Aug. 17, 1985 - Sept. 13, 1986

Herald file photoDemonstrators blocked the main entrance to the Hormel plant, a public street and an Interstate 90 exit, with cars and bodies on the morning of April 11, 1985. Tear gaswas used to disperse the crowd and 17 felony arrests were made, one being labor strategist Ray Rogers.

Twenty-five years ago thismonth, P-9 union workers atHormel voted — by an over-

whelming 1,261 to 96 margin — toreject the company’s latest contractoffer and go on strike.What resulted was a bitter, drawn-

out labor dispute that drasticallyimpacted the community, from work-ers who lost jobs to families that weretorn apart by picket lines. Today,those impacts can still be seen bylooking at the radical changes toHormel’s workforce — and to the city

of Austin at-large.What follows are reflections on por-

tions of that history, that, while some-

times painful, are a vital reminder ofwhere this community came from.Such reminders often teach good les-sons about where a community can goin the future.We in the paper’s newsroom hope

that you take something away fromthese stories, whether that be a newpiece of information, a few tears shedor a new way of looking at oldwounds. Of course, discussion isencouraged and desired, and theHerald welcomes any thoughts youmay have.

— NOTE: Several quotes in the following section include crude language that, despite having been partially edited, may still be ofensive to some —

Austin Police move in on P-9 strikers during the 1985Hormel strike.

P-9 proud, 25 years laterInside the back door of a quiet

and unassuming building, nearthe corner of 10th Street andFourth Avenue in northeastAustin, one can still hear therumblings of an era 25 yearspast.Inside these walls — tacked

with newspaper clippings,vintage posters and framedphotos — gray-haired men oftengather, put the coffee on and talkabout the past underneath amounted white wooden sign thatreads in red: “Best WorkforceHormel Ever Had.”This is the meeting place of

The United Support Group — aband of defeated ‘P-9ers,’ theirwives, children and supporters.These former Hormel

meatpackers were among about1,500 members of the UnitedFood and Commercial WorkersUnion, Local P-9, who walked offthe job in August of 1985 inresponse to a looming 23 percentwage cut and unfavorableworking conditions.Some of the strike’s veterans

and their brethren still meettwice a week to talk about laborissues of the day — refusing toforget their own fight with thesame vigor that they protestedshrinking pay and plantconditions 25 years ago.

P-9ers rememberRichard Lee worked for

Hormel for about 40 years. Heretired on disability shortly afterthe strike and — sitting withfriends in The United SupportGroup hall earlier this month —he rattled off a list of dangerousjobs he worked in the hog kill.Lee stood in lines pulling leaf

lard out of freshly killed hogs,stripping brains from split heads,plucking shards of bone fromtissue and pulling pituitaryglands to reserve them on dryice.Lee once sliced his hand — in

between his thumb and indexfinger — clear through tendonsand nerves. After six weeks offthe job, he returned to have a co-worker accidentally nick his armthat very first day back.“It was hard work, bloody

work. You needed strong hands,”

Lee said. “But it was good pay —and if you didn’t screw it up, youhad a job for life.”That was the consensus

among about 10 former Hormelmeatpackers who met at TheUnited Support Group clubhouselast week — Austin meatpackingjobs meant difficult but well paid,sought after, stable work in theirday.Rex Machacek worked at

Hormel for almost 30 yearsbefore the strike. Because hisfather had worked at the plant,he was able to get a job in thebusiness office right out of highschool.“You had to know someone to

get a job there. Everyone thatworked around town would quittheir jobs if they could get in atHormel,” Machacek said.Machacek worked in the office

for 12-and-a-half years, all thewhile vying to move to thepacking plant where employeeswere unionized and the pay wasbetter.“It was a different kind of

work, and you had to take whatwas available,” he said, noting heworked a variety of meatpackingjobs, including flushingchitterlings.

‘American Dream’still rings true todayBy Mike Rose • Photo by Eric Johnson

Barbara Kopple recently received a letter that madeher stop and smile.The letter was fromMegan Olsen, a 27-year-old

Austin woman who had watched Kopple’s 1990Academy Award winner “American Dream,” thedocumentary that chronicles the 1985 Hormel strike.Olsen wrote that she was 2 years old when her

father went on strike and could remember virtuallynothing about it. However, after watching the film—first by herself, then with family members — Olsensaid she learned a great deal about her own history.“Without ‘American Dream,’” she wrote in her

letter, “I may never have known my parents as well asI do now.”Clearly, the 20-year-old documentary has stood the

test of time and today still serves as a soberingreminder of what a labor dispute can do to acommunity.The film follows the build-up of the strike, starting

in 1984 as negotiations begin to fall apart and unionworkers start canvassing for support. From there,Kopple follows severaldifferent storylines as thesituation develops over thecoming months.There are the hard-line

P-9 union workers, whopush vigorously for thestrike and stick with iteven as Hormel brings inreplacement workers.There are the companyexecutives, who maintainthat their wage offers arefair. There are those withthe internationalmeatpacking union who,despite being in favor ofbetter labor rights forpackers, don’t agree withthe tactics of the strikersand come to an impassewith the Austinorganizers. And then thereare the “P-10ers,” thenickname for workers whoinitially go on strike butsuccumb to the need tomake money and put food on the table — at the cost ofalienating themselves from friends and family still onthe picket line.Through it all, Kopple said she strived not to make

any one side look right or wrong, but tried to captureall sides of the story and let the viewers decide whowere the good guys and bad guys.“I cared about the people in Austin, Minn., very

much,” the filmmaker said of the union workers shegot to know so well. “But if we were ever to look backat (the film), we had to have the full story.”Kopple’s desire to follow that story began in the

early 1980s, as she became more and more engrossedwith what was going on economically in the workingworld. At the time, meatpacking plants across thecountry were struggling, with many slashing wages,shutting down, or going through bitter laborsituations. As this environment grew, workers inAustin started to take a critical look at a wageproposal that would have slashed pay by $2 an hour.

