Phil Cohen War Stories: Fancy Shirts and Dirty Tricks!
“It appears that a number of our workers no longer want to be represented. Why don’t we just wait and see if they get enough signatures for the Labor Board to schedule a new election, and then find out how that goes? — Management
WAR STORIES By Phil Cohen
Editor’s Note: This is Part I of Phil’s first-person account of a truly unusual decertification fight that took place at a Brooks Brothers shirt factory located in Garland, North Carolina during the mid-1990s.
Brooks Brothers, the iconic manufacturer of fashionable men’s wear, was purchased in 1988 by British retailer Marks and Spencer. The UK conglomerate already owned a chain of grocery stores in New Jersey. The Amalgamated Clothing and Textile Workers Union, which represented the suit factories in New York City and Massachusetts, found the new owners reasonable to work with. There was also a plant in Garland, North Carolina, that produced Oxford button down shirts. As was common in most sewing operations, the majority of employees were female. The facility remained unorganized, but ACTWU’s International Vice President Bruce Raynor already had his eyes on it.
Bruce had established a good working relationship with Brooks Brothers’ corporate office and set about establishing another one with the American representatives of Marks and Spencer. He met with them in 1991 to propose recognition at the Garland factory. Commonly referred to as a “reco,” this arrangement is sometimes agreed upon in situations where the parties already have productive labor relations at other locations. The employer agrees not to challenge the union’s organizing drive and negotiate in good faith if over fifty-percent of hourly workers sign a union card. In exchange, the company avoids an extended conflict along with the inevitable press coverage.
Garland was a small, isolated town in Eastern North Carolina, still immersed in the class hierarchy and racism of the Old South. It was easy for management to crush organizing campaigns through intimidation and false promises in such environments. However, even the laziest and most incompetent organizer can sign-up half the workforce almost anywhere if their efforts go unopposed. A first contract was ratified at the shirt plant in 1992 over the strenuous objections of local management who felt that the union had been shoved down their throats.
Bruce asked me to negotiate the second contract in 1995, informing me that the plant manager had retained a union-busting attorney, and was orchestrating a decertification campaign from behind the scenes.
I rendezvoused with Local 2504’s business agent Mary Ann Logan in the factory’s waiting lounge a few days later for a preliminary meeting with the plant manager.
“What’s going on with the decert?” I asked her.
“They’ve got this utility girl named Leslie running around the plant like she owns the place getting people to sign the petition. It’s part of her job to service all the sewing departments, so it’s hard to claim she’s not in her work area.”
We were interrupted by a secretary poking her head through the door to inform us the manager was ready to meet in his office. Mary Ann showed me the way.
A man of medium height with a somewhat stocky build, wearing a black suit and appearing to be in his late thirties, rose from behind a desk to shake our hands and politely introduced himself as Matthew Evans. He returned to his seat and draped his jacket over the back, displaying a blue shirt with large white cuffs and a maroon tie.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked with a noticeable British accent.
“We’re here to touch base before negotiations begin,” I told him.
“It appears that a number of our workers no longer want to be represented. Why don’t we just wait and see if they get enough signatures for the Labor Board to schedule a new election, and then find out how that goes. There’s no point in us negotiating a contract that may never go into effect. I’m a busy man. I’ve got a plant to run and real work to do.”
“And what the hell do you think I’m doing? Driving around North Carolina on a sightseeing tour? I suggest you tell Leslie to get back on her job and quit circulating the petition, before you end up investing far more time in a labor dispute than you ever would in negotiations.”
“I don’t take kindly to threats,” Matthew responded with an edge in his voice. “But no matter. The question of ongoing representation is one for our employees to decide. As management, I have nothing to do with it.”
“Once I’ve dragged the name of Brooks Brothers through the mud, see how much of a golden boy you remain at the corporate office.”
“Bullshit. I have evidence to the contrary and it now becomes my job to prove it to the National Labor Relations Board. Once I’ve dragged the name of Brooks Brothers through the mud, see how much of a golden boy you remain at the corporate office.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, walking over to Matthew’s desk and obliging him to shake my hand. “Talk to your attorney about available dates. I’ll be in touch.”
The first bargaining session was scheduled for the following week on May 10. I met with the local union’s executive board (committee) at the Greensboro office three days prior to formulate our opening proposals.
My customary style of dress was fairly casual and the women apparently assumed I didn’t own a suit to wear in negotiations. They’d visited a thrift store and proudly presented me with six of the tackiest, out of style sport coats imaginable. Some were plaid and a couple had large suede elbow-patches, considered fashionable in the 1960’s. I found myself in a very awkward position. While the gesture was extremely touching, there was no way I could present myself to an immaculately dressed hostile employer attired in such garments. But I thanked them profusely, examining each item with feigned appreciation while hoping I could later figure a way out of this dilemma. To simply show up in one of my own suits would have deeply wounded them.
