Angels Overhead, Heroes on the Ground: A Labor Day Tribute
By Michael B. Goldenkranz
Each August during Seafair, when the Navy’s Blue Angels streak above Lake Washington, I instinctively cover my ears and grimace as they roar overhead. And yes, I sometimes find myself stuck in the traffic mess near Genesee Park, despite knowing better.
In those moments, I’m tempted to channel my inner curmudgeon, shake my fist at the sky, and howl: “Cease and desist! Not in my backyard!” But then, I pause. And I remember.
I remember the joy of seeing the Blue Angels for the first time as a young newlywed in Seattle. Later, as a dad, I’d bring my family to a secret vantage point high in Mount Baker, the perfect perch to watch the Blue Angels and hydroplanes in action.
Mostly, I recall a time that tugs at my heart: the summer my parents visited from Brooklyn during Seafair, when my father-in-law took my dad out in his small motorboat to watch the Blue Angels. The two of them appreciated the moment in a way most of us never could. Both had served overseas during wartime — one in the Army, one in the Navy — and both returned and built careers in aerospace: one at Lockheed on the East Coast, the other at Boeing here in Seattle. Watching those jets soar above wasn’t just entertainment. It was a reminder of their sacrifice, service, and enduring pride.
The look on their faces that day, the joy of their shared experience, is etched in my memory. It was a gift. Now, every year, even as I grumble and swear I won’t bother, I end up at a new “secret” spot to catch a glimpse of the Blue Angels. And when I do, I think of my dad and my father-in-law, now angels themselves, with an excellent vantage point.
This August, as the jets left and the end of summer neared, my mind wandered to Labor Day and the long, grinding fight for dignity and justice waged by union workers, including the one waged by my maternal grandfather. His landmark legal battle against corrupt union leadership — Salzhandler v. Caputo — was a true David-and-Goliath tale that helped secure free speech rights for union members nationwide.
That story, which I shared in the Bulletin last Labor Day, shaped not only my values but also those of my children. It continues to fuel our commitment to volunteerism and the pursuit of justice.
For this Labor Day, I want to spotlight another iconic labor hero: A. Philip Randolph. His story, and that of the brave men he led, is vividly told in “Rising from the Rails: Pullman Porters and the Making of the Black Middle Class” by journalist Larry Tye. This compelling and essential read not only recounts a labor struggle but uncovers its deep and lasting influence on the Civil Rights Movement.
In the early 20th century, the Pullman Company was the largest private employer of Black men in America. These men, hired as sleeping car porters, were often formerly enslaved or the sons of enslaved people. They catered to wealthy white passengers and worked grueling hours, then usually slept in smoking rooms behind thin curtains near the toilets. They were on duty up to 100 hours a week and were paid poorly. Yet the Pullman job, like postal work, was seen as one of the most prestigious that a Black man could hold.
The porters wanted more than prestige; they wanted dignity, rights, and fair treatment. Their attempts to unionize began in the late 1800s, but Pullman’s stranglehold on the industry and brutal suppression of labor organizing led to firings, intimidation, and violence.
Enter A. Philip Randolph, a labor activist and publisher who took up their cause in the 1920s. He was methodical, principled, and unrelenting. Though he was not a porter himself, he led the porters in a battle against the monopolist Pullman for 12 long years — through courts, regulatory agencies, and political channels.
In 1937, they won. The Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters became the first all-Black union chartered by the American Federation of Labor. Before reading Tye’s book, I hadn’t fully grasped, as a fellow white man like the author, the magnitude of this victory. Its psychological and economic impact rippled through Black communities nationwide, and these men and their union laid the groundwork for the Civil Rights Movement.
Union halls became organizing spaces, and union dues funded protests. And it was Pullman porter E.D. Nixon, also president of the Montgomery NAACP, who positioned a young and relatively unknown Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. as the face of the Montgomery Bus Boycott, after Rosa Parks’ arrest. That E.D. Nixon could coordinate civil disobedience and national press coverage while still traveling cross-country for his porter job speaks to the organizational brilliance and wherewithal these men brought to the movement.
Tye shows how the porters, while serving as humble attendants, also became cultural ambassadors, carrying jazz, blues, and Black newspapers across the country, connecting Black communities in ways that defied segregation’s bounds. Interspersed throughout the book are vignettes about famous figures who were porters or their descendants. I won’t spoil the surprises, but these stories pack a punch. “Rising from the Rails” is far more than a labor history — it’s an American story of perseverance, vision, and transformation.
So, as you fire up the grill this Labor Day or enjoy one last summer getaway, I invite you to honor the spirit of the holiday by reading this crucial yet often overlooked chapter of U.S. history. The legacy of the Pullman Porters is one that deserves not just our recognition but our deep gratitude.
Whether in the roar of jets or the quiet rustle of pages, may the past find its way in and show how far those before us proved we can go.
Michael B. Goldenkranz, retired, is a frequent-flyer pro bono volunteer, full-time curmudgeon, and current practitioner of being a silly grandpa.
