pay better wages than other jobs in Middletown and also had classes for its workers so they could upgrade their skills.

My father started in the furnace, worked up to the roller mill, and finally landed a position as a metallurgist after taking classes at Armco. He loved his work and brought it home with him—always telling about the day's events on the job and especially his new skills.

Armco owned the local ball -park and sponsored its own team. The company gave a yearly Easter-egg hunt in Variety Park for the children of the town. It was said that Armco owned the cops, too. And, the story went, if good" Armco man got in trouble, the company could get him off.

My father was very impressed by all this. But his romance with Armco-and capitalism-did not extend to the rest of the family. Quite the opposite.

My Grandmaw My step-grandmother worked for the P. Lorillard Tobacco Company in Middletown. One of their products was Old Plug Chewing Tobacco (which Grandmaw used). She thought smoking was undignified, but she kept a wad of Old Plug in her cheek all the time.

Mine and my step-mother's families came from the hills of Kentucky: Lee County, Wolf County, and "Bloody" Brethet County. (It was called bloody because of what the mine owners solidaring A INTE MILLAI Middletown, Ohio did to the miners to try to stop the union.)

Many of my family were miners. Some worked in the lumber mills and-when times really got tough-some of them took to bootlegging. They were also believers in the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO). As far as they were concerned, the only person (besides Jesus) who could walk on water was John L. Lewis, who was heading up the CIO at that time.

Grandmaw helped organize the tobacco workers into the CIO in Middletown. Her boss at P. Lorillard got wind that some secret union organizing was going on. He came up to Grandmaw and told her he wanted to talk this over with her and the other union organizers.

The boss said it in a friendly voice, so Grandmaw and four other union militants went to his office to discuss the union. Then he had the "ringleaders" right where he wanted them. He told her and the others to get their belongings, get out of the plant, and never come back.

As Grandmaw was walking out, she jumped upon a big tobacco basket and told the other workers that she and the four militants had been fired for organizing a union. She ex -plained that everyone else had a choice of staying or walking out too. The workers walked. There was a long and bitter strike.

The strikers organized a kitchen near the factory, where all workers and their families could get breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She put me to work washing dishes, cleaning tables, and doing whatever else was needed. They collected food from churches, grocery stores, and from farmers in the surrounding area. No one went hungry during that strike.

After a long hot summer, the strike ended in complete victory for the union. I remember the ending. The governor had called in the National Guard against the strikers. It was a hot, humid day when they came. The street in front of the tobacco plant was lined with workers and their families. They had the street completely blocked from wall to wall.

I was standing in the front line with Grandmaw and the other leaders of the strike. They were facing open panel trucks loaded with armed National Guardsmen. One of the guardsmen looked down on her and said: "You better move these people out, old lady, or we're going to run right over you.

Grandmaw looked him in the eye and said: "Young man, I've put diapers on people your age. So you just come right on, we're not moving." After about an hour of this standoff, we heard a big cheer from the back of the trucks—the guard was moving out. Grandmaw and her coworkers had won.

The next lesson That was my first lesson about which side I was on. The next lesson came shortly thereafter. I came home from school to find my step-mother and my father in an argument. He was in the bedroom packing a bag of clothes. There was a rumor that Armco was going to be organized and that a "big strike was coming."

The boss had demanded that any worker who wanted to keep his or her job move into the plant and keep it running, strike or no strike. My father was planning to move into Armco. He had his bag packed and was walking down the stairs when my step-mother yelled to him: "If you walk out that door with that suitcase, don't plan on coming back. I will never sleep with a scab."

Dad got as far as the screen door and turned around. He didn't go. It turned out that there was to be no strike, after all. Armco remained a non-union company for a long time.

It has been many years since I've been in Middletown, but I have never forgotten the fighting spirit of the workers in that town. From reading last month's Socialist Action, I learned that Armco workers have transformed a company union into a real union. It looks like this new generation of workers will carry on that fighting spirit.