Forty years ago this 
December, members of the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) did the 
unthinkable. They elected three of their own–rank-and-file coal miners–to top 
national positions in the UMWA. The labor establishment was deeply shocked and 
unsettled.
This kind of thing was 
just not done–and not a single labor organization (with the exception of the 
always independent United Electrical Workers) applauded W. A. (“Tony”) Boyle’s 
well-deserved defeat in his bid for re-election as UMWA president.
Then and now, rising to 
the top in organized labor normally requires waiting your turn (and, when you 
capture a leadership position, holding on to it for as long as you can, 
regardless of the organizational consequences). For trade unionists who are 
ambitious and successful, upward mobility usually follows a long career track 
that looks something like this: shop steward, local bargaining committee or 
executive board member, local union officer, national union staffer, national 
union executive board member, and then national union officer–president, 
vice-president, or secretary-treasurer.
Aspiring labor leaders 
can most easily make the transition from membership elected positions, at the 
local level, to appointed national union staff jobs if they conform politically. 
Dissidents tend to be passed over for such vacancies or not even considered for 
them unless union patronage is being deployed, by those at the top, to co-opt 
actual or potential local critics.
As appointed staffers 
move up, via the approved route, in the field or at union headquarters, they 
burnish their resumes and gain broader organizational experience “working within 
the system.” If they become candidates for higher elective office later in their 
career, they enjoy all the advantages of de facto incumbency (by virtue of their 
full-time staff positions, greater access to multiple locals, and 
politically-helpful headquarters patrons). Plus, in the absence of any 
one-member/one-vote election process, most seekers of union-wide office only 
have to compete for votes among several thousand usually docile national 
convention delegates. In unions that provide geographical representation on 
their board, candidates for regional leadership positions can even get elected, 
at conventions, with the support of just a few hundred local union delegates. 
Either way, candidates who are part of an “administration team” usually win over 
independents and rank-and-file slates (particularly in unions where all board 
members are elected “at large”).
The MFD’s 
Unwelcome Victory
In 1972, the Miners for 
Democracy (MFD) blazed a trail directly to the top, under admittedly abnormal 
circumstances because the UMWA permits direct election of top officers by the 
entire membership. Three years before MFD candidates ran, there was a contested 
race of a different sort, involving two longtime union insiders. Fed up with 
Tony Boyle’s coziness with coal companies, executive board member Joseph 
(“Jock”) Yablonski challenged Boyle for the presidency. Unfortunately, the 
election was stolen by the incumbent, although the results were later overturned 
by the U.S. Department of Labor. When it came time for a government-supervised 
rematch, Yablonski was, tragically, no longer available to run. He had been 
assassinated in the meantime (along with his wife and daughter).
Three little-known local 
union officers hailing from West Virginia or Pennsylvania–Arnold Miller, Harry 
Patrick, and Mike Trbovich–entered the lists instead. They had never been on the 
UMWA national staff or executive board but carried the banner of union democracy 
and reform anyway. Even though they were running, at the top of the ticket, 
against a management-friendly incumbent– soon to be indicted for his role in the 
Yablonski murders–the MFD slate won by only 14,000 votes out of 126,700 cast, 
hardly a landslide.
From a vantage point 
four decades later, the choice between Boyle and the MFD should have been a 
nobrainer. But in the rough-andtumble world of trade union politics, the 
advantages of incumbency should not to be underestimated, in any era. As a 
grassroots organizing project, mounting an electoral challenge to any candidate 
favored by the national union establishment is an uphill fight, even when the 
bureaucracy itself is discredited or split. Competitive elections (aka “this is 
what democracy looks like”) are far more celebrated in the breach than the 
observance in organized labor. In fact, within labor’s top officialdom, there’s 
no announcement more pleasing to the ears than “re-elected by acclamation.” 
Whether that’s healthy for the labor movement is another question.
To explore the rare but 
important phenomena of contested national union elections, this article begins 
with the MFD saga. It then examines the Teamster presidential election campaign 
of Ron Carey twenty years later and reports on the experience of two present-day 
local union officers who had the audacity to run for top jobs in their 
respective national organizations just last year.
