Seattle: Showdown at Local 86
Michael Eisenscher
From: SWEAT Labor Magazine <sw...@sfo.com>
Subject: Showdown at Local 86 by Ben Jacklet
In the midst of Seattle's building boom, local ironworkers get a raw deal
from their union leaders
by Ben Jacklet
It was a crisp autumn day in Tukwila when a crowd of some 150 iron
workers gathered outside the offices of Local 86 to see what was to
become of Brother Wayne Stanton.
Stanton, an iron worker for 25 years and a grandfather of six, was about
to stand trial for the crime of "inciting dissatisfaction and
dissension." What Stanton did to provoke these charges seems harmless
enough: He wrote a letter.
In the letter Stanton informed his union's district council, its
International leadership, and the companies it negotiates with, that the
rank and file members of Local 86 were not in favor of the contract their
leaders had signed. He probably didn't need to remind union leaders that
the iron workers of Seattle, Portland, Spokane, and Tacoma voted their
contracts down twice this summer-but he reminded them anyway. He also
pointed out that accepting a contract after the workers had rejected it
was a violation of the union's constitution.
The only response Stanton received to his letter was an official notice
that he was being brought up on charges.
A Union Inquisition
There was no chanting at this rally, no call-and-response cheerleading.
The workers looked weary as they waited for the doors to open at Local
86. Many of them seemed deeply upset.
It's been one hell of a tumultuous year for Seattle's union iron workers.
The day after they held a rally at the Kingdome parking lot for better
wages and benefits, they lost control of their local union. Within a week
the keys to Local 86 were turned over to representatives from the
International Association of Bridge, Structural, Ornamental and
Reinforcing Ironworkers. The International moved into Seattle to "restore
order" by imposing a trusteeship onto Local 86, taking control of their
treasury, canceling all their meetings, accepting the resignations of
their top two leaders, kicking out the elected trustees, and finally,
bringing up Stanton on charges (union leaders justified their actions
against him with an obscure passage from the union's constitution).
Stanton didn't appear nervous as he leaned against a car awaiting trial.
He kept his comments brief: "I don't feel I did anything wrong." He
entered the union hall with his friend and fellow ironworker Kim Brahs,
whose name also appeared on the letter in question (although Stanton
signed for everyone).
Stanton was not granted an attorney for his trial. The union refused to let
non-iron-workers into the building, thus barring Stanton's wife Virginia
Boggs, as well as legal counsel and journalists.
I waited outside, with no idea what was going on inside or what the
justification could be for such strange charges. For two hours Stanton
was interrogated by John T. "Buddy" Ruel, from Local 1 in Chicago, Dan
Gimbel of the Northwest District Council, and Joe Ward, the official who
has been running Local 86 since the International moved in to restore
order. When I requested an interview from Gimbel, a muscle-bound guy with
a Dick Butkus mustache, he referred me to Joe Ward. All I got out of Ward
was a brisk "no comment" followed by a stare obviously intended to
intimidate me-which it did.
While Stanton faced his union inquisition, his friends and
supporters-mostly guys with wide shoulders wearing iron worker baseball
caps and iron worker jackets-congregated in small groups in the parking
lot and grumbled about the lack of democracy in their union. Several
carried with them copies of their most recent newsletter, with its
inspirational message from union president Jake West: "It's your vote!
Use it or lose it!"
"We voted their contract down twice and the International is shoving it
down our throats," Dennis Dahl told me. "Now they're going after Wayne
because he stood up to them. That's not America. I mean, what is this? You
can't talk?
This isn't Russia. What's happening here is they're trying to control us.
But we're not about to be controlled."
While I was listening to Dahl, the iron workers formed a circle around a
couple of speakers. Sara Luthens-the sole representative of Seattle's
progressive labor contingent to make the rally-compared the struggle of
the iron workers to the recent push for justice by the union musicians at
the Fifth Avenue Theater. "We won that struggle because it was about
democracy," said Luthens. "And that's what this struggle is about too."
Actually, one reason the musicians at Fifth Avenue Theater were
successful was because Seattle labor got behind them one hundred percent,
staging massive protests in the heart of downtown Seattle, pressuring for
change the old-fashioned way, through noise and numbers.
Scanning over the crowd of iron workers on hand at that remote parking
lot in Tukwila, it was clear the higher-ups from local labor had left
Local 86 out in the cold. But why?
