90 Years Ago, a Rogue Union Bombed Milwaukee Theaters

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Parkway Theater (1936)

In October 1932, a bundle of dynamite exploded in the Parkway Theater at 35th and Lisbon. It was Saturday night and the auditorium was close to capacity. The explosion shook the walls and plaster rained down on some of the patrons. Manager Harry Perelewitz ordered the feature Girls of the Big House halted and turned on all the auditorium lights. He and the ushers helped nearly 750 people find an exit. Six people who suffered injuries were taken from the premises by ambulance. “I was threatened by a man from 164 last month,” manager Perelewitz told a reporter. “We weren’t sure if and when an attack might occur, but we expected paint or stench bombs, not thi.” The Parkway explosion caused more than $1,000 in today’s currency to repair. 

Violence and destruction at Milwaukee movie houses began in December 1929 when the Columbia Theatre on Walnut Street was vandalized. Owner Manning Silverman was badly beaten and taken to the hospital. The message was clear; Independent theaters who defied the Motion Picture Operators Union Number 164 (hereafter 164) demand to place union projectionists in all city theaters.  

An “outlaw” union, the Independent Motion Picture Operators was hastily formed to protect theaters from further intimidation from the 164. Mayor Daniel Hoan refused to become involved and passed responsibility to the police. “I’m confident that Chief [Jacob] Laubenheimer is up to the task of handling the labor disputes,” he said. Laubenheimer seethed at being called out that way but assigned a team of detectives led by John Bauschke to the case.  

Assault and Vandalism

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Union Agent in Theater Bombing newspaper clipping

Independent managers that wouldn’t accede to the union’s threats found gallons of yellow paint splashed on their theater’s exterior, windows and lobby walls. Automobiles and homes of employees were vandalized, and four managers were assaulted and left on sidewalks. Perpetrators were arrested from time to time, but the charge was reduced to disorderly conduct which carried a $5 fine. 

Most of the neighborhood theaters charged 20¢ admission to see a double feature show. Attendance was usually in the hundreds every night, and programs were changed on Monday-Tuesday, Wednesday-Thursday, and Friday-Sunday. The manager decided what short film and cartoon accompanied each of the week’s shows.  

The attacks on theaters escalated from paint damage to stench bombs made from homemade tear gas. Ammonium nitrate was poured into light bulbs that could be crushed underfoot or lobbed into a crowd. Patrons were quickly evacuated from theaters because the ammonia-based chemicals could harm a person’s eyes, nostril membranes, and lungs. Flyers were delivered to nearby homes with a warning that the theater was no longer safe to attend. 

Although Mayor Hoan had dissociated himself from the labor disputes, he found time to meet silent movie star Tom Mix at the railroad station, where the actor gave him a handshake and a sombrero. Hizzoner finally said the ongoing attacks on theaters would stop if they were closed. Angry managers reminded Hoan that 500 cashiers, ushers, maintenance staff and other employees would be without an income.  

Increase the Payroll 

An independent projector operator earned about $50 a week. The 164 demanded two union operators on site at $77 each per week, increasing the payroll by $100. To avoid more trouble, independent theaters began to employ Union 164 projectionists in their houses. The horrific bombing of the Parkway in October frightened others into compliance. 

Two days after the bombing police arrested Chester A. Millis, business manager for the 164. Detectives entered the Commerce building on Fourth and Wells Street and announced their intention to search the premises. Millis demanded to see a warrant, and was told, “We don’t need a warrant, and you know why.” Detectives confiscated a dozen file boxes and took Millis into custody. During his interrogation he named two brothers, John and Leslie Jacques, saying they responsible for the attack. When asked he was asked about threats made to Parkway manager Harry Perlewitz and owner John Ludwig, Millis vehemently denied the allegation, not knowing that Ludwig had already given a sworn statement to the District Attorney. 

Ludwig recounted a demand made by Millis for employing union projectionists t the Parkway. 

Millis: “You know what happens to bad boys?”  

Ludwig: “Do you mean to throw stench bombs?” 

Millis: “Worse than that.” 

When Perelewitz and Ludwig identified Millis as the man who threatened them, he was charged as an accessory to the bombing. Millis responded with a $65,000 lawsuit against the police department that cited false arrest, and irreparable damage to his reputation. 

On the witness stand, Millis, who was small and thin, looked like a thug from an Edward G. Robinson picture. He blotted his forehead with a handkerchief several times and his ferret-like eyes constantly darted around the courtroom. The prosecution poked holes in his alibis and denials. Millis was exposed as an experienced union organizer who had worked in Iowa and Nebraska before coming to Milwaukee. 

Relaxed on Trial

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John and Leslie Jacques

Based on Millis’ accusation, John and Leslie Jacques were subpoenaed to testify at the trial. When it was his turn, John was friendly, relaxed, and answered all questions posed to him in a straightforward manner. Wearing an expensive suit and sporting a full head of dark hair, the 22-year-old looked like a handsome movie star rather than an explosive expert.   

Jacques said Millis contacted the brothers to make a make a bomb and place it in the theater. “He agreed to pay us $50 without hesitation,” Jacques said. “I should’ve asked him for $100.” Jacques revealed the code name Millis gave him to use during any phone conversations the two might have. 

Jacques ground up three sticks of dynamite and put it in a jar along with a blasting cap and a 36” fuse. After the second feature started, he set the jar the on the floor by his seat. He lit the fuse and when it sputtered to life, the brothers ran for the exit, and each headed in opposite directions. When they heard the explosion, they drifted back to the theater and blended with the spectators. On the Monday following, Millis handed Jacques a packet with two $20 bills and a $10 inside. 

Millis had hoped to affix blame for the Parkway explosion by implicating Jack and his brother. He denied paying them, saying, “They came up with the idea on their own.” Files seized in the raid on 164‘s office said otherwise. 

Despite overwhelming evidence that proved he was the mastermind of the attack, Millis’ lawyers kept the jury focused on the Jacques brothers. Ultimately Millis was acquitted, and the Jacques were sentenced to 10-year terms at the state penitentiary in Waupun. Meanwhile attacks on the theaters trailed off as both side reached an agreement. 

Leslie and John Jacques were pardoned two years into their sentence. John went to Europe and fought with Loyalist Army of Spain. In 1938 he graduated from the State Teachers College and was hired at the Wisconsin Historical Society. In 1959 he escorted actress Rhonda Fleming in Milwaukee and Madison before taking her to Baraboo. Fleming was doing press interviews for her latest film, The Big Circus. He passed away in 1971 at age 61 

Upon release from Waupun, Leslie Jacques joined an auto theft ring that worked in Los Angeles. He was captured in 1941 and returned to the state penitentiary. He seems to have vanished into history.  

Chester Millis became a projectionist at the Riverside theater in 1933 and opened a skating rink at State Fair Park Coliseum four years later. In 1950 he became the financial advisor for the George S. Patton post of the Amvets. He passed away in 1962 at the age of 71. 

Daniel Hoan, lawyer, businessman, socialist. Elected the city’s second socialist mayor in 1916 and served 24 consecutive years. Hoan passed away in 1961.