A Partial UMWA Revolution
The MFD victory and its 
tumultuous ten-year aftermath has been variously chronicled by former UMWA 
lawyer Tom Geoghegan in Which Side Are You On?, labor studies 
professor Paul Clark in The Miners Fight for 
Democracy and journalist Paul 
Nyden’s contribution to a recent Verso collection entitled, Rebel 
Rank and File. As Nyden notes, the 
election that thrust three rank-and-filers into unfamiliar jobs in a 
disfunctional national union headquarters in Washington, D.C., “channeled the 
spontaneous militancy arising throughout the Appalachian coal fields” during the 
previous decade. In the 1960s, miners staged two huge wildcat work-stoppages 
protesting national contracts negotiated in secret by Boyle (with no membership 
ratification); in 1969, 45,000 UMWA members participated in a statewide 
political strike which accelerated passage of new federal mine safety 
legislation and creation of the first West Virginia program for compensation of 
miners disabled with “black lung.”
According to Nyden, 
candidates backed by the MFD, a group founded at Yablonski’s funeral in 1970, 
“succeeded in ousting one of the country’s most corrupt and deeply entrenched 
union bureaucracies” because they had key allies inside and outside the union. 
In the coalfields, “wives and widows of disabled miners, the Black Lung 
Association, the wildcat strikers, and above all the young miners who were 
dramatically reshaping the composition of the UMWA constituted the backbone of 
the campaign.” Also aiding the MFD was a skilled and committed network of 
community organizers, former campus activists, journalists, coalfield 
researchers, and public interest lawyers, some of whom would later play 
controversial roles as headquarters staffers for the union.
The UMWA had been run in 
autocratic fashion since the 1920s when John L. Lewis crushed the last major 
rank and file challenge to the leadership, a campaign mounted by progressive 
miners like John Brophy and Powers Hapgood. So when the MFD took over, the 
institutional context was a smaller scale union version of the political turmoil 
following recent Arab Spring uprisings or any similar overthrow of a 
dictatorship in place for many decades.
The new leaders 
inherited formidable internal and external problems that would have been vexing 
for anyone in their shoes. They succeeded in the project of structural 
democratization and, for a time, more competent union administration. But 
membership expectations in the crucial area of contract negotiations and 
enforcement were not met. As the 1970s progressed, new UMWA organizing 
initiatives failed to counter the coal industry’s systematic “de-unionization,” 
a process that continues unabated today.
An Erratic President
Within the union, the 
conservative Boyle forces quickly regrouped and maintained their own baleful, 
disruptive influence. The three top MFD officers fell out among themselves, with 
the best and youngest of them–Harry Patrick–leaving the UMWA after a single term 
of office in 1977. Arnold Miller’s weak and erratic presidency became an 
unmitigated disaster; in 1977-78, 160,000 miners had to battle UMWA headquarters 
and the White House while shutting down the bituminous coal industry for 110 
days . Highlights of that struggle included two contract rejections and a failed 
Taft-Hartley back-to-work order sought by Jimmy Carter.
To this day, the MFD 
experience (for those who remember it) remains a Rorshach test for how one views 
sudden regime change in labor, engineered from below. Some MFD veterans, who 
were ex-coal miners, blamed (and even red-baited) “the outsiders” for what went 
wrong. By the late 1970s, most of the college educated non-miners, who were 
swept into influential positions by the MFD’s victory, left in frustration over 
the failings or political setbacks of their friends and allies. Some went on to 
work for other unions, most recently the Service Employees International 
Union.
Washington, D.C., labor 
insiders viewed UMWA turmoil as proof that “inexperienced” people should never 
be allowed to run a major union. On the labor left, the shortcomings of the 
Miller Administration have always been attributed to its unwillingness to 
empower fully the rank-and-file. If only “the MFD hadn’t been disbanded” and top 
officials had been willing to embrace the right to strike over grievances and 
employed the militancy of the UMWA’s wildcat strike culture, rather than 
clashing with it, the outcome would have been different.
Some semblance of 
stability and forward motion was not restored until a second-generation 
reformer, Rich Trumka, took over as UMWA president in 1982, after defeating a 
former Boyle supporter who replaced Arnold Miller when he retired for health 
reasons in the middle of his second term. Trumka gained valuable experience as a 
headquarters legal staffer during Miller’s first term. Plus, he had the street 
cred of working underground before and after his initial tour of full-time union 
duty in Washington, D.C. But even with steadier, more skilled hands at the 
helm–and an inspiring strike victory at Pittston in 1989–the union has remained 
on a steady course to near total marginalization; its actual working membership 
today is only about 12,000.
History Repeats 
Itself in the IBT?
The most high profile 
challenges to the leadership of other major industrial unions, in the 1970s and 
1980s, did not take the form of pure rank-and-file insurgencies of the MFD sort. 
