CHAPTER 4: WORK TO RULE (excerpt)

The in-plant campaign involved more than just actions to decrease production. The workers also launched a series of creative actions that demonstrated to management the magnitude of their solidarity and resolve. Both types of actions were fundamental to the campaign and served to fuel one another.

The Staley workers regularly wore red union T-shirts to work, along with union caps and an extensive array of union buttons. Workers honked their horns as they drove out of the parking lot after their shifts. At times the leadership called for an action where hundreds of workers would gather at the plant gate before they marched en masse into work.

These actions built a spirit of solidarity, lifted morale, and taught the idea of collective action. “The elation of solidarity becomes addictive,” said Jerry Fargusson.  Beyond that, the job actions built friendships and camaraderie, and that strengthened unity. Moreover, the workers became more aggressive as they felt support from one another. “You are your brother’s keeper in an in-plant strategy,” noted Barrie Williams…

Not all of the union’s 762 members participated in the work-to-rule, and some contributed more than others. One difficulty was that it ran counter to the workers’ natural work ethic. As Dick Schable explained, “The work ethics and the knowledge of this group of people are probably some of the best in Illinois...so [working to rule] was really hard for a lot of people to do.” In addition, many workers were reluctant to play a leading role because it meant constant confrontation with their supervisors. Tucker insisted,

If you think [work-to-rule] is easier than striking, then you are all wet. Because if you think it is easier to stand in front of your boss, day in and day out, and tell him you are not going to do it the way he says for you to do it at that moment, but that you are going to do it the way the rules say to do it... If you think it is easier to hold mass grievances... If you think that is easier than walking a picket line once or twice a week--then you are full of stuff. Everybody started dealing with that.

And although the union had set up a Casualty Fund to provide full pay to any worker fired as a result of union activity, the fear of discharge was still there. “The first thought that comes to your mind,” recalled Dike Ferris, “is, ‘How many people are going to get fired?’ because the company is going to start accusing you of doing a slowdown.” “Some of us…saw this as, ‘Hey, we’re going to be in a fight,’” recalled Dan Lane. “There were others thinking that by flashing Ray Rogers and Jerry Tucker out there that the company might capitulate and offer enough back that we could get an agreement. There were others looking at retirement that said, ‘Hey, maybe I can get out of here. I don’t want to mess with this.’ There were all kind of different agendas there.”

Art Dhermy estimated that about one-third of the workforce was aggressively working to rule, while many others were supportive but not taking the lead. Dhermy, who worked in the boiler room, vividly described the levels of participation:

My department was like everybody else’s. You had the ones that were going to grab the bull. You had the ones that might grab the tail and be drug along. And then you had the ones on the other side of the fence to make sure the bull wasn’t going to get them. Ninety percent of the time, my hands were on the bull’s horns. It made me feel good to know that I had somebody next to me at my shoulder, grabbing the bull’s tail. I had no animosity to the ones not grabbing the horns. We needed some standing out in the pasture watching our backs. Just because you don’t run up there and grab the bull doesn’t mean you can’t do your thing your way. And then there are those who were in the pasture, but were on the other side of the fence, but they often came to the union meeting--at least they’re in the pasture. You probably had 75 to 80 workers grabbing the bull, 150 to 200 workers grabbing the tail, and about 75 to 80 in the pasture. And everybody else was on the other side of the fence, but still in the pasture.

As time passed, Dhermy added, “that fence got expanded some,” and more people stepped up their participation. “There was peer pressure that forced some of the less inclined to get on board,” recalled Ferris. “Even the less inclined were put in the position that, ‘Wait a minute, all the rest of my people are doing this, and here I am still helping this company out.’”

For the core of workers that aggressively led the work-to-rule campaign, “it was almost a spiritual thing,” said Dan Lane.

People started moving together, starting to understand better who the company was. It was like you were peeling away these layers, that this image that the company tried to paint as this wonderful grandfather that was there to take care of his grandchildren, that all of a sudden was being seen for who he really was, this huge ugly ogre that had no feelings, no concern... It was like undressing this company for the first time; understanding as workers who we really were, that we need each other, that our interests weren’t with the company but with one another. When I say spiritual... a worker’s color, their sex, or their age no longer became important. What was important was the unity in order for us and our families to survive... To me that was a liberation. It was like re-identifying your soul.

By March 1993, five months into the campaign, the work-to-rule effort was steadily building steam, and the number of workers participating was growing. The workers’ sense of their power had dramatically increased, and their confidence was strong. As Bob Willoughby said, “This is the most solid group of people I’ve ever seen in my life... It’s almost like a school of fish. When one turns, they all turn.”

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