Everything Made of Marble/A Moment of Pleasure

While at work on Thursday I got an email from a man that works in my office inviting me to come to a function put on by Jobs with Justice. I'm on one of the committees for the organization, but since I hadn't been around for a month, (and let me tell you that month felt like forever) I felt like an intruder rather than a committee member. I decided to go, mostly because I did want to see my fellow JWJ committee people, and because a few of my coworkers were going. I like my job, but I actually get to work on projects with a small group of people and I thought it would be nice to get to know some other people in the office better.
What I didn't know was that the ceremony was being held in the infamous 32BJ building on Canal Street. I'm reading this book right now "Solidarity for Sale" which talks about the corruption of unions and how it has undermined the labor movement; 32BJ, one of the most mobbed-up unions in American history has a prominent place in it. I'd heard stories about the penthouse at the top of the union office, the elevator that only had two stops- the garage and the penthouse floor. The Vegas casino style security cameras The presidents office (now used for accounting) that had floors of marble, 360 degree panoramic view of the city, all the furniture plush leather. I couldn't go up to the penthouse of course, but even on the bottom floor, all of the walls were made of beautiful black and white marble. It was something out of a corrupted dream. Calling it ostentatious would be far too kind. I can imagine a gaudy mob boss telling the architect that he wanted EVERYTHING to be made with marble, no matter the cost, it'd just come out of the workers pension fund or something.

I work in the labor movement, it's tough sometimes to come to grips with the legacy that it's steeped in, even when you are close to not being a part of it. It's some good mixed with a whole lot of bad. Fitch's thesis in "Solidarity for Sale" is that the entire set-up of the American labor movement is flawed. He says that the local union set-up naturally devolves into nothing more than a Middle Age era fiefdom, given time. Union bosses play the role of lord/patron doling out jobs and access, while the members are the serfs/clients, their union dues analogous to the crops given up by the serfs of old. Fitch does a good job of explaining why, once the client/patron system had solidified, the labor movement in the United States developed the way that it did; the corruption, the clientelism, the gradual takeover of the Mafia, the dwindling density, and the inability to pass any meaningful pro-worker legislation. What he does not do a good job of explaining is why American unions did not go through the metamorphosis that European unions did- from trade unions based on jurisdiction, to more centralized labor unions with a diverse occupational mix. Fitch dismisses the cultural claim for why American unions are more corrupt (Americans are more violent, Americans have less communal connections) stating that countries like Italy and Japan have flourishing criminal organizations that do not infiltrate the labor unions.
And yet, Fitch implies that cultural reasons play a part in the differences through describing the distinctions between the two types of unionism. European unions are centralized and bureaucratic- in American unions "the individual exchanges loyalty for protection," a more individualistic mindset. Our country's predisposition to federalism and local control definitely played a part in how our unions developed, with unintended consequences. Local control certainly has its strong points, particularly greater knowledge of occurrences on the ground, and the speediness with which the organization can act absent a large bureaucracy. What local control lacks is the ability to foster best practices and higher operating costs because of the inability to take advantage of economies of scale. Add that to the fact that the unions are based on territory and territorial jurisdictions need to be protected from encroachment. Without clear territorial legislation (like there is for cable television) who is going to provide that protection? Think about what our business environment would look like without the government setting up clear protection of property rights. It's no wonder that the thugs quickly got involved in the labor movement, who best to provide some much needed muscle.

I haven't come up with a coherent plan of action for labor unions yet (don't worry I'm working on it). I think the key, however, is to focus on helping out all workers. Organizing and getting members is important as it helps to pay for our efforts, but regardless of whether or not someone wants to join a union, we still want to do what's best for them. Having greater union density would help, but having a clear legislative and economic plan would be even better. And the plan can't be scattershot- we can't preach global solidarity while at the same time championing protectionism for certain domestic industries. It has to have an education plank that examines the viability of all options and that emphasizes integration and the equalization of opportunities. If it means revamping the set-up of teachers unions in order to better our education then we should do it. All institutions look out for their best interests, but the difference is that as unions we say that we aspire to something higher, and we should. If we want to play by the rules that apply to corporations, then we're in the wrong game.
Our thoughts have to be global; I actually break with many union members when it comes to things like free trade. If we truly care about justice and the plight of all working people we have to come to some kind of consensus on how to best incorporate people in the developing world, and in the short-term that may mean higher prices and more job losses, but if we do it right we can pick up the pieces. It's not easy, but it's most certainly worth it.
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The actual event was pleasant, a few people gave really good speeches, some people were endearing but long-winded. The food was good, the open bar was even better. I stayed the entire time because a coworker needed to talk to one of the award recipients, I sat in the shadows or chatted with some of my JWJ buddies while he did. This blond-haired woman who came by herself sat next to me, smiling as she nibbled on one of those cheese squares, I think it was cheddar. She was a little wrinkled, maybe an inch past 35, and she was reading this Tarot card book which kept smacking against this monstrosity of a clear bracelet that she wore on her right wrist. It looked like a clear hard-plastic hoola-hoop, she could have worn it around her waist for God's sake. I know how it feels to be alone at an event so when she smiled at me I gave her a little smile back.
"So what brings you out here," I said.
She put her book down on the table.
"I got an email, thought I'd come by," her Lower Eastside accent was strong enough to pull a train, it almost hurt my ears.
"Yeah, me too. So where do you work?" I asked politely.
"1199, right on 42nd Street. I'm usually on the 7th floor but I work out of Brooklyn too," she said.
"I'm right in that building too, work on the 9th floor. Maybe we'll pass ways some time." My voice was full of pseudo-excitement. She too a loooong sip of merlot.
"Yeah, maybe. I just got back from Michigan, though. They sent us all out for the election."
"Yeah, same here. I was in Milwaukee for a month, working on logistics. Didn't get to knock on a single door," I said between bites of my sandwich.
And then she got this look, of very mild disgust- and she laughed, but it was more like a snort-laugh, a snlaugh. The kind of snlaugh that escapes the nasal cavity of sophisticated Lower Eastsiders who wear a gray t-shirt and jeans to a classy event when they so much as hear about some podunk town in the Mid-West.
"Ugh... I went there for the primaries.. let me tell ya," she said with another one of those exruciating snlaughs. "That's one place I'll never go back to you know."
Now, I could have played this a few ways. Naturally, I couldn't agree with her because that would be a betrayal of my mother's home and of a city that I use to live in and like. I could just say that I liked Milwaukee and that I had a fun time. I could have said nothing, taken a sip of my wine, and changed the subject. I mean, I'd only lived there for three years, my dad was in the Navy, and I wasn't REALLY from anywhere....
"Well, I'm from Milwaukee and..." I didn't have to finish, I just loved the transformation of her face, the sheepish grin, the eyes looking downward, such sweet revenge.
"There goes my foot right in my mouth," she said, her lips still smashed like silly putty into the shape of that same goofy grin.

Serves you right you cocky ass New Yorker!