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By
DAVID PHINNEY ABCNEWS.com
F L I
N T,
Mich.
, July 2 -- If you’re
looking for a labor strike with rioting workers wielding
baseball bats, determined faces screaming at cops and poor
children dressed in tattered clothing, try opening a history
book chronicling the 1930s.
Today’s
labor struggle between General Motors and the United Auto
Workers in
Flint
,
Mich.
, slaps a brand new face
on what factory unions are all about at the dawn of the 21st
century.
Hawaiian
Vacations and 401 K’s
Auto
workers eyeing some free time on their hands because of the
strike have booked Hawaiian vacations. They talk about
personal 401 K plans, cabin retreats in the woods and
hatching real
estate
deals on the side. Others see an opportunity to repair
roofs, build the new deck on the house, or pour concrete for
a driveway.
“We’re
union kids,” says Kimberly Jones, who recalls spending her
childhood in the local union hall when her father was a
union activist and helped secure the kind of income
Flint
auto workers now enjoy.
“The people before us fought for our jobs .... Now,
we’re fighting to keep them.”
Helping
launch the first major strike since 1970, Jones recalls
getting goose bumps on June 5 when she joined the walkout of
3,400 workers at the GM Flint Metal Center.
The
factory is so pivotal to GM operations, that the walkout
forced the company to quickly shut down 26 out 29 plants in
the
United States
,
Canada
and
Mexico
. There’s no point to
doing business without the fenders and other parts that
Flint
produces, so 172,000 GM
workers are now idled because of the strikes. The only plant
still operating during the shutdown is GM’s Ramos Arizpe
small-car plant in
Mexico
.
Striking
for the Middle Class
Even
though labor costs amount to less than 10 percent of the
price tag on a new car, striking workers freely boast about
their salaries. Factory jobs “pay real good,” thank you.
Semiskilled
jobs on the production line range from $60,000 to $80,000 a
year. That’s not bad money in a town where a comfortable,
three-bedroom home in a decent neighborhood goes for
$100,000.
We’re
talking middle class here. Some even vote Republican --
certainly not the strongest political ally to traditional
union goals. One 30-year veteran recalls raking in
$96,000-with overtime-just three years ago.
“But
I had to live there,” says Jimmy Ray, pointing over to the
sprawling network of factories covering an area equal to a
dozen city blocks.
Ray
plans to spend his strike time renovating a house he bought
for $24,000 with hopes to sell for $40,000. Standing across
from the factories at the West Site Auto Employees Federal
Credit Union where workers deposit their $150 strike checks,
Ray’s buddies joke with him about being
“half-a-millionaire.”
“No...
No.... “ Ray shakes his head. He cracks a half-moon smile
as broad as his ample belly. After pausing to spit tobacco
juice in the parking lot, Ray changes the subject:
“These
shop rats got it made,” he says. “This place used to be
a hell hole.”
Flint
Reels from Decades of Job Loss
So
what’s the dispute about? Very simple. Holding onto
high-wage jobs that pay for a piece of the American dream.
Workers believe these jobs could drift away without their
constant vigilance.
General
Motors has been pulling up stakes in
Flint
for the past two decades
as it opens new factories in
Mexico
and
China
. Thousands of jobs have
already been lost to those countries where workers line up
for a whopping $5 a day in wages.
So
when GM attempted to slip important stamping equipment out
the door over Memorial Day Weekend,
Flint
workers hit the roof. Now
they want renewed assurances the company will invest
hundreds of millions in local plants as a signal it plans to
be in town for the long term.
“They’re
reneging on their promise. They promised they were
staying,” says Bruce Sage, an auto worker with 26 years
production experience under his belt who holds a plum,
$80,000-a-year union factory gig. “We’re just trying to
hang on .... Keeping what we have.”
Even
in a booming economy, downtown
Flint
still reels from job
losses that left boarded-up store fronts and abandoned homes
along downtown streets. Even the old General Motors plant
where the first UAW strikers held their violent 1937 sit-in
has all but gone. In its place stands a new building -- the
“
Great Lakes
Technology
Center
,” where a collection of
small businesses now call home.
One
more major plant closing would deliver a mortal blow, Sage
predicts. And while some workers have plenty of money to
hang in there for a strike that could last through August,
others soon will be strapped to make ends meet.
“Those
people don’t talk so much,” he says. “Plenty of people
put off repairing their homes because they may need to eat
with their money.”
‘Saving
Like a Madman’
Metal
plant worker Steve Newman says he can make out’ just fine.
“I’ve been saving like
a madman,” he says. As an active investor, he’s been
cashing in on a booming stock market while swapping stock
tips with three others workers who share costs on an
investor newsletter.
Walking
outside after depositing his strike check, he looks at his
list of things-to-do, including finishing a deck his wife
wants on their new house.
“This
is all political,” he says of the strike. “It’s become
a personal thing between the union and the corporation.”
After
22 years, two months and two days of working in
Flint
auto plants, Newman
freely admits he never attended a union meeting, and he is
critical of both sides. But when push comes to shove, it’s
the union that sticks up for his interests in a company the
size of GM.
“Once
these jobs are gone, they’re gone,” he offers. “But
it’s funny. I bet two-thirds of the union members never
show up for a meeting. Even though it’s their life, they
still don’t act on it.”
Others
say their eyes have been opened. Gerolyn Sperowl, a
production worker for 13 years, finds herself helping out in
the union hall for the first time in her life by
distributing strike checks. “I realize what solidarity and
standing together means now,” she explains. “We’re
making good issues. There’s no way I’m not going to stay
involved now. We’re fighting for our jobs.”
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