Volunteer Pat Maynard had just come off a six-month leave from her job at Mountaineer Gas to participate in organizing drives in Ohio and Kentucky. Looking forward to another opportunity to organize, Maynard took vacation time and drove off for the western part of the state where many industrial plants were located along the Ohio River. Arriving in the small community of Ravenswood, in June 1995, she visited the Chamber of Commerce to get a listing of area businesses.
After stopping workers at several plants, she met an employee from Columbia Gas who she knew would be familiar with the area and its workers. This contact passed her card to six-year Hartley employee, Sammy Southall.
Hartley Manufacturing had just finished expanding its plant in Ravenswood -- with the help of low cost taxpayer-funded loans -- in order to take on increased business from the huge DuPont plant in Parkersburg. DuPont had a problem: it had to recycle huge volumes of nylon and polyester scrap and used carpet material returned to it from all over the country, but it didn't want to pay $18.00 per hour rates or expose its highly paid non-union work force to the dirty work of cleaning and re-melting these mountains of old scrap.
Hartley Manufacturing owner Bo Hartley realized a profit could be made from off-loading DuPont's dirty work. So he constructed a complex; installed DuPont-owned equipment; hired workers at 60 percent of DuPont wages; appointed his wife, Roberta, as chairman of the board; and began chopping away at the mounds of scrap. The work was dirty and hazardous. Workers were exposed to fumes and a variety of solvents, and the company offered little safety training.
Southall's concern over health and safety and fair treatment issues led him and his co-workers to OCAW in July 1995. "In 1992 (referring to an earlier organizing attempt), Bo Hartley made a tot of promises that things would improve," said Gary Balser, an operator at Hartley. "They actually regressed, and that's why OCAW was contacted."
Thirteen-year veteran Bill Perdue said that money was not the main issue. "One of the basic things we wanted was seniority - one of the biggest things is that we wanted things in black and white so the company couldn't come out and change it on the spur of the moment."
Workers were taught how to form a committee and carry the union message to workers in the plant and in one-on-one home visits on nights and weekends. An open petition was circulated in support of the union, and workers, with their wives and children, rallied at the plant entrance to encourage others to step forward. On Labor Day, workers and their families gathered up food and refreshments, recruited a local band and celebrated the filing of a petition for an election with the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB).
By the eve of the September 29, 1995 election, most workers received home visits, and 101 workers had signed the petition. When the votes were counted, 91 of 142 had cast their ballots for OCAW. Said a jubilant Perdue, "They threatened us so much, that basically most of us got to the point where we didn't care - we got tired of being treated like dirt."
OCAW suspected that Hartley's fierce resistance was largely due to the backing of chemical giant DuPont, so it sent in International representative Larry Abel, who was a veteran of dozens of successful election campaigns. Abel's real specialty, however, was his ability to take campaigns the distance - past the election and through the thicket of illegal company maneuvers. Companies would bargain endlessly in circles while pitting workers against each other and offer favored treatment to some while firing, demoting and isolating union 'instigators.'
Abel's first challenge was Hartley's insistence that negotiations take place 50 miles away in Charleston. Even though OCAW proposed numerous nearby locations, Hartley knew that his insistence would present an insurmountable obstacle to the negotiating committee, who would have to take more time off work without pay to drive the extra 100 miles. Hartley calculated it would take the Labor Board up to a year to force him to modify his position.
After three months of fruitless negotiations about the meeting place, OCAW agreed -- under protest -- to meet in Mineral Wells, some 25 miles away. Hartley also frustrated workers' attempts to arrange week-long bargaining sessions, by offering only five available days in a two-month time period.
During the bargaining period, Hartley also struck dozens of times: first, by firing one of the original leaders, Sammy Southall; then by suspending others for a variety of rules violations; and then by repeatedly changing disciplinary rules, shift schedules, and other work rules.
The tide began to turn when the Labor Board began issuing complaints against Hartley, citing the company for well over 100 illegal actions against its workers. Even though the trial would not even begin until October, the complaints against Hartley were important to morale.
It took Administrative Law Judge Marion Ladwig from October 1996 until January 1997 to hear evidence on the over 100 charges listed in the federal complaint against Hartley. Workers applauded the trial with noisy demonstrations on the steps of the Jackson County Courthouse, while Hartley put out media statements that the complaint was "full of falsehoods and insinuations" which were "totally wrong."
Negotiations dragged into the spring of 1996 and eventually stalled over Hartley's insistence on a 60-day contract (as opposed to the typical agreement of 2-3 years in length) and bumping rights for supervisors in the event of a layoff.
Workers engaged in continual agitation on the shop floor and at gate rallies. In March 1997, the union gave Hartley a continual 24-hour rolling strike notice. Periodically, workers delighted in gathering at the gate, measuring off the entrance with a tape measure or starting a rumor, while management scrambled around stockpiling food or holding supervision over for an extra shift.
"We've had people suspended for no reason, fired for no reason,' said committeeman Kevin Thornton, who was later fired. "It's their way or the highway, and that's got to change."
