Exeunt Kookies

As the barons of organized labor met for their biennial convention--and the tenth anniversary of the A.F.L.-C.I.O. merger--Labor Secretary Willard Wirtz aptly summarized the challenge confronting the unions in the affluent society. Said he: "Never before has the country faced so clearly the choice that it now faces between moving ahead or settling for what we now have, for leaning back, if you will, and patting our stomachs." For all the well-upholstered abdomens in San Francisco's Civic Auditorium, there were signs of change by convention's end last week.

Crusty As Ever. In its first major leadership overhaul, President George Meany deftly moved eight men of his own choice onto the federation's 29-man executive council. None of those removed was an active leader in his individual union; all those elected to the council hold important offices in their home unions. The changes, a modest response to criticism that the A.F.L.-C.I.O.'s top echelon has lost touch with its 12.8 million dues payers, lowered the average age of the council from 66 to 64.

Meany, sounding as crusty as ever at 71, accepted uncontested election to a new two-year term. He also took a $25,000 pay increase, which brings his annual salary to $70,000. When Harry Bates, 83, president emeritus of the Bricklayers, resisted Meany's invitation to retire, Meany decided not to force the ancient out. In keeping with the even-tempered mood of the convention, Meany had kind words for the 89th Congress, even though it pointedly failed to give him the three pieces of legislation that labor wants most: repeal of the Taft-Hartley Act's right-to-work provision, an increase in the federal minimum wage, and a boost in federal-state unemployment benefits.

The federation responded to pressure from its own liberal wing by adopting a strong pro-civil rights resolution. As another sop to its social conscience, Meany pledged in his keynote address that organized labor would fight to improve the lot "of all the little people of America."

Right to Disagree. Labor's monumental decorum was marred only momentarily, when two dozen student pickets infiltrated the meeting to protest against the war in Viet Nam, while Dean Rusk was defending U.S. policy before the convention. George Meany, like any true hero of the barricades, stumped over to the podium and growled: "Will the sergeant at arms remove those kookies from the gallery."

Emil Mazey, liberal secretary-treasurer of the Auto Workers, later chided Meany "for a vulgar display of intolerance" in ejecting the Vietniks. "The most precious freedom that we have is the freedom of dissent," said Mazey. "The labor movement has been the victim of people trying to silence our right of expression, and we have to take the lead and demonstrate and fight for the right of people to disagree, whether it is on Viet Nam or any other subject matter." Meany, whose life in the labor movement has left him with little patience for philosophers, retorted that the demonstrators' signs insulted President Johnson, Dean Rusk and the A.F.L.-C.l.O. "If Brother Mazey is annoyed," pronounced Meany, "let him be annoyed by me."

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