Under the glaring canopy of lights in Manhattan's 71st Regiment Armory, the 1,500 A.F.L.-C.I.O. delegates bore decorously the immense power and affluence they controlled in the moment of their 15-million-member merger of 141 unions —the greatest assemblage of free labor's many mansions in one house.
Last week's merger of old rivals, amid the peace and plenty of the 1955-model U.S. they helped to forge, had about it a pride in the long way traveled from weakness to strength. Said Walter Reuther, ending the C.I.O.'s 17th and final convention a few days before: "We have brought sunshine into the dark places of America.
We have given millions ... of workers a sense of security and a sense of human dignity." Nominated by Reuther and elected unanimously as expected, the new coalition's first president, stolid George Meany of the 74-year-old A.F.L., expressed his hope for the future. He told the convention: "We have got to give some sober thought today to ... taking our place in the community life of the nation . . .
Labor not only has a right to raise its voice . . . We have a duty as citizens to take part in shaping the policies of our government.'' "Beautiful Thing." But the birth of what Meany likes to call the new "instrumentality" was accompanied by numerous Big Labor pains last week.
The first integration problem arose from the fact that the C.I.O. remained not only intact—as planned—but grew stronger. Thirty-one of its 32 frisky industrial unions (4,600,000 members) formed the new federation's Industrial Union Department, headed by ex-C.I.O. President Reuther. To gain a voice in the new I.U.D., 38 A.F.L. unions with 2.672,000 industrial workers quickly signed up with Reuther's outfit. This move was a surprise to the top A.F.L. leaders, including Meany.
"A beautiful thing," gloated the C.I.O.
Electrical Workers' James Carey, when he realized that the suddenly enlarged I.U.D.
had become by far the biggest bloc in the new A.F.L.-C.I.O.
"The First Instance." Not so beautiful was a scramble to board the I.U.D. bandwagon by the Teamsters Union, the A.F.L.'s biggest (1,400,000 members) and most sprawling affiliate (truckers, dockers, bakers, dairymen, grocers, laundrymen).
To form a counter power bloc, the Teamsters tried first to squeeze into the I.U.D.
with their entire membership. "We're going in lock, stock and barrel," bristled Vice President James R. (for Riddle) Hoffa, whose growingly visible power within his union suggests an undercover undercutting of Teamster Boss Dave Beck.
But in the federation's first internal fracas. Meany and Reuther proved tougher than Beck and Hoffa. As the Teamsters flexed furiously, Meany was asked who would solve the unexpected problem of evaluating which I.U.D. applicant unions were genuinely industrial. Grinned Meany: "Me. in the first instance." Beck and Hoffa soon slimmed their claim of "industrial" Teamsters to 700,000; when Reuther labeled that figure "insane," the Teamsters capitulated and settled for 400,000.