In this era of right-wing corporate power the fight of Cleveland’s salt miners to stop a vicious union-busting drive by the Cargill Corporation is a rich experience with many important lessons for organized labor and its allies.

After two years of harassment of its 165 miners, members of Teamsters Local 436, the giant Minneapolis-based agriculture conglomerate, provoked a strike in May 2002. The company’s endless violation of job descriptions, scheduling and subcontracting rules had greatly antagonized a previously quiet and productive work force and resulted in an unprecedented number of grievances. The local mainly represents truck drivers on construction sites, but the situation got so bad that 70 percent of its grievances came from the miners who were only seven per cent of its members. In arbitration, the union won nearly all the grievances under the terms of the old contract. So when the company, which was making huge profits, tried to impose its desired changes in a new contract, the strike was on.

In an all-too familiar pattern, Cargill immediately retained the services of the Special Response Corporation, a Maryland company specializing in strike breaking, which deployed one of its teams of armed soldiers of fortune with video cameras on a 24-hour basis. Cargill obtained court orders limiting picketing and brought in scabs. It assured the union that the scabs were temporary transfers from other Cargill facilities and that it was anxious to resolve differences and sign a new contract.
Relying on a compliant National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) and eventually resorting to the services of a neofascist group headed by David Duke, Cargill set out to achieve its main goal of eliminating the union.

Cargill had obtained the mine, which extends five miles out and 2000 feet under Lake Erie, in 1997. The purchase for $31.5 million was what is known as an asset buy, meaning that it did not include the contract with the union. The miners were all discharged, but told they could reapply.

Cargill rehired about half the former workers, excluding union stewards and activists, and imposed a $3 wage cut and other concessions as condition for recognizing the union.

At first things went smoothly. Production grew and Cargill expanded its contracts and got the reputation of being the most reliable source of road salt. But even with record profits, the company was dissatisfied that it could not make arbitrary work assignments and schedules and disregard seniority. It brought in a new management team fresh out of college with orders to crack down.

Cargill thought the union was vulnerable. The union was isolated in that it was not affiliated with the powerful Cleveland Federation of Labor. With the strike on, the company went through the motions of negotiating in the presence of a federal mediator but at each session increased demands for concessions. Then, in July, Cargill put ads in newspapers throughout the region and held jobs fairs in West Virginia, Kentucky and western Ohio. The federal mediator warned union president Gary Tiboni that it appeared Cargill would follow the example set by Ronald Reagan during the strike of air traffic controllers and hire permanent replacements.

Tiboni called a membership meeting and the workers voted almost unanimously to call off the strike and go back to work unconditionally.

The next day, August 16, miners showed up for work and were told to return Monday because Cargill said it needed time to work out scheduling. Over the weekend all but 26 were presented with hand delivered letters informing them they had been permanently replaced. When the dust settled 83 scabs were working along side the 26 recalled union members while the remaining 139 miners were laid off and placed on a supposedly permanent recall list.

Until this point the Cargill battle, except for a small note in the Plain Dealer when the strike began, had been a non-event. But with the replacement of the miners, a number of the workers and their families began calling for help.

Councilman Nelson Cintron’s office was contacted and the present writer was asked to meet with miners at a McDonald’s restaurant. The miners felt totally blindsided and directed their anger at the union leadership. They felt isolated with no hope of support.

It was decided to launch a campaign to restore the workers’ jobs. Within a few weeks a rally was held on city hall steps. About 100 miners and supporters from the AFL-CIO, Jobs With Justice and community groups marched into council chambers where Cintron and other council members denounced Cargill and passed a unanimous resolution urging the company to rescind its action, calling on Mayor Jane Campbell to boycott Cargill’s road salt and on federal officials to investigate the company’s compliance with federal laws.

A solidarity movement began to build and remarkable leadership emerged. Nancy Colon, a 40-year old Puerto Rican woman and heavy equipment operator with nine years seniority, became the acknowledged rank-and-file leader. Colon had become active in the union only during the strike and now worked tirelessly. She and a group of miners’ wives launched a relentless campaign of faxes and emails. They showed up at every appearance of the mayor, including when she was given a makeover by the Today Show in downtown Cleveland.

Together with Tiboni, Colon brought the union membership and their families to the October meeting of the Cleveland Federation of Labor where they spoke and received a rousing ovation, a generous donation and offers of help.

A few days later, a rally was held at the mine. Hundreds of supporters cheered wildly as community, labor and religious leaders, and local and state public officials pledged to do everything possible. Democratic gubernatorial candidate Tim Hagan promised that, if elected, no Cargill salt would be used on state roads. Mayor Campbell announced that the company had agreed to meet with the union in her office and that, unless things were resolved, she would seek another source of road salt. Representative Stephanie Tubbs Jones spoke, as did a representative from Dennis Kucinich’s office, who announced that Kucinich had called for a federal investigation of Cargill’s mining practices.