Story by Rachel Drewelow • Photos by Eric Johnson

> DREAM continues on 3

Bob Taylor, from left, Olgar Himle, Ken Dalagher and Dave King meet with others who took part in the Hormelstrike twice a week at The United Support Group.

NOTE: Richard Knowlton, whowas Hormel’s CEO during the1985 strike, did not respond torequests to be interviewed foran accompanying article.Requests were fielded by aHormel Foundationadministrative assistant.

A movie poster for the doc-umentary of the Hormelstrike, signed by directorBarbara Kopple, hangs inthe building where TheUnited Suppor t Groupmeets.

> P-9ERS continues on 4

Look inside for: A timeline of the strike — A sheriff looks back —What was it like covering the strike?

Commemorative edition

2 SUNDAY, AUGUST 15, 2010 Hormel Strike AUSTIN DAILY HERALD

Geo. A Hormel & Co. threatens to move meatpackingoperations out of Austin.While Hormel later announcedplans to build a new plant in Austin, the issue led to someconcessions on behalf of the workers in a union contract.Along with giving up incentive earnings, the workersagreed not to strike for three years after the plant was built.

Hormel opens its new plant in Austin. The companyannounces plans to cut wages from $10.69 to $8.25 an hour.

While the workers are angered, they can’t strike due to the1978 agreement.Workers form Austin’s United SupportGroup.Workers also hire Ray Rogers and his CorporateCampaign for $200,000 to form a fundraising plan and

public relations campaign for the union.

Hormel begins closing down plant operations with anofficial strike appearing likely. Hormel stops buying livestockas the company prepares the Austin plant for closure.Theplant would later close.“Right now,we’re business as usual, but we’re in a shutdownmode,” says Charles Nyberg, Hormel vice president andgeneral counsel.

P-9 begins strike. P-9 rejects a Hormel contract offer by avote of 1,261 to 96. P-9 President Jim Guyette says

protesters could be on the picket lines soon.“The result is not surprising in view of the attitude of the

union over the last few months,” says Charles Nyberg,Hormel vice president and general counsel.

While Nyberg said the Austin plant will be shut down in thenear future, he says the company plans to have the plant

operating in their long-term plan.Austin Police Chief Don Hoffman says no extra officers willbe placed on duty as the strike revs up:“At this time,we do

not expect any violations of the law regarding the strikesituation (at the Geo. A. Hormel & Co. Saturday). If people

become disorderly and unruly, an officer will take charge ofthe situation.”

P-9ers denied unemployment compensation. The P-9union will appeal the state’s decision to not offer thestriking workers unemployment benefits.

Thirty Hormel workers take retirement under oldcontract. Rather than facing the strike, 30 Hormel workers of

300 eligible choose to accept a company offer to retireunder their old benefits. Hormel announces record earnings. Despite the strike,

Hormel reports record earnings for the year and fourth-quarter ending Oct. 26.

After 97 years of operation,hog slaughtering at the Austinplant is suspended due to the strike.

Picketers begin a series of demonstrations blocking theplant’s gates. Hormel goes to court to limit the number ofpicketers.

P-9 members vote downmediator’s proposal to resolvethe strike.With the strike four months old, P-9 leaders urge

members to reject the proposal, which ultimately fails.

P-9 announces plans for roving picket plan.With thestrike becoming “like a war situation,”protesters say they’lltake the fight to other Hormel plants.

Hormel Plantre-opens

peacefully.However, the mood

would changequickly. In the

following days, localP-9ers begin totaunt potential

replacements byshouting “scabs.”

Protesters organize a blockade of several hundred carsand shut down the Hormel plant. After the Hormel plant re-opened peacefully, the mood quickly shifts and Gov. RudyPerpich orders the National Guard to Austin. Sheriff WayneGoodnature said a state of “mob rule”existed outside theplant.

Three are killed in crash. Two ABC newsmen and a pilotdie in a helicopter crash near Ellendale on their way to cover

the Austin strike.After more than five months, it appears the strikingworkers may not get their jobs back. Replacementworkers are being hired, and soon after, Hormel beginsfiring striking workers.

Interstate 90 ramp obstruction leads to several arrests.Ray Rogers and 25 other demonstrators are arrested forobstructing the Interstate 90 exit ramp near the Hormel

plant.

After a month in Austin, the National Guard leaves.Violence erupts at

demonstration.Afterthe Local P-9 and

Hormel agree to restartnegotiations, violence

erupts at ademonstration outside

the plant. A truck full of P-9ers and a film crew track downtwo men at a convenience store.The P 9-ers chase the menshouting, “There they are.They’re scabs.”The two men flee

in vehicles to the law enforcement center.

After the National Guard leaves,115 demonstrators arearrested outside Hormel’s plant.

Leadership with the national United Food and CommercialWorkers union orders Local P-9 to end the strike.

Tear gas is used to stop protesters. Seventeen people arearrested and eight police officers slightly injured when tear

gas is used to stop demonstrations outside the Hormelplant.

The Rev. JesseJackson visitsAustin as a mediator.When he lands atAustin MunicipalAirport, he is greetedby a large crowd of P-9ers and gives an impromptu sermon from the roof of a car.Along with meeting Local P-9 representatives, Jackson plansto meet with Hormel officials and all sides involved:“If I cangain the confidence of all parties involved and be afacilitator ... that would be a good role,” Jackson says.Jackson’s visit caps a week where an estimated 5,000 peoplecome to Austin in support of the local P-9.

