Episode 12 - Rose Marie Johnson
Rose Marie Johnson
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. In today's episode, we'll hear from Rose Marie Johnson who worked in food service in Butte and belonged to the Women's Protective Union for forty years. She eventually served on its Executive Board. Her oral history was taken in December, 1995 by Whitney Williams, director of the Butte Archives' Labor History project.
The interview focuses on Rose Marie's life as a working wife and mother, particularly in the 1950s and 60s, and her dedication to the Women's Protective Union. Johnson's story is a common one in an era of limited access to birth control where women went in and out of the work force in between bearing children. While such work might seem inconsequential to some, her simple dignity and dedication in doing a job well makes her story memorable.
Rose was a cook her entire life in Butte. She worked at Gamer's, Meaderville's Vegas Club, Sully’s Truck Stop, 4B's, Lydia’s, The Moxsom, Martha’s, Lloyd's, Kingsburger, Montana Tech and finally the Silver Bow County Jail. A woman whose family said she was the happiest in the kitchen with her apron on, she also paid keen attention to her work environment and felt a desire and responsibility to protect her rights on the job.
“The union was always, you know, your best friend.”
Rose Marie was born in Butte in 1930 into a family of eleven children. After high school she married in 1947 and entered the workforce soon after. Joining the Women's Protective Union, she started her first job as a dishwasher at Gamers, one of the city's best known restaurants. After World War Il, Butte was booming.
“Gambling was open, and the mines were going full blast. It was a booming place and everywhere had 4 or 5 dishwashers.”
Hopeful of building their own home, Rose Marie and her husband, who worked at the Anaconda Mining Company smelter in the nearby company town of Anaconda, worked toward that goal for two years. When Rose Marie became pregnant, her boss would not allow her to work. But that d'dn't relieve Rose Marie of her picketing obligations during the ensuing strike.
“It would have been ‘49 was when we had that strike. I had to picket the Finlen and I didn’t really wanna picket. There again, I was trying to get out of picketing and I says ‘well I’m pregnant.’ And I think it was Margaret Harrington who said ‘the exercise will do you good.’ And so it was in the summer and so it was hot. But I picketed. When they says you picket, you - I’ll never forget that, walking up and down.”
The Women's Protective Union only struck once, but their efforts were successful. She remembers the local support the union received.
“You know, everybody - this was such a union town. Every place was union. And they’d go by - stick to your guns, you know. I think it was maybe 4 hours, it might have been 4 hours. It wasn’t really that long of a time and there was a lot of us there, you know, yacking. We had a heck of a good time.”
After the birth of her second child, the union helped Rose Marie get back to work as a cook.
“As soon as I - after I’d had the baby and Ron had to go back to work, I just come to the union and I just had no problem at all. They knew my work and everything so I never ever had a problem.”
The cycle of time off for her children and then finding another job afterward was facilitated by her younger sisters. One of the advantages of coming from that large family was the availability of baby sitters, childcare being a perennial challenge for all working mothers.
“And I had sisters so I never had to have babysitters outside of my family. That really was nice., All my sisters are into the restaurant too; they’re cooks and waitresses and that.”
Rose Marie had worked in enough Butte cafes to know her share of legendary owners. One that Rose Marie remembered fondly was Martha Caldwell who owned, you guessed it, Martha's Cafe. Across from the Front Street train station, the cafe was a popular spot for travelers, railway workers, and late night drinkers looking for breakfast after the bars closed.
“She was a wonderful boss, oh yeah. She wasn’t like aboss. She’d come in in the morning no matter how much she - she was quite a drinker and she could put a lot of men under the table. But you’d never know it; she’d come in in the morning and throw money in the jukebox to get the music going. She’d work right alongside you. She was excellent. She was a fine boss.”
In 1974 with the help of the Union, Rose Marie got a job in the Dining Services of the local college, then known at the Montana School of Mines. There she learned about catering and had a glimpse of a career she night have had if only she'd had the opportunity for training.
“Because I liked the equipment and I enjoyed working with the kids up at Tech. And I said not long ago to Dean, I said if I had my life to live over again, I would have liked to have went to a chef’s school, and to learn a little more of the fancy things. A lot of these young people who cook up there at Tech, that’s where the money is. To go to school, you know.”
In the course of her many jobs, Rose Marie also had an opportunity to observe the Woman's Protective Union leadership at work.
