Fighting for a First Contract in Greensboro—and the Problem with ‘Bizz, Bizz, Bizz’
WAR STORIES By Phil Cohen
Editor’s Note: This is Part 1 of Phil’s latest three-part, first-person saga chronicling an intriguing organizing campaign that took place in Greensboro, North Carolina in the late 1990s.
Serta doesn’t manufacture mattresses. They sell their brand name and designs to licensees who produce their products and market directly to retailers.
On May 8, 1998, workers at Starlite Bedding, a licensee in Greensboro, North Carolina voted to join UNITE (formerly ACTWU and now Workers United.) A bargaining committee was elected and UNITE’s Southern Regional Director Harris Raynor initiated contract negotiations with a company attorney in what promised to be an amicable and productive process.
In September, I received a call from Harris. He’d been sitting with the committee across from management at the bargaining table, when Haynsworth attorney Lester Gibbons entered the room and politely introduced himself as the employer’s new representative. Haynsworth is one of America’s most infamous union-busting firms.
“I recognized this guy as soon as I laid eyes on him,” said Harris. “He double-crossed me several years ago when we were negotiating a first contract in South Carolina.” Gibbons had assured him that his client wanted to bargain in good faith and avoid a labor dispute. The process appeared to be unfolding in that spirit, with settlement likely at the next session.
Gibbons surprised Harris by walking into a restaurant where he was dining, sat down at his table and with a smile, handed him a decertification petition. The disingenuous good will at the bargaining table had been to keep the union off-guard while buying time to poison the well and gather signatures.
“I just got up and walked out of the damn room as soon as I saw him!” said Harris. “I ain’t never dealing with that guy again! I want you to take over negotiations and do whatever’s necessary to force these people to sign a good contract.”
UNITE had a one story union hall with offices adjoining a long, rectangular meeting area in an industrial neighborhood of Greensboro. I distributed a leaflet and organized an introductory meeting with union members for the following week after work ended at 3 p.m.
Mattress manufacturing is not labor intensive. The plant had sixty-eight bargaining unit employees, the majority of whom were Black men. Most were paid on a piece-rate system, similar to sewing plants. The base rate is determined by two factors–the hourly pay for achieving 100% production and the definition of how many units per hour equals 100%, calculated by industrial engineers. If one exceeds the base rate, earnings increase proportionately.
Forty workers were union members and nearly all of them showed up. They sat on folding metal chairs as I stood in front to introduce myself and explain my mission.
“Management has brought in a lawyer from one of the worst union-busting firms in the country to take over negotiations. It sends us all a clear message that the company doesn’t plan to sign a contract and wants to use this guy to just talk us around in circles and drag things out until people get discouraged and the union falls apart. We’re gonna have to fight like hell to change their mind. That’s why Harris sent me here, because this is what I do. But to start, I need to learn about your issues and problems so I can organize around them.”
Everyone began shouting at once, screaming about grievances and perceived insults. After trying to interject several times as the group tirade continued, I put my foot up on a chair and hollered, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The clamor subsided into dead silence as the stunned membership stared at me.
“You’ve got to decide if what you want is to run your mouths and complain, or to have a union. If it’s the first, you don’t need me. I’ll tell Harris it’s a lost cause and get assigned somewhere else. But if you’re serious about having a union, I’m your last best hope. You’re gonna have to trust me to run the campaign, but I can’t do it without you. Right now what I need is information that only you can give me. I need it to build legal cases against the company, and then put it in front of the TV cameras. But I can’t understand any of it if you’re all taking at once.
“I’m gonna ask some questions. If you have an answer, raise your hand and I’ll call on you one at a time. Don’t interrupt the person who has the floor. Let him finish. You’ll get your turn. The first thing we need to do is find evidence to file charges with the National Labor Relations Board.”
I explained how the federal agency regulated dealings between unions and employers, that it was illegal for management to interfere with or discriminate against union activity, and then asked if anyone had evidence to offer.
“Everyone knows this shit going on every day!” shouted an angry man without raising his hand. “Why you asking us this bullshit that everyone already knows? Let me tell you how my supervisor walks right past my job every day without even saying hello!”
