Wisconsin Stories is a partnership of the Wisconsin Historical Society and Wisconsin Public Television.

Here's a trick question from Wisconsin history. What does this glass of milk have in common with this kids' campground? This fuel company? This credit union? And this taxi cab company? Hi, I'm Debbie Kmetz from the Wisconsin Historical Society. And I'm Tracy Will, of Wisconsin Public Television. The answer is, all of these things are provided by cooperatives. A cooperative is a kind of business that's owned and operated by a group of people who join together to make a product or provide a service. You'd be surprised how many familiar things are made by cooperatives and how much a role Wisconsin cooperatives have played in its history. You know, even by the early 1900s Wisconsin was playing a significant role in the national cooperative movement. It points to that "roll up your sleeves and get the job done" attitude that people can band together and get what they need.  So, how did it happen that Wisconsin became such a hotbed of cooperative thinking? We'll have that answer on this episode of Wisconsin Stories.

Funding for Wisconsin Stories is provided in part by an advised fund of the Community Foundation of Southern Wisconsin; the Estate and family of Lois Backus; the Halbert and Alice Kadish Foundation; and Philip J. and Elizabeth B. Hendrickson encouraging you to support history on Wisconsin Public Television and to visit Wisconsin's treasured historic sites.

§ If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands 
§ §
 If you're happy and you know it 
§ §
 clap your hands... § Kmetz: Welcome to Kamp Kenwood just outside of Chippewa Falls where every summer since 1951 kids have enjoyed a few days of fun in the sun. § ...shout co-op § CO-OP! § If you're happy and you know it 
§ §
 then your life will surely show it 
§ §
 if you're happy and you know, shout co-op § CO-OP! Three days seemed like three weeks up here we would just develop long lasting friendships and memories about working together. 
( clapping hands and stomping feet )
 Campers: Co-op! Kmetz: The kids at Kamp Kenwood are mostly farm kids or from rural towns and the theme of the classes here if you haven't already guessed is the history and how-to's of cooperatives. Campers: Co-op! I've learned a lot about cooperative. And I think that that's really important. Kmetz: And it is a place that was built and has existed for over 50 years by practicing what it preaches. It is a wonderful example of people doing for themselves coming together as a community and building the facility and supporting it every inch of the way. How are cooperatives different than other businesses? Kmetz: Amid the fun and games, kids learn about co-op membership and group decision making about democratic councils and how to sit on a board of directors as they've done for over 50 years. 
( wheel clicks loudly as it spins )
 The lessons are probably familiar as most kids here are from co-op member families and many from several generations of Kenwood campers. Lorna Miller: I'm proud to say that my daughter Michelle is very much interested in this work and then, my grandson Xia is an urban kid who has come to a Farmers Union camp for most of his life. I did attend a camp, here, on, I think, it's first year. Kmetz: Camper Lorna Miller would return years later on the Education Staff then as the Education Director. Michelle Miller: I came here when I was two weeks old. It was the first time. Mom was the director so I was a summer baby. I spent my first nine years here every summer. I was a camp counselor for a year. That was a lot of fun. And I was married here so this was a very long progression. Kmetz: The progression actually goes back even further to the drop in farm prices following World War I. Miller: Well, it really started primarily with my grandfather. Kmetz: Where did he live? In North Dakota. They held back grain, from selling it in the fall so that in the spring, it could be sold at a better price. Kmetz: The farmers' attempt to gain a stronger voice in the market failed and like many others, Lorna's grandfather suffered the loss of his family's farm. I happen to think it was the best thing they could possibly have done because it awakened an awful lot of farmers to the importance of organizing and doing something.

Kmetz: What farmers started doing was work together consolidating costs to save money then putting that money into their own machinery grain elevators and fuel deliveries. As a farmer, Lorna's father helped organize co-ops in North Dakota with a new union of farmers. Founded in the south in 1902 the farmers' union idea eventually merged with an immigrant influence and progressive politics already in the Midwest. 
( campers clapping and singing )

Kmetz: To the immigrant ancestors of some of these campers a farmers' union seemed appropriately democratic to their new country. 
( clapping and singing continues )

It's probably the perfect example of democracy in action because the people who participate and join have an equal say in what's going on and are able to decide for themselves who their leaders will be.

