RACINE, Wis. - There once was a time when Harry and NancyHarrington - their teenage children in tow - walked the picket lineoutside the nursing home where she was a medical aide, protestingthe lack of a pension plan for the unionized work force.
But those days of family solidarity are gone.
Harry now blames years of union demands for an exodus ofmanufacturing jobs from this blue-collar city on the shore of LakeMichigan. He praises new Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker for attemptingto strip public employee unions of nearly all of their collectivebargaining rights. Protesters opposed to Walker's plan have heldsteady at the Wisconsin Capitol for nearly three weeks, though theirovernight sit-ins ended Thursday with a judge's order.
'I'm sorry, but the unions want to yell, they want tointimidate,' said Harry Harrington, 69, as he sets a coffee cup downnext to another newspaper headline about the union demonstrations.
'They want to be heard,' retorts Nancy Harrington, 66, who fearsa weakened union would jeopardize the teaching career of their now38-year-old daughter.
The Harringtons typify the new national reality for labor unions.Support is no longer a sure thing from the middle class - not evenin a city long considered a union stronghold in a state that gavebirth to the nation's largest public employee union. National pollsshow that the portion of the public that views unions favorably hasdropped to near historic lows in recent years, dipping below 50percent by some accounts.
But surveys also show a public uneasy with attempts to weakenunion bargaining rights by emboldened Republican governors who sweptinto power in the 2010 elections amid concerns about state finances.A Pew Research Center poll released earlier this week found moreadults nationwide sided with unions than the governor in theWisconsin dispute.
For unions, the political standoffs occurring in states such asWisconsin, Indiana and Ohio are a make or break moment - a chance torepair tarnished luster or risk sinking toward irrelevancy among theAmerican public.
In Racine, a nearly two-hour drive southeast of the epicenter ofthe union controversy in Madison, the question of the union'sappropriate role has divided husband and wife, mother and child, co-workers and friends. It's the hot topic on editorial pages, atcoffee shops, even at the craft club that meets in the communitycenter at Roosevelt Park, where a dozen retired women recently weretalking over the top of each other about union powers while knittingsocks and hats.
Among these women, at least, the pro-union protesters are rightand Wisconsin's governor is wrong. Their group includes a retiredRacine public school teacher who in 1977 joined in a teacher walkoutthat lasted more than a month. Racine schools shut down again forone day this February when a quarter of their teachers were absentin a show of support for pro-union protesters.
Yet the teachers' union is not the power it once was in theRacine area. Despite a well-funded media campaign, the union'scandidate, Democratic state Sen. John Lehmen, of Racine - a formerhigh school teacher - was ousted by Republican challenger VanWanggaard in last fall's election. District voters also pickedWalker over Democratic gubernatorial candidate Tom Barrett.
When the teachers walked out last month in nearby Kenosha,substitutes such as Kevin Kreckling quickly stepped forward.
'I felt a little torn - I wanted to have solidarity with theteachers, but I have to make money, too,' said Kreckling, 30, theson of a union painter and who is studying to be a teacher atConcordia University in Mequon.
The decline in union power is perhaps best symbolized by the areanear Roosevelt Park, where a monument dedicated by the AFL-CIOhonors the Depression-era president who signed a 1935 federal lawguaranteeing collective bargaining rights. Not far away is a tallchain link fence protecting the vacant plot of the old Case Corp.farm equipment factory, which was razed a few years ago after thecompany merged with another corporation and then downsized.
CNH Global N.V., the successor company, still operates in thearea. And the city remains the home of S.C. Johnson & Son Inc.,which makes cleaning products and bug sprays, and vehicle radiatormaker Modine Manufacturing Co. Yet numerous other companies havescaled back or shut down, resulting in the loss of a third ofRacine's manufacturing jobs in the past 20 years, according tofederal Bureau of Labor Service statistics.
'It's been a real blood-letting of companies,' said Racine MayorJohn Dickert, adding optimistically: 'But we're turning thataround.'
Racine's unemployment rate remains the second highest in thestate, at 12.8 percent in December. As the jobs have diminished, soalso have the union ranks. But the problem isn't solely about fewermembers. It's also that more people have come to perceive unionemployees as the beneficiaries of cushy pension and health-careplans that others no longer enjoy, and even attribute union gains tobusiness losses.
'Way back when, they protected the workers when there was noprotection - when they were overworked and not paid enough. But intoday's society, they're too strong,' said Wendy Vesely, a Modineemployee who was celebrating her 44th birthday with her family atRacine diner that attracts a cross-section of pro- and anti-unionpatrons.
Vesely thinks the Wisconsin governor is on the right track, butmay be 'trying to get too much too quickly.'
Barbara Ford, one of the knitters at the community center, saidshe thought little about unions when she worked in the financedepartment at S.C. Johnson, a non-union company. Now, with Walker'spush to limit their bargaining rights, 'Every time I think about it,my blood boils,' said Ford, 65, who retired five years ago. 'It'sjust horrible what he's doing to the state.'
Public anxiety about the economy has created an opportunity forpro-business Republican officials to challenge unions in ways thatwould have been unthinkable even a few years ago.
In Missouri, where unions' share of the work force is half whatit was a generation ago, the leader of the state Senate is pushingfor 'right to work' legislation that would prohibit union shops inwhich all workers must pay union fees. In Ohio, Republican leadersare pushing a bill that would restrict collective bargaining rightsfor 350,000 public employees.
The national framework for collective bargaining was laid in 1934in Toledo, Ohio, after a violent labor dispute. But there's noquestion that support for unions has waned there in recent years,said Oscar Bunch, 81, who worked for 50 years at a General Motorsplant. He notices a mindset now that anyone with a well-paying jobis lucky. Auto workers have given 'concession after concession,' andthat hasn't helped the cause of public-sector employees, he said.
Dining at the same restaurant as Bunch, union electrician NormanCook, 57, of Elmore, Ohio, said the Republican officials sense anopportunity. 'Their entire motive is to bust unions,' he said.'They're taking advantage of the financial times.'
Just south of Racine, in what would have been the shadow of theformer Case foundry, Jim Geshay runs a one-man chemical repackagingbusiness in an aging cinder block building across the street fromthe bar that has been a union hang out. Yet Geshay says he soured onunions during the 1977 teachers strike when teachers he trustedtried to stop students from attending classes.
'I personally think it's time for them to pay their fair share,'Geshay said.
AP photo Nancy (left) and her husband Harry Harrington talk aboutthe Wisconsin budget crisis at Wilsons Coffee & Tea in Racine, Wis.Harry now blames years of union demands for an exodus ofmanufacturing jobs from this blue-collar city on the shore of LakeMichigan.
Associated Press writer John Seewer contributed to this reportfrom Toledo, Ohio.
