Episode 13 - Val Webster
Val Webster
Welcome to Mining City Reflections, where we illuminate the history of Butte, Montana through the stories and observations of 20th century women who lived there. I'm your host, Marian Jensen. This episode highlights the working life of Val Webster, who quite literally grew up in the Women's Protective Union. At age four, she accompanied her mother and other WPU members to the funeral of Frank Little, an organizer for the International Workers of the World with whom the women's union was affiliated, and who was lynched during the Butte miners strike in 1917.
“Oh yes, I’m union all the way through.”
At the time of the oral history, interviewer Valentine Kenney Webster had been involved with the Women's Protective Union for more than fifty years — having served in every office. Born to Irish immigrants in Butte in 1913, once the Great Depression hit, Val left school and went to work washing dishes at the Silver Bow Cafe, joining the union in 1929. She loved it.
“Our miners those days were so respectful. You could go down the street at 3 o’clock in the morning. For a long time I worked graveyard street and I used to walk from my home, where my mother lived, up to the Union Grill on Park Street. That was about 20 blocks where I’d walk to go to work. Never had to be afraid. Nobody’d ever bother you. They’d holler ‘how’s she goin’ or ‘tough shift’ or something like that, coming off or going on. You never had to be afraid. Our people were so respectful to the women those days, and especially the clergy - men of the cloth or women of the cloth - they were so respectful to them all.”
To protect its members, the union adhered to the strict segregation of work that prevented exploitation of the workers. A cook was a cook, and not a waitress and vice versa. The union's business agent, women like the legendary Bridget Shea, regularly visited work sites to remind both members and employers of this. Val learned this lesson early on, the hard way.
“One time when I was working at the Union Grill, we had this Austrian woman. She was a very heavy woman. She was working there- oh my gosh she was a good worker. It was supper time and I was cooking then. I wasn’t doing the waitress work; I was a cook then. There was four waitresses and one dishwasher and myself; I was the cook for the four waitresses. And it was time for her to eat. She says ‘oh no I gotta get those dishes out.’ I says ‘Oh nevermind the dishes. Sit down and eat.’ I had cooked her some pork chops and some potatoes and stuff and fixed some teas. I can still see that dish sitting in front of her to this day. And I went over, and everybody was way down in front. I said ‘Mary, I’ll wash your dishes up for ya.’ ‘Oh no, she says, what if Bridget comes in and catches ya?’ ‘Oh, I said Bridget won’t be in at this time of night.’ It was just about 7 o’clock and I never thought she’d come in, because she used to come in around 8 or 9 o’clock or night, you know, when she’d come in to catch both shifts. And I said, ‘Oh she won’t be in.’ And here I am I’ve got my head in the sink and I’m going as fast as I can washing these dishes. The girls in the front - they were petrified when they saw her - because we were scared of her. I was just a young girl.
I turned like that and I said, ‘Oh, Bridget.’ ‘What are you doing?’ I says, ‘Well Mary’s eating and her dishes are piled up and I thought I’d help her.’ ‘Oh that’s very nice,’ she said, ‘What time do you get off shift tomorrow?’ I said, ‘I don’t come to work till 12 o’clock.’ She said, ‘Well come on up to the union office tomorrow at 11 o’clock, she says, I’ll be there.’ Well, I knew I was in for it, so I went up. I never slept all that night and my mothers says, ‘That’s what you get. If you’d have stayed on your own work, you wouldn’t get into trouble.’ I never knew that Bridget had called my mother and told my mother not to worry, that she wouldn’t punish me that much. So I went up at 11 o’clock and talked to Bridget and said to her, ‘You told me to come up?’ ‘And what were you doing washing dishes?’ I said, ‘ I told you poor Mary - and Mary was sick - and I just thought I’d give her a hand.’ She said, ‘You know, you’re a cook. You’re not a dishwasher. First thing you know, them Greeks will have you washing dishes.’ And I says, ‘Oh no they won’t because I won’t do it!’ She says, ‘Well you done it today.’ I says, ‘Well that was just to help her a little bit.’ ‘Well,’ she says, ‘I’ll let you go this time and I won’t bring you before the Executive Board, but if I ever catch you again it’ll be too bad.’ You know, years after, when her and Lena had the best laugh over it. They knew they had scared me to death.”
Working at the Union Grill, a 24 hour restaurant, meant catering to the many single miners in Butte. The restaurant not only served meals in house but also provided the miners with 'bucket' lunches.
“The buckets would be put up on the graveyard shift if you went on the morning, they’d be put up. Well then they brought in extra buckets. But if you went in on the morning shift, you would have to put up the buckets for the afternoon shift and also all the buckets that came in in the morning. Because a lot of people didn’t leave their buckets in there and they’d bring them in for you to fill, or a sack lunch for you to fill. We had, anywhere on our shift, 250-450 sometimes 500 buckets a day. And like I told you, the ones we liked, why we used to always - in the Union Grill where we worked - we’d have these great big buckets, like great big scrub buckets. You’d say they’re like a scrub bucket now. They had a handle and they were like an old silver bucket or a great big pan with two handles on it. Well, we’d go in - and the fruit was always in the ice box - and we’d go in in the mornings and we’d put a couple of rows of tomatoes or hard boiled eggs, anything that was special that was in the ice box we’d pile on the bottom. Then we’d put the apples and oranges and bananas on the top. Then our favorite boarders, why, we always put the two sandwiches. Now that would be two meat sandwiches, and a lot of people didn’t like cheese or egg, you know. But they’d have beef. They’d have pork. They’d have ham. A lot of times they’d have chicken left when they cook too much ahead. Well, we’d sneak a couple pieces of chicken and put that in the guy’s bucket too! [laughter] We were great for doing that.”
