The 1930s began with textile workers
demanding wage increases, elimination of the hated "stretch-out system" which
increased workloads without corresponding increases in pay, an eight-hour
workday, and most of all, the right to organize and bargain collectively.
By the time Franklin Roosevelt entered the Presidency, the industry was in
shambles. Most of the problem was brought about by industry-wide overproduction,
which in turn resulted in lower profits for mill owners and lower wages for
mill workers. The industry, according to textile historian Mildred
Gwin Andrews, was "one of the sickest industries in the nation" and even
before Roosevelt's inauguration "government planning was under way to correct
wage and hour conditions in the textile industry."
President Roosevelt responded
to the crisis by forcing through Congress the National Industrial Recovery
Act. Under its sweeping grant of power, he established the National
Recovery Administration (NRA) on June 20, 1933, with Hugh Johnson as administrator.
The NRA's purpose, as noted by James Hodges, was clearly intended
to promote self-rule of industry
under federal super-
vision, to control overproduction,
to increase wages,
control the hours of labor,
and to stabilize and
then to raise prices.
The NRA was to accomplish
these goals through the creation
of codes of fair
competition which would govern
whole industries or
trades.
A Cotton Textile Committee,
headed by George Sloan, was formed, and on July 17, 1933, its famous Code
No. 1 was adopted. The Code sought to restrict excessive production
and establish minimum wages and maximum hours. As required by law,
it incorporated the famous Section 7(a) of the NIRA providing that "employees
shall have the right to organize and bargain collectively through representatives
of their own choosing." The new Administration
had high hopes for the code; if effective in the textile industry, it could
be a model for bringing collective bargaining to coal miners and other industrial
workers.
Textile Code No. 1 never
really got off the ground. The idea of permitting textile mill owners,
particularly Southern mill owners, to govern the industry was the epitome
of naiveté. Almost immediately, Southern mill owners began
to attack the wage and hour provisions, and mills, North and South, began
to ignore production restrictions and flood the market with over-production.
Rather quickly, it became clear that the mill owners, particularly Southern
mill owners, were incapable of acceptable self-rule and that they had
no intent of honoring the Section 7(a) provision for collective bargaining.
The few who tried to comply with 7(a) were "submerged
amidst massive violations of the measure" and could not stand under the
pres-sure wielded by the offenders. For the textile workers, James
Hodges observed, 7(a) was like being invited to a fancy ball that they were
too poor to attend.
Textile workers, North and
South, began to protest that wages were too low for existence, that the
stretch-out was unbearable, and that they were not being permitted to
bargain as provided by Section 7(a) of the NIRA. As a result, the
United Textile Workers of America (UTWA) called for a special con- vention
to consider a general strike, and on August 30, 1934, Francis Gorman announced
that all textile workers throughout the United States would go on strike
the next Monday. The publicized reason was dissatisfaction with the
Code, but the move- ment was really an effort to organize Southern cotton
mills. For the latter reason, the American Federation of Labor (AFL) assisted
the UTWA through the services of its organizers and state federations.
Since Monday was Labor Day, most of the work stoppage did not come until
Tuesday, September 4.
The nation-wide strike was
poorly planned and under fi-nanced, but it began on schedule with the
use of union organ- izers, known as flying squadrons, moving rapidly in
motorcades from mill to mill to pressure, and in some cases, terrorize
non-striking workers to quit work. However, it was much more effective
than mill owners had expected, and within a few days, it was in full force
from North to South with 450,000 of the 625,000 textile workers on strike.
The McComb Cotton Mill, just
seven miles north of Magnolia and the local union organization center,
struck on Monday, September 3. But many of the Magnolia mill workers
had ignored the strike order, and within the next few days, several McComb
union members visited Magnolia and "gave the workers, who chose to ignore
the nation-wide strike order, until Monday to leave their jobs."
Sanders petitioned for an
injunction to restrain McComb union members, or flying squadrons, from interfering
with the operation of the Magnolia mill. After setting a hearing date,
Judge C. W. Cutrer issued a temporary injunction with the understanding
that all parties would abide by a "gentlemen's agreement" that there would
be no further action or violence by either side in the interim. The
next night, Saturday, September 8, an estimated one hundred members of the
McComb local union visited Magnolia, distributed circulars in the village,
held a strike meeting, and threatened the Magnolia mill watchman with death
if he blew the whistle Monday morning. The activity of the McComb
union members, or flying squadrons, in Magnolia, ironically, worked to their
disadvantage because it justified the use of the National Guard.