United Food and CommercialWorkers gains control oflocal union.A judge denies a P-9 restraining order and

gives UFCW control of Local 9. UFCW had previously calledfor the P-9 to end the strike.

The relationship between the P-9 and UFCW became bitterand tense as some union leaders felt the strike would hurt

union membership, especially because Austin workerswere paid better than some other union workers.

United Food and CommercialWorkers Union evicts theP-9 from the Austin Labor Center. Striking P-9ers are nowessentially on their own without financial or organizationalsupport.The UFCW begins working to resolve the strike.

Union Leaders with the United Food and CommercialWorkers meet in Des Moines, Iowa, to discuss the details

of a contract as they near an agreement.

A tentative contract deal is announced that would bringHormel’s wages back to $10.70 by 1988.

A little more than a year after P-9ers vote to strike, thedispute is declared over. Thirteen P-9 groups — including

striking workers and those who returned to the plant —vote to accept the tentative contract agreement by a vote

of 1,060 to 440. A portion of the workers return to work, butmany are left on a callback list because many positions had

been filled by replacement workers.

P-9, Hormelreflect on strike

George and Jay Hormel weren’t greedymen. They grew a profitable meatprocessing business and they shared theprofit with their workers throughguaranteed annual wage, production and inincentive pay. They prospered, the workersmade decent wages and the community ofAustin was the envy of Minnesota and thecountry.In the 1980s, new management with new

ideas brought union-busting lawyers fromWisconsin two years before the strike todevelop a plan to take away from theworkers, give huge salaries and benefits tothe CEO, and devastate the community ofAustin. “If a town leaves behind a portionof its citizens, it will never be acommunity,” — Dr. Jack McConnel.Hormel started by taking money from

the workers to build a new plant. “If youdon’t, we’re leaving town,” they threatened.(The workers) were also promised theywould never make less in the new plantthen they did in the old one, but when theytransferred to the new plant, theirincentive pay was lost and theyimmediately started making less. Beforetheir contract came up in the mid-1980s,Hormel cut their wages by 23 percent andmade workers pay back any medicalcoverage that had already been paid tothem that year, this company that was veryprofitable needed to cut wages to be moreprofitable.(The company was) able to do this with

the help from the UFCW InternationalUnion. The UFCW had left out somelanguage in their last contract and made a“sweatheart deal” with the company tobring wages and benefits down. JoeHansen, UFCW said, “When Guyette talksabout this solidarity s**t it makes me wantto puke.” Seeing they would get no helpfrom the International Union, (the local P-9) hired Ray Rogers of Corporate CampaignInc. He brought inventive ideas that built acoalition of labor support from unionsacross the country and the world. Thisbuilt support for the strikers and helped tofeed families (Adopt-A-Family).P-9 may have lost the strike, but Austin

lost the war. Pete Winkels, P-9 businessmanager, said it best in a People’s Forumarticle in the Herald: “I take no joy incontinuing with this strike. I look withsorrow at the atmosphere that engulfs ourcommunity. It has been with a lump in mythroat that I have told people across thecountry not to buy the products that myfamily and friends and I had so much pridein making at one time. However, we are leftwithout a choice, for who will rememberthe cries of the children if this isforgotten? Where will the pride that used toexist by working at George A. Hormel Co.come from? We the union want to work. Wewant a fair and just contract and we wantour community to grow and prosper. Untilyou, Mr. Knowlton, and the other directorsunderstand this, we shall have to continueour struggle, forever if necessary.”

Judy HimleThe United Support Group

The following are statements sent by boththe local P-9 and the Hormel Corporation, atthe request of the Herald. The statementshave only been minimally edited, and theopinions in them do not necessarily reflectthose of the Herald as an organization.

As part of its 119-year history, the eventsof 1985 played a role in shaping HormelFoods into what it is today.We provide our employees with

competitive wages and benefits for the jobsthey do everyday. At Hormel Foods, weproduce and market consumer-brandedproducts that are among the best knownand trusted in the food industry.Maintaining this reputation is the result ofupholding our founder’s values forinnovation, high quality and continuousimprovement.

Julie H. CravenVice President of corporate communications,Hormel Foods Corp.

HORMEL FOODS CORP.

UNITED SUPPORT GROUP,P-9

Herald file photoA pair of strikers look out at police during the HormelStrike of 1985.

Former CEO R. L. Knowlton

Photo courtesy of the Mower County Historical Society

—All photos, unless noted, are Herald file photos,courtesy of the Mower County Historical Society

AUSTIN DAILY HERALD Hormel Strike SUNDAY, AUGUST 15, 2010 3

By JoshMonizPhoto by Eric Johnson

On Aug. 2, the Herald sat downwith Lee Bonorden,who covered thestrike for the paper in the mid-1980s.Now retired, Bonorden reflected on atumultuous time,both in his commu-nity and in his career.

Q. How far along in your careerwere you when you began cover-ing the strike?

A. It happened in 1985 and I wasthe divorced parent of a daughterand son.We moved here to Austin totake a job.At that time, I was 40 yearsold and I had been writing or report-ing full-time since 1969. I was maybeat the midpoint of the career I held. Iretired a year ago and that was the40th anniversary of being a reporter,so I had been around the block.

Q.Before the strike,notmany inthe region may have known awhole lot about Austin. How didyou see the community of Austinchange as the strike began toevolve?

