Industrial Valley (book)

Finished Industrial Valley by Ruth McKenney this morning. I have already made a brief notation about Ms. Kenney, and how her work was recommended to me. For a 380 page book, it took me an awful long time to get through. Not because it is uninteresting, in fact the opposite is true and is an indication what it took such time to get through. When I am really into a book, I read slower, not faster. I started reading at reading-out-loud pace. I start acting, basically, in my head. It unfolds dramatically and that, you know, takes time.

McKenney details the events which led up to the Akron Rubber strikes of 1935-36. If this book is to be believed, the labor defiance of that period, in that place, were the most significant movements in American labor relations of the 20th century.

Three significant moments:

In late November, 1935 a nine-week strike at the Ohio Insulator plane in Barberton was ended through a six day siege involving gas-attacks that affected the women and children, families of the striking workers, who lived in the immediate vicinity of the plant.

At 2 AM on January 29, 1936 the first-ever sit-down strike begins at the Firestone Tire and Rubber Company.

And on February 14, 1936 a five week campaign begins at Goodyear, the largest manufacturer of tires in the world, which established the rights of rubber workers to organize and began a cascade of union organization which soon touch steel, the automotive industry and everything else.

McKenney’s technique was only mostly non-fiction. She created a few fictional characters were are represented at the beginning and the end of the book to act as an “everyman” for the reader to relate to. Most of the book is taken with a day-to-day account of events as they occurred and affected the people of Akron and the surrounding area. Often these stories exists in stark contrast to each other, the invisible narrator often adding her dry, ironic observations.

For example, Item: child of worker hitches a ride on the outside of a car because he can’t afford bus fare to the doctor and is horribly killed by an oncoming truck, followed by item: large corporate affair describing ladies dresses in detail. Closing comment; “A gay time was had by all.” I made that up, but you get the idea.

We are drawn from that point in the pit of the Depression, where Akron was a non-functioning city. City services had been stripped to less than the bare essentials, people were hungry, houses were being foreclosed in large numbers, the Mayor was practically insane with cries to the federal government for assistance. It was a major American city in despair.

Roosevelt arrives as some kind of savior, though his election in 1932 was based, in Akron, anyway, entirely on the full-throated desire to never see Herbert Hoover ever again. What he did took everyone on surprise, the most significant of which (in this book) was the NRA which, depending on how you interpreted it, gave workers the right to organize.

At the same time, in order to increase production (and excuse me if I get this wrong) the rubber barons were insisting on certain quotas of production, which led to “the speedup.” Conditions in the factories were increasing intolerable, physically and mentally, for this backbreaking and specialized work. Eventually, in another attempt to maximize profits, Goodyear was to reinstate the eight-hour day. They had previously brought the shift down to six hours, to create more work for more men. By reinstating the eight-hour day, with the speedup, fewer men would be employed, creating the same amount of materials for the same pay.

As profit reports for 1935 came out indicating that even during this Depression, companies like Goodyear were taking in respectable profits (in excess of five million, an increase over previous years) events came together in such a way as the strengthen the resolve of workers, and give organizers the opportunity they were looking for to unionize these large shops.

My last Harvey Pekar story

Two years ago, Joyce Brabner and I collaborated on an event at the Unitarian Church, which featured a staged reading of a play I was working on about HUAC, and a talk from Harvey about a book he was working on about Joe McCarthy. Joyce was working overtime to keep Harvey’s spirits up, as he had recently fallen into a deep funk.

We ran into each other at Tommy’s around that time, Joyce with Harvey, and me with my two kids. We decided to get a table together and Joyce and I discussed logistics of the event, while Harvey could not stop talking to the boy.  My son was about three and a half at the time. Harvey just kept checking in with him, asking him questions.

I wasn’t used to seeing Harvey smile so much. His voice was very soft, and sweet, especially for him. I understand now he’s like that around children. I had no idea.

