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Show History Will Write Details Of Lewis-Roosevelt Feud Story Begins During 'Roaring Thirties' as The Forgotten Man Is Remembered By New Deal and CIO. By BAUKIIAGE Ntnvs Analyst and Commentator. WNU Service, Union Trust Building, Washington, D. C. Today there came to my desk a mimeographed sheet from the Office Of-fice of War Information. It was headed "The Nazi Slave Labor Society." So-ciety." As I read that title, my mind shot back to a very few days before this writing, one of the days when your capital was tense over the coal strike from one end of Constitution avenue to the other, and on both sides of the Potomac. I say "Constitution" "Con-stitution" avenue instead of "Pennsylvania" "Penn-sylvania" (which you and I have come to feel is the main street of Washington) because this coal strike struck deep into a lot of offices and bureaus beside the White House at one end of this historic thoroughfare and the Capitol at the other. Naturally, Harold Ickes, in his offices of-fices looking down the mall from that strange modernistic pile that Is the new Interior building, was concerned. He was, at that moment, mo-ment, responsible head of the soft coal mining Industry and the industry indus-try wasn't functioning. Naturally the members of the War Labor board were concerned. The board's existence was threatened. Two Worries Over across the Potomac in that marvelous architectural achievement, achieve-ment, the Pentagon building, where the army is housed, officers paced the floor of their pentagonal offices. They had two worries. One: Will there be a coal shortage that will hold up production of important war supplies? Two: Will we have to go out and push people around with bayonets? I haven't mentioned what was going go-ing on at the Capitol or in the White House. Plenty. Every enemy ol the administration, every friend of the administration who was angry at Lewis, everyone who was for 100 per cent prosecution of the war and they weren't necessarily different differ-ent people, but people with different Ideas was yelling for Lewis' eyebrows eye-brows and some of them were -threatening the President if he didn't bring them in (on a silver charger) for breakfast. Inside the White House, there were meetings which, because of the presence and absence of certain persons, per-sons, I would like to report in greater great-er detail but I can't that will have to be left to history. As I write these lines, I cannot predict the aftermath of the action which began late one afternoon on June 3 when, contrary to reports circulated earlier in the day, a statement state-ment was issued from the White House ordering the men back to the mines by June 7. But between these lines of that statement was the story of "Franklinstein" and the creature which he created, as dramatic, if not as tragic, as the horror tale by the gentle Mrs. Shelly, written earlv In the 19th century. Self-Destroyer A copy of that book ("Frankenstein") ("Franken-stein") is on my table as I write. On the last page are the lines spoken by this strange being which the hero had created, hoping to raise the standard of humanity but which, alas, had found itself heir to the human weaknesses and turned against his creator. The "being," Just before it destroys itself, speaks to its creator: "... thou didst seek my extinction extinc-tion that I might not cause greater wretchedness; and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hast not ceased to think and feel, thou wouldst not desire against me a vengeance greater than that which I feel. Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still superior to thine ..." (You really ought to read the book it's far superior to the movie version.) But why do I bandy with this ancient tale? Because I do believe that all of us build, materially or physically, creatures which come back to haunt us. Look at the record of John Lewis and Franklin Roosevelt. John, bom to the pits, a man who won to literacy, yes, to scholarship scholar-ship the hard way. Franklin, born to the purple. Both endowed with that indomitable indomita-ble something that lifted them, in lAhl spite of their respective handicaps, to leadership. Egocentric enough to elbow their way up to the counter; altruistic enough to have something to contribute to the general welfare when they got there. Reader, be fair even If vou have your honest prejudices both these men are gifted. gift-ed. A Quick Look Pick up the story In the roaring thirties the New Deal is beginning to strut its stuff. The "forgotten man" has been remembered and he's grateful to Roosevelt. The forgotten laborer is being remembered; re-membered; he's grateful to Lewis. I mean the man who couldn't because of the by-laws of the AFL, get into a labor union any more than he could get into the Union League club. Lewis stepped out of the AFL with his miners. The CIO was formed In 1935. It looked as if John of the eyebrows eye-brows and Franklin of the amber cigarette holder had something in common. They did. It began by being an ideal a better deal for the man who hadn't had such a good deal before. Later, the Issues became more complicated but we won't go into that now. Anyhow, the Wagner act was passed in 1935. (Labor's Magna Charter, they called it.) That gave the poor, heretofore outsider, the workman who couldn't qualify, to join the snooty AFL, a chance to be somebody. " If there were more of his group than there were of the AFL's in a plant, shop or factory, his outfit was recognized as the collective col-lective bargaining unit. That was a real step forward in economic democracy. The CIO thrived. It had the blessing bless-ing of the administration. It gave its votes in return. It also gave the largest campaign contribution in return. re-turn. Some of the starry-eyed young men in the New Deal (they have departed, most of them, for Puerto Rico and elsewhere on the fringes) dreamed dreams. They told their dreams to Lewis. "Why not a real labor party, Jawn," they smiled encouragingly, "with you as the leader? We'll get rid of the democrats without imagination. imagi-nation. You'll be vice president next time . . ." The Siren's Song But then Mr. Lewis made a great mistake. He went to Paris. Other men have erred in that once-fair city before this. ' (I visited it myself.) my-self.) But John met another siren . . . he witnessed the sit-down strike. Now, frankly, this is hearsay but I am told that it was Lewis brought that illegitimate Gallic child of the proletariat, conceived in a strange moment of aberration, back to Amer ica. It did not thrive. It needed a more rarified atmosphere than that which blows across the prairies and once flapped the cover of the covered cov-ered wagon. Mr. Lewis went to the White House, jerked the previously welcoming wel-coming latchstring, and went in. But old man Vox Populi got there before be-fore him. Up to then, V. P. had been pretty satisfied with things as they were under the New Deal. But things had changed. In a chilly voice V. P. said: "No, Franklin, no John. No dice." Franklin listened. John got mad. That was the end of a beautiful friendship and the rest is history. Lewis turned against the man who had made his success possible and there is, as we know, no feud like the feud of former friends. The soldier on the battlefield, utterly ut-terly unable to comprehend why men strike while he is risking his life for a fraction of the pay the strikers demand, cursed and threatened; threat-ened; the miner, with many just grievances, stood confused, looking for his oracle to speak, but cringing cring-ing under the sneers at his lack of patriotism. Small-minded bureaucrats, bureau-crats, more interested in saving their faces than saving the country, sputtered and strutted. Lewis and Roosevelt, the two men who, working work-ing together, might move mountains (of coal and coalition) were forced to square off against each other, the public backed the government and, as usual, decided the issue. Oh yesl That "Nazi Slave Labor Society" it can't happen here! |