“Everyone knows isn’t evidence,” I said. “The NLRB agents and attorneys don’t know and it’s our job to prove it to them. They’re not interested in gripes and hurt feelings if they don’t involve legal violations we can document. You’ll have to trust me to make that distinction and build a case we can win…and that’s the last time anyone talks without raising their hand.”
It was challenging trying to give a crash course in the NLRB to this emotionally volatile crowd but they finally started giving me concrete examples of what we needed. Management was routinely hostile and confrontational when dealing with union activists, ripping stickers off their clothing, and threatening to “vote the union out” in May. (The NLRB allows workers to decertify a union if it fails to negotiate a contract within one year of certification. This is always illegally orchestrated by employers who prolong bargaining until the year expires.) The company was disparately enforcing plant rules in favor of nonmembers, and making unilateral changes to the detriment of earning and working conditions while bargaining was in force. These combined allegations would make a formidable Board charge if we could support each with coherent affidavits.
“That was good! We’re making progress,” I said. “Now, I need to know about other serious issues at work that affect your jobs on a regular basis.”
I pointed to the first hand that went up. “I got a write-up three months ago for doing bad work but it wasn’t my fault! The machine wasn’t running right.”
“When we have a union contract we’ll be able to do something about things like that,” I said. “Right now, I need ongoing, day-to-day problems. I need shit big enough I can take to the newspapers.
A stocky man of medium height who was sitting in the middle of the room raised his hand and stood when called upon. “My name is David Robinson, but everyone calls me Heavy-D. I’m president of Local 2679 and work in shipping. Look, we got a real issue here with Bizzz, Bizzz, Bizzz and having to cut open these dirty used mattresses.” People clapped and he sat down.
I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. The orderly meeting again disintegrated as half a dozen men began shouting “Bizzz, Bizzz, Bizzz” and talking with animation about their own experiences. I wondered if there were bee hives inside the plant.
“Listen up!” I interjected. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. I need someone to give me more details”
Heavy-D again raised his hand. “Look here. You know how when you buy a new mattress you return the old one to the store, right? Well, the stores ship them back to us. Starlite don’t just throw them out. The give them to us to fix up, which means cutting them open, pulling out the stuffing and putting in new stuffing. Well the problem is, these old mattresses comes from all sorts of people. Occasionally we gets one that’s been soaked with urine or has blood stains and we still have to handle it. We ain’t imagining this. People sees and smells the urine and a couple of us developed rashes on our hands. Then we got to put them on trucks for Bizzz, Bizzz, Bizzz.”
“That sounds really disgusting,” I replied, “but what the hell is Bizzz, Bizzz, Bizzz?”
The big man spoke slowly, as if addressing a child. “Beds…Beds…Beds.”
“OK, I get it. It’s some sort of company. But what do they do with the old mattresses?
“As far as I know, they sell them out of state, but to who I don’t know.”
The tension in the room began to subside as workers shared the reasons they’d voted to have a union: There was no seniority when it came to job posting. Management was filling jobs off the street with higher paying positions sometimes going to new employees. There were no retirement benefits and workers wanted better medical insurance. Two hours of overtime were often assigned just as the 3 p.m. shift ended, compromising family responsibilities.
The piece rates seemed to favor some departments over others. In particular, the rates were particularly loose and easy to beat in a department staffed by six non-members, who averaged over $30 per hour, compared with $13 to $15 earned by coworkers with similar skill levels. These would all be issues for the bargaining table.
That night, I did some research to determine Serta’s vulnerabilities. Their entire advertising message revolved around wholesome, squeaky clean platitudes. Workers had provided an unexpected silver bullet. We would use what I called inverse advertising to tarnish Serta’s family-oriented image with the specter of urine-soaked mattresses. I Googled “Beds, Beds, Beds” and learned they sold used mattresses to migrant workers camps on both sides of the border.
Several days later, I met with the bargaining committee to discuss strategies to harness the issues raised at the membership meeting and then use them to leverage a good contract. It was also an opportunity to get to know each other and begin building working relationships. I was very impressed with local president Heavy-D. Though somewhat rough around the edges, he was smart, fearless and dependable. Vice president Charles Wright was soft-spoken but opinionated and very committed. The three other committeemen were all intelligent and willing to work as a team. I’d been dealt a good hand when it came to local leadership as we prepared for a bitter fight.
