War Breaks Out in ‘Hostile Textile Country’ —Part III: The Kid Gloves Come Off
War Stories By Phil Cohen
I scheduled a war council with committee members and stewards for Thursday afternoon. “Talk is getting us nowhere so we’ve got to up the ante to get their attention. I want to schedule shift meetings for next week and use them to organize a picket line the following week.”
“Are we going on strike?” asked Sharon with some trepidation in her normally confident voice.
“No, but the company won’t know that. If we can put a hundred people in the street I guarantee we’ll be on the front page of newspapers and get three minute slots on the evening news. Management has paved the way for us to legally strike and we’ll exploit that with a shot across the bow. Just as they’re trembling with fear that their worst nightmare has come true, everyone reports to work two minutes before the bell.
“But we’ve got to be covert about planning this. When it comes to a fight I’m an ambush predator. Timing and stealth are everything. If we don’t hit them by surprise there’ll be several dozen police and private security on the street shooing us away. And we won’t raise anyone’s blood pressure because they’re worried about a strike.
“So we don’t come out and announce this at the shift meetings. I’ll just tell people we’re escalating the fight and to talk with one of you for more details as things unfold. Of course, all of you reach out to people you can trust, by phone if necessary. But anyone with the slightest hint of a big mouth or not fully supporting the union gets the same runaround from us as we’re getting from management. Are all of you with me on this?”
The leaders of Local 1391 were more than ready to see talk turn into action. Plus, being on TV was too exciting an offer to ignore. We agreed to schedule the picket line for 6 a.m. on Friday, August 22, positioning ourselves on the sidewalk directly across from the main employee entrance.
We circulated another leaflet titled:
EMERGENCY
SHIFT MEETINGS
It listed a meeting schedule running from the evening of Wednesday, August 13th through the morning of the 15th:
“We are now working without a Contract. Cone is trying to shove concessions down our throats!”
IT’S TIME TO STAND UP AND FIGHT!
Leaflets were handed out along with stickers to wear at work echoing our new slogan, “Double Time or Fight!” Committee members met at the union hall after work to prepare picket signs bearing the same message, along with others stating “No Contract, No Peace!” The classic phrase Unfair to Labor was also used. Viewed by the NLRB as an indicator that employees are in part protesting violations of labor law – unfair labor practices – its inclusion would lay the groundwork for filing Labor Board charges, short-circuiting worker replacement in the event we actually went on strike.
Over the weekend my energy and stamina began to erode and I developed a nasty cough. I visited the doctor on Monday morning, was diagnosed with walking pneumonia, prescribed antibiotics and told to “take it easy.” That night, in my dazed state, I moved the wrong way and totally threw my back out, making it difficult to even walk. My chiropractor’s first opening wasn’t until 4pm on Wednesday. He ran forty-five minutes behind schedule and the treatment wasn’t much help. I wondered how I’d ever make it to the shift meetings, let alone get through them.
But there’s never a good excuse to renege on a commitment. I entered the union hall fifteen minutes late, limping on a walking stick and swilling codeine cough medicine as I approached the crowd of waiting members. I felt mortified presenting myself in this condition while launching a campaign, but was deeply moved by how much folks appreciated my caring enough to show up despite how I felt.
During the three-day series of meetings it was clear that people were furious about the proposed pay cuts but equally afraid the plant might shut. I would have to carefully balance these conflicting emotions while attempting to navigate a path toward contract settlement.
I spent August 20 working out of my home office, preparing and then faxing press releases about the picket line scheduled for Friday morning to every news agency in Central North Carolina. The art of writing a press release is providing just enough information to serve as hook, inspiring journalists to show up at an event to get the full story. Offering too much detail in advance sometimes results in newsroom generated copy that appears at the bottom of page six.
In the upper left-hand corner the announcement read: For release on October 22, making it clear the upcoming drama was to remain off-the-record until then. Reporters honor such requests from newsworthy organizations. Those that don’t are deleted from press lists and end up getting scooped by the competition when future stories arise.
