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.