Cat's Cradle On May Day

Today is May Day.

In much of the world, this day commemorates labor movements.   In the United States, too many people believe--as I did, before I learned otherwise--that it was celebrated mainly in countries that are or were Communist, like Cuba and the former Soviet Union.  And, when I used to hold such mistaken beliefs, "Communist" was one of the most pejorative terms one could apply to any person, place or thing.

The funny thing is that the origins of May Day are as American as, well, Schwinn used to be.  So, for that matter, is socialism, which has its roots in workers' struggles to obtain an 8-hour work day (10 to 16 was the norm) and safer working conditions.  In fact, socialist movements in Europe and Latin America took much of their inspiration from movements in the US.

Unfortunately, workers in the bicycle industry--a major employer at that time (late 19th Century)--were not exempt from exploitation by their employers, as so many workers were and are.  As an example, Schwinn's metal platers and polishers struck for a 44-hour workweek and 85 cents an hour in 1919; the company retaliated against striking workers as well members of other unions and dealers who cancelled, or didn't place, orders.  In 1980, workers in Schwinn's Chicago factory, who had recently affiliated themselves with the United Auto Workers Union, went on a strike that would last four months.  In the meantime, the company accelerated its overseas sourcing and built a new factory in Mississippi, where labor was less expensive and unions all but non-existent.  Within a year, the Chicago plant ended more than eight decades of operation.

Schwinn' Peoria machine shop, 1895

In 1963, Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle was published. In the novel, the narrator--an everyman named John who calls himself Jonah--travels to the fictional Caribbean island of San Lorenzo.   On his way there, he meets "another fellow American,  H.Lowe Crosby of Evanston, Illinois, and his wife, Hazel," whom he describes as "heavy people, in their fifties" who "spoke twangingly."  

Mr. Crosby says he owns a bicycle factory in Chicago and gets "nothing but ingratitude from his employees."  Therefore, he plans to move his business to "grateful" San Lorenzo.  

The narrator asks Crosby whether he knows San Lorenzo well.  Crosby admits that he'll be seeing it for the first time but that he likes everything he's heard about it. "They've got discipline," he explains.  In Chicago, he says, "we don't make bicycles anymore.  It's all about human relations."  He proceeds to bemoan, basically, having to treat his workers like people.  Jonah asks him whether he thinks things will be better in San Lorenzo.

"I know damn well they will be.  The people down there are poor enough and scared enough and ignorant enough to have some common sense!"

Hmm...San Lorenzo sounds like a few not-so-fictional countries I can think of.  And Crosby sounds like a few not-so-fictional capitalists I can think of.

They Busted Their Unions And Broke Their Brands

Two years ago, on Labor Day, I wrote about the strike metal platers, polishers and buffers waged against Schwinn and Excelsior-Henderson (two motorcycle manufacturers Schwinn owned) in 1919.  

Although the Bike Boom that spanned the last decade of the 19th Century and the first of the 20th had gone bust, Schwinn continued to prosper because it was one of the first bicycle manufacturers to market bicycles as children's' toys as it continued to make bikes for adults.  Also, Schwinn acquired other bike manufacturers as well as the aforementioned makers of motorcycles, which were ascending in popularity.  

The metalworkers knew that Herr Schwinn could, shall we say, afford to buy the products his company made, in whatever quantity he desired. The same could not be said for his workers.  They rode his bikes to work, but often had to purchase them on installment plans.

They made demands that Schwinn found outrageous:  a 44-hour workweek and wages of 85 cents an hour.  He could not believe their audacity, not to mention their ingratitude, and did what any good industrialist who saw his financial life flashing before his eyes would do:  He got injunctions against the unions whose members were canceling orders, or not placing them in the first place, in sympathy with the strikers.  He also had strikers arrested on trumped-up charges, hired thugs to use "friendly persuasion" to convince strikers to cross picket lines--and made his foremen  use said workers for target practice.  After all, a strike is stressful and, as a friend of mine pointed out, going to the shooting range is "relaxing".

