CHAPTER 39
At the beginning of the occupation of Japan, MacArthur had presented the new Prime Minister Shidehara with seven reforms that he believed would advance the cause of democracy and rebuild Japan into a prosperous, modern country. The first had been to give women the vote. The second was to encourage the formation and growth of a labour union movement. American women had been granted the right to vote in 1920. Organised labour’s rights had grown during his lifetime, but in 1948 the Taft-Hartley Act had curtailed union power significantly.
Labour unions, MacArthur believed, were a sign of a well-functioning economy. Capitalism was most successful in raising the peoples’ living standards when you allowed those people the greatest freedom to engage in creative enterprises. Unions were both a way for workers to protect themselves from exploitation and abuse, and a sign that those people were taking control of their own prosperity. Government’s purpose was not to impose restrictions on these liberties, merely to ensure neither industry’s owners nor its workers grew so powerful as to be able to take advantage of the other. Taft-Hartley had tipped the scale too far in the owners’ favour.
Most Republicans had voted for Taft-Hartley and then voted again to override Truman’s veto, and many of them believed it had not gone far enough to weaken unions. MacArthur had stood alone, defying his party as he took a pro-union platform to the campaign trail. When the votes were counted, it was labour’s votes in Ohio, Pennsylvania and New York that had helped propel him to the nation’s highest office. He returned to the Republican Party with a mandate: the American people wanted labour reform.
He would need it. If the 1948 vote was anything to go by, he had perhaps half of the Democrats in Congress, and few if any Republicans, on his side in the labour battle.
MacArthur had hoped to put a labour bill to Congress during his first year in office: his mandate was strongest immediately after the election and would only decline with every day that passed. His Secretary of Labour, Courtney Whitney, had been put on the job, only for other events to take over the administration’s attention: first the Bricker Amendment, then MacArthur’s foreign trips, all the while cabinet members clashed with both each other and with Ned Almond. It soon became apparent that there would be no MacArthur labour law in 1953. The President was determined that there would not be such a delay in his second year.
Whitney’s first draft of the new Labour Unions Act 1954 arrived on his desk shortly after MacArthur announced he was nominating Orie Phillips to the Supreme Court. The proposal was heavily based off the Japanese Labour Standards Act of 1947, and envisioned a fairly broad repeal of many Taft-Hartley restrictions. It was bold in vision, but both the President and the cabinet members who saw it immediately knew that it was not practical. Richard Nixon didn’t need to read more than the first page before he declared “Sir, Congress won’t even waste their time with a vote on this.”
Whitney asked him why not, and Nixon replied with another question of his own: “Who would vote for it? In the Senate, we’ve got the twenty or so liberals that backed Truman. Who else?”
Whitney, who had no answer, turned to the President. MacArthur, as he so often did on domestic issues, turned to Nixon, the only one among them who had Congressional experience. “Who can we get?” MacArthur asked.
“No-one, the way this bill is written.” Nixon said. “Here’s how I see it: of the four factions in Congress, you’ll never get the South and you’ll never get the conservatives. Democratic liberals have called for repeal of Taft-Hartley since the day it was passed, so they’re on our side already. The last group is the Dewey wing. They won’t support a strong bill, but I believe they can be convinced to pass a weak one.” Then he sighed, already knowing it would be a hard sell. “If you need a name, the first one I’ll give you is Knowland.”
“A conservative.” MacArthur said. It wasn’t a question.
“He’s the party leader. If you get him, others will follow.” Nixon explained. “Unlike every other conservative in the Senate, he also took your side in the Bricker fight. Whatever his reason, and I think that reason is admiration, he can be convinced.”
MacArthur made a small performance out of lighting his pipe as he came up with a plan. Finally, he made his decision. “It’s about time I visited Roosevelt’s retreat.”
***
Although it had been called Shangri-La by Roosevelt, MacArthur would rename the Maryland retreat Camp Arthur after both his father and son. The fifteen-year-old Arthur took an instant liking to the place, believing it even more exciting than the White House and asking his father if they could visit again soon.
For the elder MacArthur, it provided much more than mere excitement: it was a place where he could gather the people who would be vital to passing a labour law. Whitney and Nixon were invited, as was Knowland. Joining them would also be Senator Wayne Morse of Oregon, one of the few Republicans who had opposed Taft-Hartley. MacArthur left Nixon to facilitate the discussion, knowing his Attorney General had a better sense of what Congress would accept, asking only for “the best that can be passed.”
By the second day of the discussions, the four men thought they had something approaching a workable bill. MacArthur had been out enjoying some time with Jean and Arthur when he was called by Knowland, who was standing on the other end of the lawn.
“Sir, what are your plans for ‘56?” Knowland asked once MacArthur had walked over.
MacArthur had expected to be asked anything from his experience in Japan to whether he wanted the anti-communist provisions of Taft-Hartley left in. One thing he had not expected was what he was planning to do in the election that was a little under three years away. “I… haven’t made any.” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, sir, I personally would like to support your efforts to improve our country.” Knowland said. “The difficulty I face in doing so is that my constituents will disagree with you on this matter, and so will most of the party. An unconditional ‘aye’ vote is a considerable risk for me and my career.”
“And you want my endorsement for the Presidency?” MacArthur asked. There wasn’t any point talking around the matter.
