In honor of this Labor Day week, here are some reflections on the history of the labor movement, and Jewish heroes who have fought for worker rights.
The meeting last night was held in Bauer’s Union Saenger Hall, on the corner of Ewen and Meserole Streets, and was composed of the members of Local Unions No. 27, 66, and 83, of the United Garment Workers’ Union of America. There were about three hundred and fifty men present and fifty more women and girls, all of whom were members of the union. The proceedings were conducted entirely in the dialect spoken among the Dutchtown tailors, which is sometimes known as Jehudls, pronounced Yahooda … two speeches had been made beside the opening address of the chairman, whose name was Isaac Walman. The orators were Morlx Alexander and Louis Grossman … Alexander said that they were victims of the worst form of industrial slavery in the country. He spoke of the hardship of necessity that women and children should have to work, and told how there was absolutely no let up, but from daylight to long after dark the buzz of the machines and the clanking thud of the smoothing irons could be heard throughout the district where the sweat shops abound. He seemed to find an echo in the minds of his hearers, and they applauded him liberally … Then a secret ballot was taken on the question of striking, little pieces of paper being distributed on which were written either “Yes” or “No” in the Jehudls dialect … when this vote was taken and counted, it was found that out of 375 votes cast only 30 were recorded against the proposition …
—The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, August 31, 1894
Growing up a third-generation New Yorker, with classic Ashkenazi roots on the Lower East Side and Brooklyn, the stories of the tailors and garment workers, of strikes and protest rallies, and of loud Jewish voices (especially women) speaking out for justice were a part of communal lore. If you heard my recent appearance on Rabbi Yoshi’s podcast, you’ll know about some of the many ways that the cultural stew of New York City shaped me, but that legacy is one that still runs so deep in my consciousness and, I believe, in that of our larger Jewish community.
It has never been a coincidence to me—nor to most scholars and historians—that Jews were crucial in the founding of the labor movement, not just in America, but in Eastern Europe as well. According to the website for the Eldridge Street Shul Museum: “Many Jewish immigrants arrived in this country with experience—not just as tailors in Eastern Europe but as labor organizers. Even before they arrived in America, Jewish weavers orchestrated a strike in Bialystok, Poland in 1887. Today that strike is considered the beginning of the organized Jewish labor movement in the Pale of Settlement. They brought that legacy with them to New York.” And from New York, of course, the effects of their advocacy rippled out across America.
The museum website continues: “Labor activists had been advocating for a holiday for workers as early as 1882. But as the movement gained steam, individual cities and states designated a holiday to celebrate the labor force. Labor Day became an official federal holiday in 1894.” It is no coincidence that it happened the same year as a 12,000-person strike, organized and supported by Jewish tailors.
Just this past Shabbat, our Torah reading contained the imperative: Tzedek, tzedek tirdof—”Justice, justice shall you pursue.” Our interpretive tradition offers many explanations for the repetition of the word justice in the Hebrew. An explanation that has always rung true for me is the notion that the pursuit of justice is ongoing work. We continue to advocate and nudge and cry out for justice, for making the world a better place not just for us, but for all the people living in it. Today, as we honor the work of our foremothers and forefathers here in America, let’s take a moment to think of the justice that we might be inspired to pursue.
—Rabbi Sari Laufer