E-mail to Zarcone

(“Zar-CONE”)

Too bad you left before the meeting ended.
You missed all the fireworks I caused when I finally got fed up with all the noisy bickering, and bellyaching, and bellering, and said “yeah, but will I see you at the next meeting?”
“Probably not,” I added. “I keep coming to these things, and it’s only 10-15 people (out of 500+), usually different each time.”
“Every time I come I expect I might have to drive all-the-way back home, because we didn’t get a quorum.”
“Wait a minute; who are you?” bellowed the chief bellyacher.
“He’s a retiree,” interjected Frank; “which means he can’t even vote. But he keeps coming to these meetings because he knows the only way he can support his union is to show up at these meetings — and he’s driving all the way from West Bloomfield; about an hour. Believe you-me, he’s at every meeting. He was at the last one, and will be at the next one.”
The meeting adjourned shortly after that — it was 11 p.m. It had already been extended once.
Frank hadn’t completed his Business Agent’s report — and Dunbar was mad as a hornet, and was ready to walk out. Blocchi almost did.
I got accosted again as I crossed the darkened parking-lot.
Chief bellyacher introduced himself, and started yammering at me.
I interrupted.
“My career driving bus ended suddenly 15 years ago, but before my retirement I was deeply involved in this union with a voluntary union newsletter.
Dunbar cut me off, and thankfully. “We can’t leave until you guys clear out.”
Dunbar and Frank were pulling out as I started to leave.
“Make sure Dunbar knows I appreciated him giving me an out,” I said to Frank.

It’s true; the Union is a joke.
But that’s because of givens I observed long ago doing my newsletter.
—1) The bus-drivers are pretty much on-their-own anyway.
They report to a Drivers Room, and after that are on-their-own until they drive home.
And that Drivers Room was an inspired idea (probably a continuation) by Jack Garrity to control the Union.
I thought a Hall off the property might make more sense, but that would have been a HUGE expense, and drivers were already complaining loudly about piddling union assessments.
—2) So in effect, only the mechanics, bless ‘em, were a union.
They were on the property all day, and not in some room monitored by management.
Their concerns could spread like wildfire among themselves.
My newsletter was a feeble attempt to improve communication among drivers.
But it didn’t work.
All it did was increase political pressure on Garrity and his lackeys, and that was because Dunbar was circulating it to area politicos.
But we sure had fun.
We had Transit management on the run.
“Too bad I’m 64,” I said. “I no longer have the stamina to stay up until 3 a.m. finishing that newsletter.”

“Zarcone” is Dominick Zarcone, a union-representative hired shortly after me; and a friend of mine. We both drove bus at Regional Transit Service, the transit-bus operator in Rochester, NY, me for 16&1/2 years (1977-1993). My stroke October 26, 1993 ended that. (Zarcone is still driving.)

“Frank” is Frank Falzone (“Fowl-ZONE”), the union Business-Agent; one of only two full-time union officials. Local 282 is the Rochester local of the nationwide Amalgamated Transit Union — my old bus-union.

“Blocchi” (“Block-EEE”) is John Blocchi, the union recording-secretary; a bus-mechanic at Transit.

“Dunbar” (“Done-BAR”) is Ray Dunbar, currently the union vice-prez, and was chairing the meeting. 15 years ago, together we initiated the union newsletter; me as editor, writer and producer, and he helped collate and distribute. (It was largely his idea.)

“Jack Garrity” was the head-honcho at Regional Transit Service during my entire tenure. Despite all the trouble my newsletter caused, I wasn’t fired. I was perceived as one of their best employees. —The current head-honcho at Transit is much worse. I’d be fired as a union-agitator.