I was awakened by my hotel alarm at 4:30 a.m. on Friday morning, made coffee and instant oatmeal in my room, located my car in the darkened parking lot and drove toward the mill. I wasn’t over my illness, had endured a restless night of hotel sleep and was concerned about how I’d come across to the news media in this shape. When I arrived at 5:45 I found Horace and two other committee members already present along with a half dozen journalists and three television cameras aimed in our direction. The moment I began introducing myself and handing out business cards I was infused with a rush of adrenalin and felt at my best.
The brief waiting period before the action began presented an opportunity to interview me and Horace about what to expect and why. In back of my mind I was astonished at how quickly my gears had shifted into overdrive.
By 6:10 over a hundred Cone workers were lined up on the sidewalk facing the plant entrance, many carrying picket signs, and it was showtime. I asked reporters if they’d like us to spontaneously burst into union chants and was told yes. So we shouted “Double Time or Fight” along with “No Contract, No Peace” while the video rolled and cameras clicked. This was the main event and would guarantee in-depth presentation of our interviews. The public cares far less about rhetoric than drama and action.
As people started reporting for work, some changed direction and joined us on the picket line. By 6:30 the photo-op was over and we needed something else to do. The plant was surrounded by a chainlink fence with a gateway open during shift change. A concrete path going through a meadow led to the factory’s door. “Let’s go inside and make this up close and personal!” I shouted and the protestors followed me through the entrance as TV stations resumed filming.
Stahle and several other members of management were standing by the door. The workers had every right to be on company property but under archaic contract language, I didn’t without an appointment and company chaperone. Stahle stepped to me like someone initiating a barroom fight and shouted, “Phil, you have no business being in here. You’re trespassing! I order you to leave at once!”
When faced with a hostile confrontation, a dozen options race through my mind in a second. I was there to lead a demonstration and generate press coverage, not engage Stahle in a tough guy contest. The crowd swelled and I stepped backwards, disappearing into their midst like a drop of water returning to the ocean.
At 6:58, the picketers stunned management by rushing into the factory toward their respective time clocks.
We were just in time to make the Greensboro News and Record morning edition. Reporter Amy Joyner rushed to her office to bang out a story which her editor plastered across the front page with a sprawling headline followed by a large color photo of the picket line:
CONE MILLS WORKERS PICKET WHITE OAK PLANT
MORE THAN 100 UNITE LABOR UNION MEMBERS RALLY TO KEEP DOUBLE-TIME PAY FOR WORKING SUNDAY SHIFTS.
“Cone Mills is demanding concessions that will barely impact the corporate bottom line but dramatically impact workers’ standard of living,” said Phil Cohen, the union’s special projects coordinator.
John Bakane offered a bland, one sentence rebuttal but several workers were more eloquent:
“We can’t live off 36 hours of pay,” said Horace Tarpley, president of the union’s Local 1391. “What they’re asking for amounts to a 7.75 percent pay cut.”
Maria Welborn who has worked at Cone for 24 years had stronger words for her employer. “They’re cheating us. I have bills and a mortgage. Without the extra money it would be hard.”
‘We’ve sent a message to the company loud and clear that if they do not sign a contract soon, like the Terminator says, ‘We’ll be back.’” Cohen said speaking through a bullhorn.
Several other newspapers and local radio stations offered similar coverage, while television stations gave us three-minute features on the midday and evening news. White Oak had been a pillar of the Greensboro community for over a century and this assault on their reputation made for good copy.
UNITE researchers in New York provided a list of Cone’s seven primary lenders along with contact information for their top executives. On August 26, members of the 1391 bargaining committee signed a polite letter mailed to each creditor. It began by expressing gratitude for their bank’s financial support of Cone Mills and then recounted details of the escalating conflict in response to Cone’s unreasonable and unnecessary position. We noted the proposed concessions amounted to less than ½ percent of the company’s annual operating budget while negatively impacting annual earnings of six hundred employees by 7 ¾ percent. Our closing remarks included:
“We feel responsible to inform you, as the representative of a valued financial institution, that it may be difficult to expect timely and uninterrupted delivery of orders to continue in the weeks and months ahead if the current demoralizing labor dispute is not resolved.