A. When I came here in 1985,things were happening. It was anevolving situation going on. I thinkthe first thing that I noticed was, andforgiveme for understating the prob-lem, ‘this was serious.’ I had neverreported or been in a communitywhere there was a labor disputebefore. Very quickly you learnedthere were bars where companyexecutives went — Tolly’s Time Outwas their favorite watering hole —and there were bars where militantstrikers went like Lefty’s and the socalled eastside bars. Quickly enough,you saw it even in church. I went to achurch called Grace Lutheran and wehad several police officers anddeputies that went there, five or sixthat I remember, and very quickly itwas like the Amish. The cops sat onone side of the church and the mili-tant strikers sat on the other side.They wouldn’t speak. And this waswhen they were only talking aboutwalking off the job or going on strike.That also meant family members,brothers,who had divisive viewswhowanted to keep their job and thosewhowanted to keep striker solidarity.

Q. Word of the strike began toget serious in 1984. Where wereyou when you first learned thestrike of 1985was set to begin?

Pardon my crusty speak,but I wasa virgin who got defrocked veryquickly. Before coming to Austin, Ididn’t know anything about the his-tory of this labor dispute going onhere. It was quite a long history, it did-n’t happen overnight. It was all newto me and I was very naive. At thispoint in my career, I was this freneticsingle parent just trying to get a job,pay the bills and keep the familyafloat. As a reporter, I enjoyed moreso covering people rather thanissues. Feature stories and storiesabout events, rather than deep-seat-ed issues. So when I came to Austin, Igot with it in a hurry. It’s (due) to myown naivety that I didn’t inquire ifthere were any issues to be aware ofhere.The event sounded exciting andas a journalist I thought I could keepmyself apart from that.

A.You have said that the Heraldwas labeled as a Hormel sympa-thizer. Why do you feel the peopleof Austin felt this way?

Nine out of 10 historians could tellyou that Austin was a meatpackingtown and a bastion of labor. Theretruly was a rich history of first GeorgeA.Hormel,and then his son Jay,creat-ing contracts andworking conditionsthat made meatpacking a premierjob here. It wasn’t at all like Sinclair’s“The Jungle.” It’s a terrible job to sliceopen a pig’s innards and makesausage and bacon and so on. But,they had thebestworking conditionsand the best benefits of anybody. Inthe ‘50s, according to others whowere here then, you would find more

new cars and pickup trucks outsidethe plant than you would across thefreeway at the corporate offices. Theplant workers were paid far betterthan themanagers of the companies.The plant workers were building newhomes, they were driving the econo-my, they were spending the moneylocally. So, there was a rich historythat this was a very strong labortown. Other places had stuff goingon, but this was the place in theMidwest where people wanted tocome toworkbecauseof thebenefitsand the working conditions here. So,labor was king here in Austin.

This made the issue bring up verypassionate feelings.After all, the job isabout blood and guts and you workvery hard while doing dangerouswork with sharp knives. To this day,you can find old-timers with missingfingers or thumbs, so there is a lot ofdanger inherent to the work here.

So, the union element wasn’tabout to be criticized. Its membersworkedhard,sacrificed hard and theydrove the economy of Austin. So, tosee in print criticism of the unionbeing too demandingwas toomuch.To find something to criticize aboutthe union was just unheard of. Theunion was Mother Teresa, AbeLincoln and the Lord and Savior allrolled into one.So, they thought ‘howdare you criticize this element?’Around that time,thingswere chang-ing nationally.The unionswere losingtheir power. Already the Tyson chick-en empire was importing immigrantlabor and paying them less than itsregular workers. So, the Herald didn’thave any marching orders that wewere going to discredit the union.Wesimply tried ... earnestly to provide afair balance of what was consideredpro-company news and what wasconsidered pro-union news. In theunion, there was more passion thanin the suits at the office. They wouldmarch into the Herald offices andconfront you face to face,demandinga more friendly reporting of unionactivities and a less friendly reportingof the company here.Among the dis-sidents and militant unions, webecame known as the “HormelHerald” simply for trying to print bal-anced news.

Q. How did that impact yourexperience reporting on thestrike? People involved in thestrike became very passionateabout their side of the issue. Didyou ever feel your job put you indanger?

A. Occasionally the hair wouldstandupon theback of your neck.I’mnot a hero,but they shout at you,“Youmother-f***ing, ass-kissing journalist.If you don’t change the way youreport, we’ll break your legs.” I didn’tface the dangers the so-called scabsfaced going back to work, but therewere street corner confrontations.

I tried to disconnect myself fromwhat I would report. But, I think itmade me open my eyes and beaware that every word that I wrotewould be scrutinized.

It takes pretty big cajones to gocover a union rally when they’re say-ing,“Hey, there goes Lee Bonorden ofthe Hormel Herald. He’ll screw it up.He’ll not tell the truth.”

It was intimidation. Nobody everthrew a punch at me or wrote “scab”on my front lawn, but there was thethreat that they would.

Leaving your kids at home alsofelt like a risk,but what could you do?Bring them along in their pajamaswhen you covered the story in themorning?

Q.Youwerea reporter living inasmall community, covering a largeissue. Did your coverage of theevent ever crossover intoyourper-sonal life?

A. There were people whosehouses got shot at. There wereMolotov cocktails thrown at homes.There were lawns that by night peo-ple would write“scab”on.They madedevices that would flatten your tires

better than nails.At home, there were a few threat-

ening phone calls. Nowadays, I laughat it but at the time it was exciting.The kids at the time would rush toanswer the phone, and they wouldsay it was for me. I would take thephone and hear,“You mother-f***ingjournalist, I’m gonna break your legs.”I would slam down the phone andget angry at the kids. I would say,“Don’t answer those calls here, youdon’t have to listen to that kind ofstuff.” They would say it was justsomeone nicely asking if LeeBonordenwas there.So, it was kind oflike fair fighting. Don’t take it out onthe reporter’s kids, but he was fairgame. I didn’t frequent the eastsidebars where the unions hung out.Youwould endup looking at people a dif-ferent way.