Some violence had already
occurred. Fred (Bud) Smith, the mill superintendent, had shot and
seriously wounded Norman Crawford, one of the striking workers, and two
workers were badly beaten when they attempted to cross a picket line. With
the threat of more violence, Sheriff D. R. Statham wired Governor M. S. Conner:
There is likely to be serious
trouble at the cotton
mill tomorrow (Monday) and
the means at my disposal
are insufficient to maintain
the peace. I want you to
send the National Guards
to keep the peace.
Monday morning, September 10, the village people awakened
to find themselves in the middle of an armed military camp. James
Rushing, fifteen years old at the time, recalls that his mother Louise
awakened him and his younger brother Jewel early that morning to see the
troops marching in the village.
Adjutant General Thomas Grayson
had arrived during the night with two hundred and twenty-five National
Guard troops. Machine guns, tear gas guns and bombs were set up in
readiness on the mill roof and at other vantage points, sentinels posted,
and troops assigned to patrol the mill grounds and streets. At noon,
General Grayson returned to Jackson to coordinate related activities throughout
the state, leaving the troops at Magnolia under the command of Colonel G.
H. Snyder of Laurel and Major R. G. Sexton of Meadville. The troops
apparently quelled all threats of violence as no bloodshed or significant
strike-related incidents occurred after their arrival.
On September 20, General
Grayson and members of his staff returned to McComb where they met separately
with representatives of the McComb Cotton Mill, a strikers committee,
and a citizens (or businessmen) committee. Between 250 and 300 businessmen
had petitioned the governor to send National Guard troops to protect workers
who desired to work. The textile workers, supported by four local Railroad
Brotherhoods, con- demned the action of the businessmen and petitioned the
governor not to send troops. Unlike the situation at Magnolia where
violence had occurred, Sheriff Statham felt that the McComb strike presented
no immediate danger and sided with the strikers. Grayson, after listening
to the various parties, decided not to bring National Guard troops to McComb.
On Monday, September 24,
two weeks after it started, the strike ended when President Roosevelt,
after promising to establish a Textile Labor Relations Board to study
and handle labor problems in the industry, asked that all workers return
to work and that the mill owners take them back without discrimination.
By "2 o'clock Monday afternoon the last of the khaki-clad warriors in Magnolia
had been relieved of duty and military occupation of the cotton mill village
was an incident of the past." The Magnolia and McComb mills quietly
opened without incident, and the nation-wide textile strike of 1934, the
largest single strike in the history of the country, was over.
The McComb Cotton Mill employees,
however, struck again the next day, the fourth time in less than a year,
when an employee was not allowed to return to work on charges of intoxication.
The dispute was settled later the same day.
During the general strike,
National Guard troops were also dispatched to the Stonewall and Kosciusko
mill villages. Like Magnolia, machine guns, tear gas guns and bombs
were set up in readiness on the mill roofs and at other vantage points,
and troops set up camp on the mill grounds and patrolled the streets.
The Kosciusko-Attala Historical Society reported:
We experienced a new and
tense situation in our town in
August and September--a strike
at Aponaug Manufacturing
Company. Because of
threatened violence and sabotage,
Sheriff Blanton requested
that National Guardsmen be sent
here for the protection of
the million dollar cotton mill.
One hundred twenty-five guardsmen,
along with their ma-
chine guns, gas bombs, tents,
etc., arrived and set up
camp on the mill grounds.
Citizens of the county gener-
ally welcomed the coming
of the guardsmen who have so com-
pletely dominated the situation
as to scare away all
threatened violence.
Though this episode was naturally
exciting to our young people,
the town was very thankful
when, after a short time,
things settled back to normal.
At Koscuisko, Sanders requested the use of National
Guard troops to remove some twenty-seven families from their village homes.
He argued that the family heads were union agitators, and for that reason,
he had right to force them from their village homes. Governor Conner
quickly and publicly denied the request.
