Julia Baskin hasn’t done a single damn thing to rid the world of nuclear weapons, nor to stop our government from torturing or to alleviate global warming. She’s just a senior at Washington University in St. Louis who arrived on campus from New York City in the fall of ’05 looking to acquaint herself with social justice issues and pick one where she could contribute to a solution. She quickly settled on joining a small group of students who worked on fair trade issues. When she arrived, the group was a year old and was working to see to it that the coffee served on campus was fair trade coffee. (Instead of taking whatever price was offered by corporate coffee buyers, fair trade coffee growers join cooperatives that deal for them and get them a fair price.)

By the end of her freshman year, the group had achieved its goal, and when its president graduated, Julia … to say “took the reins” would be misleading. She became the nominal leader, yes, but it’s a very egalitarian bunch. My subconscious must have prompted me to pick the word “bunch”. Because their next project was getting the campus to buy only fair trade bananas.

They had settled on that because bananas are one of the most popular fruits in the world, and banana workers are among the most exploited.

Without Fair Trade, fruit farmers often receive only a few cents a pound for their crop, far below the cost of production. In Ecuador, the cost of basic necessities for a family of four is $9.60 a day, but on non-Fair Trade farms, workers may earn as little as $3 a day, according to TransFair USA.

So, in hopes of easing life for Ecuadorian or Guatemalan Okies, Julia set to work. She approached the director of campus food services with some trepidation, expecting anything from indifference to hostility. What she found instead was a man with an open mind. Once they had agreed that Bon Appetit, the food service, would use fair trade bananas if she could supply them, she set about locating a banana co-op for the university to do business with.

And hit one dead end after another. Co-ops in the banana business are still few and far between, which is all the more reason for people like Julia to persist and encourage their growth.

Even as she became more discouraged about that part of the job, her group was doing all it could to make students aware of the issue. They showed a movie about the problem, they passed out lit, they had an event in the coffee shop, attended by forty or fifty people, where they served banana fondue. But no co-op surfaced.

She finally went to the director of food services to talk about the problem, only to find that he had appointed one of his employees to look for sources and that the person had been successful. Knotty problem solved. The additional good news was that the food service department could afford to absorb the small extra cost.

When the first box of fair trade bananas arrived, Julia was so excited that she peeled a sticker off one of the bananas and put it on her cell phone. From then on, by posting placards around campus, the group made sure that Wash. U. students knew the bananas they ate were fair trade bananas. Implanting consciousness of fair trade issues is, to Julia and her cohorts, contributing to the student body’s education.

And the group moved on to its next project: getting the campus bookstore to stock only “sweat shop free” items. That’s a long term goal. The other long term goal is to spread the news of what can be accomplished to other campuses–starting with campuses also served by Bon Appetit. OK, they’re not about to put Dole and Chiquita out of business, but persistent effort will someday make the giants aware that another business model is competing against them.

In a couple of weeks, Julia will be gone from campus for good, moving on to a job with the Jewish Service Corps, AVODAH. She’ll be assigned to the Cambodian Assn. of Illinois, based in Chicago, working with Cambodian adolescents to promote the arts in city schools and to make students aware of worldwide genocide problems.

It’s going to be awhile before she rids the world of nuclear weapons, but anytime she might happen to hear Belafonte wailing, “Hey, Mr. Tally Man, tally me banana,” she can remember with satisfaction a small job well done.

This posting is the fourth in a regular series about activists that I’m writing with the assistance of the St. Louis Activist Hub. The first three postings are here, here and here.  

Don’t just sit there fuming because the Allen Icet entourage is attempting to turn down 100 million free Medicaid dollars for people earning less than half of poverty level. Get your little heinie down to the west side of the Old Courthouse in St. Louis this Sunday afternoon at 2:00 for a protest rally. Give the Post-Dispatch an excuse to publicize what the Republican House caucus is up to.