Anyway, all of the labor journals of the day urged readers to support the strikers in any way they could, whether by standing with them physically or participating in the boycotts--not only against Schwinn, but against the companies that did business with the bike-maker.

Well, it turns out that wasn't the last instance of Schwinn trying to subvert labor organization in its plants, at least according to more than one source.  In the early 1980s, Schwinn began to manufacture in a new Mississippi facility.  Now, to be fair, the old Chicago complex was outdated and would have needed extensive reworking to make the kinds of bikes for which demand was developing. But, it also just so happened that workers in that facility organized (affiliating themselves with the United Auto Workers) and struck in 1980.  Mississippi, like other southern states, has a long history of hostility to unions. 

Anyway, during the first few years of production, the quality of those bikes from the Magnolia State left something to be desired.  Again, to be fair, so did the quality of the bikes Schwinn would import from Hungary a few years later.  And, while the company had already shifted some of its production overseas, it was late to develop working relationships with their Japanese--and, later, Taiwanese and Chinese--subcontractors.  It also was slow to identify trends such as mountain bikes.

The result, of course, was bankruptcy, and its acquisition by a conglomerate that owns an number of other bike brands.  Like bikes bearing those names,  "Schwinn Brand" bikes are made in China and sold in big-box stores. (The "Schwinn Signature" series, which consists of higher-quality bikes and accessories, is sold only in bike shops.)  So have the mighty fallen.

Again, to be fair, Schwinn is not the only, or even the first, bike manufacturer to break its workers' union and, in doing so, sow some of the seeds of its destruction.

Some you may have owned or ridden a "Roadmaster" bicycle.  The brand first saw the light of day in 1936, when Cleveland Welding Company (CWC)--which made bicycles for a number of other companies--introduced it.   American Machine and Foundry (AMF) purchased the Roadmaster children's and youth bicycle lines in 1950.  I couldn't find much information about the transaction, but my uninformed guess is that CWC went out of businesses, or was simply divesting itself out of unprofitable enterprises.

1937 Cleveland Welding Company "Roadmaster" Bicycle

AMF then formed a wheel goods division, which made tricycles, pedal cars and tractors, and wagons in addition to bicycles.  Like the Chicago Schwinn plant of the 1970s, the CWC facilities AMF inherited were antiquated and AMF executives looked into replacing them.

And, in an eerie parallel with Schwinn in 1980, AMF workers in Cleveland--who were organized by (you guessed it) the United Auto Workers--struck in 1953.  The labor stoppage was, like Schwinn's in 1919 and 1980, long and acrimonious.  And AMF resolved it the way Schwinn did their second strike:  by opening up a new factory in a state where unions were (and are) all but non-existent.  In AMF's case, the new locale was Arkansas--in the capital, Little Rock, to be exact.

1964 AMF Roadmaster "Skyrider"

Now, no one ever equated the quality of AMF/Roadmaster bikes with those of Schwinn, not even the ones made in Mississippi or Hungary.  But the company, again like Schwinn, enjoyed prosperity during the Baby Boom-fueled population growth of the 1960s and 70s--and, of course, one of its offsprings, the '70's Bike Boom.  Then the Little Rock factory, like Schwinn's Chicago facility, became outdated and--even though Arkansas AMF workers didn't unionize--the company's management whined about labor costs. So, off to the mystic East they went.

Now Roadmaster is owned by Pacific--ironically, the same company that now owns Schwinn.  I'm not saying that avoiding and busting unions or outsourcing alone led to the subsumation of Schwinn and Roadmaster.  But I think that the "race to the bottom" in production costs helped, along with other bad management decisions, to debase the quality of what each company was selling and, subsequently, its reputation (more so in the case of Schwinn).  Now Schwinn bikes, once the dream of so many American kids--and the mount of Olympians--are indistinguishable from other brands sold alongside it in Wal Mart.  Like Roadmaster.

