Nine Days of Labor

As he viewed the Senate from his rear-row desk, Massachusetts' wire-haired John Fitzgerald Kennedy saw little cause for worry. Again Kennedy had written a moderate labor-reform bill, persuaded George Meany's A.F.L.-C.I.O. to accept it. This time he had more Democratic liberals to back him than ever before; moreover, in the first days of debate his bipartisan bloc of Northerners and Westerners had easily defeated attempts to knock out of the bill a spoonful of sweeteners for labor. This time, as in last year's sessions, Kennedy's personal ambitions rode with the bill; adroit floor management and quick passage could do much to build his reputation as a statesman and help him on the way to the Democratic presidential nomination. Jack Kennedy had every reason to be satisfied with his chances. And then at midweek came a jolt.

Up rose Arkansas' John Little McClellan, dour, flint-eyed chairman of the Senate special committee investigating labor-management abuses, who had gaveled 26 months of hearings, heard 1,200 witnesses, watched hundreds of Fifth Amendment labor hoodlums slide in and out of his witness chair. Rasped Democrat McClellan with the fervor of an Ozarks revivalist: "The citizens of this country generally have been shocked and nauseated by the disclosures of impositions and abuses which have been perpetrated upon the working people of many of our states by the thugs who have muscled into positions of power in labor ... I say we cannot leave unlimited and unrestricted power in the hands of the [labor] leaders, however much a great majority of them may use it wisely, because there are those in the labor movement who will not use power wisely." Kennedy's bill, said he, was too weak. Thereupon McClellan introduced an amendment calling for a seven-point labor "bill of rights"--freedom of speech and equal voting rights, protection against unjust discipline--with authority for the Secretary of Labor to enforce the rights by federal injunction.

Loss of Face. McClellan's powerful, two-hour speech changed the Senate's temper. Arizona's Barry Goldwater, the bill's chief Republican opponent, sensed that he had a fighting chance, began rounding up votes to back John McClellan's amendment. Kennedy sprang from his chair, held 40 floor conferences in the space of an hour, discovered that he was in real trouble. Two liberal Democratic stalwarts--confident that there would be no difficulty--were absent: Illinois' Paul Douglas (Canada-bound for discussions on U.S. use of Lake Michigan waters), Minnesota's Hubert Humphrey (campaigning on the West Coast). Kennedy flushed A.F.L.-C.I.O. Lobbyist Andrew Biemiller from the Senate reception room, sent him scurrying to round up any votes he could produce.

It was too late. John McClellan's amendment carried, 47 (15 Democrats, 32 Republicans) to 46; a vote on tabling a motion to reconsider the amendment wound up in a tie: 45 (13 Democrats, 32 Republicans) to 45. Crisply, Vice President Nixon announced the tie, broke it in McClellan's favor.

Overnight the presidential future books trembled: Nixon clearly stood with McClellan for a sterner labor bill in defense of rank-and-file rights; Kennedy lost face; Humphrey, in absentia, looked silly. And on close second look Senate Majority Leader Lyndon Baines Johnson, famous for his deft control of the Senate, looked like the man who had let it all happen. Wags whispered that his L.B.J. initials meant "Let's Block Jack."

The Vilest Practice. But that night Johnson moved in gallantly to help Kennedy recoup. John McClellan's amendment, he pointed out to Southerners, was a Southerner's booby trap. If the Secretary of Labor were to get injunctive powers, could he not force integration of Southern unions? And would not the Attorney General seek similar powers to enforce civil rights? A.F.L.-C.I.O. lobbyists sought out Republican liberals, argued that the McClellan bill of rights would loosen labor discipline and pave the way for wildcat strikes. Kennedy and staff settled down with Harvard Law Professor Archibald Cox to write a compromise bill of rights, called in moderate Republicans such as California's Tommy Kuchel for help.

Meanwhile, fighting on other fronts, McClellan introduced an amendment to prohibit blackmail picketing, i.e., picketing to force a company to recognize a union. Cried he: "This is one of the vilest practices going on in the country."

Rueful John. Backstopping McClellan, Minority Leader Everett Dirksen dramatically read to the Senate a letter from a union official threatening an Illinois company with extinction unless its employees joined the Teamsters. Oregon's Wayne Morse, grey-black eyebrows beetling over angry grey eyes, retorted acidly that a blow against peaceful picketing was a blow against "the cardinal principle of freedom of speech." Kennedy himself, now back in command, came striding down the center aisle to the Senate's well to argue against the amendment's sweeping nature. "I myself would be forced to vote against the bill," he said, "and ask that my name be stricken from it, if this amendment were adopted." McClellan's amendment lost 59-30. Wisely, Kennedy pushed another compromise with lesser limits on picketing. It was adopted.

By Saturday Kennedy felt strong enough to get back to McClellan's bill of rights. Smoothly, California's Kuchel offered a revised bill deleting the Secretary of Labor's injunctive powers, but leaving in such guarantees as freedom from arbitrary dues and assessments, and protection of the individual's right to sue to secure union freedoms. Neither rueful John McClellan nor any other Southerner refused to support the changes. When the vote was taken, only G.O.P. conservatives and Ohio's Democratic Conservative Frank Lausche held out; the amendment passed 77-14. Two-and-a-half hours later, after nine days of debate, the revised Kennedy bill passed 90-1, with only Diehard Barry Goldwater voting against it.

In the mystique of Congress, both Kennedy and McClellan were winners when the vote was over. Refusing to panic after unexpected setbacks, searching for compromise instead of forcing personal aims, Kennedy convincingly demonstrated his capacity as a leader. But John McClellan had done his country a favor, too. By bringing into sharp focus his findings of fact, he provoked a necessary and strenuous debate on a critical issue--a debate that might well serve as a warning to the more labor-lenient House of Representatives when it takes up the Kennedy bill.

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