The Ghost of Labor Day Future
By Local 2195 Webmaster John Davis
With Assistance From Sam Stark UAW PR Department

The following piece is a parody. Any resemblance to actual persons should make such persons ashamed their actions inspired such thinking!

It is Labor Day 2006 and all across the country citizens are waking up after sleeping in late on this holiday dedicated to workers. However, this Labor Day certain notable persons are busy searching through their local newspaper’s obituaries for “Unions.” Given these persons’ efforts, surely, they think, the labor movement should be dead by now.

In the governor’s mansion of a west coast state, one person sits at the breakfast table, thumbing through the morning paper. “Where is it?” he grumbles, through a thick European accent. “It haaas too bee herrrrrrrre some-vere. I know deez evil teacher’s unions must be dead by now. I worked hard to kill them and their silly ideas about tenyore for teeechers.”

In the corner his wife rolls her eyes, wearing a Kerry for President t-shirt. She pours herself a cup of coffee and listens to his rant.

“Deez girlie men who tink dot deez uneducated teachers and nurses deserve a decent living are crazy. I know dee paper must carry some news of der demise, but I don’t see it. Dey may have von dis round, but I tell them I’llll bee baaack.”

Moving to the northern portion of the Midwest, a CEO from a bankrupt automotive parts company is just beginning his day. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he cleans his glasses with a $100 bill and then tosses it into a waste paper basket. Then he sends one of his loyal and trusted bodyguards out to retrieve the paper.

Flipping through the pages, he shouts, “What, do you mean labor and working people are still alive? No obituary, no story about how they died silently in the night? Surely they don’t think they can survive against the collected power of those of us who earn our market rate in our jobs and are much smarter?

“I have told them all their dream of a decent life is over. Do they not know who I am? Me, the guy who robbed thousands of steel workers of their pension. That’s right, I am the guy brought in to transform the industry by shifting compensation from workers to executives, just as it’s supposed to be. Who do these workers think they are? They act like they actually build the products, well that is absurd. By the way, hasn’t any of my $65 an hour employees showed up yet to mow the grass?”

Down in Arkansas a family gathers for a nice little morning brunch. One of them flips through the paper and shouts, “Oh crap, is it Labor Day again already?” “Don’t tell me we had to give the slaves the day off,” another whines. “Naw. They are still slaving at the mines. They’re not smart enough to be born rich like us,” another laughs wickedly.

Another family member enters the room, making certain he wipes his feet on the “Buy American” rug, which was recently imported from China. “I thought we had bought enough politicians by now to do away with Labor Day,” she says. “No, let the saps that struggle to make ends meet shop at our stores and buy those grills and banners made in China to celebrate. Just as long as our workers are kept working for low wages, no rights and benefits, what do we care? We too busy trying to spend our inheritance.”

Along the east coast a mogul sips his morning coffee from a mug that reads “World’s Greatest Corporate Liar”.

The walls of his lavish home are decorated with money earned from running smear campaigns against such public enemies as Mothers Against Drunk Drivers, The American Medical Association and now labor unions. In his best PR voice he shouts, “This paper is incomplete. I know there must be some notice informing the general public that labor is dead. We need a PR campaign to rename this day Un-Labor Day! Why the very idea that labor organizations are good for America is as preposterous as saying second hand smoke is harmful or a little alcohol can impair someone’s driving skills. The only way I would ever endorse a union is if they paid me millions of dollars, like my corporate buddies have. But then, I guess the union guys would insist on telling the truth so I could never lower my standards to work for them.”

Finally, in the dining room of a big white house in Washington D.C. sits a grown man in Roy Rogers pajamas and cowboy boots. Big white columns frame his temporary home, sitting along a street named after a Blue state.

Inside the man in PJ’s tosses a section of the Washington Post on the table, while a Grinchy-looking fellow thumb through the rest of the paper. “Damn, I liked to never finish reading that section,” the man in his Roy Rogers laughs, almost losing the bib tied around his neck. “Those comics get more and more complicated by the day, but you got to hand it to Hagar. The old guy knows how to party,” he chuckles and flashes a grin that belongs on a monkey. “So tell me old buddy,” what does the rest of the paper say?”

“It’s not here,” his old buddy mutters, slamming the paper on the table.

“What you talking about?” he replies and turns his bowl of cereal up and slurps the remaining milk down.

“The obituary for labor. You idiot,” he growls across the table. “What do you think we have been talking about for years. Jeez, can’t you just stick with the program.”

“Hey sorry man, you don’t expect me to really keep up with all that stuff your and old Karl go on and on about all the time do you.

“No, we have erased their health and safety standards, shipped their work out of the country, cut their overtime, held the minimum wage, spent their taxes on cuts to our buddies, made billionaires out of our friends and broke just about every idea on that lousy Constitution and still labor survives. Hell, they still even got the nerve to call this Labor Day?.”

Almost falling from his chair, with milk trailing down his chin, our PJ man leans back and props his feet up on the table. “Well can’t we just nuke them,” he laughs.

“I wish it were that simple,” the Grinchy-man replies. “If we did those liberals in the press would have a field day with it.”

“I got an idea, why don’t you just take them union leaders hunting. After all, they don’t call you Dead Eye Dick for nothing. Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh.”

“I wonder what the season limit on union leaders is this year,” the evil one says, given serious consideration to the proposal.

To hear the pundits tell it, this Labor Day the American labor movement is indeed dead. After all, there has been an all-out effort by the rich and powerful to end the rich lifestyle of the working class in this country. A constant barrage of bills to benefit the wealthy at the expense of the workers has been rubber stamped again and again. Buying power for working class families continues to fall, as the bank accounts of the wealthy swell with the gains made from draining the nation’s treasury, no-bid defense contracts, gas price gouging and excessive health care costs.

But, with all these forces stacked against us, labor still survives. A quick check of the pulse confirms the heart of labor is still beating strong. The movement may be battered and it may be bruised, but it still lives. Its existence is there to stand for all workers, protect the down trodden, hold up the poor and defend the weak. In the face of a fierce assault, labor still continues the battle for economic justice for all and will as long as breath remains in one worker’s body.

So this Labor Day, we hate to disappoint those who have fought so diligent against America’s workers. At least they still believe in the American Dream. The labor movement still defends workers and their families and it will continue its steadfast march into the future. As long as workers seek fairness and the wealthy manipulate the system to benefit themselves, labor will stand in the gap for working families. Happy Labor Day to all America’s workers and their families.