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A. Philip Randolph;: A biographical portrait
A. Philip A Biographical Portrait
398 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1973
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June 14, 2024
AN EXCELLENT BIOGRAPHY OF THE CIVIL RIGHTS LEADER
Jervis Anderson (1932-2000) was a Jamaican-born American biographer and journalist, who was a staff writer for The New Yorker from 1968 to 1998.
He wrote in the Preface to this 1972 book, “When I came to the United States, in the fall of 1958, I had no idea who A. Philip Randolph was… I was therefore surprised, on coming to the United States, to find that Randolph was a figure of enormous distinction in American life, and one of the major protagonists… of the struggle for black freedom and social justice… since the early sixties I have been greatly absorbed with Randolph’s history, and, especially… with the connections between---and the contradictions of---his public career and personal character. What I have written… is not, and was not intended to be, a biography… I call what I have done a biographical portrait, as it bears the marks of my own selective interest and curiosity…”
In the first chapter, he explains, “[In the ‘50s] When a spokesman was required for the entire civil rights movement, and the younger leaders could not agree upon a candidate among themselves, they agreed on Randolph---both because of his age and because he had the longest and most consistent record of service in the freedom movement… [However] Through they all respected Randolph, their ambitions were such that some of them were not too keen to have him around, and would have preferred if his prestige did not intrude itself so frequently upon their own sovereignty.” (Pg. 6-7)
He notes, “The community meetings [of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters], convened around Randolph’s prestige, brought together a number of transient and warring coalitions, including even, sometimes, the Black Muslims. The latter were there only because of the personal regard that Randolph and Malcolm X---despite their differences---had for each other during the early 1960s. ‘All civil rights leaders are confused,’ Malcolm X was once quoted as saying, ‘but Randolph is less confused that the rest.’ And Randolph… was the only one of the major civil rights figures who invited the Muslim minster to meetings of common interest to blacks in New York.” (Pg. 13)
When Randolph was a young man, “[he] was having a difficult time supporting himself… Randolph seldom held down a job for very long. Because, as he felt, ‘the jobs Negroes could get weren’t worth spending much time on,’ he made a habit of walking off them after he had earned enough to last him a few weeks. And he was fired from a number of others for, as he says, ‘stirring up trouble and sowing seeds of discontent among my co-workers.’” (Pg. 65)
He continues “Randolph was usually proud to be fired for stirring up trouble. It strengthened his sense of himself as an agitator, and raised his prestige among the members of his Independent Political Council. The council, giving lectures and conducting debates in the black churches, was by then developing a reputation in the community for political militancy. ‘We were having a great time,’ Randolph remembers. ‘We didn’t think of the future, of establishing a home, getting ahead, or things of that sort. Those things weren’t as important as creating unrest among the Negroes.’” (Pg. 66)
He records, “at a party at Madame [C.J.] Walker’s, the new Mrs. Randolph was introduced to the man who would become her husband’s closest friend and comrade. His name was Chandler Owen… Owen introduced Randolph to the writings of Lester F. Ward, and Randolph, in his words, ‘led Owen to Marx.’ Neither had a steady job. Randolph had left the Brotherhood of Labor soon after his marriage, his wife having assured him of her willingness to support him in the pursuit of his public ambitions. And Owen… felt no further obligation to continue, having found that he was welcome to share in the subsidies of the Randolph household.” (Pg.73, 75)
He observes, “the radicals were convinced that if there WAS a Talented Tenth---a class endeavoring to discharge the kind of obligation [W.E.B.] Du Bois had assigned it---then it was they, the politically belligerent young men for whom the bourgeois ‘aristocracy of talent and character’ had nothing but contempt. Even when Randolph looked at Du Bois, the founding ideologue of this elite, he---a ‘rough-and-tumble soapbox,’ as he called himself---saw nothing but a ‘parlor Socialist,’ an ‘intellectual aristocrat,’ and a figure ‘whom no one in the streets could recognize as radical.’” (Pg. 102)
He says of Randolph’s opinions about Marcus Garvey, “The merits or demerits of Garveyism… ‘are not lessened or increased because he is a West Indian… West Indians are among the foremost fighters in all cities for racial rights…’ Still… how consistent was Randolph, considering that as late as January 1923, he had written: ‘…if Garvey is seriously interested in establishing a Negro nation why doesn’t he begin with Jamaica, West Indies?’” (Pg. 136)