Kmetz: Wisconsin also became a leader in co-ops. In 1911,s the state passed a widely copied law legalizing the incorporation of co-ops and went on to encourage co-ops by requiring high schoolers to learn co-op management. Co-ops helped in transforming the state's economy after World War II which was when the building of Kamp Kenwood began. § Got that Farmers Union spirit 
§ §
 deep in my heart, deep in my heart to stay... § The Farmers Union collected contributions from other cooperatives to buy land. It was the members who did most of the work. The cooperative spirit is still practiced today. What's this? This is our membership card If you've got a share, you get one. A share is one dollar. When you have your membership card everything costs 25 cents less. Xia: I really like the camp store, the camp co-op. We all vote on who sells the candy, popsicles and soda pop. And we voted on the name. Then, at the end, I always remember being so happy when I'd get my three dollars or five dollars back. Kmetz: The family tradition also continues as all the Millers are still active members of credit unions and other cooperatives. And Lorna and Michelle have sat on various co-op boards. Michelle Miller: One of the things that we're working on now is helping to start a new co-op, a new food co-op in Madison. The people that were interested in organizing a food co-op had no past experience so for them, they were walking blind into the unknown. And for me, it was just like starting up a candy co-op again. Give me a "C"! "C"! Give me an "O"! "O"! Kmetz: The influence of cooperatives in Wisconsin's history brought Kamp Kenwood into existence and in turn, Kamp Kenwood has helped keep Wisconsin a leader in co-op history. Let me hear it again! CO-OP! One more time! CO-OP!

Tom Gronemus: Back in the '30s and '40s basically, everybody grew up on a farm. And the co-ops were part of the farm life. A lot of the farmers needed goods and services. And they wanted to buy them at a competitive price. In order to do that, they formed co-ops. It's just working together for a common cause. That's what a co-op is. Kmetz: Welcome to Westby, Wisconsin. Located in co-op rich Vernon County Westby is a small town with a big co-op tradition. Gronemus: Westby is a small community with a lot of Norwegian heritage. We are well known for our ski jumping tournament. Hopefully, it will be well known for the Westby Creamery. Kmetz: Tom Gronemus is the general manager of the Westby Cooperative Creamery the oldest of the seven co-ops that Westby's residents can join. The creamery has a long-standing tradition of serving the needs of farmers in and around Westby a tradition that began in 1903 when local farmers joined forces to establish a cooperative to produce and sell butter. Since initially, butter was the only product made farmers hauled only their cream to the small building outside of town. And so, the Westby Cooperative Creamery was born.

As the creamery expanded so, too, did the products being made and sold. By the 1940s, the creamery was a thriving local co-op one that succeeded thanks to the hard work of its farmer members and by people like Earl Evenstad for whom, from 1931 to 1974 the creamery was a labor of love. That was in '47 to '51. He was writing checks out for $7,000 for the patrons. That's a nice Christmas present. And he wasn't making $5,000. He was just so proud of that $7,000 check. I'll never forget that. You know, he could see where he was helping the small farmer, especially. And I think that was a big thing to him. They had as much say as anybody else in the co-op. I think he thought that was a really democratic, good way of having a business. Kmetz: As Westby citizens embraced the co-op business model new co-ops were started to provide its residents with a variety of services ranging from electric service a credit union fuel, feed consumer goods to breeding and telephone services. Meanwhile, the creamery thrived. Its continued growth hinged on the loyalty of its farmer members who adopted the creamery and its cooperative principles as their own and who worked hard to make it a success. One of those loyal members is Rodney Johnson. I guess I like managing cows better than I do people. Kmetz: Rodney's small farm is located just outside of Westby. A member of the Creamery's Board of Directors Rodney sold his milk exclusively to the creamery since 1979. Though at one time, he considered selling to a larger dairy co-op that was paying more for milk. I guess, it was at that time I thought, either I'm going to go to a different co-op or do what I can to help make the Westby Creamery as strong as it has been in the past and continue that tradition. And it's one of the best decisions I've made. Kmetz: With that decision, Rodney continued a long family tradition. His uncle Robert served on the creamery's board and his father Walter is a long-time creamery patron. But in 1992, that tradition almost came to an end. At that time, cottage cheese was the creamery's biggest seller the bulk of which was sold to one large food distributor. But when the creamery and that distributor suddenly parted ways the co-op faced a crisis. Johnson: We were worried. We didn't know how we were going to stay in business. We had in excess of about 200,000 pounds of milk a day and we were currently doing like six million pounds of cottage cheese a year. What are we going to do with the milk? The milk keeps coming every day. You just don't turn cows off.

Kmetz: To stay in business the members dug deeply into their co-op roots joining together to retail products themselves under the Westby Creamery name. It was a new and risky move, but as owners of the co-op the members were able to take up the challenge. Johnson: I talked to quite a few of them. A lot said, we've got an investment in this co-op, too. If we pull out, we're jeopardizing our investment. A lot of the members stuck with Westby wanting to see it be successful. And if that wouldn't have happened at that time it probably wouldn't have been here today so it really boils back to the loyalty of the farms. Kmetz: That loyalty not only saved the creamery but also helped it to move forward. Johnson: We're not real large. We want to grow, we have to grow. But we still want to be at a size where we're still manageable. I guess that's why I like belonging to the Westby Creamery as a co-op is when that product gets to the store shelf I can say I had a hand in producing that product. I think our future looks really bright.

