Heelers' Union

Rev. Charles E. Coughlin boasted that he would swing 9,000,000 votes in the last Presidential campaign, but neither major party made any noticeable effort to enlist his support. When election time rolls around, the man upon whom wise political bosses count is not the howling demagog, but the obscure little wardheeler who, through family, friends and acquaintances, can be counted on to deliver 50 or 60 certain votes. Of the smallest cog in the political machine, the precinct executive who lives with his constituents and does favors for them year in & out, Pundit Frank Kent wrote in The Great Game Of Politics: "He is the bone and sinew of the machine. He is its foundation and the real source of its strength. If he does not function, the machine decays. If he quits, the machine dies. He is the actual connecting link between the people and the organization, and he is the only connecting link--the only man in the machine who has any point of direct contact with the voters, who knows anything about them, who has any real influence with them."

All the ordinary heeler wants in return for his services is a small official job and accompanying "perquisites." If his party stays out of power too long, he will grow discouraged, seek other livelihood. That is what has been happening to the Republican machine since 1932. But the heeler may be equally bereft if his party wins too often and too easily. For then the party generals and captains and lieutenants come to believe that they themselves achieved the victories, forget the rear-rank privates who did the actual fighting.

Last week in Washington one Walter L. Williams, a minor clerk in the office of the U. S. Engineers, announced formation of the National Union for Collective Bargaining for Democratic Workers. Clerk Williams, who once heeled in South Philadelphia's "Little Italy," proposed to build up a regular heelers' union, with dues, locals, organizers and perhaps eventually affiliation with either the American Federation of Labor or the Committee for Industrial Organization. He was particularly incensed at the ward leaders, the only machine men who even know the precinct workers' names, and the only ones through whom they can do business with the higher-ups.

"We believe we can save the New Deal from the despotism of these petty party chieftains," cried Organizer Williams. "They're ensconced now. They feel they're settled. There's no more liberality. You can't even get in to see some of them."

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