Q. This was a large issue inAustin and the surrounding areawith a lot of intense moments.Whatwould you consider thehigh-lights of your strike coverage?

A. There was the time when (theRev.) Jesse Jackson came to town.Jesse was running for office at thetime, let us be truthful about that. Soyouhad to separate bulls**t from factto determine what he was doinghere. He prayed for the people thatwere arrested, and I think he wasarrested too at one point.

He was a celebrity. The RainbowCoalitionwas his platform at the timehe was here.

The character we have not men-tioned, a man by the name of RayRogers, was hired by the union toconduct its Corporate Campaign.There were rallies at the high schoolhere that were held by the union, byRogers.

There was the riot, with theNational Guard and the tear gas,which was pretty exciting. There wasa lot going on then. ...

Q. Was there any aspect aboutthe strike thatmostpeopleweren’taware of?

A. There was an aspect to thestrike, in the form of blood,sweat andtears, that therewere people that suf-fered. People who held onto thoseopinions that they were right andthat the other side was wrong, andthat thingswere going to change for-ever. And what they didn’t know washow far they would change and thatthings were out of control. That theyhad no control over those changes.

The strike changed people’s livesforever and it would change theunion forever. There would be nounion as it once was anymore.

Right or wrong, we have been apart of the much larger changeoccurring in the United States involv-

ing unions and immigration.

Q. A lot happened during theHormel Strike of 1985 — Reaganwas running for president andunions across the country seemedto be losing ground. Do you thinkthese bigger-picture events affect-ed the strike in Austin?

A. Something definitely hap-pened out there. This wasn’t just adispute between workers and theiremployers. This was a nation takingsides. It would really be maybe a dis-service to try to describe all the sides.

Q.How did you see Hormel andP-9’s approach to the strike changeover time?

A. The strike never captured thenational imagination like the “TheJungle”did because the safety at theplants have improved so much.

I think the strike was so intensebecause the factory was founded byGeorge Hormel and Jay Hormel,whoencouraged the ideas that the work-er came first, that we would take careof our workers and that we werefeeding the nation, so we would pro-tect themandprovide a safeworkingenvironment.

With how the company changed,I think Hormel at first was in disbeliefthat the strike would happen. Theunion put money in escrow to buildthe plant in Austin. It showed theywanted to keep their jobs. Then thestrike happens and I think the unionmembership felt that it was going toget the good contacts and benefits itthought it was going to get there. Ithink Hormel looked on the strikerswith benign neglect, like they werethinking, “Oh, these foolish people.They don’t knowwhat they are doingand they will cave in real soon and itwill all be over.” But it wasn’t. RayRogers’ campaign went all over, fromcoast to coast. That must have sur-prised the company that they wouldhave that kind of battle on so manydifferent fronts.

The thing I never really under-stood is that the international unionleadership discredited the local P-9ers. Through legal work, theyremoved the militants from office.They physically removed them andreplaced them with “yes” men. Thatwas like cutting off the head of thebeast to get rid of the militants. Soonafter, the rank and file capitulatedand gave up.

With regards to the union, I thinkthe rank and file of the meatpacker’sunion placed their trust in Ray Rogersand paid him an enormous sum ofmoney to conduct his CorporateCampaign, so that he could stagestrikes in front of all the differentplants. For whatever reasons, thatbackfired. In the end, there were fac-tions in the union that felt they werebetrayed by Ray Rogers. They felt he

had screwed them, they were foolishto have placed their trust in him, togive him all this money and by doingso we bankrupted our treasury here.So, they felt they had no money leftto stage a strike of any sort. So I feelby a chain of events, P-9 unraveleditself.

I think the rank and file forgave(local union president) Jim Guyetteandnever really blamedhimbecausehe was a local boy while Ray Rogerswas this outsider that came to town. Ithink Rogers was a guy that broughta good idea to town that turned outto be a bad idea and he paid dearlyfor it.

Q. Talking about the strike isstill a sensitive issue formany peo-ple in the area. How do you thethink the community as a wholenow reflects on the whole situa-tion?

A. I have a good example. I spokewith my friend who is a meatpackerwho works seven days a week on theSPAM line. I told him a reporter fromthe Herald was going to come andask me questions about the strike. Iasked himandhe said,“Nowadays, it’sso far back and the stars of it are somuch older that time blocks outsome of the nitty-gritty details. Plus,the new Hispanic workforce thinks‘who the hell cares’ because it’s anevent that took place 25 years agoand you’re just here to work.” (I) thinkthe strike has waned in its power andemotion. I’m sure the old guardwould think it’s behind them andwonder why you would want tobring that up. There might be a fewornery people that are still mad ateach other, but generally the clanshave mellowed throughout theyears.Time heals all or most wounds.

Also, Hormel has changed in my25 years here.When I came to town, itwas meatpacker, it was a meatprocessor. Now it’s a total foodprocessor. The company has such abrilliant plan to diversify and buy allthese subsidiaries while holding onto the core products. It’s been a per-fect strategy for this era. It would bean insult to call it a meatpacker now.

Q.Do you feel youwalked awayfromthe strike amoreexperiencedreporter?

A. Definitely. How we reportedback then may have been differentand looser than what we do today,but I still learned to do the basic 9o’clock listen to how many strikersthe police arrested last night, then 11o’clock listen to Guyette say howmany strikers the police brutalizedlast night and when the NationalGuardwas here,they had a lower offi-cer give a brief report. It makes anyreporter work harder to verify thefacts.Thewhole experiencemademea better reporter. It made this individ-ual better appreciate people and thepassion they hold for certain issues intheir lifetime.

