LABOR: Sitting Out 1972

Ever since he persuaded the AFL-CIO executive council to stay neutral in the presidential campaign, Labor Chieftain George Meany has become less and less neutral. Shortly after the July executive-council meeting, he was seen golfing with President Nixon. “If he is really neutral,” growled William Winpisinger, a vice president of the International Association of Machinists and Aerospace Workers, “he owes McGovern four hours of golf.” In a speech, Meany accused the Democratic nominee of running down big labor: “He’s talking about you, he’s talking about me.” After that he sent a letter to state and local AFL-CIO offices, questioning McGovern’s “credibility and confidence.” Finally, at an executive-council meeting in Chicago last week that was expected to consider presidential politics, the subject was not even brought up. George Meany let it be known that the issue was settled; there would be no endorsement of anyone.

But the subject was far from closed for a lot of other union leaders who had their say in Chicago hotel lobbies and corridors, even if they were not allowed to speak in formal session. Like Meany, they have spent almost four years fighting Nixonomics; unlike Meany, they see no reason to let up on the President now. What has Nixon done to deserve it? In their view, his policies have clamped down on wages, boosted unemployment, sent capital fleeing abroad and caused the virtual disappearance of the electronics industry—much to the dismay of the powerful machinists union. Yet, by staying neutral, Meany and his allies in the steelworkers union are helping Nixon get reelected; some of the building trades unions, in fact, are expected to endorse the President. The dissident union chieftains are frankly baffled. They wonder if Meany knows something they do not. “He hasn’t been wrong before,” says a machinist official who supports McGovern. “He’s always known what’s the right thing to do.”

Meany continues to take occasional swipes at Nixon, but his hatred of McGovern and what he stands for in American politics is too visceral to be overcome. At 78, Meany is set in his ways, but he also has his ear to the ground. He detects discontent with McGovern among labor’s rank and file, and he has skillfully exploited it. Nor does he want to implicate big labor—his big labor—in what he expects to be a disastrous Democratic defeat. Why spend our money, he has said, to “help a political party commit suicide?” Better to drift with the political tides and make the best deal possible with the sure winner. Says an industrial union leader: “He believes he can bring Nixon around, that he can do business with the guy in a way that will serve labor’s best interests over the next four years.”

Other labor leaders wish that their much admired boss would put up his customary fight and lead the labor movement to something—even if it is defeat. “Look, we don’t always have to win,” says another union official. “We supported Adlai Stevenson on principle because he was right. Being the underdog doesn’t bother us.” Union leaders also worry that failure to support the top of the ticket will hurt other candidates on the ballot and jeopardize Democratic control of Congress. Traditionally, labor can expect little aid and comfort from Republicans.

Last month dissident union leaders met in Washington, D.C., to form a committee to help elect McGovern. It is headed by two Meany loyalists: Joe Beirne, president of the Communications Workers of America, and Joe Keenan, secretary of the International

Brotherhood of Electrical Workers. To date some 30 affiliates, making up about half the AFL-CIO’S 13.6 million membership, have joined the committee. The independent United Auto Workers union is also a member. So is the big St. Louis Teamster local headed by Harold Gibbons, even though the national Teamsters have endorsed Nixon.

But a divided labor obviously offers much less support to the Democratic nominee than a united labor. Since most of the unions contribute to COPE, the political arm of the AFL-CIO, the McGovern committee has not been able to scrape up enough cash to conduct a registration drive—a traditional element in a Democratic presidential campaign. Nor do they work very comfortably alongside McGovern’s operatives. Some labor leaders remain hawks. Says Joe Keenan flatly: “I support the President on the war.” McGovern staffers, on the other hand, continue to downplay labor as if they think that they can win the election without its help. When the machinists’ union offered to help out in Connecticut, a McGovern aide said that there was no need for labor volunteers. Complains a local official of the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees union: “They’ve as much as told us they don’t want our leadership. They’re running a personalized campaign over there, and they think they are going to do that on a block-to-block basis. That’s going to bring spotty results at best.”

As the campaign shakes down, labor and McGovernites may learn to get along better; an increasing number of locals are likely to drop into the McGovern camp. But essentially, labor is sitting out this presidential election, its tools and its riches remaining largely locked up. The question is whether they will rust for lack of use. By opting out of the top of the political process in 1972, labor may demonstrate that American politics can get on perfectly well without it.