That was the most important message Jobs with Justice organizer Amy Smoucha had for me. She sees the budget fight in the state lege this year as seminal. Out of the current economic crisis and the stimulus funds being used to counter it, Missouri will emerge either as a state with smaller government and few, if any, social services (go ahead, guess which group wants that outcome) or as a state that is more responsive to the needs of the people in the community (and guess who wants that end result). Federal stimulus funds are coming, but Icet et.al. are doing their damnedest to take education and transportation money while concocting a succession of excuses for turning down additional Medicaid money, as well as for chopping … but I stray. I started out to tell you about Amy Smoucha. Let me reserve more info on the vagaries and cruelties of the House budget for the end of this posting.

Smoucha organizes statewide action on health care issues. She started out in the health care trenches as soon as she got out of college, working at Regional Hospital in St. Louis, where she helped people apply for Medicaid benefits. The job in itself was an eye opener because most of the people she helped were African-Americans. She’d been raised in a white, fairly racist culture in Chicago, but she was impressed by how similar her clients were to her own mother–a clerk at Sears, who had never had health insurance.

Amy had barely adjusted to the harsh reality of what her clients faced, when local and state officials began pushing to close down Regional Hospital, as well as neighborhood clinics in St. Louis. These were the only places where uninsured people could go for treatment–88,000 of them. The mantra from the officials was that other clinics would have to absorb those folks. As if that were possible.

A long fight, with ACORN in the forefront, ensued, with the result that the clinics were saved and a few hospital beds. Smoucha moved on to do similar work at Legal Services, but two years ago, she had had enough of holding her finger in the dike. She saw a job opening for a health care organizer posted at Jobs with Justice and she went for it. She wanted to effect systemic change instead of–always and forever–only helping people into lifeboats while the Titanic slips lower into the water.

Now Smoucha works to make Missourians aware that this health insurance crisis affects us all: from those that have insurance but have to forgo raises because the insurance is costing their employers so much money, to the low wage workers who don’t have insurance at all. She sees her job as helping to build a movement toward affordable health care for all. That means working across party lines (and, after all, Jobs with Justice is a non-partisan 501c3).

Missouri is quite the challenge for someone like her. Try as she will to convince working people that they need elected officials who understand the need for health care for all, she knows full well that our state is a proving ground for competing ideologies. To illustrate, I give you two words: Allen Icet.

In addition to spurning the 104 million free dollars that is being made available in Medicaid funds for people earning less than half the poverty level, the House Appropriations Committee is also slashing social services, thus effectively refusing to use federal stimulus money on those areas.

The Missouri Budget Project estimates that based on the proposed funding cuts, at least 77,120 Missourians will be directly impacted by the cuts. At a minimum, Missouri will forfeit $232 million in critical federal funds which, could result in a loss of as many as 5,100 Missouri jobs.

emphasis MBP’s

(MBP has an analysis of the proposed House cuts.)

Smoucha points out that Missourians won’t pay any less in federal taxes just because we snub federal stimulus funds. And might I add: This is nuts! Fortunately, there are enough sane Republicans in the Senate to help Democrats put the brakes on before the ideologues in the House can run the state train off a cliff. Senator Eric Schmitt, R-Kirkwood, assured attendees at last night’s town hall meeting that the Senate had voted this week to accept the bulk of that free Medicare money. As for the rest of the House cuts to social services, it remains to be seen how much the Senate will attempt to restore. Once their budget is complete, the two chambers will work to resolve the differences.

Meanwhile, Amy Smoucha is doing her part. She and the many people she works with are lobbying legislators, cooperating with local faith leaders to get out the message about how cuts in the state budget are harming the poor, urging activists within her purview to write letters to newspapers and call legislators–not just to leave a message, either, but to request that the lawmaker call them back or at least write a response. And right now, Smoucha is looking forward to that rally at the Old Courthouse this Sunday and arranging for media coverage.

So, as I said, get your little heinie down there. We need bodies for the local TV stations and the Post-Dispatch to photograph. I’ll be there videotaping it. See ya.

This posting is the third in a regular series about activists that I’m writing with the assistance of the St. Louis Activist Hub. The first two postings are here and here.