The one thing I really treasureabout the strike is I got to talk witheveryone involved on both sides.Anyreporter would appreciate that youcould talk to people.

A view from the strike’s front lines

Lee Bonorden was down at the strike every day, covering the event firsthand for the Austin Daily Herald.

Kopple said she was in hercar driving aroundWorthington, Minn., — whereshe had gone to begin work ona film looking at plantclosings in the Midwest —when she heard something onthe radio about the situationin Austin. That’s when Koppleturned west toward Austinand “American Dream” got itsroots.“That was the beginning,”

Kopple said. “And I never left.”Settling into a motel in

Austin, Kopple and a small,rotating crew of cameraoperators began working onthe documentary. She said thebudget for the film was tightand penny-pinching was thenorm, though Kopple workedhard to bring in outsidefunding, at one time evenlanding $25,000 from the Bosshimself, Bruce Springsteen.

“I just burst into tears,”Kopple said of how shereacted when she got thenews.With a little funding in

place, Kopple and crewbecame entrenched in thecommunity and thedeveloping labor dispute.Striving to tell all sides,Kopple said she worked hardto gain trust from the variousplayers in the story. However,some were more open thanothers — the filmmaker saidstrike organizers seemedhappy to have a camera crewaround to capture theirstories, while Hormelexecutives were often onlyapproachable at boardmeetings.Still, Kopple’s access was

impressive. She filmed anumber of scenes inside thelabor center, at union boardmeetings, at the homes offamilies affected by the strikeand within the Hormel plant

itself.Perhaps most memorable

of the film’s scenes, however,were those shot beforesunrise during the frigidMinnesota winter. In them,Kopple captured the mostardent of strikers, theirbreath clearly visible in theair, bundled up and picketingin front of the plant as theearly morning shifts arrived.In some instances, thosearriving were the sameworkers who were on strikebefore, which drew the ire ofpicketers. Often, theseconfrontations were ugly,with friends and familyturning on each other.Kopple said it was

impossible for her not to betouched by the humanity ofthe situation. Even harder forthe filmmaker to take was thefilm’s conclusion, whichchronicles the many strikerswho ultimately lost theirregular jobs because Hormel

essentially moved on withoutthem.“Oh, of course (I felt for

them),” Kopple said. “Thesewere people I had gone everystep of the way with.”As the dust settled, Kopple

left Austin and returned toher native New York. Whenthe movie was released in1990, it was shown at a filmfestival there. However, a bigtest for Kopple came soonafter that, as she returned toAustin for a showing.With the Austin High

School auditorium — nownamed after RichardKnowlton, Hormel’s CEOduring the strike — packed,Kopple said the movie playedto a mostly silent crowd,which at first worried thefilmmaker. However, whenthe final credits rolled andthe lights came on, thoseassembled stood up in unisonand cheered.“I think they were

clapping for their pride,”Kopple said.Twenty years later, Kopple

said she thinks the moviestill has a lot to teach peopleabout organized labor andcommunities, although shesaid specific messages are upfor viewers to discern forthemselves.Asked if she has thought

about following up on“American Dream,” thefilmmaker said she reallyhasn’t, adding that she’s notsure if it’s something theAustin community of todaywould want to be involvedwith.That means that, for now,

“American Dream” will standalone — which is quite allright by Kopple.“It was a time in America

that we had to get to theheart of economic problems,”the filmmaker said. “I thinkit’s a film that captured thehistory of that time.”

Dream: ‘We had to get to the heart of economic problems’From Page 1

“I think the first thing that I noticed was,

and forgive me for understating the

problem, ‘this was serious.’”

-Lee BonordenFormer ADH reporter

4 SUNDAY, AUGUST 15, 2010 Hormel Strike AUSTIN DAILY HERALD

By Trisha Marczak

For former Mower CountySheriff Wayne Goodnature, theHormel strike of 1985represents more than a labordispute — it represents aclimactic period of time in hislife-long career in lawenforcement.Immersed in a month-long

national FBI training schoolhundreds of miles away,Goodnature’s dreams were cutshort in January of 1985 whenhe received word from theMower County Sheriff ’s Officethat situations surrounding theHormel strike had gotten ugly.“It got quite intense around

that time,” Goodnature said. “Itwas always rumbling, but itstarted to explode while I wasout there.”The mayor at the time, Tom

Kough, was rumored to haveplans to exercise his authorityover local law enforcementdepartments and order policeoff the front strike lines. Theonly other person in a positionto overrule the mayor wasGoodnature.When Goodnature returned

home, there was trouble. Withstrike-related politics in play innearly every sector of the city,Goodnature resumed his postto assert authority over locallaw enforcement and make astatement to those who soughtto exert power in his domain.“He was going to sort of try

to put a coup together and keepthe police from doing that,”Goodnature said of Kough’ssupposed plans. “He workedthere (Hormel) and was a partof the whole thing. The sheriffis the chief law enforcementofficer in the county — no onehad that authority.”As it turned out, Kough

never did attempt to orderpolice officers off the frontline. According to Goodnature,the presence of the sheriff intown was enough to causeKough to back down.“I just think coming back

helped,” Goodnature said in aphone interview with theHerald from his home inArizona.It also may have helped that

Goodnature was known forstanding firm in his role assheriff.“I was a very strong sheriff

and very, very adamant aboutdoing my job and doing itcorrectly,” he said. “I didn’ttake any prisoners.”Goodnature did return to