I stressed the importance of identifying as many witnesses as possible to provide NLRB affidavits and discuss the unsanitary mattresses with OSHA. “There’s no such thing as too much evidence. When it comes to Board charges, there are two types of witnesses: cumulative and corroborative. The first means several people testifying about the same type of violation. The second is the most powerful—several people testifying about the same incident. But remember, ‘someone told me’ isn’t evidence. We need to present witnesses who personally experienced or observed illegal activity.”
I learned that numerous workers suffered from repetitive motion distress in their hands and wrists along with back injuries from lifting heavy mattresses. My opening salvo had been revealed: A Workers Comp Campaign. As employees become educated about their rights, the number of claims dramatically escalates. The benefits are threefold:
Workers receive the treatment and compensation they deserve
The employer suffers significant exposure to increased workers comp premiums and time spent responding to claims
Ultimately, safety hazards are corrected
I was surprised as the productive meeting ended when Heavy-D produced a pint of whiskey from his tote bag, took a long swallow and then began passing it around.
I distributed a leaflet announcing that union attorney Valerie Johnson would meet with folks on October 2, to explain workers comp and offer representation to those in need. It began:
“We have evidence to believe STARLITE IS LYING TO WORKERS when it comes to workers comp! Have you ever been hurt on the job? Have you gotten the run around from the company doctor? Have you been put on light duty and taken a pay cut? We have the best lawyers in the state ready to investigate and fight for you!”
On October 12, I entered a conference room at the Greensboro airport Holiday Inn for my first bargaining session with the employer. The committee was already seated at the table and had reserved a place for me in the middle. I politely shook hands with Haynsworth lawyer Lester Gibbons, a short slender man in his fifties, soft spoken and seldom raising his voice. He exemplified the killing them softly type. Lester sat next to Vice President of Manufacturing Dominic Pasquale, with the plant manager and human resource director on his other side.
“Harris didn’t give me an opportunity to present these at our last session,” said the attorney as he handed me a booklet of language proposals.
“Next time, please make copies for the committee,” I told him. “We’d like some time to study and discuss your package. I’ll come get you in the hallway when we’re ready.”
I reviewed the twenty-five page presentation, overflowing with union-busting proposals, the worst of which were:
Having a Merit Shop as opposed to one governed by seniority in regard to job bidding and layoffs
Stripping just cause for discharge of all six affirmative defenses in arbitration (including disparate treatment, mitigating circumstances, and punishment fitting the offence)
Management’s right to establish wage rates for all new or changed jobs
Overtime only paid for hours over forty, with no premium pay for work on weekends or holidays, and unworked holidays not counting toward overtime
Local union grievance representation limited to one shop steward
Management having sole discretion in establishing production standards for piece rates
Management having sole discretion regarding plant rules
The employer not deducting union dues from paychecks
I went through the list with committee members. “There’s a game being played here you need to understand. The lawyer doesn’t really expect us to sign any of this. He plans to slowly back half-way off one of these at every session after a full day of arguing, slowly dragging out the process. For months, we end up getting nowhere as people become frustrated and the local starts to unravel. If we play into his hands, I guarantee that next spring, there’ll be a decertification petition going around the plant.”
“So what do we do?” asked Charles.
‘We make their lives so miserable they come to us begging for a deal.”
I stepped into the hallway and gestured for management to return. Once seated, I looked across the table at Lester. “You’re crazy if you think we’re gonna agree to any of this…but then you’re not crazy. You know exactly what you’re doing.” I presented a booklet of the union’s proposals, containing rules of engagement similar to all good collective bargaining agreements; thus a direct rebuttal to management on every point. Lester requested an adjournment to review our package with his client, noting that because of his travel schedule, he wouldn’t be available to meet again until November 16.
The delay worked for me because the time could be better spent building the leverage needed to produce results. The committee continued identifying potential NLRB witnesses I could interview and suggested ways to document the handling of soiled mattresses. I sometimes visited the employee parking lot to speak with workers as their shift ended and observed men sitting in their cars sipping on whiskey bottles or pouring drinks into paper cups to share with friends. I came to realize many of the workers, including committeemen, consumed a pint of more of hard liquor every day.