“They come up and seen what was going on. Val Webster was the last one when I was up there. And she’d come up and the boss would go and get coffee for her and she’s sit down when we’d sit down and take our break. And he’d give her lunch if she wanted. Oh yeah, she come around quite a bit. You seen - Val Webster never drove. She always cabbed. I used to think, boy that’d be expensive for the union - she rode in a cab. By the time she’d make her rounds, I mean every day, she was out covering and collecting the dues and then seeing, boy they were so strict to see that you were in your line of work or if you had any beefs or anything like that. I can’t remember of ever having a boss get upset when she came in. I mean, whenever the business agent - whoever they were - Virginia Paynage was one - and she’d come and they didn’t hassle at all.”
Regular attendance at union meetings undoubtedly contributed to its membership's solidarity — partly by design and partly through the camaraderie developed on the job.
“There was a lot of people there. I can remember when we were having them over here in the Hall. And the chairs - and they’d have to rustle more. And the members would have to get up and they’d have a beef that they were doing this or that, you know, and they were legitimate. Then they would go and see about it, you know. It was kind of nice because you knew what was going on in the other houses. They’d get up and speak about how the boss done this or that. It was a thing that you knew what was going on. And that was important - it was kind of social, kind of like a club I would say. And you knew all these people because you worked in that line of work. All my friends were always in the restaurant work, because that’s all you see and you worked with them or knew them from the union. And they were real good about sending - you know if you were sick or had a baby - they sent flowers and you know. They were real good about that.”
And these meetings were not for the general public.
“They had a password. You had to have a password. And sometimes, see, if I hadn’t been there for a month of so, I didn’t know what the password wass, so I’d get worried and make sure I’m there before I close the door, and they’d close it promptly. If the meeting was at 1 o’clock, they’d close the door. At 1 o’clock, the door went. And if you couldn’t say the password, you couldn’t get in. That’s how strict they were. it was a thing where you enjoyed comign to the union meetings because, there again, you knew what was going on in the othr jhoues. You knew what the bosses were doing, you know. Or somebody that didn’t like their job and they were looking for another job and they hear, oh you got a good boss, you know, this is a good place to work. Yeah, that’s exactly how you got to know what it was. You’d come up to the office and find out - there again they’d tell you what was open and what was involved. Naturally, it was social, it was like a club, well it was your family because that’s what you were doing.”
Following the Women's Protective Union's forced merger with the Hotel and Restaurant Employees local, the strength of the union began to wane. With the union's battle for rights in the distant past, younger members did not see the value of the organization. Paying dues seemed an imposition. Meanwhile, Rose Marie remained faithful to the values earned through solidarity.
“When they raised the dues, it never - I always had a budget drawn up and the dues was always there. it was there like paying your power bill or your telephone. I mean it was just there, so I never - that’s one thing I’ve never ever begrudged. See, without a union - I never worked without a union. I mean, I’ve always worked at a union house. I just can’t imagine - you’ve just got somebody to back you up. I can’t figure out why people can’t see how important it is. So every place - I don’t know - I can’t even remember any place I ever worked in town in past years and years that I worked that they weren’t union houses. Because people - like the strikes, the grocery stores were striking and people wouldn’t cross the picket line. And I just never crossed the picket line, you know.”
When the WPU was required to merge in 1973, Rose Marie Johnson favored the merger. By then, she had been in the union for 25 years. While they didn't need more members, she knew that when men entered a profession, finally the pay scale would go up. Invariably, changes in leadership occurred as well. When men took over, leadership waned, and membership dropped, never to return.
“I’d like to see a blue sky with the sun up there and that it would be like it was, but I feel it. Young people just aren’t - they don’t even realize.”
Rose Marie Johnson's waitressing career spanned three decades, from the heyday of Butte's mining economy after World War Il and into the years of the country’s burgeoning economy. Always alternating day and afternoon shifts with her husband, they raised 7 children which lead to 8 grandchildren, 10 great grandchildren, and 1 great-great grandchild.
“The thing, when I look back, that I always say is that I didn’t get to all the plays, the Christmas plays. When you’re working, you can’t always do it, but the kids knew that. And we always kept - they never got in any trouble . You know, we always kept tabs on them regardless so they never ended up in jail or anything [laughter].”
Surrounded by her extensive family, she died in 2019 at age 89.
The self-confidence and expectations of today's working women are fruits born of the esprit de corps of working mothers like Rose Marie Johnson.