By David Bacon

         SAN FRANCISCO, CA  (7/14/04) - Archie Brown was first a ship
scaler, and then a longshoreman - a dockworker all his life.  He was
there 70 years ago, when thousands of maritime workers closed west
coast ports from San Diego to Canada.  He saw the tanks and guns
deployed by shipowners to fence off the docks at the height of the
strike.  And he remembered what happened next, when police shot into
crowds of strikers, killing two union activists, as they sought to
break picketlines and escort struck cargo off the piers.
         The deaths of Howard Sperry and Nick Bordoise came at the
peak one of the longest and bitterest of the labor wars of the 1930s.
In shock and grief, thousands of San Francisco workers marched
silently up Market Street behind the two caskets in a huge funeral
procession.  Then they shut down the entire city in the famous
general strike.
         For four days during that summer of 1934, nothing moved in
San Francisco.  Long afterwards, whenever he tried to explain what it
was like, Archie talked about how quiet it was when all the work
stopped.  The important thing about the silence, he said, was not its
contrast with the city's normal cacophony.  It was the fact that he
and his fellow workers created it themselves, by doing nothing.  Not
working may seem a passive form of protest, yet their action gave
them a sense of power they never lost.
         "Without our brain and muscle, not a single wheel can turn."
Archie must have sung this verse to Solidarity Forever, the hallowed
union anthem, hundreds of times on picketlines in the decades that
followed.  To him and other veterans of the general strike, these
were not just words.  They expressed a reality experienced first
hand.  The strike taught these wharf rats about power - that working
people could get it, and wield it with devastating effect, if they
understood that the world depended on them.
         Seventy years later, as our modern labor movement struggles
to regain the power it's lost, these four days shine as a beacon.
They point out that the way workers won power proved to be as
important as what they did with it.
         The maritime and general strikes were social movements that
came from the bottom - from the anger and dissatisfaction of workers
themselves.  They were mistrustful of the old labor hierarchy that
had lost the power and will to improve the lives of rank-and-file
dockers and sailors.  So the first thing Archie and his coworkers did
was create a new organization - the International Longshore and
Warehouse Union.
         They built a union they were sure could never be hijacked
from their hands.  The key was one of labor's most democratic
institutions, one that survives to this day - the longshore caucus.
Every time the union sits down to negotiate a new contract with
multibillion-dollar transportation companies, every local union in
every port elects delegates.  Together they decide what the union
will demand, and choose a committee to do the talking.
         The 1934 strike produced a single, coastwise agreement, in
which dockworkers from San Diego to Seattle act as one.  The secret
of their power was combining local democracy with the ability to shut
down the whole coast at once.   Today many workers pay a terrible
price when they lack this ability to act together.  Last year grocery
workers successfully shut down supermarkets throughout southern
California.  but were defeated when their employers kept stores open
everywhere else.
         The coastwise contract was designed to prevent this from
happening in the ports.  It is no accident that, when the Bush
administration intervened on the side of the ship owners during the
2002 longshore lockout, its biggest threat was legal action to force
the union to negotiate a different contract in each port.
         The general strike and the creation of the ILWU had a ripple
effect.  Other workers saw dockers win a hiring hall, freeing them
from the humiliating shapeup, when workers had to beg a job from a
gang boss every morning.  The workforce was integrated.  Today Black,
Latino and Asian workers are the majority in big ports like San
Francisco and LA, and women drive huge container cranes.  People
called bums and derelicts in the 20s and 30s had some of the
best-paying, most secure jobs in industrial America by the 50s and
60s.  As a result, a wave of union organizing spread inland from the
ports, a social movement inspiring everyone from department store
clerks to farm laborers.
         That movement transformed the politics of California, Oregon,
Washington, and especially Hawai'i, where it ended the domination of
five big plantation-owning families over the state's political
system.  As a result, today Hawai'i has a greater percentage of union
members than any other state.  And when the Pacific Rim is called the
left coast, it's a tribute to the political changes sparked by the
general strike.
         These changes were not welcomed by the shipping companies,
the banks and the big newspapers that were their voice.  They were
terrified by the general strike, and invented an imaginary invasion
of communist troops from Mexico to scare the public.  Their real fear
was more prosaic - company owners didn't want to listen to anyone,
especially bums on the waterfront.
         Forced to recognize the union, they went after its leaders.
Employers and their government allies spent two decades trying to
deport Harry Bridges, the ILWU's first president - an immigrant from
Australia accused of being a communist.  They failed.  In the 1950s,
McCarthyite legislation sought to ban communists and left wingers
from holding office in unions.  Archie Brown and ILWU Local 10
challenged this undemocratic law, which was later declared
unconstitutional.  The Coast Guard screened maritime workers for
loyalty, and blacklisted and drove hundreds off the ships and docks.
ILWU members like Don Watson picketed the Coast Guard every week,
fought them in court, and eventually ended the vicious practice.
These were some of the first and hardest political battles that
eventually ended the witch hunts of the cold war.
         Today's unions, debating what to do about the Patriot Act and
the scapegoating of immigrants and political radicals, should
remember this history.  They might remember too the legacy of
internationalism sparked by the general strike.  In the late 1930s
dockworkers refused to load scrap iron bound for fascist Japan and
its brutal war in China.  In the 1980s, a new generation refused to
unload cargo from apartheid South Africa, or coffee used to finance
Ronald Reagan's illegal war in Nicaragua.  And last fall the ILWU not
only condemned the US war in Iraq, but Local 10 leader Clarence
Thomas went to Baghdad to offer help to unions there banned by the
Bush-appointed occupation authority.
         Unfortunately, labor can't rest on past achievements.  The
political machines built by radical unionists in the 30s and 40s have
been strangled by subservience to politicians who accept workers'
votes, but scorn their political demands.  The flexible, independent
and radical politics born from the general strike need to be
reinvented - to elect a new administration that ends the Iraq and
Afghan wars, rejects new free trade agreements, and wins national
         The ILWU, like most unions, is now an island of high wages
and workplace rights, surrounded by a sea of unorganized workers who
have neither.  A labor movement devoted mostly to defending the
interests of its own members will soon disappear.  But if it inspires
tens of millions of working people outside its ranks by building a
social movement defending their interests, they will join as surely
as did Archie and the workers of 1934, electrified and transformed by
the general strike.

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