It is worth noting that the
Berthadale Cotton Mill in McComb was not affected by the nation-wide strike;
its employees continued to work throughout the strike. A. K. and Lober
Landau, the owners, were known for their fair treatment of workers and,
as a result, benefited from the unusually good employer/employee relations.
Recall the July 4th barbacue and brass band provided by A. K. Landau at
Magnolia in the early twenties.
The Magnolia mill had been
reopened only two years when the strike occurred, and understandably many
of the workers opposed the strike. At its beginning, several workers
sent a petition to the governor indicating
that they were not affiliated
with the Union, de-
sired to continue work and
requesting the Governor
to afford them protection
from intimidation or vio-
lience.
Governor Conner replied that under the law he could
not send out the National Guard unless advised by the sheriff that the
situation was serious and that he could not handle it. The sheriff's
subsequent wire apparently satisfied that requirement as the governor quickly
dispatched troops.
The National Guardsmen in
Magnolia were highly commended by all who came in contact with them and
were given credit for keeping the peace. After it was over, Colonel
Snyder, a more relaxed commander, said that the soldiers had a good time
while on duty in Magnolia, and that "they mingled freely with the people
of the community, and some of the boys made warm friendships, particularly
with Magnolia girls." The mayor, many of the merchants, and some of
the mill workers sent letters of appreciation to the governor.
In spite of their best efforts,
however, tragedy struck the village three days after the strike on September
27. Alice Bernice Sullivan, the two-year old daughter of Bill Sullivan,
a mill worker, was killed while playing with her young brother Robert
and companion Trelles Case at a small house next door to the mill.
The two boys, each about four years old, played near the house as Alice
found her way under it. She unfortunately found a shotgun, believed
to have been left by a striking employee, and discharged it when she pulled
on the barrel. The death of Alice Bernice became a reference point
in time for the village people, they all remember the strike in which the
"little Sullivan girl" was killed.
The nation-wide strike was
not successful from the union's point of view. Sanders, along with
other Southern mill owners, won as the strike failed to bring either labor
organization or collective bargaining to the Southern textile industry.
In her book The Men and the Mills, Mildred Gwin Andrews concludes that
there was really no "settlement"
of the strike. It
wore itself out and strikers,
most of whom did not
belong to any union and who
did not know why they
had gone on strike, gradually
returned to work.
While there was no formal agreement, there was a "settlement"
of sorts. It was really a retreat for the union, leaving Southern
mill owners free to misinterpret and misapply the collective bargaining
provisions of Section 7(a) of the NRA. Many of them, unfortunately, took
advantage of ambiguities in the law, but to make matters worse, the Supreme
Court in May of 1935 struck down the NRA, leaving the industry virtually
unregulated until passage of the Fair Labors Standard Act in 1938.
Shortly after the death of
the NRA in May of 1935, the National Labor Relations Act (Wagner Act)
of 1935 reinstated the right of workers in interstate commerce to organize
and bargain collectively. Many Southern mill owners, however, routinely
and repeatedly ignored the new law by discharging union sympathizers and
even closing plants to prevent collective bargaining. Southern workers,
Mississippians in particular, were reluctant to press the issue or even
openly complain; unorganized workers were not inclined to join the union
in a fight against the mill owners with long lines waiting at the gates
for employment.
In any event the General
Strike of 1934 was a failure, and it is doubtful that the failure could
have been avoided. From the beginning, unionism was weak in the
South, and the depth of the Depression made it extremely difficult to organize
workers at the small privately held Southern mills. The failure,
according to James Hodges, was "a dramatic example of the limits of New
Deal labor policy." It was a devastating blow to the South where,
as a result of the failure, unions in all Southern industries retreated,
and the South fell behind the rest of the nation "in the quest for effective
unionization and collective bargaining."
Milton Derber, in Labor and
the New Deal, argued that the failure of textile unionism had an epidemic
effect throughout the South, particularly in the smaller towns and villages,
where its leading industries--lumber, furniture, chemicals, and food-processing--were
hardly touched by union organization dur- ing the New Deal period.