May Day And Bicycles

Today is May Day.  In much of the world, it's celebrated as a sort of Labor Day--which, in this country, has become mainly an occasion for shopping or taking an end-of-summer trip.

It's also been celebrated, particularly in the British Isles and Scandanavia, as a spring festival marking an end to the long nights of winter.   To some, it might seem paradoxical that this day was chosen to honor labor.  Well, that tradition started with the Haymarket Massacre, which took place during the first week of May in 1886.  

But, even if there were not such a tragedy to observe, I think that it would make sense to pay homage to labor at this time of year, as spring is flowering.  Many see hope at this time of year; others think about what could be--and what isn't.  It's no coincidence that so many uprisings take place around this time of year:  Think of the Easter Rising of 1916, and the Paris and Prague Springs of 1968, for example.

I am struck by how many people participate in May Day processions--or go to them--on their bicycles.  That makes sense, too, as this is the time of year when many people end their winter hiatuses and begin cycling in earnest--or begin cycling again for the first time in their adult lives, or ever.  Not for nothing does Bike To Work Week come in May.  
Also, in much of the world, bicycles are the transportation of working-class people.  As Sheldon Brown point out, those English three-speeds manufactured by Raleigh, Dunelt and other companies for a century took millions of British workers to their shops, factories, schools and other places where they worked or studied.  The bicycle is still the main way people commute in many areas; in some places, mainly northern European and North American cities, people--especially the young--are  becoming bicycle commuters (and cyclists in general) by choice rather than necessity.



Who knows the meaning of May Day--and the importance of bicycles in it--than this man, who gave his name as "Caryle" and helped to set in motoion a fire-breathing float powered by bicycles in last year's Minneapolis parade?

She Was The "Alternative" To Scott Walker?

Today is Labor Day.

If I were President (as if I would want to be!), it's one of the holidays I'd keep on the calendar.  I'd get rid of all of the religious holidays because the US is a secular country (at least, it's supposed to be).  I'd pass a law that workers were entitled to two or three "floating holidays" for whatever purpose they see fit.  And the only official Federal holidays would be Martin Luther King Day, Presidents' Day, Memorial Day (which I would call Remembrance Day), Independence Day, Labor Day and Veterans' Day.  (As I become more anti-war, I become more pro-veteran.)  And, perhaps, the birthdays of a few of my heroes and heroines.

OK, enough of fantasy-land.  I've just had lunch with a good friend, who happens to be the widow of a longtime union worker.  And I'm going to see another friend who is a member of a union--of adjunct faculty members in her university.


On Labor Day last year, I wrote about the strike of Schwinn metal polishers and platers that began the week after Labor Day in 1919.  As Schwinn had bought out a number of smaller bicycle manufacturers, some of which continued to sell bikes under their own names, the strike led to a widespread boycott of a number of bicycle and motorcycle makers in the US.  (In those days, the industries were much more closely related than they are now.)  I also mentioned the Schwinn strike in 1980, which is often blamed for the closure of the old South Side plant in Chicago, when in truth the facility was outdated.

Now, of course, Schwinn is not the only bicycle company (or firm in any industry) with a dark side to its labor history.  All US bicycle manufacturers, with the exception of Worksman Cycle, have outsourced most or all of their production to low-wage countries with few or no labor organizations.  Of the 1.5 million bicycles sold annually under the Trek brand, only about 10,000--or 0.06 percent of its production--come from US facilities.  And none are ever touched by union hands before they reach your local dealer.

This became an issue in last year's Wisconsin gubernatorial election.  Few contemporary American political figures so openly express their hostility toward unions as the Badger State's governor, Scott Walker, does.  One thing you have to say for the guy:  He puts his money where his mouth is.  Oh, wait, he doesn't put his money anywhere.  Let's just say--if in a dry, academic way--that his actions are consistent with his rhetoric.

