The unsettling ripples of the Panic of 1901 had largely subsided by summer, proving little more than a violent tremor in the US economy. The Kingstons had weathered the storm with barely a scratch, Michael's timely predictions ensuring they were positioned to profit from the subsequent rebound. Yet, the tranquility was immediately replaced by the thunder of a different kind of conflict: the fight between labor and capital, now focused fiercely on the steel industry.
Earlier that year, J.P. Morgan had orchestrated the creation of the United States Steel Corporation, consolidating nearly two hundred independent companies into the world's first billion-dollar company . And the worker union Amalgamated Association of Iron, Steel and Tin Workers (AA) viewed it as the ultimate target. The AA, one of the most powerful trade unions of the era, aimed to solidify its position by extending recognition across the newly formed industrial giant, U.S. Steel.
The union sought formal recognition from U.S. Steel across all its subsidiary plants. When the new corporation, backed by immense capital, flatly refused, the AA called for a massive recognition strike. The deadline was set for August 10th. Every union worker in the industry was expected to walk off the job.
And Kingston Steel, with its four steel plants under it, was another company that the AA tried to unionize under their banner, seeing it as an opportunity to rapidly boost their membership.
Over dinner, John brought up the pressing issue of the AA to the family, saying, "The AA has been pressing hard. They want to unionize our plants under their banner. The workers have the right to organize, of course. I think we should simply agree to the unionization."
George nodded, supporting his brother. "I agreed with John. A union ensures workers are protected. We've always prided ourselves on fairness, and we didn't want the headache of a conflict. If the men want the AA to represent them, we shouldn't oppose it."
Mary and Elizabeth looked towards Michael, who was quietly eating his dinner. He had been unusually silent on the matter.
"Well, Michael?" Mary prompted gently. "What's your view on the AA's offer to organize our steel workers?"
Michael put down his cutlery, carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin, and looked at them. "Reject them, Father," he said, addressing John directly, his tone one of quiet conviction. "Reject the AA completely."
John and George exchanged stunned glances. Mary's brow furrowed in surprise. "Why, dear?" Mary asked, speaking for everyone. "You've always been on the side of the underdogs, of the newsboys and the laborers. Why this sudden opposition to the union?"
Michael sighed, the gesture feeling far too old for his small frame. "It's precisely because I am on the side of our workers," he countered. "If we let the AA step in, our workers will be pawns in a much larger, industry-wide game. They won't be negotiating for their interests with us; they'll be following orders from an outside organization." He met Mary's gaze. "Trust me on this."
The family reluctantly agreed. Despite their lingering doubts about defying such a powerful union, Michael's past achievements had earned him their unwavering, if sometimes anxious, compliance.
August 10th arrived, shrouded in humidity and tension. John and George, despite Michael's firm assurance, were nervous. They paced the office of their New York steel plant, anxiously awaiting news. They knew they would have to wait several hours for telegraph reports from their Chicago, Pittsburgh, and Minnesota plants, as long-distance telephone calls were still unreliable and impractical. A full, coordinated walkout across all facilities would mean halting production and the immediate loss of valuable current contracts.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth, recognizing the historical significance of the event, was covering the unfolding drama from the U.S. Steel headquarters in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for The New York Inquirer.
As the morning whistle blew, John and George braced for the sight of empty workplaces, anticipating a huge turnout for the strike.
A handful of men walked in first, then a steady stream of workers kept coming. By the time the shift officially started, almost all of the scheduled workers were clocked in and ready, save for a handful of exceptions.
A few hours later, the telegraph machine in the corner began to clatter furiously. John rushed over to receive the incoming messages from their other plants. He read the terse reports from Chicago, Pittsburgh, and Minnesota. Each one confirmed the same shocking outcome: minimal participation in the strike.
John and George were stunned at the result. "What—how did this happen?" George stammered, disbelief evident on his face.
Michael shrugged, a charming, almost effortless grin spreading across his face. "No need to be surprised," he said simply. "We pay them fair wages, above the industry standard, and their working hours are better than at most other plants. We even give them half of their salaries when they are ill. Our working conditions are demonstrably better than at U.S. Steel's subsidiaries. Only a fool would side with the AA to risk losing what they already have with us."
George sank into a chair. "So, are we going to run the company non-unionized? Forever?"
Michael shook his head firmly. "No. We will help them unionize, but only among our company workers. We can't just let our employees be pawns under a large, external union that cares more about its own agenda than our men. If our workers have any problem, they need to come to us, their employers, not to any outsiders."
John and George exchanged a look of profound understanding and immediate agreement.
"Then let's do it," John said decisively. "Let's help them unionize internally in steel, and then move on to oil, mining, construction, and all our other companies. We will create the Kingston Standard."
*******
The failure to achieve a complete walkout at Kingston Steel mirrored the wider struggle facing the AA. The union was attempting to fight the world's first billion-dollar corporation, U.S. Steel, which possessed virtually limitless resources and the ruthless will to break the strike.
Just a few weeks into the action, the AA's position became untenable. U.S. Steel's non-union mills were running at full capacity, and strikebreakers were pouring into the few affected plants. With their cash reserves dwindling and their ranks losing heart, the AA's leadership was forced to concede defeat.
The massive U.S. Steel recognition strike, which had been declared on August 10th, collapsed locally and was effectively called off on September 4, 1901.
The AA was forced to settle for terms far worse than what U.S. Steel had offered before the strike began, losing recognition at numerous plants. The union was essentially crushed in the steel industry for decades to come, marking a huge, symbolic victory for corporate power.
The very next day, the Kingstons announced that a separate, independent union would be formed exclusively for the workers of Kingston Steel. This union would be fully recognized by the company and dedicated solely to the welfare and representation of their employees. The move immediately set the Kingstons apart as an outlier and a profoundly worker-friendly company in an era dominated by industrial warfare.
The swift collapse of the Amalgamated Association's strike in early September allowed the Kingston family to solidify their position in the steel industry. Their unique approach, emphasizing employee welfare, was about to be formalized as the "Kingston Standard." However, before the dust could settle on this the nation was rocked by a far more profound and shocking event that instantly seized the national consciousness.
On September 6, 1901, the country was stunned by the news that President William McKinley had been shot.