Will: When May Johnson was growing up in a Finnish-American family in Superior, in the 1920s she danced in a musical extolling the benefits of co-ops. The play was put on by a Finnish-American co-op called the Cooperative Central Exchange. The energy the exchange put into fostering co-ops helped put it at the center of what British co-op leader, H.G. May once called the most active co-op area in the United States. May Johnson remembers her family as loyal to co-op friends. You bought your coffee and all your vegetables and all your-- everything in the line of groceries. Will: Plus paint, oil and more. So, why did the Finns put so much into their co-ops?

Just before the turn of the 20th century life in Finland could be hard. Land and jobs were scarce. And Czarist Russia, which had ruled Finland in a fairly loose way for the last 100 years, or so was starting to tighten its grip. Many Finns migrated to Northern Wisconsin, Minnesota and Upper Michigan and worked as miners and farmers. Finns started co-ops to protect themselves from price gouging and from being locked out of company food stores during miner strikes. To the Finns, co-ops brought independence, and more. Arnold Alanen: It becomes very interesting because even though this was a group primarily of farmers, miners and common laborers the leadership in the movement was provided by a group of rather remarkable intellectuals who had become very anti-Czarist and pro-Marxist as a result of their experiences in Finland. They were the ones, then who were able to promulgate the idea of cooperation at a more sophisticated level than just being an area where you would congregate your economic resources to buy a better can of coffee or get a better loaf of bread. Will: Most Finns involved with co-ops were not active Marxists, but the few who were promoted the idea that co-ops were a tool to replace capitalism with a society based on economic equality with no wealthy ruling class. In 1917, Communists toppled the Czarist regime in Russia. That same year, more than 60 Finnish co-ops existed across Minnesota, Wisconsin and Upper Michigan. And managers of several co-ops even scraped together enough money to hire someone to buy things in bulk for all of them. This new buying circle, the Cooperative Central Exchange or CCE, was based in Superior the geographic center of Finnish co-op land. Within ten years, it became a major influence in the region training co-op managers helping co-ops keep better books and even producing many goods including Finnish-style bread and coffee. It used brand names denoting different grades of product. Blue Star, White Star and Red Star. May Johnson: Now we think, why in the world did they put that emblem on? That's a Russian logo. Will: The logo was evidence of a relationship between Finnish-American Communists and the new Russia. But some Finns bristled at it. Johnson: And now, if you say you're a Finlander they'll think, "Oh, you were a Communist." It was not so. And anybody can tell you that that worked at the co-op. We were just labeled that. Will: It took about a decade for differences over this label to come to a head.

A year before the great stock market crash of 1929 Communist leaders in Moscow predicted global capitalism was about to crumble. They wanted loyalty and money from party members the world over including those with leadership roles at the CCE. But the Communist managers defied their own party so the party tried to convince the co-op to fire them and bring in more compliant managers. And there is this group of individuals who are very strongly advocating for this. However, the rank and file members are basically opposed to this. So, there's a very vociferous meeting in Superior in 1929 and again in 1930, when they vote on this. There are something like 229 of the delegates at the meeting vote not to go with the Communist party and only about 16 choose to stay with the Communist party. Will: Even young people knew what happened next. Johnson: If you were with the Communist group you weren't at all associated with the people in the co-op. We lost our good friends. You walked down the street, you wouldn't say hello to them. And that was bad.

Will: The Finnish co-ops changed forever, and they prospered. The CCE shifted its priorities to immediate economic concerns  and focused on working within the capitalist system. It changed its name to the Central Cooperative Wholesale. The co-op's heyday came in the late depression and lasted through World War II. And although increased competition and other factors eventually pushed most of them out of business one of the original Finnish co-ops is still open. And the achievements of the Finns public education about co-ops, regional cooperation and co-op bookkeeping still reverberate today.

Will: Most American cities started getting electricity in the late 1880s. Street lights and trolley cars were usually the first signs of electrification.

