The Hamilton Spectator - an article about the 1946 Strike

THE HAMILTON SPECTATOR

It was supposed to be a new beginning. Six years of bitter war had finally ended. Soldiers were returning home. Hamiltonians were optimistic about the future and a baby boom was brewing.

The year was 1946. It was the city's Centennial and "the show of a century" was planned for the first week of July to mark "100 years of progress."

But there were disconcerting rumblings that threatened to spoil the party. Tensions were escalating between unionists and Stelco management through the early months of the year.

Then on March 16, a grisly discovery was made on the side of the Mountain.

The Spectator reported: "Clothed only in an undershirt and shorts, the torso of an unidentified man with the head, legs and arms missing, was found . . . one-half mile from Albion Falls, about 10 o'clock this morning.

"The gruesome find was made by a group of children who were out in the country for a Saturday morning hike ..."

It was the first of countless news accounts, over the weeks and months ahead, about the infamous John Dick murder case. And if there was a "show of the century" in 1946, it turned out to be the Evelyn Dick murder trial -- not the city's Centennial.

Margaret Houghton, a local history author and archivist at Hamilton Public Library Special Collections, says 1946 was a pivotal year for the city. In the gathering storm of labour turmoil and macabre murder revelations, the city lost its innocence and matured at the same time.

"Hamilton had become a completely different city (by 1946)," she says. "Before the war, Hamilton was a very parochial community. But by the end of the war, the city had become a world-class steelmaker and manufacturer ... and attitudes were changing."

Especially changed were young men who had gone off to war and were returning to their families and jobs.

"When they came back to Hamilton they were unwilling to accept the working conditions they previously tolerated," says Houghton.

Labour historian Craig Heron says the war raised "a kind of rhetoric of democracy that was quite remarkable. People who worked in factories would ask 'why did we fight for democracy overseas when we don't have it on the job?'

"In some ways the war was a kind of catalyst for the union movement. It gave a lot of legitimacy to the idea of industrial democracy."

For many veterans, who were returning to their steelmaking jobs after being overseas, it was a case of coming back from one war to fight another.

Steelworkers' union members at Stelco pressed for higher wages, a 40-hour work week and a requirement by the company to regularly deduct dues on behalf of the union.

On July 15, the steelworkers officially walked off the job to launch a bitter 81-day feud that is seen by historians to be one of the most important labour-management battles in Canadian history. The strike severely divided the community between those who supported the strikers -- including then Mayor Sam Lawrence -- and those who did not.

Replacement workers camped out at Stelco, while many had their homes spray-painted with the words "scab" and other taunts.

And while the Stelco strike got most of the attention, union members from Westinghouse, Firestone and The Spectator also took to the streets.

By mid-July nearly 20 per cent of the city's industrial workforce was on strike with thousands more laid off because of plant shutdowns.

"Everybody knew someone who was on strike that summer," says Heron. "They were prolonged events that drew a lot of community participation. On the picket lines people came out and donated their time and their food. There were dances. There was even a wedding on the Stelco picket line. Pete Seeger showed up and sang at one point."

While Lawrence supported the strikers because he said he was "a union man first and chief magistrate second," other members of city council were vehemently opposed to the union. Controller Nora Frances Henderson was so incensed that she made a public display of walking through a picket line to show her indignation. The picketers stepped slowly aside and let her pass without incident.

"I will not bow to mob rule," she said. To which, strikers later said: "We'll hang Nora Frances from the sour apple tree." Luckily, it was just a threat.

Heron says, "The whole community was mobilized and politicized in 1946." And animosities between strikers and "scabs" continue to this day.

McMaster University's John Weaver, a local history expert, says: "1946 was a hopping year. That's for sure.

"The year must have begun with a fair bit of optimism with it being the first full year after the war. It was the end of a protracted period of war and the Depression that was pretty dismal."

But with the labour upheaval and the economic adjustment of the city moving to peacetime production, he said, it would take Hamilton a couple more years to enjoy postwar prosperity.

Retired McMaster University history professor Chuck Johnston was 20 years old in 1946. He was a McMaster student who marvelled at the events that were going on around him.

"I remember the Centennial parade down the main street and the mayor was in an open car. They had bands and things ... I was one of several hundred who gathered in the East End to watch it. People gathered all over the city."

He doesn't recall labour turmoil affecting the Centennial festivities that took place from July 1 to 7. Every day saw a full slate of events that included everything from softball tournaments to marching bands and fireworks.

City Hall was decked out with a huge billboard that contrasted views of the city from the Mountain from 1846 and 1946 under the "100 years of progress" slogan.