Historian Bill Wyche observed that textiles represented the leading industry
in the South, “and that historically and universally the industry had over-expanded
and overproduced; and, as a means of maintaining lower production costs,
Southern textile manufacturers vigorously resisted unionization which could
lead to higher wages.” In any event, the Sanders mills came out
of the strike with far fewer union sympathizers and no known union members.
Sanders mill workers, like
other Southern mill workers, used the 1934 rebellion as an immediate protest
against the low wages, long hours, and the abusive stretch-out, but, unfortunately,
they were influenced too much by their rural customs and traditions--including
the ingrained individualism, the pov- erty, the apathy, and the suspicions
of northern unions moving southward--and failed to see the long-range
benefits of acting collectively. Mississippi, even though the poorest
state in the union, clearly was not ready for unionization, collective
bargaining or, for that matter, industrialization in 1934.
Two years after the strike,
Hugh White, the newly elected governor, tried to attract industry by launching
a development program, called Balancing Agriculture with Industry (BAWI),
but the program did not address the lingering anti-union attitude and
was doomed to failure from the start. As discussed ear-lier, Governor
White attempted to mediate at the Tupelo Cotton Mill strike in April 1937,
but he was ineffective in bringing the parties together, because, partially
at least, of the pre- vailing anti-union atti-tude in the community.
The failure to deal with
the anti-labor attitude was devastating; the state, as a consequence,
continued to lag far behind the nation and its sister states and made
no significant move toward industrialization until President Roosevelt,
concerned about the state's wide-spread poverty, used his influence during
World War II to bring several war plants and military establishments to
the state. Ironically, the curtailment of unionism in the state
not only stifled industrial development, but, as I will show later, contributed
to the demise of its cotton mill industry in the early 1950s. The anti-union
attitude permitted Sanders Industries to rely too much on low wages, long
hours, and the abusive stretch-out system, which in the long run contributed
to the flight of textile workers from the Sanders mills to jobs in other
industries, providing better pay and better working conditions.
The strike failure and the absence of
adequate protective labor legislation left Southern mill owners, including
Sanders, free to dominate the industry. Like the plantation owners
before them, the powerful Southern mill owners and other Southern elite
were in a position to effectively dominate the white mill workers who too
often huddled together and accepted the difficult working conditions that
included low wages, long hours, shoddy housing, and a burdensome workload
under the stretch-out system. There were no other industrial
jobs available to them; thus the only alternative for most was the hard and
isolated life of tenant or share crop farming.
After the strike the stretch-out
system continued to be used by mill owners, particularly Southern mill
owners, to re- duce labor costs. Its wide and extensive use made it,
accord- ing to historian James Hodges, "the one issue which most concerned
textile workers, much more than wages and other working conditions."
He cites the case of a worker forced to resign because of the burdensome
workload, who told his general manager "that to work under it was the same
as committing suicide."
Sanders apparently used the
dreaded system at most, if not all, of his mills throughout the thirties.
Several former Sanders workers recall that the practice was often a topic
of converation. Using the non-Sanders mill at Tupelo as a comparison,
a former worker said that the workload at the Sanders mills at Magnolia,
Kosciusko, Meridian, and Winona was far greater; and using the non-Sanders
mill at McComb as a standard, another said that the workload at the Sanders
mills at Kosciusko, Magnolia, Meridian, and Natchez was greater. Others
agreed these assessments and said that it was common knowledge that the
stretch-out system was used, but added that, while the workers discussed
the heavy workloads among themselves, few dared to complain to their supervisor.
Most workers felt that Robert
Sanders had little empathy for the struggling mill workers; they considered
him to be arrogant, domineering, and selfish in his relations with them.
But as expected, most concealed their feelings out of fear of losing both
a job and a house; for the individual worker, the fear may have been justified
for there was always someone waiting in line to replace him.
Sanders's opposition to labor
organizations and collective bargaining was well known; he used it effectively
to con- trol his mill workers throughout the Depression years. Workers
suspected of involvement in union activities were often summarily dismissed.
It appears, however, the dismissals were usually temporary unless avid
agitators were involved. Ella Chadwick recalls that several co-workers
persuaded her to ask for a pay raise, and that when she did, she was fired
instantly. But after a few days of pleading, she was rehired to work
the night shift. A mixture of harshness and compassion.