Randolph became the president of the National Negro Congress, but “Randolph had no idea… that the Communists were contributing so heavily to its support and slowly dominating its internal machinery… Between meetings of the Congress, Randolph played little part in the operation of the organization, concentrating largely upon the affairs of the Brotherhood. This accounted for his ignorance of the extent to which Communists were taking over the NNC… It was only … in April, 1940---that he realized the full extent of Communist penetration. By then, the Nazi-Soviet pact had been signed… and American Communists were no longer interested in the popular front against Hitler and Fascism.” (Pg. 234) Of Randolph’s speech to the third NNC meeting, and eyewitness recalled, “Randolph’s speech as a very fair one. He merely cautioned the Negro that it would be foolish for him to tie up his own interests with the foreign policy of the Soviet Union or any other nation of the world.” (Pg. 235)
Later, he adds, “The Communists also attacked Randolph as a black chauvinist, for saying he did not want whites to take part in the march. ‘We shall not call upon our white friends to march with us,’ he had said. ‘There are some things Negroes must do alone. This is our fight and we must see it through. If it costs money to finance a march let Negroes pay for it. If sacrifices are to be made… let Negroes make them.’” (Pg. 253)
He concludes with an account of the 1963 March on Washington, which “had been ‘the most beautiful and glorious’ day in Randolph’s life. As the thousands walked away from the Memorial, singing, [Randolph] had stood at a deserted end of the platform, looking out and over the grounds that were slowly emptying. Seeing him standing alone, Bayard Rustin broke away from a group of friends, went over, and put his arm around the old man’s shoulders. ‘I could see he was tired,’ Rustin recalled. ‘I said to him, “Mr. Randolph, it looks like your dream has come true.” And when I looked into his eyes, tears were streaming down his cheeks. It is the one time I can recall that he could not hold back his feelings.’” (Pg. 331-332)
This book will be “must reading” for anyone wanting to know more about Randolph, as well as the Civil Rights movement.
Jervis Anderson (1932-2000) was a Jamaican-born American biographer and journalist, who was a staff writer for The New Yorker from 1968 to 1998.
He wrote in the Preface to this 1972 book, “When I came to the United States, in the fall of 1958, I had no idea who A. Philip Randolph was… I was therefore surprised, on coming to the United States, to find that Randolph was a figure of enormous distinction in American life, and one of the major protagonists… of the struggle for black freedom and social justice… since the early sixties I have been greatly absorbed with Randolph’s history, and, especially… with the connections between---and the contradictions of---his public career and personal character. What I have written… is not, and was not intended to be, a biography… I call what I have done a biographical portrait, as it bears the marks of my own selective interest and curiosity…”
In the first chapter, he explains, “[In the ‘50s] When a spokesman was required for the entire civil rights movement, and the younger leaders could not agree upon a candidate among themselves, they agreed on Randolph---both because of his age and because he had the longest and most consistent record of service in the freedom movement… [However] Through they all respected Randolph, their ambitions were such that some of them were not too keen to have him around, and would have preferred if his prestige did not intrude itself so frequently upon their own sovereignty.” (Pg. 6-7)
He notes, “The community meetings [of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters], convened around Randolph’s prestige, brought together a number of transient and warring coalitions, including even, sometimes, the Black Muslims. The latter were there only because of the personal regard that Randolph and Malcolm X---despite their differences---had for each other during the early 1960s. ‘All civil rights leaders are confused,’ Malcolm X was once quoted as saying, ‘but Randolph is less confused that the rest.’ And Randolph… was the only one of the major civil rights figures who invited the Muslim minster to meetings of common interest to blacks in New York.” (Pg. 13)
When Randolph was a young man, “[he] was having a difficult time supporting himself… Randolph seldom held down a job for very long. Because, as he felt, ‘the jobs Negroes could get weren’t worth spending much time on,’ he made a habit of walking off them after he had earned enough to last him a few weeks. And he was fired from a number of others for, as he says, ‘stirring up trouble and sowing seeds of discontent among my co-workers.’” (Pg. 65)
He continues “Randolph was usually proud to be fired for stirring up trouble. It strengthened his sense of himself as an agitator, and raised his prestige among the members of his Independent Political Council. The council, giving lectures and conducting debates in the black churches, was by then developing a reputation in the community for political militancy. ‘We were having a great time,’ Randolph remembers. ‘We didn’t think of the future, of establishing a home, getting ahead, or things of that sort. Those things weren’t as important as creating unrest among the Negroes.’” (Pg. 66)
