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Legacy of a Labor Leader: NABET-CWA Member Strives to Honor T.V. Powderly's Life
Bob Corbey was in grade school when he discovered the mysterious shoe boxes under his father’s bed.
He peeked inside and was thrilled by what he found — hundreds of photographs on glass slides taken as early as the 1890s.
He knew he shouldn’t touch them, but a little boy’s curiosity was too much to overcome. When his mother was busy tending to his seven brothers and sisters, Corbey would sneak into the bedroom, pull out the boxes and hold the slides up to sunlight pouring through the window. He saw turn-of-the-century images of Washington, D.C., scenes from Europe and Africa and pictures of some of the era’s greatest champions of labor and civil rights.
More than 30 years later, Corbey is still fascinated by the pictures and the man who took them: His great great-uncle, Terence Powderly, the leader of the famed Knights of Labor during the group’s strongest years in the late 19th century.
Corbey, an ABC News photographer and engineer, as well as a shop steward in NABET-CWA Local 31, is determined to see his uncle’s legacy — his commitment to the rights of workers, minorities and women — preserved and honored.
“He was concerned with rights for African Americans, equal pay for women, child labor, the 40-hour work week, the same things that are issues again today,” Corbey said.
Earlier this year, Powderly was inducted into the Labor Hall of Fame at the U.S. Department of Labor in Washington, D.C., nominated by his great-niece, Ruth Helm Ziebarth of Washington. Ziebarth, who passed Powderly’s colorful stories on to Corbey’s generation of the family, called him, “one of the most overlooked historical figures of our country’s 19th century.”
Historians have long been critical of Powderly, attacking his leadership and personal style on many fronts. But a professor’s just-published biography suggests that history has been grossly unfair.
“A superlative orator, a true believer who devoted his boundless energies to the cause, Powderly was also one of the most charismatic men of his day,” author Greg Phelan wrote. “His personal magnetism, his message of redemption, and his growing reputation were often so powerful that his very presence in a community could help to spark an explosion of organizational activity.”
National Labor Leader at 23
Powderly, often called by his first initials, T.V., grew up in Pennsylvania and went to work for the railroads at age 13. He rose quickly to leadership in the shop unions, becoming president of the Machinists’ and Blacksmiths’ National Union in 1872, when he was 23. He joined the then-secretive Knights of Labor in 1874 — five years after it was founded — and became its president or “Grand Master Workman” in 1879.
He didn’t look the part of a union leader, labor writer John Swinton noted in 1886, describing a slender man with “mild blue eyes,” a blond mustache and impeccable dress. “English novelists take men of Powderly’s look for poets, gondola scullers, philosophers and heroes crossed in love, but no one ever drew such a looking man as the leader of a million horny-fisted sons of toil,” he wrote.
Indeed, the Knights grew to nearly a million members under Powderly’s leadership, in large part because they welcomed women, African Americans and Hispanics. At the Knights’ national convention in Richmond, Va., in 1886, Powderly insisted on being introduced by an African American member from New York.
“He believed everyone had the right to come here and try to succeed,” Corbey said. “He didn’t do what he did because he had some grand scheme. He simply followed his heart.”
By mid-1886, the Knights’ power began to erode. They were blamed, unjustly, for the Haymarket Riot in Chicago, a violent clash between police and anarchists that came on the heels of a workers’ rally in support of a strike. The same year, Samuel Gompers’ new American Federation of Labor began to displace the Knights.
In 1883, Powderly resigned, disgusted with infighting, selfishness and malfeasance among top Knights, and a plague of financial troubles in the organization. But it was far from the end of his story.
A New Life in Washington
In Pennsylvania, Powderly studied law, passed the Pennsylvania bar exam and took on workers’ groups as clients. In 1897, he moved to Washington, D.C. after being appointed Commissioner of Immigration by President McKinley. Later, he served in the Department of Commerce.
He was an accomplished and pioneering photographer, shooting the hundreds of lantern slides Corbey discovered as a child. He was meticulous about keeping records, leaving a detailed ledger noting the date and location of every picture.
Powderly also was a prolific writer. In 1889, he published a 700-page book, “Thirty Years of Labor.” His 450-page autobiography, “The Path I Trod,” was published after his death in 1924 at the age of 75.