What do you say we return waiters and waitresses, pay wise, to 1994? Sound hunky-dory to you? It does to Republicans, because that’s the idea of HB 258, which would reduce the base pay of servers from $3.52 an hour to what it was fifteen years ago, $2.13. On average, servers in Missouri make the munificent sum of $16,000 annually. I mean. What do. they. need. with so much money?

Our (n)ever-generous Republican lawmakers will try to justify fleecing restaurant workers by saying that servers are guaranteed the minimum wage of $7.05 in any case. If their tips and their base pay don’t come to that much per hour, the restaurant has to make up the difference. But hold on now: if the base pay is only $2.13, then more of that $7.05 is being supplied by the servers. Republicans are consistent in this much: they can always find a way to make the little guy bear the economic brunt.

Still, you might say, a waitress will get the $7.05. Yes, but part of the lure of wearing out all that shoe leather is the possibility that she will earn more than the minimum wage. If she just wanted to make what any checker at a big box does, she could hire on at Lowe’s and save herself a lot of mileage every shift.

Dana Dreher, a social work major at Washington University who is working her way through school as a waitress, has gotten involved in the Jobs for Justice campaign to resist HB 258. Her attitude is that Missouri voters approved a hike in the minimum wage by an astonishing 76 percent in 2006, and this attempt to screw those that wait tables contravenes the will of the voters.

She found herself testifying at a committee hearing about the bill. Lots of restaurant owners testified, but this one twenty-something student was the only person speaking for the 53,000 servers in the state. It was an intimidating–and infuriating–experience. One restaurateur, for example, claimed that servers often make $20 an hour. Right. For every one of those jobs, thought Dreher, there are ten Denny’s and IHOP jobs. Then came Dana’s turn to speak:

Once the legislature’s spring break (3/16-3/23) is over, the bill is expected to fly through the House, so Jobs with Justice is planning a Lobby Day on the issue for March 24th. The organization hopes it can rally as many as twenty servers to get to Jeff City on that day to talk to persuadable Republicans and to show appreciation for the Democrats who’ve supported the JwJ campaign.

Twenty may not sound like an impressive showing, but consider that most servers in the state have no idea this legislation is pending. Of those who do, think how difficult it is for them to get the time off work. But at least the ones who do go have plans to make a splash. Right now, they’re leaning toward wearing their work uniforms and perhaps even carrying the literature for handouts on serving trays.

The uphill battle of fighting Republican legislators with no respect for working people seems like less of a slog considering that Jay Nixon is sitting on the hilltop. With a veto pen. But the servers aren’t assuming they can sit at the bottom of the incline and wait for the governor to handle the problem. They’re doing all the legwork they can.

Here’s a simple action you could take to help them: Print a flyer that explains the issue. As I said, most servers aren’t aware of what’s going on. Educate them. Next time you eat at Appleby’s, give your waitress one–or several, to hand to her co-workers. Here’s another simple action: let the Save Our Tips campaign send your representative an e-mail on your behalf.

This posting is the second in a regular series about activists that I’m writing with the assistance of the St. Louis Activist Hub. The first posting is here.

Lumiere Casino in St. Louis has provided the perfect example of why we need to pass the Employee Free Choice Act. By last November 20th, almost eighty percent of the workers had signed cards saying they wanted a union. But because card check isn’t law yet, Lumiere had a solid three months to put off the election, which takes place today, the 27th.  Knowing how much a union would empower the workers, the company has used every tool at its disposal to try to make its employees forgo their right to organize.

Or to fire them if they wouldn’t.

Earlier, the union organizers had put out a bulletin–with pictures–showing thirty of the employees on the union committee. At many companies, doing this offers a modicum of protection for the committee members because the company can’t then claim when it fires someone that it didn’t even realize he was a union guy. Lumiere refused to play by these rules: so far it has fired nine of the thirty. Another has been suspended and still another has had his last warning. And Lumiere’s hardball tactics have had an effect, of course. Some people have stopped attending the union organizers’ meetings.