Two weeks later Kucinich held the first of three Salt Miner Summits, bringing together miner’s families, supporters and public officials. He announced he would file an amicus brief with the NLRB that Cargill had engaged in bad-faith bargaining. He set a second meeting to bring together city and county social service providers to assist laid-off miners.

Particularly troubling were the actions of one scab hired as miners offered to give up the strike. His name was Scott Berendt and, although he was white and from a rural area like other new hires, he was also different. They were young, single and unemployed: Berendt was older, had a family and two jobs. He was a small businessperson and Republican city council member from Willard, Ohio, 100 miles west of Cleveland.

What miners did not know was that he was identified on the website of notorious white supremacist David Duke as president of his Ohio organization, where his actions in support of the Cincinnati police shootings of Black youth, were extolled. Jim Fairchild, editor of the Willard Times-Junction, stated that Berendt had submitted a racist letter, which the paper found unprintable.

Berendt had no grievance with the union or knowledge about it, yet within a month of being hired began circulating a petition to decertify, and was fully conversant with the history of labor relations at the mine and procedures for decertifying. In his amicus brief with the NLRB, Kucinich charged that Berendt had clearly been coached and instigated by Cargill.

Winter was coming and, although the city extended the time for road salt bids, no other company could meet the requirement to guarantee delivery, so the mayor was forced to deal with Cargill. At the end of November the union learned the regional NLRB had dismissed its charges and an appeal to the national board in Washington was soon rejected.

Meetings in the mayor’s office did not get Cargill to remove the scabs, but the company did bring back a few more miners and made a buy-out offer to the rest. In return for the buy-out, which would end up costing the company more than to $2 million, the workers would give up any recall rights or claims. If they did not take the buy-out, their seniority would end in August although they would remain on a permanent recall list.

Cargill had probably already spent at least $5 million in its drive to break the union, but with $50 billion in sales the cost was minimal. For workers, however, especially those who had not found other jobs, the buyout was significant and for those who had found work, it was a windfall. Pressure was growing for the miners to accept defeat and take the buy-out. The offer was good until May 31, and Colon urged as many as possible to hang tough at least until then especially since their votes would be needed to stop the decertification. In the end, 99 miners took it.

That left 66 union miners, 33 working and 33 out. About 20 scabs had quit or been discharged and they now numbered 62. The company then stepped up its efforts to split the union. It suddenly offered a five-year contract, but the scabs had to stay and no more union members would be called back. Tiboni felt that at least the union would be preserved and urged its adoption.

Chris Evans, a Plain Dealer reporter who was at the meeting when the vote was held, wrote: Myron Krocek, one of the laid-off miners, takes the floor. He has 23 years of service in the salt mine. A big, bearded guy in tattered blue jeans, Krocek looks like an Old Testament prophet. Krocek says, 'Cargill’s a power-hungry ogre. We’ve been illegally replaced by scabs, and Cargill’s getting away with it. Mayor Jane sold us out. We’ve got to stick together and vote this contract down 100 percent. Sometimes you have to draw the line. It’s a matter of principle.'

The vote was 31-20 to reject the contract, with those working generally voting for and those laid off voting against. The decertification vote was April 10. To save the union it would be necessary for every member to vote. Tiboni called a special meeting April 6 to rally and reunite members and dropped a bombshell. Searching the internet, a miner had discovered Berendt’s identity. “He’s a white supremacist,” said Tiboni. “I see him as a plant, hand-picked and set there by Cargill to decertify the union.” The next day the Cleveland City Council, angry at this revelation, passed a resolution condemning the company-inspired decertification effort and urging the miners to unionize.

The vote, held by the NLRB in a company building with Berendt and Nancy Colon serving as observers for the two sides, was 63 to 58 against decertification.

“Union voted union and scab voted scab,” proclaimed Tiboni. As Kucinich noted in the Congressional Record, “One locked-out miner drove 150 miles from Columbus for the vote while another left his hospital bed.” But the victory was short-lived. Berendt, once again armed with expertise, filed an objection with the NLRB claiming Colon had engaged in “electioneering” as she had copies of the city council resolution.

Rather than pursue a prolonged court battle and risk losing more members to the buy-out offer, Tiboni announced at a third Salt Miner Summit meeting in Kucinich’s office that he had agreed to a new vote set for April 29.

As the vote approached another provocation occurred. Flyers appeared in the mine with pictures of Saddam Hussein, Gary Tiboni and Nancy Colon on playing cards such as those used by the US military in Iraq. Underneath the pictures was the title “Axis of Evil” with the instructions “Vote No.”