In 1898, Powderly started building a house that still stands on Rock Creek Church Road in northwest Washington. The three-story house became a gathering place for early 20th-century labor activists and civil rights leaders. Mother Jones, the bold socialist and labor organizer famous for her hell-raising tactics, was a frequent visitor and considered Powderly her closest confidant. She felt sure that history would eventually recognize him as one of labor’s first heroes.
“You were rocking the cradle of the movement, you made it possible for others to march on,” she wrote to him in 1906.
Powderly, who lost his only child, opened his home to any of his late brother’s nine children who wanted to come to Washington to study or get a job. Corbey’s grandmother took him up on the offer. She went to nursing school, joined the U.S. Navy and ultimately cared for former presidents Wilson and Harding. She was at each man’s bedside when he died.
Corbey said his grandmother’s story is like many in his family, people who have followed in Powderly’s tradition of service — to unions, to the Catholic church, to their communities.
“We always lean toward the social activist side of life, whether it’s through volunteering, being a nun or a priest or being part of the union,” he said. “It all seems to fit the same common thread that T.V. Powderly started.”
Corbey’s mother grew up in the house that Powderly built and Corbey spent the first year of his life there. On a sunny April day, he went back for the first time since childhood, beaming as he hunted for places where he’d played with his siblings.
Best of all, he learned that Powderly’s house is carrying out his legacy of compassionate activism. Today, it’s the “Dorothy Day Catholic Worker House,” named for the early 20th-century reformer who dedicated her life to the poor and immigrants. It serves as a shelter, a soup kitchen and a home for community service workers. Pictures, posters and quotes from labor and social movements grace the walls.
“What a tradition to keep going,” Corbey said, smiling with pride as he looked around the house. “It would please T.V. Powderly to no end to know that the house he built, 100 years later, still serves the purpose he intended.”
“The belief was prevalent until a short time ago among workingmen, that only the man who was engaged in manual toil could be called a workingman. The draftsman, the timekeeper, the clerk, the school teacher, the civil engineer, the editor, the reporter, or the worst paid, most abused and ill appreciated of all toilers — women — could not be called a worker . . . Narrow prejudice, born of the injustice and oppressions of the past, must be overcome, and all who interest themselves in producing for the world’s good must be made to understand that their interests are identical.”
— Terence Powderly
He peeked inside and was thrilled by what he found — hundreds of photographs on glass slides taken as early as the 1890s.
He knew he shouldn’t touch them, but a little boy’s curiosity was too much to overcome. When his mother was busy tending to his seven brothers and sisters, Corbey would sneak into the bedroom, pull out the boxes and hold the slides up to sunlight pouring through the window. He saw turn-of-the-century images of Washington, D.C., scenes from Europe and Africa and pictures of some of the era’s greatest champions of labor and civil rights.
More than 30 years later, Corbey is still fascinated by the pictures and the man who took them: His great great-uncle, Terence Powderly, the leader of the famed Knights of Labor during the group’s strongest years in the late 19th century.
Corbey, an ABC News photographer and engineer, as well as a shop steward in NABET-CWA Local 31, is determined to see his uncle’s legacy — his commitment to the rights of workers, minorities and women — preserved and honored.
“He was concerned with rights for African Americans, equal pay for women, child labor, the 40-hour work week, the same things that are issues again today,” Corbey said.
Earlier this year, Powderly was inducted into the Labor Hall of Fame at the U.S. Department of Labor in Washington, D.C., nominated by his great-niece, Ruth Helm Ziebarth of Washington. Ziebarth, who passed Powderly’s colorful stories on to Corbey’s generation of the family, called him, “one of the most overlooked historical figures of our country’s 19th century.”
Historians have long been critical of Powderly, attacking his leadership and personal style on many fronts. But a professor’s just-published biography suggests that history has been grossly unfair.
“A superlative orator, a true believer who devoted his boundless energies to the cause, Powderly was also one of the most charismatic men of his day,” author Greg Phelan wrote. “His personal magnetism, his message of redemption, and his growing reputation were often so powerful that his very presence in a community could help to spark an explosion of organizational activity.”
National Labor Leader at 23
Powderly, often called by his first initials, T.V., grew up in Pennsylvania and went to work for the railroads at age 13. He rose quickly to leadership in the shop unions, becoming president of the Machinists’ and Blacksmiths’ National Union in 1872, when he was 23. He joined the then-secretive Knights of Labor in 1874 — five years after it was founded — and became its president or “Grand Master Workman” in 1879.
