Back to the ‘Burg for Barack: The Story of a Union Activist's Return to Pittsburgh
December 01, 2008 | BY Linda Foley
I decided to go back home to help change America.
I left Pittsburgh, Pa., permanently in March 1977. I’ve been back many times since then to visit my parents and siblings who remained behind. Never overstaying my welcome and not interacting too much with my past or my ever-evolving hometown.
On Sept. 1, 2008 (Labor Day), after 30 years of living elsewhere, I moved back in with my parents. For eight weeks I worked with my union, the Communications Workers of America (CWA), and members of the Allegheny County Labor Council to help make Barack Obama the next President of the United States. I came back to Southwestern Pa. with full knowledge of the political opportunities and challenges “our area” (as Pittsburghers like to refer to their little corner of the world) would present to the African-American, Democratic nominee seeking the highest office in the land.
As if I needed to be reminded, The New York Times, in an Aug. 20 article that ran as I was packing my bags, summed up the dynamic “our area” would pose in this election. Noting that Hillary Clinton had bested Obama by 40 percentage points in Western Pa., the Times stated, “this economically ravaged region, once so solidly Democratic, poses a particular hurdle for Senator Obama.” The unions were solidly behind Obama, the Times said, but “one hears much hesitating talk about Mr. Obama, some simply quizzical or skeptically political, and some not-so-subtly racial.”
***
Pittsburghers are open and honest, almost to a fault. They work hard, and many of their parents worked even harder than they do. They are very cognizant of their roots, both to their home and to the cultures and traditions their ancestors brought to “our area.” They love their city, and their country, and their families, and their high school football team. And the Steelers.
Obama made an appearance in Pittsburgh on Oct. 27. In front of a packed house at Mellon Arena (where the NHL Penguins play), the future president-elect electrified the crowd. But not until he was first introduced by Dan Rooney, owner of Pittsburgh’s beloved Steelers. After well-received political speeches by Gov. Ed Rendell and U.S. Sen. Robert Casey, the crowd leapt to its feet as the announcer said, “Now please welcome Dan Rooney, owner of the Pittsburgh Steelers.” As if on cue, 17,000-plus Obama supporters spontaneously chanted in unison, “Here we go Steelers, here we go! Here we go Steelers, here we go!”
Rooney presented Obama with a black and gold Steelers jersey, emblazoned with “Obama 08” on the back. Obama told the screaming crowd he had been a Steelers fan since he was a boy in Hawaii, which has no NFL team of its own. In the minds of many Pittsburghers, that probably cinched the election for him.
Rooney, along with Steelers great Franco Harris, campaigned all across Western Pennsylvania and Eastern Ohio for Barack Obama. With the help of the United Steelworkers, they organized a Steel Blitz for Barack tour. And for $40, anyone could get a Steelers-like jersey with “Obama 08” on the back.
***
When I was a child, every Christmas season, our family would drive up to Mount Washington, a rather majestic hill that towers over downtown Pittsburgh and the confluence of the three rivers that form the city’s epicenter “Point.” On Light-Up Night, all the lights in all the buildings in downtown Pittsburgh would blaze into the evening, signaling the start of the Christmas shopping season. It was spectacular. But even more spectacular was the bright, solar-like light emanating from hundreds of steel blast furnaces that lined the Monongahela River just a few miles to the east. They turned the night into day.
Those mills are almost all gone now. So is the foul air and smelly water that in another era earned Pittsburgh the nickname, Smoky City. And so are thousands of good-paying jobs that forged a prosperous working class which kept the city’s economy humming.
But the legacy of those mills and those jobs remains part of the Pittsburgh’s fabric even today. Most of the steel mills in Allegheny County were shuttered by 1995, but nearly everyone still living in Pittsburgh has some connection to the steel industry and to the Steelworkers union.
The Steelworkers' headquarters in downtown Pittsburgh was where we conducted our phone banking for the campaign. It also served as one of several locations from which we launched weekly Labor Walks in various Allegheny County neighborhoods.
This phone bank was like no other I’ve experienced. It was filled nearly every night (50 phones on the first floor and another 30 high-tech “predictive” dialers on the second floor, plus a back-up location one block away at another union headquarters.) From the beginning of October through Nov. 4, we were making upwards of 6,000 calls a night to persuade union members to vote for Obama.
It was worth it. Literally thousands of union members made calls, knocked on doors, passed our flyers at work and attended rallies to garner support for our presidential nominee. And they were effective.