The flyers were all over and remained posted on the company bulletin board for two days until Tiboni protested.

Mayor Campbell was outraged and sent a letter to all the salt miners blasting Cargill’s association with Berendt and its attempt to decertify the union. In addition, she wrote to Dale Fehrenbach, head of Cargill’s salt operations. The letter stated that the flyers “equate Teamsters Local 436 President Gary Tiboni and Nancy Colon with former Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein” and “could be interpreted as an incitement to violence.”

“Cargill’s actions regarding this flyer, along with its union-busting efforts and continued association with a known white supremacist leader, are reprehensible. Cargill is not the kind of company with which the city of Cleveland wants to continue to do business.” Duke’s organization responded by sending recruiting literature to all the miners whose home addresses it had somehow obtained. Several scabs shaved their heads.

Colon assured Tiboni that every union miner would show up to vote. One more miner had taken the buyout so there were 65 unionists left and every vote was needed. Determined to break the union to the end, Cargill challenged the right of one union member to vote because he would be getting a buy out the following month. It didn’t matter. The final result, 64 to 61, preserved the union.

A few days later, at the second annual AFL-CIO May Day celebration, Nancy Colon rose from the table purchased by Local 436, to receive a special appreciation award and a standing ovation. Before the strike Colon had never heard of the AFL-CIO. She also received recognition awards from Cleveland City Council and Local 436.

As the Plain Dealer also acknowledged, without her stubborn determination, the union would have been lost. Cargill returned to the bargaining table. It agreed to a five-year contract retroactive to the beginning of the strike and thereby precluded another decertification attempt for four more years. There were raises and Cargill agreed to bring back six more miners. Cargill arranged a meeting of the scabs with Tiboni. For an hour and a half, with Berendt sitting stonefaced in the front row, Tiboni fielded questions about the most elementary aspects of unions. Finally a worker asked if he would apologize for calling them scabs.

“I told them no I wouldn’t,” he said. “I told them you did what you thought you had to do and I did what I had to do. The wages you have, the vacations, the health coverage were all negotiated by Local 436.”

Tiboni was able to find Colon a seasonal job driving heavy equipment at a construction site. She was still in Local 436 and very proud of the frame around her car license plate which read, “A woman’s place is in her union.” The job came in the nick of time. Her partner, Nellie DeJesus, had children and grandchildren at home and heavy medical expenses. They were two months behind in mortgage payments and would have lost their house, but some of the working miners took up a collection as did a club of the Communist Party.

Colon finally decided to take the buy-out. She said she no longer wanted to work for a company that did not want her and that in light of the threats and the skinheads she did not feel safe as a Puerto Rican and the only woman working underground in a dark mine run by a racist, anti-labor management.

“I was happy,” she said. “I had a great job. I was a good worker. I risked my life every day for Cargill. Why did they do this to me?” Colon is exploring a lawsuit.

Cargill not only lost close to $10 million in its failed attempt to break the union, it also lost any goodwill it might have had.

The anger and bitterness will not easily go away. Members of Cleveland City Council and the city administration who agree with Mayor Campbell that Cleveland should not be doing business with such a company are saying salt is a vital public utility. They are asking use of eminent domain be considered to remove Cargill from the mine’s operation. In a city with its own publicly-owned electric company, this issue has previously come up when the Cleveland Browns sought to move to Baltimore, when the Cleveland Clinic sought to take over and shut down a small, but competing community hospital and when LTV Steel sought to liquidate operations for the benefit of US Steel.

In all of these cases, massive struggle by the working class and its allies, combined with effective leadership by public officials, succeeded in blocking ruthless corporate power and finding new owners. Cleveland’s battle with Cargill may not be over.

There are also important lessons in the Cleveland salt mine battle for the labor and progressive movement. In a period when corporations have been given the green light by the highest officials in the land to trample the rights of labor, the luxury of unions being unaffiliated to central labor bodies cannot be afforded. This includes the United Auto Workers, as well as the Teamsters, who far too long have stood aloof in Cleveland and other cities, from the rest of organized labor. It means also that central bodies have to walk the extra mile to reach out and, especially when a battle is on, set aside petty grievances. The clout of the Cleveland Federation of Labor is widely recognized even now. One can only imagine how much greater influence it would have if the UAW and Teamsters affiliated.

Most important is the lesson that struggle against the enemies of the working class is contagious: sustaining it is decisive to survival. Once the battle was on, once the ties were made to the rest of labor, its allies and progressive public officials, it spread like wildfire and fed the fierce resistance of the miners so that, while victory was not complete, neither was there defeat. Class consciousness, and labor’s fighting spirit grew and the union remained to fight another day.

--Rick Nagin is executive assistant to Cleveland City Council member Nelson Citron, Jr.