Lewis to His Countrymen

John L. Lewis once attempted to define the origin and nature of his power, his place in U. S. life. Said he in 1938, to the first constitutional convention of his C. I. O. : "After all I merely undertake to express and articulate in a public way the things that you say to me, the instructions that you impose upon me. ... If I fail to understand my instructions, if I fail to comprehend what you really mean in your resolves . . . my voice will be of no more value than the most humble citizen going about his obscure toil. . . . My strength is only the strength of the multitude. . . ."

Last week John Lewis made another speech. In it he did not pretend to be the humble servant of labor expressing its will. Instead he undertook the risks and responsibilities of leading and of asking labor to follow. Said he frankly: "I choose to speak tonight only in the role of a citizen and an American. ... I do not speak for labor, but on the contrary I speak to labor and to all my countrymen."

The Expected Theme of the first 2,000 Lewis words was Lewis against Roosevelt. That theme had first been sounded by John Lewis within a year after he poured $500,000 into the 1936 Roosevelt campaign. Last year he arraigned the New Deal for abject domestic failure ("The nation cannot forever continue its appalling drift"). Last January he had fiercely denounced a third term. Last week he finally let himself go. Speaking like an oldtime tragedian, he let his orotund words roll out over three networks, 322 radio stations, to perhaps 25,000,000 listeners.

John Lewis had done more than most men to vest new powers in the Presidency; he now denounced a President who would cling to those powers ("Personal craving for power, the overweening, abnormal and selfish craving for increased power is a thing to alarm and dismay"). A genuine isolationist, he spoke from the heart on the issue most likely to do Campaigner Roosevelt immediate harm ("His motivation and his objective ... is war").

Said he: "America needs no superman. It denies the philosophy that runs to the deification of the state." He looked ahead to a world in troubled peace, the demobilization of millions, the final loss of U. S. markets in Europe, the Orient, Africa, Latin America ("The record of the last seven years is proof sufficient that the Roosevelt Administration is incapable of meeting this situation . . ."). He summed up: "And yet this Administration, in nonchalant and sprightly fashion, bluntly asks the American people to grant it at least an additional four years of power."

Lewis for Willkie had for days been the theme of prophetic headlines. About the only people who could not yet believe that Lewis would come out for Willkie were lesser C. I. O. leaders. More than any other man, except Franklin Roosevelt himself, John Lewis had built up the faith of his membership in the President. In union halls, by home radios, they now waited to hear a faint, damning kiss for Willkie, or else John Lewis echoing the President's "A plague o' both your houses!" They heard:

"If not Roosevelt, whom do I recommend? . . . Why, of course, I recommend the election of Wendell L. Willkie as the next President of the United States."

He went on to review Willkie's aims and promises, to affirm that Wendell Willkie could and would keep his promises. They heard of a promise which had not been previously heralded: that Wendell Willkie would give labor full representation in his Government; of "a reasonable hope" that three pro-Willkie, hitherto antiC. I. O. steelmakers (Grace, Girdler, Weir) "will soon execute collective-bargaining contracts with the C. I. O."

Then John Lewis shot his last bolt. Said he: "President Roosevelt will not be re-elected for the third term unless he has the overwhelming support of ... labor. If he is, therefore, re-elected ... I will accept the result as a vote of no confidence, and will retire as president of the Congress of Industrial Organizations at its convention in November."*

"Go to hell!" The speech was over. Announcers again smoothly announced that not C. I. O. but the National Committee of Democrats-for-Willkie had put up the $45,000 for John Lewis' 30 minutes. Burly William Stevenson, a Detroit tool & die maker, handed a wire to a Postal Telegraph clerk: ". . . As far as we are concerned, you can go to hell." The clerk demurred; Mr. Stevenson reluctantly compromised on "go to Hades." C. I. O. autoworkers roared, cursed, rebelled. So did bigwigs in Mr. Lewis' mine union, in C. I. O. Vice President (and Defense Commissioner) Sidney Hillman's clothing workers' union, in many and many another.

These were the shouts of resentment and dissent. There were other voices in a different key. Salaried C. I. O. officials, a few disruptive leftists like the Transport Workers' Mike Quill in Manhattan, Joe Curran of the National Maritime Union, pledged continued loyalty to John Lewis. Packinghouse workers in Illinois, who had stood in sullen silence weeks ago while Villkie pleaded with them, heard Lewis, voted to go with him. Their action might upset the Chicago Democratic plurality, put Illinois safely in the Willkie camp. Many in the rank & file of the mineworkers in Illinois and Pennsylvania loyally got ready to follow their leader. As the voice of labor rolled back at him, John Lewis waited, and listened.

This week the New York Post charged that "the G. O. P." saw Lewis' speech before it was delivered, censored two passages--one of them an appeal to Jewish voters. Said G. O. P. National Chairman Joe Martin: "A flat falsehood."

* Mr. Lewis' United Mine Workers soon holds its biennial elections. He is the only candidate for U. M. W. president.

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