On one occasion. Sanders
reportedly denied a request for an increase in pay with the retort that
"a house and a dollar a day is sufficient for a mill worker." Consistent
with that view, General Superintendent G. M. Tidwell later reduced the pay
by ten percent at the Magnolia mill, and not hearing of any serious opposition,
imposed an-other reduction the next day. One worker recalls that he
was a victim of the consecutive pay decreases and that his father was present
and heard the dollar-a-day statement. No one was surprised; Tidwell
was known by the workers to be ambitious and eager to play the role of hatchet
man. It was just another of his overzealous acts.
The Sanders mills, including the Magnolia
mill, were noto- rious for long workdays, low wages, and burdensome workloads.
As late as 1939 Sanders, as will be discussed later, was still fighting
the implementation of the first minimum wage and forty-hour week law (FLSA
of 1938) when most of the industry was already paying more than the minimum
wage. But the harsh treat- ment of employees was not limited to low wages
and long hours; workers were not expected, for example, to complain about
on-the-job personal injuries.
Lester Rushing learned the cost of complaining
when he in 1938 suffered permanent injuries to his foot while working
in the Magnolia mill and, being unable to negotiate a settlement, initiated
a civil action for damages. The court awarded him a trifling
amount, most of which went to his lawyers, but the Magnolia mill was not
to pay any amount without retaliating. Rushing and his spouse, along
with three brothers and their spouses, were summarily dismissed; and the
four families, with several children between them, were forced to vacate
their vil- lage homes and move on in the midst of the lingering depression.
Ironically, the four families moved to other Sanders mills at Meridian and
Kosciusko, and after a brief absence, the Drew Rushing family returned to
the Magnolia mill. Another example of mixing harshness and compassion.
Oppressive working conditions
during the Depression years were not unique to the Sanders mills but were
bad in the tex- tile industry throughout the country, and people everywhere
relucantly accepted it, made the best of the situation, pulled together,
and went on with their lives. The Sanders village peole, including
those at Magnolia, felt fortunate just to have jobs, for several million
people throughout the country were unemployed. As people generally do
in a crisis, they bonded together to find and share some good times in their
personal lives, and in the process, the good times strengthened their will
to survive and, in the end, over-shadowed the oppressive working conditions
in the mills.
Like other Sanders mill people,
Magnolia village people found the time to enjoy social and recreational
activities. For the women and young girls, the little Nazarene Church was
the center of the social and community activities; for the men and young
boys, there was hunting, fishing, and baseball. For the family, radio provided
enter-tainment as members, often with friends and neighbors, crowded around
it to listen to their favorite programs such as Lum and Abner, Amos 'n'
Andy, Inner Sanctum, Gene Autry, Superman, Don Winslow of the Navy, Roy
Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy, The Lone Ranger, and The Grand Ole Opry.
The Magnolia cinema was a big attraction, Saturday af-ternoons featured cowboy
movies for the young, and Saturday nights had late shows for the older crowd.
At the Minnehaha River, a
popular swimming hole, jokingly referred to by the boys as "Peter Deep"
and the girls as "Deeper Peep," attracted both boys and girls. The
loud chatter or laughter of girls approach-ing the swimming hole would alert
the boys and usually sent some scampering for their clothes.
Everyone recalls that Sunday
was the big day in the village with church in the morning, followed by
a traditional Southern Sunday dinner, typically fried chicken or round steak
with rice and gravy, fried corn or fried okra, lima beans or black-eyed peas,
sliced tomatoes, hot biscuits or cornbread, and blackberry or peach cobbler
or banana pudding for des-sert. The vitals remain popular today and
are fondly re-ferred to as "soul food."
After the week's heartiest
midday meal, the younger children usually went out to play ball or marbles
in the church yard or for a swim at "Peter Deep." Older teenagers
often simply strolled in small groups about the village, town, or cemetery
and at times gathered at the Minnehaha River bridge where they talked, laughed,
joked, and counted cars with out-of-state license plates as they passed
on U. S. Highway 51 enroute to seemingly far away places at the time, either
New Orleans a hundred miles south or Memphis three hundred miles north.
