A Different Kind of Team Spirit

Up on the blue level of Dodger Stadium, behind the counters where fans line up for peanuts, Cracker Jack and Dodger Dogs that are grilled, not steamed, concession stand manager Lucy Wieneke has struck some blows for the workers of the world.

There was the time in the ‘70s, when the company that ran food services required workers to wear a uniform, a heavy polyester smock, over their street clothes. In the heat of August, standing over a grill, workers were miserable. Everybody complained, but management said tough. Then, one broiling day, Lucy simply told her workers to remove their smocks. Her boss came running, but Lucy said tough. Soon, there were new blue aprons that made everybody happy.

Then, in 1991, a new corporate overseer issued a surprising order that workers should continue serving food during the National Anthem. Lucy read the directive and tore it to pieces. Even as she was being reprimanded, another directive was issued to retract the first.

A couple of weeks ago, this 68-year-old great-grandmother spoke her mind again, at a meeting of Local 11 of the Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees International Union. With the Freeway Series coming up, with the “scab” Dodgers playing the “scab” Angels, the concession workers faced a dilemma: Do we or don’t we cross the invisible picket line?

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“You can’t be labor,” Santana Rivera explains, “and not respect a picket line.”

Rivera wrestled with his conscience. He works full time in electronics and part time managing a concession stand near Lucy’s. Eight years ago, co-workers drafted him as shop steward.

Ballplayers, of course, aren’t labor in the traditional sense. Top-producing coal miners and strawberry pickers will never make millions per year, or command a starting annual wage of $109,000. Yet the players acted like labor, walking away to protest the owners’ salary cap proposal.

At Local 11, some people admired the players’ position, even though it cost these workers dearly. Some, like Rivera, have full-time jobs and say that pushing Dodger Dogs is a fun way to earn extra money. But many people lost a key source of income and, in some cases, health insurance because of the feuding greed-mongers.

Lucy’s friend, Beatrice Rodriguez, knows this too well. Separated from her husband, she lives in a $520-per-month one-bedroom apartment in east Hollywood with her three children. Working in a school cafeteria as well as the concession stand, she saw her earnings drop from $18,000 in ’93 to below $14,000 in ‘94, mostly because of the baseball strike. She fell behind on rent and bills and briefly collected welfare.

Rivera understood that he owed his loyalty to Local 11, not the players. Still, it was easier when union reps explained that the players never sought a strike sanction from the AFL-CIO or the County Federation of Labor. Local 11’s contract would protect workers if they honored a sanctioned strike. If they honored an unsanctioned strike, there would be no protection.

Save for Local 11 itself, few people found it noteworthy that concession workers were on the job for the Freeway Series. And Santana Rivera figures he knows why the ballplayers never wanted other stadium workers to honor their labor action.

To have sought such support, Rivera explains, would have saddled the players with an obligation beyond self-interest. They would be obliged to walk for labor in the traditional sense. And all things considered, Rivera realized, they’d much rather play ball.

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Something set Lucy Wieneke off at that union meeting. Someone said, look, if the players want us to walk, then we walk, because we’re labor and that’s that.

“I have a real problem,” Lucy declared, “walking for men who are making millions of dollars.”

Everything went sour, she figures, when players started selling their autographs. Lucy used to bleed Dodger blue. When Sandy Koufax pitched his perfect game, she got goose bumps. At an old-timers’ game, she got a ball autographed by Joe DiMaggio, Willie Mays, Duke Snider and Pee Wee Reese. No charge.

Now it seems like the only relevant color is green. Not only would Lucy not walk, but she hoped the strike wouldn’t end. She wanted the replacement players to have their chance.

Lucy didn’t get her wish. The major leaguers are coming back, though Dodger management says it can no longer afford such popular stars as Orel Hershiser and Brett Butler. It’s been reported, however, that Dodger slugger Mike Piazza has vowed to donate $100 for each home run he hits to the unions representing stadium workers. It’s better than nothing.