He records, “at a party at Madame [C.J.] Walker’s, the new Mrs. Randolph was introduced to the man who would become her husband’s closest friend and comrade. His name was Chandler Owen… Owen introduced Randolph to the writings of Lester F. Ward, and Randolph, in his words, ‘led Owen to Marx.’ Neither had a steady job. Randolph had left the Brotherhood of Labor soon after his marriage, his wife having assured him of her willingness to support him in the pursuit of his public ambitions. And Owen… felt no further obligation to continue, having found that he was welcome to share in the subsidies of the Randolph household.” (Pg.73, 75)
He observes, “the radicals were convinced that if there WAS a Talented Tenth---a class endeavoring to discharge the kind of obligation [W.E.B.] Du Bois had assigned it---then it was they, the politically belligerent young men for whom the bourgeois ‘aristocracy of talent and character’ had nothing but contempt. Even when Randolph looked at Du Bois, the founding ideologue of this elite, he---a ‘rough-and-tumble soapbox,’ as he called himself---saw nothing but a ‘parlor Socialist,’ an ‘intellectual aristocrat,’ and a figure ‘whom no one in the streets could recognize as radical.’” (Pg. 102)
He says of Randolph’s opinions about Marcus Garvey, “The merits or demerits of Garveyism… ‘are not lessened or increased because he is a West Indian… West Indians are among the foremost fighters in all cities for racial rights…’ Still… how consistent was Randolph, considering that as late as January 1923, he had written: ‘…if Garvey is seriously interested in establishing a Negro nation why doesn’t he begin with Jamaica, West Indies?’” (Pg. 136)
Randolph became the president of the National Negro Congress, but “Randolph had no idea… that the Communists were contributing so heavily to its support and slowly dominating its internal machinery… Between meetings of the Congress, Randolph played little part in the operation of the organization, concentrating largely upon the affairs of the Brotherhood. This accounted for his ignorance of the extent to which Communists were taking over the NNC… It was only … in April, 1940---that he realized the full extent of Communist penetration. By then, the Nazi-Soviet pact had been signed… and American Communists were no longer interested in the popular front against Hitler and Fascism.” (Pg. 234) Of Randolph’s speech to the third NNC meeting, and eyewitness recalled, “Randolph’s speech as a very fair one. He merely cautioned the Negro that it would be foolish for him to tie up his own interests with the foreign policy of the Soviet Union or any other nation of the world.” (Pg. 235)
Later, he adds, “The Communists also attacked Randolph as a black chauvinist, for saying he did not want whites to take part in the march. ‘We shall not call upon our white friends to march with us,’ he had said. ‘There are some things Negroes must do alone. This is our fight and we must see it through. If it costs money to finance a march let Negroes pay for it. If sacrifices are to be made… let Negroes make them.’” (Pg. 253)
He concludes with an account of the 1963 March on Washington, which “had been ‘the most beautiful and glorious’ day in Randolph’s life. As the thousands walked away from the Memorial, singing, [Randolph] had stood at a deserted end of the platform, looking out and over the grounds that were slowly emptying. Seeing him standing alone, Bayard Rustin broke away from a group of friends, went over, and put his arm around the old man’s shoulders. ‘I could see he was tired,’ Rustin recalled. ‘I said to him, “Mr. Randolph, it looks like your dream has come true.” And when I looked into his eyes, tears were streaming down his cheeks. It is the one time I can recall that he could not hold back his feelings.’” (Pg. 331-332)
This book will be “must reading” for anyone wanting to know more about Randolph, as well as the Civil Rights movement.
February 23, 2025
Fascinating book on an icon of the labor movement, a leader whose mark is still uniquely felt and whose impact is still felt. Randolph took the road less traveled, organizing largely Black workers against a mighty powerful company, the Pullman Company, and advocating for fair treatment of Blacks when such advocacy was unique. This book is well worth reading by every American, not just those concerned about the labor movement or racial equity.
This book start slow – and chronicles Randolph’s repeated career shortcomings advocating for Blacks after coming to America from Jamica. Many of the projects he started in Harlem when younger were not successful. That was, in part, because he was challenging authority but also because he seemed to be bullheaded and incredibly proud. It was interesting to read how he tried many ways to get his voice heard and his efforts repeatedly fell short but then he was asked to do the impossible – organize a union of black workers against a powerful company in an arrogant business: the railroads.
Randolph’s first truly accomplished task was organizing the sleeping car porters into a respectful union of their own in 1925. This book details how the AFL opposed Randolph’s work because the Hotel workers viewed these workers as food service workers and not railroad workers, even though that union did not put resources into organizing the workers and segregated their locals back then. The author assessed that the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters became the “perhaps the most important black political institution in America” in the 1940’s; it was at a time when a Dr. King’s voice was not heard yet, many blacks who could have spoken up were cautious, and railway passenger traffic was still powerful.