One of the key tactics companies use to get rid of pro-union employees is to use points against them. Points are black marks on employee records; workers can get points for being late, being absent frequently, or being written up for not doing their jobs well. (Anything over ten points at Lumiere is grounds for dismissal.)

Take Gwendolyn, for example. She worked as a porter and had never had any points–never been late, never been absent, never been written up. But then one day she accumulated about a thousand invisible, unofficial points for “mouthing off”. What she did was to tell her co-workers that Phyllis, a Lumiere director, had said things about the union, at a meeting she conducted, that were untrue.  

Not that Gwendolyn made a scene. No, she kept it quiet, just talking to people standing near her, but–get this!–she felt free to contradict what her boss had said. And Phyllis apparently “didn’t appreciate her attitude.” So Phyllis let her know that she had noticed by going up to her at the end of the meeting and asking Gwendolyn whether she, Phyllis, had said anything wrong about the unions. Gwendolyn played it cool and told her boss that she had a right to say what she wanted. But after that, Gwendolyn’s days at Lumiere were numbered, and she should have known she was in trouble when, at the next meeting, Phyllis asked for her last name.

Phyllis saw her chance when Gwendolyn was mopping a hallway at work a few days later and had to get into a closet that was maybe 3′ x 3′ to rinse out her mop. But two other porters, Kevin and Fidel, were doing something in there, and she had to wait. Phyllis picked up on the cameras that Gwendolyn was just standing around doing nothing, so she watched carefully, hoping for more of the same nothing. She got it too. All right! she thought, and headed straight for that floor. When she got there, she asked what they were doing. Kevin and Fidel started to explain, but Phyllis interrupted and told the guys that they were fine, that she wasn’t talking to them, she was talking to Gwendolyn. She told Gwendolyn that she would be reviewing what the cameras showed had been going on, and that review showed twenty minutes of Gwendolyn doing nothing.

That was all it took to get Gwendolyn canned. Gwendolyn took the issue to the Labor Board, a state agency that mediates disputes. But unfortunately, the board’s members, appointed by a Republican governor, sided with the company. But the hearing did make it obvious that Gwendolyn had been singled out, so Kevin and Fidel had to be fired as well. Lumiere had to cover its ass, right?

Lumiere Place also told workers that the union will cost them a couple thousand dollars every year.  But union dues are actually $37 a month. $37 a month comes out to almost two thousand a year, doesn’t it?  Oh wait, not really.

The union also reminded the other workers that the hiring ad Lumiere placed when it opened the casino said it would pay $11-$13 an hour, but that when people came in for the interview, it was actually offering $9.   What’s more, the company told interviewees that after ninety days, they’d get a $1.25 raise. But Lumiere wrote performance reviews that said workers were only doing well enough to get a three percent raise.

These aren’t exactly hard times for the casinos.  Statewide, they grew by two percent last year, and Lumiere made 86-million dollars in seven months. So the company had a choice to make: pay workers what they’re worth or throw some extra cash at the shareholders.  Apparently, they chose the latter.

The guys who keep the parking garage clean live with the implications of this approach.  Their office is a shack in the garage–no windows, no heat, just a couple of metal doors. And before this union discussion came up, the bosses just ignored them when they asked: Couldn’t we at least have a space heater for days when it’s 17 degrees out here?   The shack was also unsafe, given that the company stored diesel fuel, gasoline, floor stripper, and  other chemicals in there. Furthermore, the zamboni machine the workers used to clean the garage was pumping carbon monoxide into the shack.  Of course, once the union negotiations started, management decided to give those guys permission to use the inside break rooms to warm up on cold days, even though they used to write employees up for spending time in there.

When one of the employees had the nerve to stand up at a meeting and correct his boss, his boss let him speak once, but when the employee stood to make another correction, his boss then said he wasn’t taking any questions or comments from those in the audience, and an aide crossed the room, pushed the worker on the shoulder and told him not to show such disrespect.

This is just one prime example of the union-busting tactics that happen across America all the time.  We need to pass the Employee Free Choice Act.  People’s livelihoods are at stake.