Iron worker Lee Newgent, a friend of
Stanton's, stood up to speak. He thanked people for showing up and asked
them to stay for the entire trial. Then he made a request: "Let's keep it
peaceful, all right? Violence always works against you. Believe me. They
start singling out people, start cutting the legs out from under them, we
lose everything." There was more grumbling at this rally than cheering,
no uplifting speeches about the "resurgence of the labor movement" from
leaders like Ron Judd of the King County Labor Council or Rick Bender of
the Washington State Labor Council, or John Sweeney of the AFL-CIO.
After the crowd had spread back out across the parking lot, I spoke for a
long time with an iron worker about the International's track record with
overruling its own workers.
"People are just outraged," he told me. "And there's gonna be a lot more
pissed off people before this thing is over." When I asked for his name
he shook his head. "I don't want to end up floating in the Duwamish. I'm
walking around with a target on my back as it is."
'Surrender and Deliver Immediately'
Local 86 of the International Association of Bridge, Structural,
Ornamental and Reinforcing Iron Workers has over 1,200 members in the
Seattle area. It is one of six locals in the union's Northwest District,
and one of four (along with Local 14 in Spokane, Local 29 in Portland,
and Local 114 in Tacoma) that negotiate together on their contracts.
Seattle's construction boom being what it is, iron workers here have no
shortage of projects to choose from: stadiums, museums, waterfront
condos, new buildings at Microsoft, Boeing, the University of Washington.
Few if any cities in the US are redefining themselves at the clip that
Seattle is, and iron workers here can get all the work they want and then
some. You would think that would give them power at the bargaining table,
assuming that the iron workers and their union are on the same page. That
hasn't been true at Local 86 this year. Some iron workers will tell you
it's never been the case.
Back in May, when Local 86's business manager George Koontz was
negotiating the new
contract, several iron workers asked how it was looking. Koontz responded
that he had been advised not to discuss the negotiations. That pissed off
the workers present-this being their contract-and added to the tension
between some unhappy iron workers and Koontz that had been simmering for a
while.
The iron workers received their copies of the proposed contract along
with a ballot on June 15. The pay rates fell short of what they wanted,
especially considering the shortage of quali?ed workers in the area and
Seattle's soaring cost of living. The contract also left them with no
chance to negotiate for five years; no change in the time required to make
retirement; and a big increase in the amount of money going to the union.
At their next union meeting the iron workers who showed up were unanimous
in opposing the contract. "They shouted me down," recalls Koontz. "They
acted like I wanted to sleep with their old ladies." Koontz agreed to let
the workers set up a phone bank the following weekend. He also sent out a
letter to the membership announcing his own opposition to the contract.
During the phone bank, the iron workers also spread the word about a
rally scheduled for June 30th at the Kingdome. Koontz claims they did so
behind his back, and that it wasn't a rally but an "unsanctioned work
stoppage," a "wildcat strike" that could threaten billions of dollars'
worth of Project Labor Agreements between contractors, developers, and
unions for a number of huge public projects lined up in Seattle.
In spite of strong objections from several prominent Seattle labor
leaders as well as Koontz, 300 iron workers attended the rally.
It was a lively if disordered demonstration.
One worker, talking to a TV news reporter, declared, "We'll shut this
town down!"
The following day the International union moved to place Local 86 under
trusteeship.
Koontz and business agent Craig Carlson announced their imminent
resignations, citing disorder and death threats. The
International's general president Jake West signed a letter July 1 which
stated, "All offices of Local Union No. 86 shall be and are hereby
declared vacant... All officers of Local Union No. 86 are hereby
instructed to surrender and deliver immediately all funds, assets,
property, books, keys to the office...
records, and other documents."
Turbulence
To take control of one of its locals, a union has to file a form with the
US Department of Labor explaining why the trusteeship is necessary. One
of the possible reasons listed on the form is "to restore democratic
procedures." That box was not checked on the Local 86 form; the primary
reason given was "turbulence in the Local Union regarding the collective
bargaining agreement."
By all accounts, the iron worker meeting at the Labor Temple July 2 was
turbulent. One worker likened it to "a Wild West show... 400 pissed-off
guys and no leaders." Koontz and Carlson didn't attend. The workers
learned that the contract had been rejected 839-411, and also that Koontz
and Carlson were
retiring.
Some of the workers were furious enough about the prospect of losing
their local that the next day they stormed down to the Local 86 business
office in Tukwila to confront Koontz.
A crowd of 40 or 50 people surrounded the building, and four men actually
forced their way into the building to repossess the office computer (with
its financial files), keys to the Local 86 vehicles, and the Local 86
credit card. They pulled the union charter off the wall and ripped it up.
The Tukwila Police Department sent four squad cars to the scene.
Police escorted the men out of the building, making no arrests.
