On May 1, 1950, all eyes were on the small town of Mosinee, Wisconsin. At 6 a.m., five armed men raided the house of Ralph Kronenwetter, the mayor of the town (which held about 1,400 residents at this time), leading him to prison. Agents of the self-described United Soviet States of America, they were taking over.
The coup was very well coordinated: The police department was disbanded, and the local newspaper was overtaken as well. The latter even published a picture of Joseph Stalin and an outline of The Communist Manifesto, which included calls for no private property, the opening of labor camps, and a ban on religion. Pistol-toting Soviets forced the nuns out of a local Catholic school and ushered them into stockades, and also arrested those who sang hymns in the streets. Executives at the local paper mill—one of the town’s biggest employers—were incarcerated. School children were forced to wear uniforms made up of a white shirt and black pants, and the streets were lined with Russian flags. The Communists removed many books from the library, increased grocery prices to prevent a run on supplies, and placed armed patrols in the now-popular soup kitchens in town to maintain order. Even the local restaurant changed cuisine, adding borscht to its menu.
By the next day, however, it was over. No, the American National Guard didn’t intervene; they didn’t have to. The entire event was a stunt—a mock invasion aimed to reinforce the dangers of communism. The faux coup was the idea of the state’s chapter of the American Legion, a national organization of war veterans whose mission includes “foster[ing] patriotism and responsible citizenship.” At the time, that mission included ringing the alarm bell about the evils of communism.
Communism was both a real and perceived threat in America; the Soviet Union was the country’s main antagonist, with military and weapons rivaling the United States and an appetite for ideological expansion to match. Some Americans—most notably Senator Joseph McCarthy—also used this fear as a cudgel against internal enemies, accusing other Americans of being Communists and, explicitly, un-American. Reacting both to the very real threat of the Soviet Union and the alarmism of McCarthyites, the American Legion believed it was necessary to remind Americans of the nature and risk of a Communist takeover. So, they staged a fake one.
Mosinee itself became the staging ground because of a man named Francis F. Schweinler. He was the owner of the local newspaper, the Mosinee Times, a very active member of the state chapter of the American Legion, and a retired brigadier general. Schweinler sent letters to his fellow Mosinee citizens about the ruse, calling it an “object lesson in Americanism” and explaining that the town would be doing a great service to everyone else by “revealing to the world how it is to live under Communists.”
The stunt got the attention Schweinler and the American Legion were after. Many papers across the country wrote about the events over the next few days and Life magazine, then one of the most influential publications in the country, covered the event in detail. Further, a film crew captured footage of the event for a future documentary. Schweinler and his fellow organizers had told their story in a unique, captivating way.
Unfortunately, the fake takeover wasn’t entirely bloodless. Mayor Kronenwetter led a rally at the end of the day, marking the fall of communism in Mosinee. During the rally he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and lost consciousness, passing away five days later.