This guy is running for President.  Perhaps he wouldn't be if he'd lost his gubernatorial re-election bid last year to Mary Burke.  Days before the election, it seemed entirely possible.  But now he's in the race to become the Republican candidate in next year's Presidential election. 

I am one of the last people in this world who would praise, let alone endorse or elect, him.  However, to be fair, he was not responsible for Trek's labor and business practices. Ironically, his Democratic challenger in the Wisconsin gubernatorial race was, at least partially.

Mary Burke during her 2014 gubernatorial campaign in Wisconsin

Mary Burke, as you may know, was the CEO of Trek.  Her father founded the company in the mid-1970s.  For the first few years of the company's existence, all of the frames were made in their Waterloo, Wisconsin facility.  In the early 1980s, Trek began to import frames from Japan--as Schwinn and other American bike companies did--and assemble them as bikes sold under their own name.  Those Japanese bikes were mid-level models sold by Schwinn and other companies; for Trek, they were the lowest-priced models.  Still, they were good bikes and Japanese workers, at least, were being paid fair wages and had rights to organize.

However, as the decade went on, Trek--like other American companies--began to have bikes made for them in Taiwan.  At one point, Taiwanese bikes would account for more than 80 percent of those sold in the US market.  Now that number is about 5 percent, with 94 percent coming from the country that, in the 1990s, would begin to supply Trek and other companies. I am talking, of course, about China:  a country where workers would actually have more rights than they have now if someone like Scott Walker were in charge!

(When Trek bought the Gary Fisher, Klein, LeMond and Bontrager brands during the late 1990s, Trek immediately--you guessed it--shifted the remaining US production of those companies' products to Taiwan and China.)

Now, I am not laying the blame for the bicycle industry trends I've described solely at the feet of Ms. Burke.  It must be noted, though, that as a high-ranking executive in Trek (Her family referred to her as "the brains" of the company!), she had at least some responsibility for her company's decision to move production to Taiwan and, later, China.  As Trek accounts for over a third of bicycles sold in US bicycle shops, its practices are watched and emulated in the industry. 

Also, it has been noted that Ms. Burke helped to prevent Trek's Wisconsin workers from forming a union or joining forces with another (as Schwinn's Chicago workers did with the United Auto Workers). 


To think that this Mary Burke positioned herself as an "alternative" to Scott Walker!  It's enough to bring up whatever you're eating at your Labor Day barbecue!

 

You Have Nothing To Lose But Your Black Beauty

Today is Labor Day.

Over the past 130 years or so, bicycles have done much to improve the mobility of--and bring pleasure to--countless working people. 

There are, however, dark chapters in the history of the cycling industry.  Now, no bicycle company has ever exerted the same degree of control over the American economy as, say, General Motors once did, or as petrol and financial services companies now lord over much of the world's economy.  Still, some titans of the two-wheel trade have been, in their own ways, as anti-worker and just plain ruthless as the captains of other industries.

One such example was Ignaz Schwinn.  A mechanical engineer by training, he emigrated from Germany to Chicago in 1890 and, with Adolph Arnold, started the company that would bear both of their names until 1967. 

When America's first bike boom--which roughly spanned the last decade of the 19th Century and the first of the 20th--went bust, Schwinn and Arnold acquired several smaller bicycle manufacturers as well as two early motorcycle makers--  Excelsior and Henderson --to create what would become the third-largest motorcycle manufacturer in the United States, trailing only Indian and Harley-Davidson. 

As is too often the case, the company's prosperity was not passed on to its workers. So, on 9 September--a week and a day after Labor Day--in 1919,  the metal polishers, buffers and platers of Schwinn and Excelsior-Henderson went on strike. 

What did those workers want?  A 44-hour workweek and wages of 85 cents an hour.