“We are hopeful that you can exercise your influence with Cone Mills management in persuading them to join us in a spirit of genuine cooperation at the bargaining table.”
A similar letter was sent to directors of Cone’s major denim customers, including Levi Strauss, Gap Inc. and Calvin Klein. All of the correspondence was accompanied by newspaper clippings.
The company continued to adjust work schedules and piece rates as it had done previously pursuant to terms in the collective bargaining agreement. But now there was no contract and those terms had expired. I wrote several position statements to Stahle demanding the company refrain from further unilateral changes without bargaining over their effects, but to no avail.
In a letter written on September 5, I noted:
“To date, the union has refrained from filing charges with the National Labor Relations Board. We are hopeful that the parties will be able to resolve their differences without resorting to these measures.”
Cone Mills’ bankruptcy process and labor dispute remained the top news stories in Greensboro for weeks. I frequently received calls from reporters with follow-up questions or requests for further interviews. Television station WFMY began its evening news with a slide show of prominent people receiving coverage and I was surprised to learn that I was among them. It meant we were getting the community’s attention which is the last thing wanted by a publicity sensitive employer.
The situation evolved into a war on paper as Stahle and I bombarded each other with information requests and rebuttals to the other party’s right to receive certain materials. I did provide him with a list of eight employers represented by UNITE in various industries that continued to pay double-time on Sunday. There was no point in meeting while negotiations were frozen solid around one all-or-nothing issue.
During an evening in late October, I received a call from Harris. “I spoke with Stahle this afternoon and after dancing around for fifteen minutes, he finally broke down and told me the real story behind the company’s bargaining position. Part of their understanding with Wilbur Ross is that he won’t buy the company if he has to pay double-time on Sundays. He says it’s an uncompetitive pay practice and if it continued at White Oak, he’d be obliged to implement it throughout International Textiles. If Ross backs out, Cone won’t survive more than a year or two. So the question is, where do we go from here?”
“If Stahle or John Bakane had been upfront from the beginning, I could have explained it to our people and we’d already have a contract. But now that we’ve had a picket line and been all over the news, the committee and everyone else needs to feel like it made a difference. We’ve got to find something meaningful the company is willing to trade.”
“I hear you. I’ll try to schedule a meeting with Ross, discuss the predicament we’re in and see if we can work something out. It may take some time because the guy’s business takes him all over the world. For now, we’ve got to keep my discussion with Stahle off-the-record.”
Several weeks later, I heard back from Harris. “I finally got to sit down with Ross in New York. We’ve tentatively agreed to contract language making White Oak Cone’s primary domestic plant, meaning all denim manufactured in the US must be made at White Oak unless we’re already running a full schedule and need help with overflow.
“Layoffs in all job classifications will first occur at Rutherford, meaning if twenty weavers need to be let go, that’s where they’ll come from. If Rutherford only has fifteen weavers left, then the rest will naturally come from White Oak, based on seniority. Do you think you can sell that to the membership?”
“Yes. Our folks have been equally frightened about long term job security along with pay cuts. But I’ll have to meet with the committee first and take them into our confidence. They can’t find out about this at the bargaining table. They’ve been getting jerked around for six months and I need to be stone-cold straight with them if we want their support.”
I took the committee out to lunch several days later and with a little help from Horace, everyone came away realizing we’d achieved an extraordinary guarantee under the circumstances. “I’ll still try to push Cone for the noneconomic contract language we brought up at the beginning,” I promised as we were leaving.
On December 4, we once again sat across the table from Stahle and his management team. I cut to the chase by informing them, “After much discussion, the committee is willing to endorse the arrangement of pay cuts in exchange for priority of work language, but they’re concerned about the ratification. We drew a line in the sand about double-time on Sunday and suddenly it will look like we’re backing off. You know how difficult some of our people are to reason with once they get emotional.