The dream was to go to one or the other some day.
Like teenagers across the
country during the Depression, Magnolia village teenagers were creative
and expert at improvising games and toys. Thread from the mill was
used to make softballs; discarded iron gears became wheels for wagons; and
roller skate wheels were used to make scooters. Old tires were made
into swings, but as often, simply paddled along the street by young boys,
sometimes with a small boy curled inside. Discarded inner-tubes made
excellent floats for swimmers or, if they could not hold air, could be used
to make slingshots. Homemade kites, especially the "skeeter kites,"
were very popular. The skeeter kite was easy to make; two slender
pieces of straw or weed stems were simply crossed and pierced through the
corners of a sheet of tablet paper. With a bobbin of light-weight thread
from the spinning room, it could be put out of sight within minutes.
The Magnolia village grade
school played an important role in the community. It was near the
center of the village and within four blocks of its outer limits, and thus
the short distance avoided the transportation problem that would have
prevailed had the youngsters been required to attend the town school.
Limiting the school to the first four grades turned out to be a substantial
benefit because, unlike Kosciusko with its eight grades, Magnolia village
children had more opportunity to interact with town children. After
four years at the village grade school, they attended the town school where
they competed and interacted with others on an equal basis. Some of
the boys went on to excel in basketball and football, including Billy Parker,
Charles Robinson, James Rushing, Steve Case, and Pat Fuller; while Betty
Jean Shaw, Eddie Virginia Case, Edna Earl Goff, Evelyn Rushing, and Beatrice
Morgan excelled at basketball. Betty Jean, Eddie Virginia, along with
Laura Mae Case and Bernice Rushing, also became popular cheerleaders.
After being closed for a
few years, the Magnolia village school reopened in 1935 with Miss Auline
Coney Swearingen as one of two teachers. She had taught at the school
before it closed in 1926 and often referred to the village children as
"my kids." Some of her students in the 1920s included James Rushing,
Clifton Lamkin, William Sullivan, Laverne Case, Robert Case, James Alford,
Tom Fancher, Mildred McCaskill, Paul Case, Elmer Parker, and William McCaskill.
Later students of the 1930s included Walter Lamkin, Bertrand Pugh, Robert
Goff, Fred Sullivan, Leon Morgan, Hubert Parker, Doris Parker, James Earl
Davis, Houston Parker, Johnnie Carl Rushing, Ethelene Chanell, Bernice Rushing,
Geneva Chanell, Donnis Parker, Hazel Parker, Halbert Chanell, Bertie Goff,
Rufus Morgan, A. D. Alford, Nona Fancher, Lucien Lamkin, James Alton Rushing,
Herbert Randall, Robert Pezant, Helen Rushing, Willia Dean Sullivan, Laverne
Richmond, William Earl Phurrough, Ethel Mae Dickinson, Benny Chanell, Avis
Pugh, Janelle Taylor, Tommie Etta Dickinson, Norma Case, W. M. Ravencraft,
Ollie McCaskill, Grace Westmoreland, Helen Richmond, Louise Fuller, Mavis
Anderson, Othar Chisolm, James Chisolm, Billy Parker, June Taylor, Pat Fuller,
Marvin Randall, Robert Sullivan, E. J. Westmoreland, Pauline Fuller, Trelles
Case, Doris Pugh, Ralph Loggins, Robert Lamkin, W. L. Case, Lillian Chanell,
Maurice Pugh, James Case, Betty Jean Shaw, and Evelyn Rushing. There
were, no doubt, others who attended the school.
The Magnolia village school
was again discontinued in 1938, and in spite of the greater distance to
school, its clos- ing surely benefited the children by integrating them into
the town school. There were, however, anxious moments when the first
class entered the town school. Doris (Pugh) Case, who was in that
class, indicates that the teachers at first opposed their admission on grounds
of insufficient room. Miss Auline Swearingen, the village school teacher,
apparently defused the explosive situation. Willa Dean Sullivan recalls
that Miss Swearingen calmed everyone by accompanying "her kids" to the town
school and introducing them to their new classmates. Miss Swearingen
made a lasting impression on her kids, and today, six decades later, her
former students fondly reminisce and relate anecdotes about her. Two
village girls, one born in the late thirties and the other in the early
forties, were named in her honor, Auline Sullivan and Auline Strickland.
