Chicago Showdown

One night last week, reams of copy piled up alarmingly in the composing room of Marshall Field's tabloid Chicago Sun. Deadlines came & went, but the battery of Linotypes stood silent. The printers were holding a marathon "chapel meeting," and the union was in no rush to adjourn. When the Sun went to press, nine hours late, it was in makeshift dress: lacking type, it ran pages of photo-engraved typewriting.

Such slowdowns (usually over trumped-up reasons) had harassed Chicago's dailies for weeks, since their contracts with the powerful International Typographical Union had expired. The I.T.U. was trying to pressure Marshall Field--and other publishers--into accepting the I.T.U.'s unilateral "conditions of employment" in lieu of the contracts the publishers thought they were entitled to. They knew as well as the union that by posting the "conditions" the union would keep its closed shop, and that they might be liable to prosecution under the Taft-Hartley Act.

Then the I.T.U. gave the six daily papers, the Tribune, Sun, Journal of Commerce, Times, Herald-American and News, an ultimatum: boost wages from $85.50 to $100, within the day. The publishers said no. Said I.T.U. President Woodruff Randolph: The only thing left was a "nice clean strike."

This week, the printers voted 2,330 to 61 to strike--the first big test of the Taft-Hartley Act. A few hours later the strike was on. The printers promised 24-hour-a-day picket lines around the six Chicago dailies. The publishers promised they would print anyway, by photoengraving. The papers began a frantic scramble to hire typists. The Sun hired 80 and set up day and night shifts. All the papers buckled down to give Chicago its daily news, in spite of the strike.

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