Virginia to attempt to finishthe FBI training program, butwas once again called back dueto the escalating situation inAustin.The strike, carried out by

the P-9 union, created ascenario in which more than

1,000 workers walked off thejob — and they weren’t happy.While Goodnature was away,

Garry Ellingson, chief deputyat the time of the strike, wasGoodnature’s eyes and ears onthe ground.“I kept a low profile and did

what we had to do,” Ellingsonsaid.The struggles for Ellingson

weren’t all that different fromthose that confrontedGoodnature. Living in a close-knit community that was inthe midst of a rathertumultuous battle wasdifficult enough for most.Enforcing the law, whichmeant dealing with friendsand neighbors on both sides ofthe strike, was not always apopular position to be in.“I had a neighbor who had

threatened me,” Ellingson said.“I told him if he continued,he’d be incarcerated.”The conflict, violence and

propensity for disastersurrounding the strikenecessitated the presence ofthe National Guard, orderedin by Gov. Rudy Perpich. Atthat time, Hormel had hiredreplacement workers, causingthe emotions of those on thepicket lines to escalate.At one time, Goodnature

recalls there were more than1,000 troops on the ground inAustin — that includedNational Guard members, lawenforcement officials fromaround the state, and the localpolice and sheriff ’sdepartments.“There were literally

hundreds of folks who wereally had never workedwith,” he said. “It was

exemplary the way everyonehandled themselves. I thinkeverybody realized the wholenation was watching us. In theend, I think everybody did agreat job.”That doesn’t mean officers

didn’t deal with struggles thatstretched them beyond theirdaily expectations.Goodnature recalls an

incident when acid was thrownon officers, which, for lawenforcement officials, changedthe game. Those who weresuspected of throwing the acidweren’t Austin residents, butsympathizers who traveled tothe area to joindemonstrations, Goodnaturesaid.“There was an out-of-area

group that was down there thatthrew acid on our guys once.We were all on edge thatsomething beyond our controlwas going to take place,” hesaid. “There was so muchanger and resentment that, tothis day, I’m astounded thatthere weren’t some realsituations involving ourpeople.”Goodnature, who was in

charge of the department’sbudget at the time, said theamount of overtime requiredwas unlike anything he hadever experienced. At any giventime, at least 100 people filledthe jail — a facility onlyequipped to handle 30 or 40people.“We had constant contact

with the Department ofCorrections — we always hadmore people in jail than wecould handle,” Ellingson said.Mass arrests were a

common occurrence, most

commonly for civildisobedience. An Austin native,Goodnature wound up face-to-face in the jail with peopleinvolved in the strike who wereimprisoned.“The strikers behaved quite

well, usually, when we had toarrest them— at least as wellas could be expected,” he said.

A lighter sideThough the strike generally

fills Goodnature’s mind withimages of chaos, he’s alsomanaged to tuck away somememories that, to this day,bring a smile to his face.During the height of the

conflict, the Rev. Jesse Jacksonmade a trip to Austin toaddress the union. Along witha public address, Jackson alsosought admittance to the jail,where he would have thechance to meet with thestrikers in prison.“I don’t remember how

many I had in, but it was alot,” Goodnature said. “I’msure it was for media flash —he tried to maximize hismedia coverage. Things weregetting really, really intenseon the line, officers were downand I think all of us were veryfearful that something terriblewas going to happen, so Imade a deal with him.”The deal involved Jackson

devoting a portion of hisspeech to explain to unionmembers that lawenforcement officials weren’tthe enemies — that they wereunion members, too, just tryingto do their jobs.After the terms of the

agreement were met, Jackson

was admitted to the prison,where he met many unionstrikers and one very special 12year-old girl: SusanGoodnature.“She was very charming,”

Goodnature said of hisdaughter.” She literallycharmed the pants off him.She was very verbal and verysocial.”It was Susan who led

Jackson from the entrance,down the hall and to the jailcells, where he met withstrikers.“Off they went down the

hallway — the two of themwent holding hands,”Goodnature said. “I havealways remembered that as avery great event.”

After the strikeAll together, Goodnature

served four terms as MowerCounty Sheriff.While one may think that

the campaign following thestrike would have been a toughone for local politicians, withstrong feelings on both sides ofthe issue, Goodnature walkedaway from his post-strikeelection with the largestmargin of victory of his fourelections.“I had always had a lot of

competition, so I think whenthe smoke cleared, most peoplesaw the job that lawenforcement had done as justbeing really extraordinary,” hesaid.In the end, officers walked

away seemingly unharmed — atremendous accomplishment,Goodnature said.“There were unbelievable

situations,” he said. “In theend, nobody got hurt and wedidn’t get sued.”There was also a

tremendous feeling of relieffor those who worked throughthe strike.“I was worked over 20 hours

a day,” Ellingson said. “I wastired.”The same went for

Goodnature, who could onceagain resume business asusual in the county.“I was elated,” he said. “It

was nice when it started tosettle down, but it was stillreally tragic.”In the end, most people

didn’t walk away with a senseof satisfaction. Sure, theremay have been relief,especially for those who livedin the Austin community, but,to this day, Ellingson said theeffects of the strike in Austincan still be felt.“It was a difficult situation

— no one really wins in astrike,” Ellingson said. “Thereare always hard feelings, evenyears down the road. I stillhear rumblings about it now.”

Herald file photoA protester leans forward to shout at authorities during the Hormel strike.

