By definition, pickets are supposed to keep moving, but when a mean northeast wind whips down South Avenue, sneaking its icy fingers under quilted ski jackets, movement of some kind is all but a necessity lest hypothermia sets in.
The tanks of hot coffee and boxes of sandwiches on a table set up on the sidewalk just to the left of the gate help with the cold, but you can only drink so much coffee in a day. Being on strike is tension enough without being over-caffeinated.
Still, when reporters show up to take the strikers' emotional temperature, the pickets stopped moving and gathered in close to hear the spiel.
Despite the chill and the pending lack of visible income, the strikers seem in an upbeat mood, wisecracking and making phony ominous "whoooa" sounds when a co-worker gives his full name to a reporter. The Bridgeport cop sitting in his patrol car parked a few feet up the road looks very bored. The mood sours abruptly, though, when someone brings up the subject of how the strikers are coping with the idea of a long strike.
"No question, we're nervous," says Greg Viglione, with 22 years on the line. The wind has painted a rosy glow into his cheeks. "Most of us have families and kids in school. A strike is something none of us want to do, but we had to draw the line."
The line the 3,600-member Teamsters
The company's position was stated in a full-page advertisement in this newspaper, addressed to "our employees and neighbors." It describes an "80/20 co-insurance health care plan with annual increases in employee contributions." Such medical escalator clauses are old hat to non-union workers.
"We feel we have to say no to that because of what it could mean to the newer workers in the decades to come." says Mike Avery, shop steward at the Bridgeport plant. "You know this would be just the start of the increases."
In quieter moments the strikers theorize among themselves about how the company will manage to cover their particular jobs during the strike.
"Who's going to do the inspecting?" asks Sophia Zebrowski, who's got 27 years in the Bridgeport plant.
"They'll have to bring in the salaried people," Avery tells her. "They really don't have any choice."
When he names a few management people who might have to step in, it draws amused reactions from some of the others.
"What's so amazing about this strike," says Scott, "is that it's all over one issue. I mean, the company had a few smokescreens, a four-day workweek and stuff like that, but they went away fast. We were willing to take just what we had, but they dug their heels in the insurance thing."
If you talk long enough with the strikers, a sense that they feel they have been betrayed by Sikorsky comes to the surface.
"You know," Scott said, "this company has always been big about calling us a family. They like to use 'we' when they talk about big projects. But as soon as we ask for something, well then the we stops very fast. Now we're 'they.' "
Charles Walsh's column appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday. You can reach him by phone at 330-6217 or by e-mail at cwalsh@ctpost.com.
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