The crime rate in rural America
during the thirties was minimal, but for Magnolia and its mill village,
it was virtual- ly non-existent. Without any fear, houses could be
left unlocked and bicycles unattended for extended periods of time at the
school or in front of the picture show. Several people recall the thirties
as a period of tranquillity, and no one recalls a serious violent crime
of any type or a burglary or a robbery in the village. One village
resident, who will remain nameless, was mentioned as an occasional chicken
thief and another was accused of stealing firewood, but they were generally
excused because of the hard times. Perhaps the worst transgression
was that on payday some of the men occasionally drank too much, shot craps,
and a few had fist-fights, but come Monday morning, all was forgotten.
Robert Sullivan recalls that Mississippi was a dry state at the time, and
that local humorists suggested "it will remain dry as long as Mississippians
can stagger to the polls." It was the one issue that brought the
churches and bootleggers together, for neither wanted a wet state and both
went all out in an effort to keep it dry.
The Magnolia mill, in addition
to the church building and the four-year grade school, made sure the villagers
had medical care. Two doctors, G. W. Robertson and J. D. Smith,
provided the care. Patients were generally treated in the doctor's
office but house calls were also made. In fact, it was a common sight
to see the doctors walking the village streets, stopping here and there to
check on their patients. In the late thirties, a small fee of twenty-five
cents weekly was deducted from each worker's pay and divided between the
two doctors for their services. The fee also covered medical procedures
performed by the doctors at the small Magnolia Hospital which were limited,
primarily to an occasional appendectomy, tonsillectomy, attending a broken
bone or stitching a skin laceration. Beulah Mae Bird, plant secretary
at the time, confirmed that the workers were required to participate in the
program and share in its cost.
Rememnsing about life on
the Magnolia village during the 1930s, Dr. Trelles Case summarized the
feelings of most vil- lagers in his statement that "we might have been
poor, but the village was made up of good and caring people." Others supported
his assessment; many remember the village as an extended family with people
doing for each other, setting up with the sick or giving poundings of food
and clothing to those in need. They were bound by an unwritten code to care
for each other in times of need, and this camaraderie surely gave them strength
in facing the hard times of the depression years.
Roosevelt's "New Deal" finally came to the textile
industry in the late thirties: it was a great turning point for the Sanders
mill workers as it was to bring about sweeping changes and improvements in
working conditions. In 1939, the Textile Industry Committee accepted
America's first wage and hour law (FLSA of 1938); it provided for a minimum
wage of 32.5 cents per hour, a 40-hour week, and a minimum age of 16 years
for child labor. Most of the industry was in fact already paying more
than the minimum, but Sanders, paying far less, joined Opp Mills of Alabama
in seeking an injunction against the enforcement of the new law.
The U. S. Supreme Court,
in Opp Cotton Mills, Inc. v. Administrator, upheld the law which "put a
floor under wages and a cap on the hours of the normal working day."
The decision simply required Sanders to pay the wages most Southern cotton
mills were already paying, and, contrary to the expressed fears of the
Sanders and Opp mill owners, neither owner found it nec-essary to close
a mill because of the new wage regulations. It was to be Robert Sanders's
last major battle with labor.
Mill workers at the several
Sanders mills were ecstatic. For them, the decision upholding the minimum
wage and 40-hour week law was the fulfillment of a long dream. After
more than a hundred years of long hours, sunup to sundown in the industry,
the 40-hour week had finally arrived. Wages were to start at 32.5
cents per hour, increased to 37.5 cents per hour in June 1941, to 40 cents
in April 1942, and finally to 45 cents still later. The new law came
on the eve of World War II (1939-1945) which was to bring great prosperity
to the Sanders mills and, in turn, many opportunities and benefits to the
mill workers.