About two weeks after I arrived in Pittsburgh, Frank Snyder, the AFL-CIO state’s director, gave a rather grim report about the state of the presidential race among union members in Region 9 (“Our Area”.) Obama’s support was running at about 53 percent, behind where John Kerry and Al Gore had run in 2004 and 2000. Obama’s support would have to improve if Pennsylvania were going to stay blue.
By Nov. 4, it had improved -- greatly. Obama’s support among union members in “our area” ended up at about 67 percent, exceeding that for both Kerry and Gore.
***
The United Steelworkers’ role in determining the outcome of Election ’08 can’t be understated. The union unleashed an army of hundreds of walkers and dialers across Pennsylvania and the nation.
On Sept. 19, a few hearty activists from the CWA, including me, gathered at 5:30 a.m. to help our USW brothers handbill steelworkers at U.S. Steel’s Clairton Works, one of the few remaining working steel mills in Allegheny County.
A steady stream of burly, stoic men trudged past us through the darkness into work. It was chilly; you could see your breath. They were chilly, too.
Although most of them grudgingly accepted a flyer, “Barack Obama Supports Working Families,” many refused; some even offered that there was “no way.” We were all pretty worried about their collective reaction.
A month later, the morning after the vice presidential debate between Joe Biden and Sarah Palin, Jerry Laycak, a state political operative for the Steelworkers union, stopped me in the hall. “We went back to the Clairton Works this morning,” he said. “The reaction was totally different. The guys were much more supportive. They were even asking for yard signs and stuff.”
The calculation goes like this: If the union makes six contacts with a member during the course of a campaign, the member is likely to vote the right way. I figure we had these guys from the Clairton Works at about four contacts: two plant leaflets, a phone call and maybe a house visit.
***
The Steelworkers’ retiree organization is called SOAR, which stands for Steelworkers Organization of Active Retirees. Plant closings and a long history of union membership have created a large contingent of SOAR members in Allegheny County.
Early one mid-October afternoon, we were working on “walk packets,” the compilation of maps, instructions and flyers we gave to volunteers who did the member-to-member neighborhood Labor Walks each Saturday. A slight, rather elderly man wearing a SOAR cap and blue windbreaker walked into our work area. “Can somebody help me?” he asked. We offered him a seat and asked what we could do.
“The nursing home dahn ‘ere offa Brahn’s Hill Road,” he said in the classic Pittsburgh manner of dropping the “th” in “there” and turning “o’s” in “ahs” as in “Brahn’s Hill” instead of “Brown’s Hill.”
“Someone needs to go dahn ‘ere,” he continued. “’ere’s lots of votes dahn ‘ere, but someone needs to go dahn ‘ere and talk to ‘em people. I used to do it, but I can’t no more, cuz I can’t drive. I’m 84 years old, and I can’t drive no more.”
We told him we would take care of it; did he have a name and address? He didn’t, but he was sure we’d know which nursing home it was. “Right ‘ere at the bottom of Brahn’s Hill Road, right ‘ere just below Squirrel Hill.” (Yes, Virginia, there really is a Squirrel Hill in Pittsburgh.)
I asked him if he lived near there. He said he didn’t live too far away. He said his name was Joe, and he was a retired Steelworker, hence the SOAR cap. I asked him if someone had driven him to the Steelworkers’ headquarters (a good 7 miles or so from where he said he lived). “No,” he said. “I took the bus. I can ride the bus for free cuz I’m a senior citizen.”
Campaign coordinator Mike Harms, himself a bus driver by trade and a member of the Amalgamated Transit Union, offered Joe a button, “ATU for Obama/Biden.”
“Can ya gi’me a few more?” Joe asked. “I’ll pass ‘em aht to the bus drivers.” Mike obliged.
A few days later, Joe was back. Still donning his SOAR cap, he reached in the pocket of his windbreaker and pulled out a yellow paper. “Here’s the name and address of ‘at nursing home,” he said. “By the way, got any more of ‘em buttons? I’ve been givin’ ‘em aht to all the bus drivers. They love ‘em.”
Joe came back twice more to stock up on buttons. The last time he came by, I missed him, but I was told he was disappointed because we had run out of buttons to give him.
When John McCain made such a big deal about that phony “Joe the Plumber” in the third presidential debate, I couldn’t help but think of our Joe. Joe the Steelworker, we started to call him. I’d put our Joe the Steelworker up against McCain’s Joe the Plumber any day. Our Joe was real; our Joe was doing all he could to make life better in America, even though he couldn’t drive anymore.