Unions representing other laborers, in sympathy, boycotted not only Schwinn and Excelsior-Henderson, but also other brands (such as Black Beauty and Harvard)  under which those bicycles and motorcycles were sold.  Herren Schwinn and Arnold soon felt the pinch because, even though the first American Bike Boom was a decade past, many workers were still riding bicycles to work and, sometimes, for recreation.


So what did the august leaders of the company do?  They hired lawyers and got injunctions against the unions whose members were cancelling, or not placing, orders.  They also had striking workers arrested on trumped-up charges of being strike-breakers, employed ex-cons to beat them up or to persuade them to become scabs and even had foremen shoot at the strikers.

Every labor journal of the day mentioned the strike and exhorted readers to support the strikers in any way they could, whether by standing with them physically or participating in the boycott.  From the accounts I have read, it seems that Schwinn had singularly bad relations with its workers; more than one journal said it was OK for Schwinn workers to buy other companies' bicycles and motorcycles.

Hmm...Had I known about this, would I have so badly wanted that Continental I bought when I was fourteen years old?

N.B.:  Schwinn workers also struck in the fall of 1980.  Some blame this work stoppage for the closure of the company's Chicago manufacturing facilities--which, truthfully, were no match for its foreign competitors-- a few of whom, by that time,  were making bikes sold under the Schwinn brand.

Bicycle Races: A Labor Day Tradition

To many Americans, today--Labor Day--is the unofficial last day of summer.

To many American cyclists and cycling fans, Labor Day weekend marks the end of the racing season.  According to VeloNews, regional races dominate this weekend's cycling slate.  There is an omnium in St. Louis; there are stage races in, among other places, Vermont and Colorado and a variety of one-day and stage races, as well as criteriums, on courses all over the nation from Massachusetts to California.

While most of these races originated during the past thirty or so years, there are some Labor Day events that have been running for as long as bicycle races and Labor Day have been in existence.

That makes sense when you realize that bicycle racing in the United States began at roughly the same time Labor Day began to be celebrated.  On Tuesday, 5 September 1882, rhe first labor festival was celebrated in New York; within three years, other industrial centers had their own celebrations.  Oregon (Doesn't it figure?) became the first state to establish the holiday in its state constitution, and in 1894. Labor Day became a Federal holiday.

Many still consider the 1890's and the first years of the 20th Century to be the "golden age" of bicycle racing in the US. While bicycling was fashionable among the monied set (In those days, a typical bike cost about $100: about  $2700 in today's money.), prominent racers of that time typically came from the working classes and were immigrants or their children.  In fact, the first African-American sports superstar was Major Taylor, who set several world records

The connection between cycling and labor indeed ran deep: The manufacture of bicycles was one of the major industries in some of the nation's industrial centers, such as Worcester, MA; Hartford, CT; Paterson, NJ; Philadelphia, Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis---and, of course, New York.  Not surprisingly, those cities hosted races on Labor Day as well as at other times of the year.

Even after the introduction of the automobile, large numbers of people rode bicycles to work and for recreation--and, of course, countless kids rode them to school and the local park.  The decline in adult cycling didn't begin until the automobile became a mass-market item during the 1920's.  However, bicycle racing continued its popularity, particularly among the working classes and in communities of European immigrants.  Track races, including the six-day events, filled venues such as Madison Square Garden in the 1930's; on the eve of World War II, only baseball was a more popular spectator sport than track racing.  (Interestingly, the third-most popular sport was soccer, which drew its players from the same demographic groups as bicycle racing.)

Six-day racers during the 1930's.  From Deadspin.

In another example of how the worlds of cycling and labor intersected  the six-day races actually prompted New York City and Chicago to pass laws forbidding cyclists from riding more than 12 hours a day.  Six-day racing was a dangerous sport, and the fans couldn't get enough of it.  

Even during the "dark ages" of US cycling--the two decades or so years following World War II--Labor Day races were held in a number of places across the United States, though mainly in the Northeast and Upper Midwest, and on the West Coast.