The policeman wearing Badge #7181 pulled Earl Handley out of a car marked with a Red Cross sign, a makeshift ambulance. The 37-year-old carpenter was bleeding profusely, but the cop dragged him along. Handley died because his wounds were not treated.
Meyer Levin saw the police prevent Burnside Hospital ambulances from taking the wounded to the hospital. Patrolman Walter B. Oakes killed Joseph Rothmund, shooting him in the back as he fled.
When the police were finished, all the civilians who they had killed had been shot either in the back or in the side.
While this horrific instance of police violence sounds eerily current, it is not, in fact, new. May 30th marks 86 years since “the Memorial Day Massacre.” That’s the day in 1937 when the Chicago police attacked a peaceful march outside the Republic Steel plant in South Chicago. Ten people were killed and 90 wounded.
Today, as police killings of the impoverished and the marginalized – especially black and brown workers – intensify, it’s important to draw lessons from the long history of police violence in America. The bitter struggle to unionize the basic industries in this country was often resisted by brutal state violence, and the Memorial Day Massacre is a particularly gruesome example.
Strike Against Republic Steel
The march to a steel plant’s main entrance which the Chicago police attacked in 1937 came just days after the beginning of a strike called by the Steel Workers Organizing Committee (SWOC) against Republic Steel and two other companies. During the 1930s, Republic Steel was known as one of the worst places to work in the entire steel industry. The company paid low wages, drove its workers hard, and provided no medical care or pension plan. Republic Steel fought unionization. This was true even after the largest employer in the industry – the U.S. Steel Corporation, known as “Big Steel” – agreed to unionization in early 1937.
Republic Steel spent tens of thousands of dollars to stockpile machine guns, rifles, revolvers, tear gas, and bombs in the weeks before the strike began. It also established a private police force of close to 400 men.
The strike involving 85,000 steelworkers began at the 11 p.m. shift change on May 26, 1937. Confrontations between workers and the police began even before the official start of the strike, as police prevented mass picketing in front of the main entrance of Republic’s South Chicago plant. The union called for a mass meeting at Sam’s Place, an abandoned tavern serving as union headquarters, for Sunday, May 30th.
That day was hot and sunny with temperatures reaching 88 degrees. By about 3 p.m., some 1500 strikers and their supporters had gathered at Sam’s Place. After two CIO leaders spoke, union organizer Joe Weber read several resolutions to be sent to government officials protesting police misconduct at Republic Steel. The resolutions were approved by acclamation. A member of the crowd then made a motion that a march be undertaken to the plant gate to establish mass picketing. The motion carried.
As about 1,000 marchers approached the main entrance of the plant, they found about 400 cops waiting for them – with their billy clubs drawn.
The marchers urged the police to let them through to set up their picket line. A stand-off ensued for several minutes. Some marchers were beginning to move back toward Sam’s Place when a stick rose from the rear of the marchers’ line and flew toward the police. Almost simultaneously, tear gas bombs were thrown by police at the marchers. Then the police drew their revolvers and fired point blank into the retreating marchers. Within 15 seconds, about 200 shots were fired.
The police literally threw the wounded into patrol wagons, stacking them like firewood on top of each other. None of the wounded received first aid before being tossed inside. Patrol wagons designed to hold eight prisoners were filled with twice that many. The most seriously wounded were taken to a hospital at least 30 miles away.
The Chicago police department, the Republic Steel Corporation, and anti-union publications like the Chicago Tribune tried to justify the killing, claiming that the strikers were armed and attempting to seize the plant. A Paramount News camera was mounted on a truck directly behind the police. The Paramount film clearly shows the peaceful nature of the march and the police responsibility for the violence.
Within weeks of the tragedy, a U.S. Senate committee issued a scathing report which placed responsibility for the violence squarely on the shoulders of the Chicago police.
While the strikers were forced to return to work in mid-June 1937, they ultimately succeeded in their campaign to unionize Republic Steel. The company was eventually forced to sign a contract with the union shortly after the United States entered World War II.
Solidarity Against Killer Cops
This year, as we honor those killed in the long fight to unionize this country’s steel mills, auto plants, coal mines, and other essential industries, the true spirit of labor solidarity demands that we also honor all those cut down by police violence, including the most recent victims.
We should never forget that 17-year-old Laquan McDonald was shot 16 times by a Chicago cop just a few miles north of where the Memorial Day Massacre took place. We should always remember that 13-year-old Adam Toledo was killed just a few blocks west of where Chicago cops killed workers on strike at the McCormick Reaper factory during the great labor upheaval of 1886.
This year, to honor those who were cut down at Republic Steel in 1937, let’s insist that the killer cops of today be held accountable. Let’s demand justice for the families of all those who’ve been murdered by cops – whether on picket lines, outside convenience stores, or in neighborhoods.
At the rally held just before the march to Republic Steel’s plant gate in 1937, one of the leaders of the campaign to unionize the steel industry gave a prophetic speech. About an hour before the Memorial Day massacre took place, Leo Krzycki told the strikers: “Violence against peaceful picketing must stop. Republic Steel must abide by the Wagner Act [which legalized unions]. We don’t want fascism in America.”
Yes, Leo Krzycki’s message still rings true: We don’t want fascism in America!
Chris Mahin is a writer, speaker and teacher on contemporary U.S. politics and history, particularly on the significance of the American Revolutionary War and Civil war eras for today. He is the Electoral Desk on the People’s Tribune Editorial Board.