All through that Friday and into the evening Koontz met with the
dissidents two or three at a time. He also wrote to all members of Local
86 what he called his "last communication to you as the Business Manager
of the best Local Union I have ever worked in." In this letter Koontz
blamed the disintegration of the local on "the actions of some
ill-informed and politically motivated officers and their followers," who
"tied my hands and made me unable to do the job I was elected to do. My
heart breaks for the good hard-working members who put their faith in me
to make the best decisions for our benefit and futures. I feel I have
failed you all."
Within two weeks, the Northwest iron workers were given another
opportunity to vote on a negotiated contract-slightly different from the
first one. Joe Ward sent Local 86 members a letter suggesting that they
"seriously consider voting in favor to Accept." But the vote wasn't even
close: in Seattle it was 93 for, 384 against, and altogether it lost,
649-521.
It is unclear whether the contract was signed the next day. Stanton and
other iron workers only heard it had been signed through the rumor mill;
they still haven't gotten an answer from their union on this question, and
they haven't received copies of their contract either.
"Proceed at Your Own Risk"
When he learned that the contract he voted against had been signed,
Stanton responded with his letter. "Because the signatures were in
violation of the By-laws," wrote Stanton, "they are to no effect and you
proceed at your own risk if you implement the contract. We recommend that
you... resume negotiations immediately."
In his letter, Stanton invited anyone who doubted his reading of the
union bylaws to contact him. No one did-until September 1, when Joe Ward
officially pressed charges against him, writing: "E. Wayne Stanton,
#960993, has participated in action to incite dissatisfaction and
dissension among the members in opposition to the negotiated contract.
Stanton has signed and sent a letter... threatening the contractors to
proceed at their own risk. This action has caused concern by the
contractors: Stanton continues to engage in conduct that interfered with
my effort to maintain a working
relationship with contractors."
If found guilty, Stanton could be fined up to $5,000 and more
importantly, lose his union card and his benefits-his livelihood, his
family's security, and the job he's done proudly for 25 years.
Tough, Dangerous Work
Behind the closed doors of Local 86, the interrogation of Brother Wayne
Stanton continued. Outside Lee Newgent recounted for me the long
chronology of events that had brought Local 86 into the mess it was in. He
also educated me about the problems with the contract-a document members
still have not seen, some four months after it was signed over their vote
of no confidence. Seattle Iron Workers make roughly $24 an hour and pay
the union $77.50 per month in dues and "work assessment" fees. Under the
new contract, their hourly rate would increase slightly but their "work
assessment" charges would be going up dramatically, from a ?at rate to an
hourly rate, which would penalize the many iron workers who work crazy
hours, sometimes 60 a week, to earn as much as they can when they're
young and healthy. As part of this "work assessment," the union would take
2.1 percent, not only of the worker's wages but of their benefits package
as well. Still, for all the grumbling about the union, for most of the
iron workers present to support Stanton, the union was a defining part of
their identities, and their role in Seattle's construction boom was a
source of pride. They weren't talking about leaving the union-they were
talking about winning it back.
Iron work is tough, physically demanding, highly dangerous work.
Insurance companies require twice as much money to cover an iron worker
as they do for other workers in the building trades. In the month before
Stanton's trial, two iron workers died and another was permanently
injured. A young Seattle iron worker named Mike Sessinger fell to his
death at a construction project at the University of Washington on the
same day that an ironworker in Atlanta died building a new sports stadium,
several days after a man was permanently disabled in Beaverton, Oregon
from an accident on the job.
Just over a year ago the former president of Local 86, Nick Colouzis-a
legend in the trade whose photograph hangs on the wall of
Seattle's Labor Temple-died along with two other iron workers building
the new Portland International Airport. Colouzis and his co-workers fell
to their deaths when a 70-foot steel girder collapsed beneath them.
Iron workers have lost their lives building a new post office in Chicago,
a new federal courthouse in Portland, and a new roof for a Reynolds
aluminum factory near Muscle Shoals, Alabama.
Whether they're part of the raising gang, plumb-ups, deckers, welders, or
rod-busters, iron workers earn their money. Newgent has been through
three knee surgeries. He has screwed-up fingers and a bad thumb and a body
full of welding scars. Like a lot of
on-the-edge blue-collar jobs, iron work draws fiercely independent
laborers who have developed a tight subculture with its
traditions. For example, every time the last piece of iron is raised up
to complete the skeleton of a new building, workers decorate it with a
tree to symbolize that no one died on the job-and a US flag to symbolize
that the work was done union.