He didn’t look the part of a union leader, labor writer John Swinton noted in 1886, describing a slender man with “mild blue eyes,” a blond mustache and impeccable dress. “English novelists take men of Powderly’s look for poets, gondola scullers, philosophers and heroes crossed in love, but no one ever drew such a looking man as the leader of a million horny-fisted sons of toil,” he wrote.
Indeed, the Knights grew to nearly a million members under Powderly’s leadership, in large part because they welcomed women, African Americans and Hispanics. At the Knights’ national convention in Richmond, Va., in 1886, Powderly insisted on being introduced by an African American member from New York.
“He believed everyone had the right to come here and try to succeed,” Corbey said. “He didn’t do what he did because he had some grand scheme. He simply followed his heart.”
By mid-1886, the Knights’ power began to erode. They were blamed, unjustly, for the Haymarket Riot in Chicago, a violent clash between police and anarchists that came on the heels of a workers’ rally in support of a strike. The same year, Samuel Gompers’ new American Federation of Labor began to displace the Knights.
In 1883, Powderly resigned, disgusted with infighting, selfishness and malfeasance among top Knights, and a plague of financial troubles in the organization. But it was far from the end of his story.
A New Life in Washington
In Pennsylvania, Powderly studied law, passed the Pennsylvania bar exam and took on workers’ groups as clients. In 1897, he moved to Washington, D.C. after being appointed Commissioner of Immigration by President McKinley. Later, he served in the Department of Commerce.
He was an accomplished and pioneering photographer, shooting the hundreds of lantern slides Corbey discovered as a child. He was meticulous about keeping records, leaving a detailed ledger noting the date and location of every picture.
Powderly also was a prolific writer. In 1889, he published a 700-page book, “Thirty Years of Labor.” His 450-page autobiography, “The Path I Trod,” was published after his death in 1924 at the age of 75.
In 1898, Powderly started building a house that still stands on Rock Creek Church Road in northwest Washington. The three-story house became a gathering place for early 20th-century labor activists and civil rights leaders. Mother Jones, the bold socialist and labor organizer famous for her hell-raising tactics, was a frequent visitor and considered Powderly her closest confidant. She felt sure that history would eventually recognize him as one of labor’s first heroes.
“You were rocking the cradle of the movement, you made it possible for others to march on,” she wrote to him in 1906.
Powderly, who lost his only child, opened his home to any of his late brother’s nine children who wanted to come to Washington to study or get a job. Corbey’s grandmother took him up on the offer. She went to nursing school, joined the U.S. Navy and ultimately cared for former presidents Wilson and Harding. She was at each man’s bedside when he died.
Corbey said his grandmother’s story is like many in his family, people who have followed in Powderly’s tradition of service — to unions, to the Catholic church, to their communities.
“We always lean toward the social activist side of life, whether it’s through volunteering, being a nun or a priest or being part of the union,” he said. “It all seems to fit the same common thread that T.V. Powderly started.”
Corbey’s mother grew up in the house that Powderly built and Corbey spent the first year of his life there. On a sunny April day, he went back for the first time since childhood, beaming as he hunted for places where he’d played with his siblings.
Best of all, he learned that Powderly’s house is carrying out his legacy of compassionate activism. Today, it’s the “Dorothy Day Catholic Worker House,” named for the early 20th-century reformer who dedicated her life to the poor and immigrants. It serves as a shelter, a soup kitchen and a home for community service workers. Pictures, posters and quotes from labor and social movements grace the walls.
“What a tradition to keep going,” Corbey said, smiling with pride as he looked around the house. “It would please T.V. Powderly to no end to know that the house he built, 100 years later, still serves the purpose he intended.”
“The belief was prevalent until a short time ago among workingmen, that only the man who was engaged in manual toil could be called a workingman. The draftsman, the timekeeper, the clerk, the school teacher, the civil engineer, the editor, the reporter, or the worst paid, most abused and ill appreciated of all toilers — women — could not be called a worker . . . Narrow prejudice, born of the injustice and oppressions of the past, must be overcome, and all who interest themselves in producing for the world’s good must be made to understand that their interests are identical.”
— Terence Powderly