Later, industry began adapting from gas to electric power and eventually, households also made the switch. By the end of the century homemakers were enjoying the benefits of all sorts of electric appliances, like radios lamps, irons, toasters and vacuum cleaners. For city dwellers electricity quickly became a necessity rather than a luxury and symbolized the modern age. But much of rural Wisconsin was still left in the dark. When they couldn't get electricity any other way these folks took charge and did it for themselves. This farm, just outside Richland Center in Richland County was the first in Wisconsin to get central station electric power from a rural electric cooperative. It was built and wired for electricity in 1917 but it took another 20 years until the home actually got power. It took that long until the Richland Cooperative Electric Association incorporated and energized the first section of its rural electric system. Bringing power to rural Wisconsin was often complicated. We wanted electricity in the worst way. But how could we get it? Will: John Zurian grew up in the Village of Moquah six miles west of Ashland. As rural residents all across the country found out forming an electric cooperative was the answer. Municipal utility companies couldn't always justify the cost of building generators and stringing power lines to serve isolated rural areas. Zurian says before forming a co-op members of his community approached Lake Superior Power Company in Ashland about bringing electricity to the village. They surveyed it, and they said it was about six miles. They said it takes about $700 a mile to stretch that up into Moquah. But they said they wanted to have at least two farm outfits per mile. But you know, these guys figured that's just a little too much money, you know. That's way too much at that time. That was back in '39, '40. After that, the REA started up. Will: The REA, or Rural Electrification Administration was created in 1935 as part of Roosevelt's New Deal. The program made loan money available to build power plants and led to the formation of many electric cooperatives throughout the country. Zurian was on one of the first crews to dig post holes for the new cooperative. And the holes had to be 14 inches-- At least 14 inches in width on the top. And they had to be six feet down. Six feet?! Six feet, yeah. Oh yeah, them poles are all six feet down. That's a lot of digging! That's a lot of digging. Will: Zurian dug holes for the cooperative for three days but then everything came to an abrupt end. Zurian: The foreman told us he said, "Boys, this is the last of it." He said, "We've got to close for the duration of the war." The war broke out then, you know, on December 7 and that was our last day. You'd worked for three days digging six post holes a day. So, were you tired at night? Oh, no, no. Not usually. You were a farm kid! And in them days, you don't get tired. You had to go do chores. You had to milk cows and feed the cows. You had to clean the barn, and everything. And then we have this envelope "John Zurian," for digging post holes. Let's see, $6.34. Yes. So, for those three days, digging as hard as you could... Oh, not exactly! You know, it was for our benefit we were digging them holes, not for the money. George Galik: Anybody that joined the REA it only cost them five dollars at that time. Will: George Galik worked for Bayfield Electric Co-op for 44 years. He says rural residents were thrilled by the creation of the co-op. He says many private utilities resented them and saw them as competition. So, when Bayfield Electric Co-op gives them a lot cheaper electric service... Galik: And the same kind of power they just wanted the co-op to come in. Will: Galik remembers one time when his crew needed to cross over a private power company's high voltage line. We already had our poles up and we had all the wires strung on both ends figuring one day, we're going to ask them to shut the power off and we're going to make that crossing. This one particular crossing, they would not shut it off. They wouldn't turn off their power? No, they wouldn't. how did you get the lines across? We just pulled the rope across first and tied it to both secure ends. And so, it was tight so it could no-how drop down. We just wanted to show them that we can do it without begging you to shut your line off.

Will: Far from putting up poles  it was an electric cooperative that later took the initiative to build the state's first nuclear plant in an effort to move forward and embrace new technologies. The La Crosse boiling water reactor was built for Dairyland Cooperative on the Mississippi River, just south of La Crosse. It was one of a series of demonstration plants funded by the Atomic Energy Commission. The plant made electricity by boiling water with nuclear fuel and running the steam through an electrical generator. It started generating electricity commercially in 1971 and continued for 16 years. However, by 1987 Dairyland decided that nuclear power no longer represented the wave of the future and the plant was shut down. Electric co-ops have grown and succeeded by providing good service to rural communities. And for many years now, Wisconsin's rural cooperatives have been accepted by private utilities as full partners. Plenty of issues like pollution, supply and fuel prices still surround the electric power industry. But the right of rural cooperatives to exist is no longer one of them.

§ I've got that Farmers Union spirit 
§ §
 deep in my heart § Where? § deep in my heart, oh, deep in my heart 
§ §
 I've got that Farmers Union spirit... § Kmetz: Today, the cooperative tradition in Wisconsin continues from pharmacy co-ops to engineering co-ops to bookstores to HMOs. Even a co-op where you can buy archery equipment. In fact, it's believed that there are more cooperatives in Dane County than in any other county in the entire nation. I believe that. I also believe if we cooperated we could clean up this kitchen in nothing flat. Okay, you're on. We'll see you next time on Wisconsin Stories. § I've got that Farmers Union spirit 
§ §
 deep in my heart 
§ §
 deep in my heart to stay... §

[Captioning services provided by Wisconsin Public Television.]
 www.wpt.org

Funding for Wisconsin Stories is provided in part by an advised fund of the Community Foundation of Southern Wisconsin; the Estate and family of Lois Backus; the Halbert and Alice Kadish Foundation; and Philip J. and Elizabeth B. Hendrickson encouraging you to support history on Wisconsin Public Television and to visit Wisconsin's treasured historic sites.