For two hours Stanton faced the union on his own. He was asked about
strong-arm tactics, if he was involved in physical threats of
intimidation. He said no-he just expected his vote to count.
In the afternoon several iron workers
testified as character witnesses. They told Ruel and Ward that it wasn't
Wayne who was dissenting-they were in it together, and they felt they
were right.
At the end of the day Stanton emerged smiling.
"I want to thank everyone for being here today," he said. "'Preciate your
support. And we will prevail."
Brahs announced that Ruel would write up a report for the International,
and the board of trustees would make a decision based on the report. "I
think it went well," he said.
Newgent didn't walk away with much faith.
"Everything we do, the odds are stacked up against us," he said. I asked
if he had received any support from the labor leaders who talk so much
about the importance of the vote. Newgent shrugged. "I've talked to John
Sweeney, I've talked to Ron Judd, I've talked to Patty Murray, I've talked
to Adam Smith.
Nothing I guess they don't have time for us Cro-Magnon iron worker types.
They see us as throwbacks, cowboys. But iron workers take care of their
own and we take care of others, too. We've come a long ways."
Mob Ties
The iron workers union has raised its share of hell in the 20th century.
On October 1, 1910, 20 people died when the Los Angeles Times building
was dynamited during an iron workers' labor dispute. Two leaders of the
Los Angeles local later plead guilty to the crime, one of the most
serious terrorist acts ever committed on US soil.
More recently, the iron workers union has been accused of teaming up with
the Mafia in several cities. During the trial of organized crime boss
Vincent Gigante several witnesses testified that throughout the 1980s
Local 580 in New York collaborated with the Gigante family on an
elaborate, lucrative bid-rigging scam that swindled millions of dollars of
public money meant to go toward installing windows in New York City
housing projects. The Local 580 business agent was murdered during the
investigation of the swindle, but after years of pursuit-and weeks of key
testimony from a federally protected witness who was an iron
worker-Gigante was convicted of murder, conspiracy, and racketeering.
The International iron workers union is currently holding a dozen of its
local unions under trusteeship. It has taken over more than 20 throughout
the 1990s and eliminated another 20 altogether through consolidations. In
situations where the local is obviously corrupt and ripping off money, a
trusteeship makes sense. The International moves in, restores order,
helps the local make the transition back into legitimacy. But no one's
charging Local 86 iron workers with anything serious, other than almost
but not quite violating a Project Labor Agreement that they've never seen
a copy of, and then making some noise in a stand-off where no one was
charged with a crime. The biggest crime of the iron workers of Local 86
seems to be their obstinate refusal to be coerced.
And yet, for all the talk of the
"revitalization" of the labor movement, not one Seattle labor leader has
stepped forward to protest what Carl Biers of the Association for Union
Democracy has called "an obvious attempt by the iron workers'
International to quiet free speech, in violation of federal law." Off the
record, they insist that it's an internal problem and not something
outsiders should be sticking their noses into. In other words, look away
and let them work it out for themselves.
It is true that along with its questionable ties with mobsters, the iron
workers union also has a bad rep on the issue of diversity.
For years iron work was an all-white-male trade, and the union has been
sued for keeping minorities and women out. At the construction site for
the Mariners' stadium some iron workers were accused of slandering other
workers with racist comments. But to equate Seattle's dissident iron
workers with bigots and homophobes would be disingenuous. Denise Johnson,
who's been a member of Local 86 for 17 years, is both a member of Out
Front Labor, a progressive gay and lesbian labor group, and one of
Stanton's biggest supporters. She testified for herself and three others
at his trial, asking Stanton's accusers, "What part of no don't you
understand?"
The Wildcat
Seattle is a good Democratic town, as long as the vote doesn't get in the
way of building projects involving large piles of money.
Back on June 30, when hundreds of iron workers gathered in the parking
lot of the Kingdome during their coffee break, the project they were
supposedly "threatening" had already been shot down by the voters and
resurrected by the politicians. Millions of dollars were at stake. It was
a key time for the baseball stadium, a make-or-break time. The iron
workers saw their rally as an opportunity to express themselves in a legal
way, to make known their frustration with the deal they were being
offered. The King County Labor Council didn't see it that way; neither did
the Public Facilities District, which was in charge of the new stadium,
or HOK, the chief contractor.
Jack Gilchrist, the head of the King County Building Trades Council,
accompanied Koontz to the site of the new stadium the day before the
rally and told a bunch of pissed-off iron workers that if they went
through with the demonstration they would be violating the Project Labor
Agreement (PLA) for the baseball stadium and threatening future PLAs that
meant billions of dollars in union contracts. The iron workers basically
told Gilchrist to go to hell-this wasn't anything they had agreed to, and
they didn't remember voting on it. "Let's put it this way," recalls
Gilchrist, "they weren't in a real listening mood. They showed up angry
and they left angry."