Hartley retaliated by notifying workers July 3, 1997 that he intended to close the plant, but indicated there were 'certain scenarios' that could keep it open.
Although Hartley's threat to close eventually proved to be a bluff, support from area unions was credited for holding workers together. "Ravenswood is a union town; and you don't have to reach out to them, they reach out to you," said Balser. "All you have to do is put up a picket line and they're there."
Said Abel, "In all my 32 years in the union, I've never seen a union town like this. One day they passed the bucket beside the road in Ravenswood, and in two hours, they took in $2,300."
"Families and individuals came by [the picket line] to drop off food; they gave us $5.00, $10.00, $20.00, a couple of times $100.00," said Perdue.
Steelworkers Local 5668 members at Ravenswood Aluminum Company (RAC) were widely appreciated for their "unbelievable support," according to Perdue. The 1,700 workers at RAC won worldwide acclaim in the early 1990's, winning a 19-month lockout after a global campaign against RAC and its notorious fugitive-owner Marc Rich.
"Steelworker Local 5668 President Jerry Schoonover opened their union hall and gave us the key," said Perdue. Johnny Lynch, who's "Lynch Mob" band played at the 1995 Labor Day picnic, was pulled out on lost time by Schoonover to work with the Hartley strikers. Lynch was described by Perdue as "an angel on our shoulders," as was Marge Flanagan, wife of a Steelworker, who organized the Womens' Support Committee.
"Charlotte Cobb cleaned houses; her husband was a Steelworker," said Balser. "She cleaned houses each week, and she'd always bring what she got paid for cleaning one house by the picket line and drop it off - every week. She was a member of 'Ladies of Steel,' an auxiliary of the Steelworkers local."
Said Abel, "Another Steelworker gave them a house - put it in the Local's name for a union hall - a two-story house on a corner lot for one dollar. These guys went to work on the house; put a roof on it; fixed it up; added plumbing, so we'd have a hall. At Christmas, they adopted all of the kids - over a hundred of them -- for a Christmas Party with Santa Claus - gifts and all. I've never seen anything like it."
Over the course of the five-month strike, workers picketed DuPont customers, leafletted industry association meetings, held a prayer vigil, and entered a float entitled "The Scab Wall of Shame" in the Fourth of July and Ohio River Festival parades.
"You couldn't hear yourself think as we went by:' said Perdue. "People were hollering, screaming, clapping and cheering you on."
"[Hartley's] motivation was to delay bargaining and further his strategy for turning employees against the union," Ladwig wrote. "During the delay, he was issuing so-called 'Progress of Negotiation' reports, blaming the union for the delay."
In less than a year, the company issued 65 verbal and written warnings under constantly changing disciplinary rules. Over the nine previous years, company employees received a total of 23 such notices.
Hartley was ordered to reinstate Sammy Southall and to pay back all workers who had been suspended, demoted or denied pay increases that had been withheld for discriminatory reasons.
"The decision is worth over $200,000," said Abel. "Everybody will get between $800 and $1,200 and Sammy Southall will get over $30,000."
With the decision in their back pocket, the workers decided to return to work. On the morning of November 6, 1997, workers showed up for work but were turned away. Later that day, an unrepentant Bo Hartley issued yet another notice that he was closing the plant. This time, Hartley said that DuPont was going to cancel its contract. "Our contract was cancelled because of the union - there is no other reason," said Hartley.
On November 7, 1997, the NLRB issued another series of complaints against Hartley for its illegal treatment of workers, raising the total number of violations to over 150. This followed on the heels of complaints issued against the company in the middle of the strike for its punitive discharge and demotion of workers. The NLRB concluded that Hartley would have to give all the strikers their jobs back when they decided to return to work.
Hearing rumors that DuPont was about to award the contract to another company, union members showed up prepared to work again. This time they were told that they would be admitted - all excepting the 22 who had been discharged during the strike for picket line 'misconduct.'
"Even so," said Abel, "we made the decision to go back - they were locked out illegally - and we were absolutely certain that the government would return them to work with full back pay."
Within days workers learned that a new South Carolina company had been awarded the contract that Hartley had lost. Meetings with the buyers began almost immediately, and by November 17, 1997, the union and the new company had come to an agreement in principle on a new contract.
Under the new agreement, everyone would be re-employed with full credit toward seniority and benefits for all time accrued with Hartley -- including the time spent on strike. The union, now known as Local 3-997, won an improved 401(k) plan, a new prescription card, and 3% wage increases in each year of a three-year contract. The new company, named Ravenswood Polymer, took over December 1, 1997.
Victory followed victory as the state unemployment board ruled that striking workers would be entitled to unemployment benefits. The state labor board ruled that the workers "have been denied the right of collective bargaining...and thus are not disqualified from benefits."
"They got around $5,000 or better per person," said Abel. "What makes it so good is with all the donations, the Adopt-a-family, the strike benefits, along with the money they received from unemployment, some of them are going to make as much as if they were working."
"The only one who was permanently replaced was the Hartley family," said Perdue. "We lived together, cried together, fought together, but in the end our family was stronger than the Hartley family."
OCAW Reporter, January-February 1998