“They’d have to two sandwiches and the cake, or pie, and fruit and their coffee. Then, they had these compartment buckets and you could put - a lot of fellas like tea in it. Well, we’d make the tea and put it in the bottom - and I don’t know what it was at the mine that they’d put their bucket on to keep it warm, they’d do that. But a lot of them just took lemon, the ones that wanted lemon - we’d cut a couple of lemons up and put it in their bucket and they’d make lemonade. And we’d put the sugar in and then they’d fill it with the water themselves.”
For many single miners, a favored restaurant became like a second home. Newly arrived miners relied on the restaurant to stake them until their first pay check.
“A lot of them have their checks signed over to the cafes, from the ACM Company, their checks would be signed over. Say well now, like you come into town and you’re broke. They’d go into the restaurant and they’d say, ‘Well I’ll give you a sign over on my check until I get payday.’ And then you’d pick up their first check and take what they owed you out of it. Most of the bosses was good. They’d only take part of it and let them pay the balance when they got more on their feet and got clothes to work with and stuff.”
The need for waitresses and restaurant workers was so great in Butte in the early days that men also worked as waiters, often paid twice as much, though Val thought the level of their commitment to the job left something to be desired.
“Of course they used to have the girls do pert near all their work; they were lazy. You’d clean their tables for them and they’d get the tip and the girl wouldn’t get nothing. But tippin’ wasn’t in those years, like it is now. Everybody, pert near, tips nowadays. In those years, maybe somebody’d tip you on payday; not maybe, every miner would tip you 50 cents or a dollar on pay day, and it was great.”
Early on, learning from her mother, Val became devoted to the union and enjoyed the camaraderie of the members born of their shared experience.
“I never missed a meeting. We loved to go to the meetings. We’d have 300-400 people at a meeting; it was wonderful. It was just a joy to go and hear the business agents, Bridget Shea & Lena Matusch, the Secretary, get up and tell ya what they done, how they go around and how our girls was abused by this one and how they’d take it up. And how they’d pick up a broom and chase the boss with a broom. It was very interesting, you know, to hear about them. And then we’d always go down to - Gamer’s was on the corner of Montana & Park then - and after the meeting we’d go down there and have ice cream. They’d make their own ice cream then. And pert near, always after the meeting we’d go there or to the Lockwood; that’s where they had the best ice cream.”
In awe of its ability to enforce its will in the work place, Val seemed destined to become an officer in the union. Even as a new member, she was fascinated by the inner workings of the organization on display at the meetings.
“They were so interesting that you’d just hate for them to end. You would discuss all your working conditions and things that would happen on the job, you know. And if you had a grievance or anything, they’d discuss them. You’d tell the Business Agent or the Secretary and they would do the talking on the floor and explain all the things to you and what had to be done.”
By 1936, Val had become recording secretary for the union's Executive Board, which only whetted her appetite for more involvement. Married to a miner but without children, she eventually took on the labor intensive position of Business Agent, a paid staff position which she held for sixteen years. As part of that job, she visited every working member at her employer on an ongoing basis.
“When you’re Business Agent, I can truthfully say that I never put in - you know all the years that I was in there - I can truthfully say I never put in less than 60-65 hours.”
Val was a big believer in the informal approach to problem-solving. If particular employer was a source of problems, she preferred to sit over a cup of coffee and work things out.
“I was very active with the Plumbers and the Carpenters and the General Laborers and the Operating Engineers, so if there was any problems in the restaurant and if it was a contract, something they were doing against it or if they didn’t want to put up the house card - if I couldn’t solve them I’d get two or three of these guys to go with me and we’d sit down and we’d talk to the boss. I never took the matter to the union. I tried to adjust it just on the outside myself, which I did. I never had - I can truthfully say we never had a strike in all the years I was Business Agent as well.”
Val continued as business agent during the era when family restaurants began to face competition from franchise operations, many of which were non-union in other parts of the state.
“Our hardest problem was with these chain outfits when they came in. Still, I can’t say that we had too much trouble with them because we had the Ramada and the Bonnet, and as soon as we talked to them and they agreed that they’d live up to the rules, why that was it. And like Fairmont Hot Springs, I went down and talked to them people. And as soon as they’d start building a place and somebody else was gonna take over, I’d go see them, but I wouldn’t go alone. I’d always take some of these men from these other unions with me. We’d discuss everything that was going on and tell them that it was a union town, and if they wanted to have union help, they’d have to live up to the union rules. And it wasn’t belligerent or nothing about it; I mean we sat down, enjoyed a cup of coffee together and talked it over, and I never had any problems. Fairmont was a very big deal for us, because part of it was in Anaconda and part of it was here. But the main part of it was in Silver Bow County so we had jurisdiction over it, so it was really a feather in my hat to get it.”
Val Webster grew up in Butte during the heyday of its unions' successes, protecting the working lives of its members. With only minimal formal education, she rose to the highest position in the union, and made a lasting impact on the women she was so dedicated to serving. She also lived long enough to witness the decline of those same unions. Val died in 1983 at the age of 80.
“It was friendship. Everybody was your friend. You’d go and you’d have the best time and talk things and laugh and tell jokes. It was just wonderful.”
Through her efforts in retirement, the Butte Archives acquired and now maintains extensive records, photographs and memorabilia from the Women's Protective Union. In recognition of her commitment to the preservation of this unique history, the holdings were named in her honor the Valentine Kenney Webster Labor History Collection.