Labor Day

Posted on September 2, 2002 in Citizenship Weather

Have I ever known a cool Labor Day? Most countries celebrate this holiday on May 1, but that’s Communist and American capitalists did not like the idea of having the working class walking down the streets of their major cities singing “Arise ye prisoners of starvation”. So they chose this first Monday in September, a day when they felt it would be impossible to get their employees to enter the sweltering factories anyways. No one wanted to march in a long parade, either: so unions organized holiday picnics, complete with cold beer and bbqs that capitalists were quick to point to as evidence of their gluttony and sloth. It all worked out well in the end for the capitalists.

The big news coming into this Labor Day was, of course, the baseball strike. Media sources had a field day laughing at the player’s union demanding even higher salaries for millionaire superstars. No one talked about the owners who coerced cities into building them extravagant new ball parks or the little people who poured the beer and cleaned out the stands after the game. The message they send to us is “Unions are spoiled.” I’ve seen my share of unions fight and lose in my lifetime, often over things like a mere rise in wages from $4 an hour to $5. I agree that a player’s union is a joke, but it’s high time someone in the media went down to Chavez Ravine and ask the parking lot attendants what kind of wages they earned and how many other jobs they worked just to make ends meet.

Unions gained for us things like health insurance, the eight hour day, and overtime. Lose them at the risk of your job security and comfort. Unions made us an affluent society by demanding that there be more than mere trickle-down, that working men and women get a fair share. I have not always been a union man, but seeing how hardworking people were villified by management during a labor dispute in the early 1990s changed my mind. My boss told me “Remember they are the enemy.” For what, I had to wonder? For a sliver of the pie? He got a share of the profits and a Volvo to drive. The owners got two Mercedes. They tanked up these pleasure cars from the company’s own gas tanks and used the savings for other delights. Meanwhile, out in the factory, the peons slaved for about $4 to $5 an hour. That the pigs at the top were willing to close the company doors than negotiate to ensure a decent wage radicalized me. It formed in me a necessary skepticism. While others howled about the baseball strike, I merely asked for the rest of the story: what about the toilet scrubbers, the counter clerks, and the groundskeepers?

Today I say “Remember the workers”: Honor Labor. Honor America.

And if you need something cool, drink water. Save the beer for when drinking it won’t be so dangerous.