The second-to-last time I spoke with him, Harvey was at the library (of course) and I asked him about my project. Could he recommend any 1930s era labor rights books I might be unaware of? On that day, he looked at me like I was a stranger, like I wanted something from him. Maybe he was in thought and just didn’t want to be bothered, who knows. He said it wasn’t really his era and I thought that was that. As I walked away, he called me back and recommended the works of Ruth McKenney. It just so happened my wife already had a copy of Industrial Valley, and I started making my way through that two weeks ago (distracted by certain period playscripts.)

Last Thursday, my wife had water aerobics at the pool and the whole family went to splash around while she got her exercise in. It was only as the pool was closing that we walked past Joyce and Harvey, also headed out. Joyce stopped to chat and Harvey went to the gate to sit. She explained that Harvey had just been diagnosed with prostate cancer. This would be his third go-round with cancer. Then she got a call, and told me see you later.

I could have just waved to Harvey, but I wanted to speak to him. The boy was with me. I went over and thanked him for the Ruth McKenney recommendation, and that put a smile on his face, but not as much as the boy did, standing shyly behind my right leg. I asked if Harvey remembered him, and if he remembered Harvey. They had a brief exchange. And we went.

I got word about the death of Harvey Pekar yesterday as I was checking Facebook while I was at the library downtown. So, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue, but still stunning. We weren’t friends or co-workers or peers. I always found it awkward having any kind of conversation with Harvey. But his work has had a strong impact on me. I could not have written my two solo plays without the early influence of American Splendor. In fact, reaching back there were an awful lot of pieces I wrote for Guerrilla Theater Co. and other productions which were due to his philosophy of storytelling.

And he has been one of the many reasons I have been proud to call Cleveland Heights my home.

I had to take the kids to the pool yesterday afternoon for swimming lessons. I asked the boy if he remembered the nice old man we saw the last time we were there, just because I wanted to say something out loud about Harvey. The boy said he did, and I didn’t think anything else about it. At dinner that night my wife and I were talking about the news and the kids wanted an explanation, so I began telling them why he was important to me.

“He wrote comic books about his own life,” I explained, “about his ordinary life, and what he thought about things, and his relationships with other people.”

“But that’s not a comic book,” the boy said.

Critic.

When I went on to say that he was very sick, and that he had died, the boy was surprised. And then he was overwhelmed. And then he blurted out, “I wanted to see him again!” And then he cried for about ten minutes.

My kids know about death. They know about the death of their brother. We have had incidents with certain animals. But this was the first time he was struck by the finality of death. My boy likes repetition, he likes to play games he has played before, and watch shows he has seen before, and to see people he has seen before. And earlier I had reminded him of that nice old man, and that made him want to see him again.

Harvey Pekar has been an inspiration to me. And he is a man with whom I never had a satisfying conversation. But my strongest memory of Harvey will always be as that nice old man whose face lit up when he looked at my son, and that my son wishes he could see him again.

Ruth McKenney

Saw Harvey Pekar at the library this morning, he was perusing the for-sale racks. Went over, said "hi," he had that look again which either means, "who are you?" or "are you going to bother me?" I asked if he knew anything about labor unrest in the 30s and he said that's really not his area.

But then he told me about Ruth McKenney, who is probably best-known today for her book My Sister Eileen, which was adapted into the musical Wonderful Town. What fewer people know today is that she was a reporter for the Akron Beacon-Journal and wrote the book Industrial Valley about the Akron rubber strike of 1932-36.

In 1939 Industrial Valley came out to an outcry from Akron community leaders. Akron evangelist Bill Denton urged the Chamber of Commerce to file suit in the federal court, saying the book was full of "profanity, slander and communistic tendencies." That same year, the book won an honorable mention in the non-fiction category at the American Writer's Congress. - Akron Women's History

I imagine the book did have communistic tendencies, as she was a Communist.

LATER: "Industrial Valley" is sitting on one of our bookshelves. Just sitting there. I love this house.