By the beginning of the war,
things had already started to change. Claude McDade had been
promoted from weave room supervisor to superintendent and plant-employee
relations were improving. It was apparent that McDade, who knew
the workers and their families intimately, was given substantial latitude
in dealing with their needs. For example, McDade made himself available
every Saturday morning for workers in need of salary advances. Not
having cash on hand, he would give the worker a handwritten note to deliver
to the Corner Drugstore. Fred Andrews, the druggist, would give the
worker the two or three dollars and payment was then deducted from his next
payday. It was a good arrangement for the druggist because he was
assured of quick payment of the loan along with all other charges.
In hardship cases, payment
for house rent was often waived for extended periods of time. A
prime example involved the widow of Charlie Case, a faithful employee of
many years. After his death, his widow Laura, elderly and unable to
work in the mill, remained in her village house until she died several years
later without the mention of house rent. Rose Pressley was a similar
case; there were others. While it did not make up for the low wages
and long hours, the paternalistic benevolence surly left the workers with
a sense of well-being and security.
The Depression years had
been hard, but life on the Magnolia and other Sanders villages was about
the same as, if not better than, that of most Mississippians. Indeed,
times were bad for everyone, but the village people were at least gainful-
ly employed and had money to spend. In 1940, near the end of the Depression,
Mississippi was still tied to an ailing agricultural economy with 80 percent
of its inhabitants still living in the country. Reviewing the period,
Dunbar Rowland, for- mer Director of Mississippi Department of Archives
and History, concluded that:
The Second World War was
the watershed of modern Missis-
sippi history. Before
it there was institutional con-
tinuity streaking back 100
years. After it nothing re-
mained the same. This
is not to say that World War II
was the cause of all change,
but it is a convenient divid-
ing line.... Since
the beginning of World War II every
one of Mississippi's long-cherished
institutions has been
destroyed. King Cotton
has lost its throne.... Every-
where mechanization and diversification
have triumphed.
...Perhaps even more important,
agriculture has lost its
primacy in Mississippi's
economy. No longer is it the
chief employer and income
producer. Manufacturing now
employes more workers and
produces more income than does
agriculture.
By 1940 the United States,
responding to threats of war, had begun to mobilize its resources and
prepare for war. The economic stimulus, provided by the massive
military buildup, brought the Great Depression to an abrupt end. Suddenly,
Mississippi, along with its textile industry, was in the threshold of its
greatest change in history. Thanks to Roosevelt's influence, several
war plants and military establishments, with new and higher paying
jobs, would come to the South, especially Mississippi, and compete with the
textile plants in industrializing Mississippi. Mill workers at all
Sanders textile mills, including Magnolia, would be affected and their lives
changed forever.
Sanders Industries, except
for the Natchez, Winona, and Yazoo City mills, had survived the Great
Depression. It had survived the hard times that forced hundreds
of less fortunate cotton mills throughout the country to either close
or operate in bankruptcy. Since the peak year of 1910, Mississippi
had closed seventeen mills by either liquidation or fire, reducing Mississppi's
cotton manufacturing to only eight mills by 1942 and the beginning of the
war years (see Table 3). Sanders Industries controlled five of them--the
Kosciusko, Magnolia, Meridian, Starkville, and West Point mills. The
three non-Sanders mills were the Stonewall Cotton Mill, the Laurel Cotton
Mill, and the Alden Spinning Mill in Meridian. Obviously, the Mississippi
cotton textile industry was near collapse at the beginning of the forties,
but World War II would give it breath and life for a few more years.
Table 3. MISSISSIPPI MILLS CLOSED, 1910-1942
Name
Location
Date
Mississippi Mills
Wesson
1910
Port Gibson Mills
Port Gibson
1910
Batesville Yarn Mill
Batesville
1910
Columbus Yarn Mill
Columbus
1910
Tombigbee Mills
Columbus
1910
Noxubee Mills
Shuqualak
1911
Mississippi Textile School
Starkville
1914
Bellevue Mills
Moorhead
1924
Yocona Mills
Water Valley *1929
Natchez Cotton Mills
Natchez
1934
Rosalie Cotton Mills
Natchez
1934
Tupelo Cotton Mills
Tupelo
1937
Yazoo Cotton Mills
Yazoo City
*1937
Berthadale Cotton Mills
McComb
1938
Winona Cotton Mills
Winona
*1940
McComb Cotton Mills
McComb
1942
* Mills destroyed by fire and not reopened.