Riveting Histories: The Legacy of America’s Rosies

By Cynthia Furlong Reynolds

“I know in my soul
that I would have been a Rosie if I’d lived during World War II,” Claire Kitchin Dahl says, grinning.

Dressed in the iconic Rosie the Riveter garb made famous by Norman Rockwell’s Saturday Evening Post cover (navy blue coveralls, rolled pant legs and sleeves, red socks, red-and-white headscarf), Dahl has the energy of the military engines Rosies manufactured during World War II. She has made it her mission to educate “as many people as possible” about the three million Rosies who entered America’s workforce in its time of need

“I consider every woman who worked in war industries a Rosie,” she tells a Dexter church group on a gray winter day. “They fueled the war effort and freed America’s men for military duties. Why? Because they wanted to bring their fathers, brothers, and boyfriends home safely from the war.”

And, Dahl adds, by leaving home and picking up industrial tools, they revolutionized their world.

“These were brave, brave women who might never have gone beyond the boundaries of their hometowns before. But they climbed on buses and trains and headed to Detroit and Willow Run and many other factories around the U.S., in search of good-paying jobs and adventure.”

March is Women’s History Month, and Dahl has packed her schedule with appearances throughout the state, telling the story of an era that revolutionized women’s roles. She has made several Honor Flights with Rosies, and she helped organize a gathering of 3,374 Rosies and Rosie-wannabees, to break the Guiness Book of World Records. On April 10, surviving Rosies will receive a “much-delayed and much-deserved” Congressional Gold Medal for their WWII service.

Dahl is passionate about her work in women’s history. She earned a double major in political science and German from the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater in 1971, and a master’s degree in American studies from Northeastern Illinois University in 1979. “Women’s studies was a new course, and it spoke to my soul,” she says. “I loved learning about strong women in American history. The activism of the Vietnam era and the 1970s made this direction feel timely and right.”

During World War II, her father served in the Navy and her grandfather in the Seabees, so their stories deepened her interest in wartime history. For eighteen years, she taught advanced placement U.S. history at Pioneer. When she retired, she found her passion when she volunteered as a Yankee Air Museum docent. Having written her thesis on Rosie the Riveter four decades earlier, she began delving into the history of the women who built B-24s in Henry Ford’s Willow Run plant.

***

Starting in 1941, when President Franklin Roosevelt vowed the U.S. would become the Arsenal of Democracy, Willow Run ran ads throughout the region, promising 85 cents per hour for the first two weeks of training, and $1 per hour after six weeks. Employees worked nine-hour shifts six days a week (54 hours), and were paid time-and-a-half after 40 hours. Ford offered 32 mechanical courses (“for which any employee is eligible without cost”), “excellent opportunities for advancement,” paid transportation, and, starting in 1942, federal housing for $3.50 per week for a shared room, $5 for a single room, and between $23.50 and $38.50 per month for families, depending on the size.

From all over the South and Midwest, people responded to Willow Run’s call for workers. “They knew that Henry Ford had paid good money as far back as 1908,” Dahl says.

Recruiters assured women that they already knew how to work an assembly line. “They worked an assembly line every time they baked cookies or made their kids’ lunches,” Dahl says. “Women were told, ‘If you’ve ever followed a recipe, you can load shells. We’ll teach you what to do.”

Women eagerly answered the call. In 1941, one in 100 aircraft industry workers were women; two years later, one in five were women. During WWII, the number of poorly paid Black women in Detroit dropped from 72 to 40 percent because factory jobs paid so much better—thanks to Executive Order #8802, which banned discriminatory employment practices.

“The armed forces were still segregated, but war industries were not,” Dahl says. “Men and women, Blacks and whites, earned equal pay for the same work—and it’s a darn shame that didn’t continue after the war ended!”

In Detroit alone, 44,064 women were employed in manufacturing in 1940. That number rose to 71,000 in 1942, and skyrocketed to 269,000 in 1943.

With thousands of workers converging on what had been Washtenaw County farmland the year before, the need for housing was urgent. “Everyone with a spare bedroom for miles around rented it to the newcomers, but housing options quickly ran out,” Dahl says. “Workers were sleeping in tents and even in their cars—until Senator Harry Truman came on the scene in 1941 and told Ford that their workers’ housing situations were disgraceful.”

So, Ford-built housing sprang up in surrounding communities. “The units were freezing in winter, roasting in summer, and came equipped with coal stoves and paper-thin walls, but they were better than living in a car! Ford also provided bus service, medical care, and childcare.”

Women brought their children to factory nurseries and schools. If a child was sick, nurses tended them so Mom could continue working. “Never have we had such marvelous daycare programs!” Dahl points out.

Each B-24 required more than 300,000 rivets, so Rosies had a lot of riveting to do on the planes—but the title isn’t confined to riveters. “Building B-24s requires many, many different jobs. And those women worked without safety equipment—no earphones, gloves, or safety glasses. One Rosie I interviewed had to stick her hand in a vat of glue and smooth it on the fabric bomber tails—without gloves.”

According to Ford Motor Company records, Willow Run produced 8,685 B-24s between 1942 and 1945, thanks to the 42,000 Americans who worked there—one-third of them women. Two nine-hour factory shifts each required between 20,000 and 22,000 workers six days a week. “Before the war, the premier airplane manufacturer in San Diego was building one plane a month,” Dahl tells her listeners. “By 1944, Willow Run was producing one B-24 every 57 minutes. The assembly line at Willow Run was an engineering marvel!”

By March of 1944, 2,690,0000 American women were working in wartime industries. Half had never worked outside the home; nearly one-third were housewives.

Dahl asks her audience to imagine the sense of pride the Rosies at Willow Run felt when they saw the huge garage doors open and another B-24 roll out. But she doesn’t forget the heroines of the home front. “This was the people’s war.” In her presentation, she points to a lesser-known Rockwell cover called “Rosie to the Rescue,” in which a determined-looking woman is bent over with the weight of tools, a milk delivery, nurse’s cap, pencils and books, scissors, keys, oil can, rake, hoe, time clock, conductor’s hat, cleaning supplies, and much more. “Women filled all the gaps left when men went into the service.”

Immediately following V-E Day, the number of women in industry halved, and after V-J Day, only 66,900 women remained in industrial jobs. Many left the labor force involuntarily when veterans returned in 1945, Dahl says. A postwar survey in Detroit revealed that 72 percent of laid-off women workers wanted employment, but couldn’t find jobs. “The G.I. Bill meant that some returning servicemen could postpone entry into the job force, but companies everywhere wound down their wartime work and pink-slipped the women who had worked so loyally for them. And, of course, returning veterans eager to go on with their lives, deserved jobs, too.”

So far, Claire Dahl has interviewed and videotaped 27 local Rosies. “Many of them didn’t know they’re considered a Rosie—or that they deserve recognition for their wartime service.” She estimates that 200,000 Rosies are still alive—between 98 and 103 in age. “If I hear of one, I immediately call for an appointment.”

Dahl has written to Ken Burns (a former Pioneer High School graduate, “although, regretfully, not my student”), urging him to turn his cameras’ focus onto the remaining Rosies. “Every one has a valuable story to tell,” she says.

“The American workplace has never offered more opportunity—before or since—to more people,” Dahl says, concluding her presentation. “The wartime economy convinced women that they could follow their dreams and visions. It opened social and financial benefits to women the likes of which we still haven’t equaled.”

When her program ends, several listeners rush up to Dahl, asking her to speak to their group. “Sure!” she responds. “But just don’t try to stop me after an hour—I’ve got a lot to say.

“I love what I do. I have the thrill of talking about history without having to grade papers!”