“But tell me this first. Why weren’t you and John Bakane straight with us from the beginning? Now that we understand what’s at stake, your position was essentially the only one available. We could have smoothed out the rough edges and had a contract back in July without all the drama.”
“I can only apologize for that,” admitted Stahle. “Actually, I ended up agreeing with you about the need for disclosure and tried persuading senior management but Ross had demanded discretion and they wouldn’t budge. What will it take to get us over the threshold that won’t cost us any money?”
Understanding that Cone needed a successful ratification as much as we did, I reiterated several language proposals made in June. We adjourned for a week so Stahle could discuss our proposals with those for whom he was only the spokesman.
On December 11, Cone Mills agreed to the following:
The cell phone policy was revised so employees with legitimate family concerns could periodically check their phones and respond when necessary.
Emergency vacation days would be available to offer relief under the attendance policy.
The union rep, upon giving notice, could tour the shop floor with a committee member, unaccompanied by management.
Cone would pay new employees to attend an hour of union orientation with me and Horace in a private conference room.
The three-percent raise to partially offset overtime concessions was naturally included.
A series of six ratification meetings were scheduled beginning Wednesday the 17th and running through the following day. Cone made a large company auditorium available and agreed union members could leave their jobs and remain on the clock. The union was provided an updated bargaining unit list, distinguishing members from nonmembers.
The first meeting began at 6 p.m. and the room was packed. Committee members carefully scanned the crowd to ensure only union members were present. Horace spotted a burly white man in a tan coat named Jeffrey who he knew was anti-union. “You know this meeting is for union members only,” he told him. “You’ve got to leave.”
“Why?” Jeffrey angrily demanded. “This contract affects my life as much as anyone else and I’ve got a right cast my vote!”
“No you don’t!” said Horace, keeping his cool but clearly meaning business. “Even here in North Carolina, membership has its privileges. If you want to remain, you’re welcome to sign a card right now.”
“Bullshit! I ain’t signing no damn card. But look, what if I don’t vote. I’ve at least got a right to hear the discussion.”
“You’re not welcome here,” said the president with indignation escalating in his voice. “You’ve run around the plant bad-mouthing the union for years and now you’re holding up the meeting for everyone else. Go back to your damn job before your supervisor realizes you’re missing.”
The intruder reluctantly stood up and mumbling profanities, pushed his way past several people sitting to his left and retreated down the aisle.
The final meeting began at 11:30 p.m. on the 18th. When it was over, I remained with the committee after midnight reviewing tallies from both days. The contract had been ratified by ninety-eight percent. Once the full story had been presented, the relieved membership felt as though we’d walked on water by not only securing their jobs but improving the cell phone and attendance policies in ways they’d asked for. They were grateful we’d fought for them but had the sense not to blow the deal with Ross and put everyone’s livelihood at risk.
Wilbur Ross purchased Cone Mills in March, 2004 and merged it with International Textiles. Cone Denim maintained its legendary brand name. Horace and I were able to use the new plant access provision and union orientation to raise our membership to an all time high of sixty-five percent.
Stahle had been telling the truth from the beginning about possibly consolidating domestic denim production into one facility. White Oak began hiring while Rutherford County was busy laying people off and the plant was shut in 2005.
“If they’d chosen to join the union, Rutherford would still be open and White Oak would have suffered part of the layoffs,” said Horace. “In a way they made our jobs easier, not having to fight for both plants and balance their interests.”
“You’re damn right,” I replied. “I’ll bet right about now, even those with half a brain are scratching their heads and second-guessing themselves.”
Phil Cohen spent 30 years in the field as Special Projects Coordinator for Workers United/SEIU, and specialized in defeating professional union busters. He’s the author of Fighting Union Busters in a Carolina Carpet Mill and The Jackson Project: War in the American Workplace.