Impediments to Union Democracy
By MARK PAZNIOKAS and ANDREW JULIEN
May 1, 1998
Stephen G. Manos said he got his usual welcome Wednesday night at Laborers Local 230, the Hartford construction
union where Manos has been a member for 33 years and an officer for the past three.
A burly sergeant-at-arms passed a metal detector over him,
checking for a hidden tape recorder, before a meeting of the executive board at the union
hall. Later, he was shouted down while trying to speak at the general membership meeting.
``It was a real zoo. I should've been in the WWF,
instead of the Laborers Union,'' said Manos - the ``WWF'' being a wry
reference to the televised theatrics of the World Wrestling Federation. ``I was booed and
hissed.
Manos, 53, of Glastonbury, said his journey from insider to
outcast began two years ago, when he decided to do the unthinkable: challenge the union's
boss, business manager Charles LeConche, in an election next month for that key job with
the union.
He will tell his story Monday, when he testifies
in Washington before a congressional subcommittee on ``Impediments to Union Democracy.''
It is a subject Manos said he knows well.
The hearing will focus welcome attention on a
stubborn problem: a history of dissents being crushed in the labor movement, said Herman
Benson, the founder of a Brooklyn, N.Y., advocacy group, the Association for Union
Democracy.
The first witness will be Clyde W. Summers, a law
professor at the University of Pennsylvania and a board member of the Association for
Union Democracy.
Manos expects to tell the story of being summoned
into LeConche's office six days after Manos' election as vice president in June 1995.
LeConche, he said, abruptly told him: ``I reward my friends and punish my enemies.''
His problems with LeConche began after he
complained that the union owed him money. Their relationship quickly deteriorated, and
LeConche invited Manos to take him on if he didn't like the way the union operated, Manos
said.
Since becoming a candidate for business manager, Manos said he has
been repeatedly harassed. Union members physically threw him out of an executive board
meeting in July, he said.
Hartford police investigated the incident, but
declined to make any arrests. Manos also complained to W. Douglas Gow, who was named
inspector general by the Laborers' union international organization as part of a series of
government-pressured reforms in 1995.
``We took steps to ensure remedial actions were
taken by the local to preclude any further incidents, but declined to take any
disciplinary actions,'' said Robert Luskin, the lawyer for the union's executive board in
Washington.
LeConche since has sued Manos, who had secretly taped the July meeting and shared a copy with the FBI. LeConche said in the
suit that Manos violated his rights. Manos said LeConche now begins all executive board
meetings by having his sergeant-at-arms make sure no one is wired.
LeConche, who became the top Laborers leader in
Connecticut after the indictment and bribery conviction of his predecessor, Dominick
Lopreato, did not respond to repeated requests this week for interviews.
Manos said he believes he has been blacklisted by Local 230's
hiring hall, a common complaint by dissidents in
construction unions. One company that employed him, Capitol Concrete of Newington, was
harassed by the union, he said.
The company's owner, Antonio Luiz, confirmed that he had a bad
stretch with the Laborers, but said he cannot prove it was because he employed Manos.
``They were after my company,'' Luiz said. ``They brought me up on
several phony charges. They put stewards on the job that were just there to give me a hard
time and create chaos and frustrate me.''
``As far as the union squeezing [Manos], they
never came out and told me they didn't want him working here. They can't do that, of
course,'' Luiz said. ``I just sensed they didn't want him working here. I sensed it.''
Luiz said he eventually laid off Manos because
there wasn't enough work, not because of union pressure. A foreman who is on Manos' slate
still works for Capitol Concrete, Luiz said.
Local 230 is affiliated with the Laborers International Union of
North America, which narrowly avoided being placed in receivership by the U.S. Justice
Department in early 1995 for anti-democratic practices and ties to
organized crime.
The international promised a series of reforms,
including the establishment of an inspector general's office. But dissidents in the union
say the reforms have failed to make a difference.
Ronald Nobili, the business manager of Local 665 of Bridgeport,
filed suit in federal court in November 1995, complaining that the Laborers' statewide
organization improperly cut its budget because he did not support the statewide
leadership. The statewide organization also is run by LeConche.
Nobili said the Laborers will not become democratic until its
members believe they can speak out without being denied the $12.80-to
$16.50-an-hour laborers' jobs that often are tightly controlled by the union's leadership.
Manos said he is looking forward to testifying Monday. He is
unsure what might come of his testimony, but, he said, it will be a pleasure to speak out
somewhere other than his union hall.
``No one is going to boo me,'' Manos said. ``No
one is going to attack me.''