As a former union organizer (who never tried to organize a unit against such odds), it was mesmerizing to read how Randolph and his other leaders took on the Pullman company, how unions that should have been allies failed their brothers and sisters because of skin color, how the government refused to help these workers because of skin color, and how his earlier efforts failed. Like others, Radolph first thought that the passage of the Railway Labor Act in 1926 would shift the weight of powers a little away from the corporations; it did for other workers, but racism again played a major role. Randolph’s 15-page letter to the CEO and his membership of 5,763 workers – just over 53% of the unit – failed to move the company. The Pullman Company, like other large corporations at the time, continued to stick to their company union to keep a real workers’ voice from being heard.
Randolph wouldn’t stop. He delivered 900 affidavits from porters outlining the coercion they were experiencing from the Pullman Company. He used the mediation board to resolve the company abuses, again failing. A strike threat was pulled back because “in those days,” as a fellow leader pointed out, “a white man could pick up a telephone and have a Negro arrested. So, they would have thrown all the leaders in jail. I doubt we had enough money to get the leaders out of jail the first day of the strike.”
At the point his strike was pulled back, in part because of the advice from the national AFL president, and the Board of Mediation betrayed the workers and the letter of the law, Randolph said it was “next to the saddest moment” of his life up to then. This reflection would be good for others involved in the civil rights, labor, gay rights, immigrant rights, or other journeys of justice to read, especially now days.
After that loss, the union’s membership shrunk from nearly 7,000 to 771. It forced them to close nearly all their offices throughout the country. They still stayed in debt. CIO leader John Lewis offered funds for the important empowerment effort, but Randolph was again too proud, saying that the Negros had to find a way on their own. He choice to hold fundraisers, bake sales and other small ways to raise funds.
It took the New Deal until they again tried to organize a victory in 1933. The company didn’t give up. They turned to laying off black porters and hiring Japanese and Filipinos to replace union porters. Randolph opposed an effort by a U.S. Senator to make it illegal to hire non-citizens, trying to help the union drive. Randolph said he opposed any legislation that would restrict any race to be hired. They pushed on until they finally secured an election between Randolph’s free trade union and the company provided union. On June 27, 1934, Randolph’s union won 8,316 to 1,422. Their united effort forced the powerful company to sit around a table with Black workers and negotiate a contract. Randolph said that their “lack of polish was their greatest strength.” But it was not until the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the amended Railway Labor Act when the Pullman company started to negotiate in good faith. The new agreement had many record-breaking improvements including a reduction in the work month from 400 to 240 hours and an annual wage package of $1,250,000. I was the first time there was a contract signed between black workers and a major American corporation.
Yet, Randolph’s union was never one of the largest – and with rail passenger service drying up, diminished in whatever power they had. At its height – with the most power and influence, in 1941, it had 15,000 members: the size of a large SEIU or UAW local. But it was powerful because it was a black union, with a strong leader whose voice was willing to take on the white labor establishment despite the uncomfortable feeling it created upon him. What was most telling – and surprising – to me was Randolph’s decision to stay within the AFL when the CIO was created. Clearly, Randolph would have personally been more comfortable and treated better by the most inclusionary, progressive CIO organization. He seemed to stay within the AFL out of both loyalty and with the knowledge that his voice was needed more in a body that had a legacy of racism at its core.
Randolph’s true victories started with the Pullman first contract, but his bigger ones were pushing to require Blacks to be hired by defense contractors, later having the military desegregated, and his confrontations with the AFL leadership to change their ways of excluding Blacks. Randolph’s tough stands made a difference, including his march on Washington against the wishes of the president and his advocacy against serving in the military.
What surprised me was that Randolph did not organize the institution with his name, the group that was so helpful to me when I was a union leader. It was named after him, but he didn’t advocate for it. That is one more way his legacy lives to this day.
Although I have read a ton on labor and on Randolph, this book was surprisingly exceptional. It’s well worth others reading.
This book start slow – and chronicles Randolph’s repeated career shortcomings advocating for Blacks after coming to America from Jamica. Many of the projects he started in Harlem when younger were not successful. That was, in part, because he was challenging authority but also because he seemed to be bullheaded and incredibly proud. It was interesting to read how he tried many ways to get his voice heard and his efforts repeatedly fell short but then he was asked to do the impossible – organize a union of black workers against a powerful company in an arrogant business: the railroads.
