Treated Like An Evil Doer

 It was a fall night in central Alabama as my friend, co-worker, brother in Christ, and fellow union negotiator Keilan and I stood outside a Shell Service Station near Indian Springs, Alabama.  Hours earlier Keilan, union president, presided over our meeting ratifying our 1994 contract with the Cement Plant in Calera, Alabama.  It ended after a lengthy strike which started in August of 1994.

Keilan initially wanted to go to the plant manager’s home, but I warned that it might appear as a threat to go to his home and convinced him that we meet at a neutral sight.  I was familiar with the area as my daughter played club volley at the Brierwood High School there.

We waited what seemed an eternity.  We stood outside the station and talked about the contract, the strike, God, church, family, coworkers, and life in general.  I kept seeing familiar faces going in and out of the station not really playing any attention if they were customers.  Keilan and I would nod, smile, and greet them with “Good Old Southern” how you doing.  I remember telling Keilan that the folks looked familiar.

The plant manager finally showed, and we told him that the union members ratified the contract.  He seemed as nervous as “a cat on a hot tin roof.” He was surrounded with security thuds. We shook hands and Keilan, and I returned home.  He and I knew that we would never work at the plant again even though we encouraged the union to ratify the contract. 

It had been a rather peaceful strike.  Corporate had hired a security firm that locked us out of the plant and shipped in replacement workers (SCABS) to take our place.  Corporate unsuccessfully tried to replace 2027 years, that's right 2027 years, of experience to operate an antique plant.  Union employees camped outside the plant under a large tent.  There no love lost between the security and union.  By their own admission they tried to intimidate us every way possible.  Keilan and I, along with other Christian brothers, tried to peacefully lead the strike.

A friend that was part of the management told us what went on behind the scenes at the Shell station that night.  Remember, Keilan and I were just two old country boys never meaning any harm and we were innocent, naïve, or just plain ignorant.

This security team thought we meant harm to the plant manager.  Those “customers” at the Shell station were part of the security.  They were listening to us with sophisticated listening devices, getting close to us to see if we were armed.  I admit as good old country boys, Keilan and I probably had pocketknives.  That’s just who we are but harming the plant manager never entered into our minds.  We were tickled that 150 plus men and women with families voted to return to work.

Security had trained sharpshooters ready to disable or kill us.  Our management friend described to us something like out of a movie.  It seemed so surreal.  This security team knew more about us, striking employees, than our friends and family knew about us.  Talk about “Big Brother” watching, listening, and intimidating.  We did not know it, but we had a “mole” that was in all the security briefings.  He stayed silent but he did relay what he could through our management friend.

This security team was notorious for breaking unions.  One of them approached me on the picket line.  They had painted a line on the plant entrance road and told us not to cross it.  His first name was Joe.  He called me name and said, “My name is Joe, and I am a policeman from New York City.  I take four weeks’ vacation each year to help this security team bust unions.  My grandfather, originally from Sicily, helped organize unions in New Jersey.  I'm not against unions, but the money they pay is fantastic.  I just want to shake your hand.  Keilan and you have kept this group of men and women peaceful for the most part.  We have tried everything possible to intimidate, but you two men are good men and highly respected.  This is my last day here.  I am headed back to work.”  I shook his hand, wished him luck and God’s grace.  I often think of Joe every time I read or hear about the events of 911.  I feel that Joe was a hero.

Most of the striking employees returned to work.  Keilan and I were blackballed.  We continued to negotiate and settle the strike and other issues with management.  When that ended, Keilan found employment with the Chilton County School maintenance, and I went into the ministry full time.  My dear friend and brother in Christ died in January 2023.

The cement plant never recuperated from the strike.  It ceased to profit and eventually sold.  It was difficult to replace 2027 years of experience.  When most of the experience returned, the replacement employees had destroyed so much equipment that it was impossible to operate.   Ironically, the security team did bust the union, but replacement employees realized that they were used by the company and organized another union with the help of veteran employees.

Wherein I suffer trouble, as an evil doer, even unto bonds; but the word of God is not bound. 2 Timothy 2:9