A PLA is a compromise between unions,
contractors, and owners on major public projects. In Seattle they try to
do these things as cooperatively as possible-in exchange for good wage
rates and a guarantee that union workers will be hired, the union leaders
have to guarantee "labor
peace"-meaning no strikes. If things work out, the project comes in on
time and under cost, and Seattle's building trade unions manage to keep
the non-union contractors at bay. But along the way the unions give up
their collective bargaining power and the best trump card they have: the
threat of a strike.
Future PLAs will probably cover billions of dollars of work in Seattle,
from the expansion of the Convention Center and the redevelopment of Pier
18 at the Port, to a new football stadium and a new light rail system
throughout the region. But the developers won't agree to PLAs if there's
a threat of a strike. By invoking that threat, the iron workers put
Gilchrist and King County Labor Council leader Ron Judd (who also sits on
the PFD board) in the hot seat.
Death Threats
Gilchrist says that the rumor that he called the International and told
them to get their guys under control is ludicrous: "If they had hung up
on me, it would have been the best thing that could've happened." But
somebody called in the International, and although Gilchrist plays down
the importance of the Kingdome rally in retrospect, Koontz doesn't.
Koontz says when the iron workers told Gilchrist to fuck off and held
their rally in defiance, "they basically took my job away. I had to ask
the International to come in and take over so they could bring order to
the local. And that's exactly what they did."
Koontz didn't participate at the rally. His opponents say that's because
he was in cahoots with the International to shove the contract down the
throats of the workers. Koontz says it's because he had received death
threats that extended to his family.
Newgent allows that iron workers can be "pretty belligerent"-a quality
honed from years of union meetings with a stoand even stopped to greet
Wayne Stanton personally. He didn't seem to fear the crowd in any way. A
pair of SPD squad cars sat idling in the lot across the street.
The door to the meeting hall was manned by three Sergeants at Arms, who
checked each person to make sure they were union members in good
standing. Non-union members, including the press, were barred entry.
The purpose of the meeting was for the International to explain to
members of Local 86 why their union was being taken over.
Sitting at the podium frontcause Local 86 was in disarray. They entered
as evidence a police report from George Koontz's last day in charge of
the local, and letters from Koontz and Carlson describing the threats they
had received.
They also brought up the subject of the wildcat strike, and how it had
jeopardized future Project Labor Agreements guaranteeing union jobs in
Seattle.
Because I was unable to enter the room to hear their case directly (and
because neither Joe Ward nor the International have shown interest in
returning my phone calls), my only gauge for how the meeting went was the
commentary from the iron workers during breaks in the meeting. Of the
dozen or so iron workers I talked to, not one of them was happy.
People started storming out of the room fairly regularly once the floor
was opened to questions. The problem was, the guys up front wearing suits
were free to choose which questions to answer and which ones to ignore.
To a lot of iron workers it seemed like they were being prosecuted, and
the prosecutor was the judge as well. Ruel and Jones even went after the
iron workers for meeting without their permission (Ward canceled all
meetings when he took over but the workers have continued to get
together). And the whole point of the meeting was supposed to be for the
International to defend their actions.
At one point during the meeting Reul and Jones of the International took
a few other
"dissidents" aside to talk to them off the record. They wanted to know
what it would take to get Local 86 under control. The answer was simple:
democracy.
From all accounts very little was resolved at the November 21 meeting.
Many of the questions the iron workers brought with them remain
unanswered. They still have not seen their contract, which no one has
admitted to signing. They still haven't seen a financial statement. The
charges against Wayne Stanton are still being investigated.
The week after the meeting Local 86 iron workers received a letter
explaining that their dues will be going up in January, and the union
would begin immediately collecting as "work assessment" fees 2.1 percent
of their wages and their benefit funds. The letter explained that the
work assessment fee is "voluntary." But if you don't agree to it you risk
getting kicked off the job, fined $100 per month by the union, and facing
charges.
The letter was written with exactly the kind of top-down, coercive,
dictatorial tone that the iron workers of Local 86 have been grumbling
about for months and even years now.
It's clear from talking to these folks that if something doesn't change
soon, if somebody in a position of power doesn't start listening to their
side of the story, they might just shut this town down after all.
________________________
Reprinted in SWEAT Labor Magazine On-Line <<http://www.sweatmag.org> by
permmison of the author.
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