Randolph’s first truly accomplished task was organizing the sleeping car porters into a respectful union of their own in 1925. This book details how the AFL opposed Randolph’s work because the Hotel workers viewed these workers as food service workers and not railroad workers, even though that union did not put resources into organizing the workers and segregated their locals back then. The author assessed that the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters became the “perhaps the most important black political institution in America” in the 1940’s; it was at a time when a Dr. King’s voice was not heard yet, many blacks who could have spoken up were cautious, and railway passenger traffic was still powerful.
As a former union organizer (who never tried to organize a unit against such odds), it was mesmerizing to read how Randolph and his other leaders took on the Pullman company, how unions that should have been allies failed their brothers and sisters because of skin color, how the government refused to help these workers because of skin color, and how his earlier efforts failed. Like others, Radolph first thought that the passage of the Railway Labor Act in 1926 would shift the weight of powers a little away from the corporations; it did for other workers, but racism again played a major role. Randolph’s 15-page letter to the CEO and his membership of 5,763 workers – just over 53% of the unit – failed to move the company. The Pullman Company, like other large corporations at the time, continued to stick to their company union to keep a real workers’ voice from being heard.
Randolph wouldn’t stop. He delivered 900 affidavits from porters outlining the coercion they were experiencing from the Pullman Company. He used the mediation board to resolve the company abuses, again failing. A strike threat was pulled back because “in those days,” as a fellow leader pointed out, “a white man could pick up a telephone and have a Negro arrested. So, they would have thrown all the leaders in jail. I doubt we had enough money to get the leaders out of jail the first day of the strike.”
At the point his strike was pulled back, in part because of the advice from the national AFL president, and the Board of Mediation betrayed the workers and the letter of the law, Randolph said it was “next to the saddest moment” of his life up to then. This reflection would be good for others involved in the civil rights, labor, gay rights, immigrant rights, or other journeys of justice to read, especially now days.
After that loss, the union’s membership shrunk from nearly 7,000 to 771. It forced them to close nearly all their offices throughout the country. They still stayed in debt. CIO leader John Lewis offered funds for the important empowerment effort, but Randolph was again too proud, saying that the Negros had to find a way on their own. He choice to hold fundraisers, bake sales and other small ways to raise funds.
It took the New Deal until they again tried to organize a victory in 1933. The company didn’t give up. They turned to laying off black porters and hiring Japanese and Filipinos to replace union porters. Randolph opposed an effort by a U.S. Senator to make it illegal to hire non-citizens, trying to help the union drive. Randolph said he opposed any legislation that would restrict any race to be hired. They pushed on until they finally secured an election between Randolph’s free trade union and the company provided union. On June 27, 1934, Randolph’s union won 8,316 to 1,422. Their united effort forced the powerful company to sit around a table with Black workers and negotiate a contract. Randolph said that their “lack of polish was their greatest strength.” But it was not until the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the amended Railway Labor Act when the Pullman company started to negotiate in good faith. The new agreement had many record-breaking improvements including a reduction in the work month from 400 to 240 hours and an annual wage package of $1,250,000. I was the first time there was a contract signed between black workers and a major American corporation.
Yet, Randolph’s union was never one of the largest – and with rail passenger service drying up, diminished in whatever power they had. At its height – with the most power and influence, in 1941, it had 15,000 members: the size of a large SEIU or UAW local. But it was powerful because it was a black union, with a strong leader whose voice was willing to take on the white labor establishment despite the uncomfortable feeling it created upon him. What was most telling – and surprising – to me was Randolph’s decision to stay within the AFL when the CIO was created. Clearly, Randolph would have personally been more comfortable and treated better by the most inclusionary, progressive CIO organization. He seemed to stay within the AFL out of both loyalty and with the knowledge that his voice was needed more in a body that had a legacy of racism at its core.
Randolph’s true victories started with the Pullman first contract, but his bigger ones were pushing to require Blacks to be hired by defense contractors, later having the military desegregated, and his confrontations with the AFL leadership to change their ways of excluding Blacks. Randolph’s tough stands made a difference, including his march on Washington against the wishes of the president and his advocacy against serving in the military.
What surprised me was that Randolph did not organize the institution with his name, the group that was so helpful to me when I was a union leader. It was named after him, but he didn’t advocate for it. That is one more way his legacy lives to this day.
Although I have read a ton on labor and on Randolph, this book was surprisingly exceptional. It’s well worth others reading.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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