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About Northwest labor press. (Portland , Ore.) 1987-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 6, 2017)
PAGE 10 | January 6, 2017 | NORTHWEST LABOR PRESS LABOR HISTORY “Just because you’re Catholic doesn’t mean you can’t throw rocks at scabs.” Song of the Stubborn One Thousand By Don McIntosh It’s said that those who go through a strike never forget it. Peter Shapiro took part in a mid- ’80s cannery strike as a commu- nity supporter, and never forgot it. Thirty years later, retired from a career in the U.S. Postal Serv- ice, he wrote a book about that remarkable strike — a rare union victory during an era of union- busting. Song of the Stubborn One Thousand: The Watsonville Can- ning Strike, 1985-87 tells the story of an 18-month struggle by 1,000 frozen food workers in Watsonville, California during which not a single striker crossed the picket line. Instead, a union workforce composed mostly of Mexican immigrant women forced the company owner into bankruptcy, and waged a five-day wildcat strike against the new plant owner to keep their health benefits intact. Shapiro studied labor history at University of California Berkeley, but in 1975, de- cided he’d rather try to make labor Peter Shapiro history as a union activist than study it in a university setting. He later be- came a union officer in Portland- based National Association Let- ter Carriers Branch 82. But in the mid-’80s, he was working at the Oakland post office, and serving as the labor editor of Unity, a left-wing newspaper. When the strike in Watsonville began, he attended support rallies, helped co-workers collect canned goods for the strikers, and spread word about the strike in his newspaper. In the 1980s, Watsonville, 30 miles south of San Jose, was the frozen food capital of the world, with eight frozen food plants and 5,000 workers. Watsonville Can- ning, with 1,000 employees, was the largest. Teamsters Local 912 had ne- gotiated industry-leading multi- employer contracts for 30 years. That meant frozen food compa- nies had the same pay and bene- fits, so they didn’t need to com- pete by keeping wages low. What set the Watsonville struggle in motion was a disas- trous deal that local union presi- dent Richard King made with Watsonville Canning owner — Gloria Betancourt To dramatize their plight and appeal to God for help, striking cannery work- ers marched on their knees from the plant gates to a Catholic church. Mort Console in 1982. Console claimed he needed a temporary pay cut in order for the company to stay profitable, and King agreed to reduce wages from $7.06 to $6.66 an hour. King, union president since 1967, had close personal rela- tionships with the cannery own- ers, including Console’s father, the company founder. But the younger Console had new ideas about how to run the company. The ’80s was when business executives lost any shame about living large and flaunting excess while busting unions and de- manding pay cuts from workers. Console embodied that lifestyle. He had expensive cars, two pri- vate jets, a large house, and $200,000 worth of furniture. Console’s sweetheart union deal angered competitor Shaw Canning, so in 1985, Shaw with- drew from the master agreement and demanded the same favor- able terms. Meanwhile, Console, instead of being grateful for the last pay cut, now demanded a further cut to $4.65 an hour — a $2 an hour cut. Not that he was serious. Console had hired Littler Mendelson, one of the earliest and most significant union-bust- ing law firms in the country. On their advice, he was attempting a strategy then being employed across America: provoke a strike with outrageous demands, hire permanent replacements, oper- ate with scab labor for 12 months, then legally move to de- certify the union in a govern- ment-administered election in which scabs get to vote. To weather any business difficul- ties, Console had secured an $18 million line of credit from Wells Fargo and built up inventory in the months before. Rejecting the demands, work- ers at both Shaw and Watsonville Canning went out on strike. Local 912 was totally unprepared. It had no strike fund. Strikers had to do everything themselves, organ- izing the food bank, the hardship fund, the picket line, security. King didn’t even speak Spanish, the language most of the workers spoke, and after the strike got un- der way, he soon disappeared and announced his retirement. Government repression began immediately. Just 15 hours after the first pickets went up, a Cali- fornia judge issued a restraining order that effectively outlawed mass picketing: no more than four pickets within 20 feet of each of the plant’s eight gates; pickets had to be at least 10 feet from each other; and no one else was allowed to congregate within 100 yards of Watsonville Canning unless they were enter- ing the premises to go to work. To enforce the restraining order, the local police chief immedi- ately put his entire force on 12- hour shifts, ensuring that at least a dozen officers would be on the scene at all times. Violence and property de- struction did play a role in the strike. Women strikers filled socks with sand to bust out win- dows of buses ferrying the scabs, or followed buses and hid be- hind bushes while throwing rocks at them as they passed. Trucks were sabotaged, and no one was ever caught. As one of the strike leaders, Gloria Betan- court, put it: “Just because you’re Catholic doesn’t mean you can’t throw rocks at scabs.” At length, higher-ups in the Teamsters Joint Council leader- ship stepped in and reached a deal with the canning companies that weren’t trying to bust the union. To preserve the master agree- ment, workers at all the other can- neries took a wage cut to $5.85 an hour, with a “me-too” clause so the union couldn’t let Watsonville further undercut their rate. That isolated Watsonville Canning, the true rogue in the bunch, and upped the stakes for the strikers. Shapiro says the turning point was the defeat of the attempt to decertify the union. Console’s union-busting plan required that scabs outvote strikers so that legally there’d be no more union. But he had a hard time getting enough scabs, and strik- ers made an incredible effort to stay together. In the end, Console lost everything and declared bank- ruptcy. Creditors took over the company and negotiated a union contract workers could accept. Was it truly a victory? Workers were making $6.60 when they went out, and $5.85 when they went back in. But as United Farm Workers leader Cesar Chavez said at the time, these workers had had no functioning union af- ter 30 years without a strike. Now they had a union, and it would make a difference going forward. And it did, for a few years at least. In the ’90s, Watsonville’s frozen food industry fell victim to Turn to Page 11 from Amalgamated Transit Union - Division 757 Representing working men and women in Oregon and Washington at: TriMet • Lane Transit District • C-TRAN/C-VAN • Salem Area Transit • MV • Rogue Valley Transportation District • Bend Area Transit • Canby Area Transit • Tillamook County Transportation District • Valley Transit Association • First Transit (TriMet Lift, Portland) • City of North Bonneville • Portland Public Schools • First Student (Portland Public Schools, Corvallis School District, Corvallis City Transit) • First Transit Regions 1, 2 and 3 • Lamar Advertising Company • ATU Retired Member Chapter