I began inquiring about our efforts to document management’s role in the decertification campaign in order to lay foundation for my NLRB charges. It’s illegal for employers to assist, let alone direct union-busting efforts, so they assemble and train a small committee of workers to act in their stead. They write a petition requesting a new election for the ringleader to circulate and ultimately present to the Board in their own name.
Leslie was clearly functioning as the petitioner but hadn’t yet signed the requisite thirty-percent of hourly workers necessary for submission. However, experience told me it would only be a matter of time. A grocery clerk can get thirty percent of his customers to sign a petition opposing an invasion from Mars if he’s persistent.
“Leslie spends all day going from one sewing machine to another, waving her petition in the girls’ faces and disrupting their work,” Local 2504 President Amy Crawford said. “Everyone sees this. I could bring you twenty eye witnesses right now. There’s no way management can claim they don’t know she’s disrupting the sewing lines and not doing her own job.”
“Has anyone actually observed management standing close enough to see that Leslie is petitioning workers on company time?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Matthew is clever as a fox in the hen house and wouldn’t tip his hand that easy.”
“What about regular supervisors? They patrol the lines all day.”
“They all been schooled by Matthew.”
“We’re gonna have to dig deeper then. The Board doesn’t care about what management should have known. All they care about is what we can prove beyond a reasonable doubt. Tell me more about supervisors talking trash about the union to workers and saying they’d be better off without us.
“They’re only discussing the union with the half that ain’t members. But sometimes these folks share what got said with friends who are.”
“Unfortunately, that would just be considered hearsay. We’ve got to find members who at least overheard what was being said.”
That night, I tried on my newly gifted wardrobe and with enormous relief, discovered the predicament had resolved itself. All of the jackets were several sizes too small. My forearms protruded several inches beyond the cuffs. I called Mary Ann and asked her to tell Amy that while I loved the coats, they were regrettably the wrong size.
The company had proposed holding negotiations at a Hilton near the Raleigh airport, providing convenient access to the attorney flying in from Atlanta and Matthew who resided in a nearby suburb. The logistics worked for me as well. I lived only an hour away, could avoid spending nights at the Garland Days Inn and remain better positioned for travel to my other assignments. The committee didn’t mind because the eighty mile drive to a luxury hotel would be an adventure, paid for by the union.
I walked into the Hilton lobby at 8:45 a.m. wearing a nicely tailored grey pinstripe suit, briefly touched base with the committee, and then entered the spacious conference room. A buffet near the entrance offered complimentary coffee and pastries. We extended greetings to Matthew and two other members of management then took seats across from them at the bargaining table. Mary Ann joined us a few minutes later, followed by the company’s lawyer, Jeffrey Hodges. He was a short lean man in his thirties, dressed in a tan suit with a white shirt and red tie.
“Already knowing that behind the polite banter, management’s only priority was eliminating the union, and a decertification petition was circulating through the plant, I decided to fast-forward the game.”
Following the routine icebreakers about how everyone’s trip went and the company’s status, I slid the union’s proposals across the table. Introductory bargaining sessions are often casual, with the parties discussing their priorities and concerns in a general sense, honing the focus of positions to be exchanged at the next meeting. But already knowing that behind the polite banter, management’s only priority was eliminating the union, and a decertification petition was circulating through the plant, I decided to fast-forward the game. Our list, presented in bullet format, called for substantial wage increases each year of a three-year agreement, along with enhancements to benefits and various articles of contract language.
Hodges scanned our list, and then looked up to inquire, “It would be really helpful if you could be a bit more specific in defining substantial wage increases.”
“It’s the company’s money, so your client knows best how much they can afford to improve the lives of workers and their families. The first move is yours to make.” If the union presents the initial economic proposal, the bargaining process becomes defined as negotiating down from that figure. When engaging a hostile opponent, one should never deprive them of uncertainty.
Hodges leaned over for a whispered exchange with Matthew before sitting upright again. “We’re not interested in any wage increases at this time,” he declared. “Our employees are already fairly compensated.”
Without further comment the lawyer reached into his briefcase, withdrew several forty page booklets of a fully revised contract being proposed on behalf of his client and passed them to our side of the table.
“We’re going to need time to review this,” I said. “Why don’t we break for lunch and reconvene at 12:30?”
The small single-spaced print, written in convoluted legal language, was impossible to quickly scan, but several points immediately jumped out at me. What had once been the seniority article stated:
In the event of a job vacancy, the employer will choose the most qualified employee who has bid on that position.
In plain English, the employer was seeking to abolish seniority. There were proposals to replace the union pension with a 401(k) and allow scheduling of overtime without prior notice.
I took the committee to lunch at the hotel restaurant, where we observed management sitting several tables to our left, looking very self-satisfied and confident.