***
By mid-October, the polls were looking good. Obama/Biden was 10 points or more ahead in Pennsylvania. After pulling out of Michigan, McCain decided to make Pennsylvania his last stand. And “our area” was where he apparently figured he could win it. He and running mate Sarah Palin held at least 10 events in Western Pa. during the last two weeks of the campaign.
McCain never ventured into Pittsburgh proper; he stayed in suburbs like Moon Township (not be confused with Mars, Pa.) or in Beaver County. Palin did come into the city only once, for a fundraiser with big donors at the Westin Convention Hotel. We were ready for her.
About 100 of us gathered outside the Steelworkers headquarters with homemade signs and our Obama/Biden apparel and marched to the hotel, roughly 10 blocks away, through the heart of downtown Pittsburgh in the sunny late afternoon. We were chanting “Obama, you betcha” and other catchy anti-Palin, pro-Obama slogans.
As we marched, Pittsburghers at bus stops, on corners, crossing streets and even working on construction projects were cheering us on. Many gave us high fives as we passed by. Workers came out of shops and restaurants to wave at us. Some joined us, and our ranks grew.
By the time we reached the Westin Convention Hotel, the size of our group had doubled. And it continued to grow as we awaited Palin’s arrival. Someone brought a trumpet, and a bass drum. Cars were honking as rush hour began to pick up. Even the bus drivers (thanks to Joe, many of them wearing Obama/Biden buttons) honked their horns and waved.
Bus drivers, construction workers, steelworkers, teachers, electricians, lawyers, secretaries, waitresses, teamsters, students, mothers, fathers, kids – all gathering impromptu at one of the busiest intersections in downtown Pittsburgh on a Friday afternoon during rush hour. Chanting, singing and reveling in their support for Barack Obama and change.
It was pretty festive and cheerful; the crowd even morphed a favorite Steeler fight song into a song for Barack. It was festive, that is, until Palin’s “Straight Talk Express” bus appeared. Once that happened, the singing, dancing throng turned into a screaming mob shouting all kinds of epitaphs at the bus’s blackened windows as it rounded the corner.
Then it was over. “Do you think she saw us?” one native Pittsburgh union activist asked me. “I hope so. She needs to understand that this is Pittsburgh. And we’re for Obama. She needs to git aht and stay aht of Pittsburgh.”
It was then that I knew we were going to win Pennsylvania.
***
The weekend before, I realized why Pittsburghers supported Obama and what he stood for.
It was Pittsburgh’s 250th anniversary. The entire city celebrated on Oct. 4 with the largest fireworks display in its history. Zambelli Fireworks of nearby Lawrence County, Pa., produced the display, with the most launch points – 17 -- of any fireworks show held in the United States. We had to cancel our neighborhood Labor Walks for Obama that weekend due to so many road closures.
Like my Pittsburgh days of yore, we piled into my parents car and headed up to Mount Washington for the best view of this extravaganza. It was mobbed. People wrestled for parking spots and watching spots on the wharfs, bridges, roads and hillsides in around the city.
We found a pretty good spot just behind a church on Mount Washington. And it was spectacular. Fireworks synchronized from the Point, the bridges, barges and even the tops of buildings. After every breathtaking array, you could hear the cheers of thousands of Pittsburghers bouncing off the hills and echoing through the three river valleys.
It was like Light Up Night, only better. I looked down the Mon (Monongahela River) half-expecting to see the bright lights of those bygone blast furnaces, but they were dark. And yet, this city, that had changed so much and lost so much in the 30 years since I was a Pittsburgh girl, was as vibrant and as beautiful as it had ever been.
“I love this city,” my mother said half under her breath as the fireworks burst below us. She was talking to herself, but she was speaking for all Pittsburghers that night.
Bill Clinton is fond of saying he still believes in a place called Hope. Well, Mr. President, I believe in a place called Pittsburgh because it is a city that has celebrated hope for 250 years.
Hope that its past is prologue to its future. Hope that hard work pays off. Hope that we can rely on one another. Hope that “our area” stays as beautiful and as welcoming as it was for our grandparents. Hope that our city continues to be someplace special, and that our Steelers keep winning.
And finally hope that we could overcome the reservations we may have harbored to vote for a man, who’s African fatherleft him and his mother before he could talk, and who was raised by his white grandparents in Hawaii, of all places. We had hope that we could push back against whatever fears and anxieties we had about that man and ourselves, and we elected Barack Obama President of the United States. Hope won out. Hope has always won out (aht) in Pittsburgh, Pa.
Linda Foley is the former president of The Newspaper Guild-CWA.
Nashville union members and community activists are urging the presidential candidates to end the debate over national health care reform and guarantee affordable choice in health care for every American.
