Broken Windows

Raul Flores was but a humble window-maker.

Employed for eight years at Republic Windows and Doors on Chicago’s North Side, he didn’t imagine ever having to take his hands off the machinery in favor of a megaphone to ensure the financial survival of his 250 co-workers—but in early December 2008, as a steward of United Electrical, Radio, and Machine Workers Local 1110, that’s exactly what he did. With just three days notice and no severance pay for its workers, in addition to unpaid wages that were previously outstanding, Republic’s management closed the factory doors, removing machinery under the cover of night and leaving the plant’s loyal employees both literally and figuratively out in the cold.

In response to what they saw as an incredible injustice, plant workers continued reporting for their shifts as usual—only now, instead of manning the lines and assembling the same construction materials that the company had been putting out for nearly 45 years, they were occupying the building, demanding that action be taken to deliver workers compensation, either by company management or the manufacturer’s principal creditor, Bank of America. For six days, Flores and his co-workers peacefully, but militantly, kept guard of the warehouse that many had considered a second home for much of their adult lives.

“It really felt like a big family in there,” Flores told Artvoice, “so everyone was hopeful.” This in spite of the fact that not one of these workers had been respectfully told that his or her job was in jeopardy.

While revenues were down at Republic long before last fall’s economic collapse, the corporation remained a major supplier of vinyl windows and doors to contractors in the Chicago area, which made workers confident that their credit line might be spared with the passage of the $25 billion government bail-out for Bank of America, allowing plant operations to continue as normal. Instead, the company’s owners chose to end operations with nearly no warning for its employees, even as they continued to fight on its behalf.

“We just wanted someone to take responsibility, so we went to the Bank of America and picketed, and demanded that they were accountable. We did a rally in front of that building to put pressure on everyone, but not once did our owner show his face. Every time he wanted to say something, he’d send someone else,” Flores said. “We knew we had to protect the plant, because at that point, it seemed like the windows we’d made were the only money left. But we didn’t know who to protect it from, because no one was taking responsibility.”

In addition to the support of their “big family,” the Republic workers got backing from some unexpected places: “Reverend Jesse Jackson came with food and supplies, and told us that we were doing the right thing,” Flores said. “When President Obama mentioned our struggle, that was huge. It made us stronger.”

But Flores is quick to mention that even the hope that accompanies the inauguration of a new president cannot solve problems that require the true grit of a union-driven, American, blue-collar work force.

“The president doesn’t have that magic touch that changes the way our economy works. To get respect, we’ve got to start standing up for ourselves. It’s time for people to open their mouths and say, ‘This is how it will work.’ It has to come from the people.” Flores credits the organization of his union for the peaceful message that these average Americans sent to their money-hungry corporate bosses.

After six days of around-the-clock occupation of the Republic Windows and Doors plant, complete with signs, karaoke, and an unswerving respect for the building itself—cleaning took place on shifts, and snow was removed from the building’s walkways as it fell—Raul Flores and his co-workers received the lost wages and severance pay for which they’d been fighting. The government bailout finally trickled down to the taxpayers who provided it, and although every single person found him or herself unemployed, they’ reached the settlement they deserved.

Now, not even two months after they made headlines, select union leaders like Flores are making their way across the country to provide hope for the thousands of newly jobless people who have been swept under the rug during these harsh financial times.

When asked if he’d secured a new job since the closure of the Republic factory, Flores responded proudly that he’d decided to return to school for an education that will hopefully put him on the more stable side of the manufacturing business: computer programming. Nevertheless, the lessons that he and the rest of the union employees at Republic have learned will not soon be forgotten.

“It wasn’t just about the money,” Flores insists, “it was about the respect.”

—brad deck

Representatives from United Electrical, Radio, and Machine Workers Local 1110 will speak at Lafayette Presbyterian Church at 5:30pm on February 12.