Former sheriff remembers time in the middle

Though the work could beunpleasant, said Olgar Himle,who worked at Hormel for 38years in dry sausage, it was amutually beneficial for theemployees and the company.Himle characterized the

majority of his career withHormel as symbiotic — thecompany took care of itsworkers, and in turn, theworkers took pride in the well-being of the company.“Jay C. Hormel was for the

working person,” Himle said,citing the Annual Wage Planthat the son of the company’sfounder, George A. Hormel,implemented more than 50years before the strike.Under this plan, employees

were paid weekly — whiletheir hours fluctuatedaccording to need — and theywere guaranteed 52 weeks’notice before termination ofemployment.The plan — along with

profit sharing, merit pay, apension plan and a jointearnings plan — had beenintroduced by Jay C. Hormelfollowing a three-day laborstrike in the 1930s.That began changing in the

1970s and 1980s.“When we moved to the

new plant (1982), it was likeworking for a differentcompany,” Himle said. “I usedto say they must have beenbringing a load of dirt out toJay C. Hormel’s grave everyweek, because he must havebeen spinning.”

The strike according toUnited Support GroupAccording to a number of

active United Support Groupmembers, the actions ofHormel in the late 1970s and1980s were nothing but a

strategized union-bustingcampaign.Ken Dalagher, who worked

as a scale mechanic at Hormelfor 38 years, said he began tosee the union challenged whenhe — with his 30-some years ofseniority — was told he mustuse his vacation time in thewinter months.The downfall started, many

members argued, whenHormel hired a legal team andasked its workers to give uptheir incentive earnings sothat a new plant could bebuilt.The workers complied, and

agreed not to strike for threeyears after the plant was built,in good faith that they wouldbe paid back and the newplant would be beneficial tothe future of the company —and thus the workers, saidJudy Himle, Olgar’s wife.When the new plant opened

in 1982, staffing and safetyfeatures were not acceptableto many workers and whenHormel announced wage cutsthe workers began theircampaign.Ardel Gorman, who spent

years working in a Hormelgrinding room and drysausage department, was inthe midst of a three-yearapprenticeship in themeatpacking shop whencontract negotiations with theLocal P-9 collapsed in 1985.Gorman said he never

fathomed that after he walkedout of Hormel that August dayhe would never go back. Heand other members of TheUnited Support Group saidthat they never imagined thestrike would play out as it did— with Hormel bringing inreplacement workers, theLocal 9 self-destructing asworkers crossed the picketline and ultimately withstrikers being annexed by

their larger internationalunion. More than that, thestrikers were not prepared towait for years on a callbacklist after the strike was calledoff because their jobs hadbeen filled.“Where have you seen that

in history — that you had towait a year, two years, three togo back to work after astrike?” said Gorman, whowas offered his job back —minus the time he logged asan apprentice — six yearsafter the strike.Gorman, who made ends

meet in the interim while hiswife worked as a nurse and hea welder, could not bringhimself to go back to theplant.Bob Taylor, who had

worked in the hog cut foralmost 30 years, had three ofhis five children out of hishome — which he had justpaid off — at the time of thewalk-out.He explained: “I didn’t

know it’d be the end. I got ajob at Fleet Farm in Rochester... But we’re still proud ofwhat we did.”

Still P-9 ProudThis Saturday, The United

Support Group will hold a25th anniversarycommemoration titled “Still P-9 Proud” at the AmericanLegion Post No. 1216,featuring speakers, music anddinner.Judy Himle said that

though many communitymembers continue to askthem to give up the ghost, theywill not forget what they stoodfor. In fact, many women ofThe United Support Groupcontinue to support otherlabor movements.Carol King, whose husband

Dave worked as a Hormelmachinist for 37 years, saidpart of the reason The UnitedSupport Group is holding theevent is to continue to backthe strikers so many yearslater.“I’ve always felt the support

group saved a lot of people —there were divorces,depression ... and we were justall there for each other and westill are,” said King, who soldher family’s custom-builthome during the strike andborrowed $20,000 from theirsavings to help put theirdaughter through medicalschool.Pete Rachleff, a labor

activist and historian who waselected chairperson of theTwin Cities P-9 SupportCommittee during the strike,will speak Saturday about thefuture of labor issues, andwhat can be learned from thestrike.“The strike happened at a

critical historical moment inthe 1980s,” Rachleff said in aninterview Tuesday. “Laborrelations were changing, notjust at Hormel or in Austin,but the economic values thatwere held since World War IIinto the 70s were shiftingnationwide.”Ray Rogers, public

relations campaign managerduring the strike, will alsospeak Saturday.“This is the 25th

anniversary, from myperspective, of a war ... thatwon the hearts and minds ofmillions of people. Maybe notas much locally ... but in theTwin Cities and nationally,people came together and sentfood and money to thesefamilies who were withoutwork,” Rogers said Tuesday.Rogers said he will talk a

bit about a divisive culturethat some say has plaguedAustin since the strike —meaning both the severed tiesbetween those on both sides ofthe strike, as well as thedistance between longtimeAustin residents and newimmigrant workers.“The real adversary is not

each other,” Rogers said, “ …The real adversary iscorporate greed.”Members of The United

Support Group said thatdivision was recentlyevidenced by communitymembers suggesting that astrike anniversary eventshould not be held, that thetown needs to move on.“We will not forget. Our

kids will not forget. Oursisters and our brothers willnot forget,” Gorman said, ashe left the The United SupportGroup clubhouse.

“STILL P-9 PROUD”When: Aug. 21, starting at 2p.m. Dinner served at 6 p.m.Where: American Legion, 80912th St. SWDetails: Music provided by LarryLong and others. Speakers areJim Guyette, Ray Rogers, PeteRachleff and Pete Winkles.RSVP to Ian Hoffman at (917)369-0482 orP9Proud@gmail.com

Buttons made and worn by theP-9 strikers adorn a section of thewall where The United SupportGroup meets twice a week.

P-9ers: ‘Our sisters and our brothers will not forget’From Page 1