“If you wish to speak plainly, yes.” Knowland said. “And the bill we put to Congress cannot touch Section 14b. Those are my conditions.”
Section 14b gave the states the ability to pass right-to-work laws, a point MacArthur believed did nothing but harm labour unions. Unfortunately, Nixon had made clear that attempting to repeal it would be political poison. He had decided before leaving Washington that the hated provision would stay.
“I would prefer if you could keep this quiet for the time being, but I don’t expect to run for a second term.” As much as MacArthur enjoyed being President, he couldn’t imagine doing the job when he was eighty. Until he said so however, the threat of a second term gave him some leverage over undecided lawmakers, and he wanted to keep that threat on the table for as long as he could. “If I’m still around in ‘56, I’ll give you my endorsement.”
“Then I believe we have a deal.” Knowland said.
The bill that the Camp Arthur discussion, and then further discussion in the White House, eventually arrived at was far from the great restoration of labour’s rights that MacArthur had hoped for. It would not touch Section 14b, or the requirement that unions declare themselves to not be supporters of the Communist Party, or even the ability of employers to spread anti-union messages. What it did do was guarantee strikers the right to a jury trial, should they desire one, in the event of labour disputes, repealing one injustice of Taft-Hartley that unions had been vocal about since 1948.
MacArthur returned from Camp Arthur keen to drum up public support for his new proposal, making mention of the need to give union workers a fair trial in several press conferences. Behind the scenes, the key members of MacArthur’s administration were hard at work convincing Representatives and Senators to support the bill. Republicans, especially those newly elected in 1952, were reminded that this was a key part of the President’s platform and that his failure would hurt the party in the upcoming midterms. Liberal Democrats thanked MacArthur for his efforts to further the cause they had fought for in 1948, and attempted to bring their conservative counterparts on side, an effort that was expected to be in vain but did manage to bring in a few additional votes. The rest of the conservatives, and the Congressional committees that they chaired, were sufficiently convinced by the bill’s weakness that they refrained from opposing it too strongly.
Finally, in early June, House Speaker Martin and Majority Leader Knowland decided they had the votes that were needed. A week later, MacArthur signed the Labour Unions Act 1954 into law.
***
May 20, 1954
As soon as the operator mentioned who was on the other end of the line, Richard Nixon swore. Dealing with J Edgar Hoover was never fun. He might have been Hoover’s boss, but a lot of the time, it felt the other way around. Hoover knew where your skeletons were buried. He knew where your friends’ skeletons were buried too. There was hardly a soul in Washington he didn’t have a file on, and he made it very clear that if you crossed him, your file would be brought out, those secrets given to the press, and your career, maybe your life, would be ruined. Nixon wasn’t scared easily. Even he was intimidated by the FBI Director.
“Good morning, Mr Nixon.” Hoover’s voice came through the telephone.
“Good morning, Edgar.” Nixon replied, although his morning had just become that much less good. “What can I do for you?”
“It seems I have run into a problem.” Hoover said. “Several of my agents believe that there is cause to believe that subversive elements are seeking to threaten our national security. I have tasked them with employing the usual means in which such matters are dealt with, and so far our investigations have been fruitless. Yet the signals - and these are dangerous signals indeed - they remain.”
“Communists?” Nixon asked.
“They could be. Left-wing elements of some kind, that my people are sure of. Allowing them to continue to operate unchecked would have… unfortunate implications for the country.” Hoover said. “Which is why I find it necessary to request the use of, shall we say, unorthodox methods to investigate this matter further. The only way we can be sure they will not cause harm to our country is if the Bureau is given expanded authority, and the final discretion, to install microphone surveillances, so that characters of suspicion may be monitored.”
“Expanded authority?” Nixon asked, writing a note of Hoover’s request.
“That’s correct.” Hoover confirmed. “It is the only way to protect our nation.”
“Well, Edgar, I can take the matter to the boss.” Nixon said. “You make a strong case, and I believe he will accommodate these concerns, but as always the final decision does not lie with me.”
“Of course.” Hoover said. “Goodbye.”
Nixon had no intention of taking the matter to the boss. He already knew what MacArthur would say. He would say no. As far as the President was concerned, Hoover investigated far too many people for far too many things. MacArthur had needed less than ten days in office before he decided that he wanted to fire the FBI boss. The problem, that the President had explained and that his Attorney General was already well aware of, was all of Hoover’s files. Until a way to avoid them was devised, it would be too dangerous to fire him the way MacArthur might have fired a corps commander in Japan. So Nixon was told to keep Hoover happy, and preferably keep him from sticking his nose in any more lives than he already had, until someone - anyone - could think of a way to sack him without it blowing up in everybody’s faces.
Telling Hoover not to investigate something was like telling the sun not to rise. So he gave Hoover the bullshit about asking MacArthur, safe in the knowledge that Hoover wouldn’t come back later to follow it up. If Hoover did whatever it was he wanted to do anyway, Nixon could truthfully say that he had not explicitly approved it, and that neither had MacArthur. The arrangement suited everyone fine, and it left Nixon free to keep looking for… whatever it was that they needed to break Hoover’s hold on power.
Nixon glanced at the note he had just written, and suddenly he had an idea. Maybe this was what he was looking for all along. He decided he would discuss this with MacArthur after all.
- BNC