Instead, they looked more like Jock Yablonski’s break with Boyle in 1969. In the 
United Steel Workers and Auto Workers, two dissident regional directors in the 
mid-west, Ed Sadlowski and Jerry Tucker, challenged their respective union 
establishments. Both called for reform while serving as national executive board 
members, after winning those positions in elections that were initially stolen. 
Both were forced out of top leadership positions after trying to move up or just 
get re-elected. Tucker fell victim to tight control of convention delegate 
voting by the UAW “Administration Caucus,” which has ruled his Detroit-based 
union for six decades. With some former UMWA reformers assisting him, Sadlowski 
ran strongly, but unsuccessfully, for USWA president in 1977 balloting involving 
nearly 600,000 of the union’s then 1.4 million members.
A campaign like 
Sadlowski’s was impossible in the International Brotherhood of Teamsters (IBT) 
when that union picked its top leadership at national union conventions heavily 
influenced by organized crime. As part of the settlement of a controversial 
Justice Department anti-racketeering lawsuit in 1989, the IBT was forced to hold 
its first-ever direct election of officers and board members two years 
later.
Fortunately, the IBT was 
the longtime turf of Teamsters for a Democratic Union (TDU), which campaigned 
for this more democratic method of voting. TDU was launched just a few years 
after the MFD, as a vehicle not just for electioneering but for long-term 
rank-and-file organizing. In the IBT two decades ago, there were no credible or 
trusted defectors from the national leadership like Ed Sadlowski or Jerry 
Tucker; but, helpfully, the Teamster “old guard” became badly splintered. Two 
rival slates formed, composed of existing IBT executive board members, wellknown 
regional officials, and other principal officers of large Teamster 
locals.
For fifteen years, TDU 
had been conducting unofficial, bottom-up “contract campaigns” and helping 
Teamsters democratize their local union by-laws and run for local office. TDU 
helped assemble a full slate of executive board and officer candidates headed by 
Ron Carey. Carey was an ex-Marine and militant leader of United Parcel Service 
(UPS) workers in New York City; his vocal criticism of Teamster corruption had 
turned him into a pariah among fellow local union officials (only several of 
whom agreed to run with him). Most of Carey’s running-mates were TDUers who had 
never held any union position above the level of shop steward or convention 
delegate.
As Newsday labor 
reporter Ken Crowe recounted in Collision: How the Rank-and-File 
Took Back The Teamsters, the 400,000 Teamsters 
who cast their ballots in 1991 were participating in the largest 
government-supervised union vote since the MFD ousted Tony Boyle. Carey garnered 
very little delegate support at the IBT convention where presidential candidates 
were nominated that year. So Teamster employers, the AFL-CIO, and the mass media 
were all much surprised when he won the union presidency with 48% of the 
membership vote. Carey’s largely rank-and-file slate swept all but one position 
on the union’s executive board.
The Rise (and 
Fall) of Ron Carey
Anyone who had 
experienced the MFD years at UMWA headquarters and then spent some time in the 
IBT’s “Marble Palace” in Washington, D.C., after Carey became president could 
not help but feel a sense of deja vu. Carey inherited a hostile and 
disfunctional national union bureaucracy; at the local level, scores of Teamster 
affiliates were cesspools of corruption, headed by crooks and thugs of all 
sorts.
Like the Boyle forces in 
the UMWA, Teamster regional barons remained bitter foes of the new reform 
administration. They had been ousted from the executive board, stripped of 
costly perks, and then deprived of additional paychecks for their multiple union 
positions by a TDU-backed reformer. Much of the Teamster officialdom, while not 
corrupt, nevertheless feared and disliked Carey’s strong commitment to rallying 
the rank and file in contract campaigns and strikes. That approach to union 
bargaining was perceived as undermining “local autonomy”– i.e. the ability of 
IBT officials to negotiate any kind of sweetheart contract with 
management.
A Teamster counter-revolution began brewing almost immediately. It produced 
the 1996 presidential candidacy of James P. Hoffa, a lawyer from Michigan who 
had never been a working member of the union, except in summer jobs arranged by 
his father when he was IBT president. Hoffa senior was one of the best-known 
labor leaders in the nation before he was imprisoned in 1967, later pardoned by 
Richard Nixon, then kidnapped and killed by the Mafia in 1975.
Carey defeated Hoffa in 
1996–by a mere 16,000 votes–but in a tainted fashion that sadly turned 
reform-oriented rule into a mere interregnum in Teamster history. Carey’s career 
came crashing down in “Teamster Donorgate”–a re-election campaign financing 
scandal that ensnared many, inside and outside the union, including Rich Trumka, 
then secretary-treasurer of the AFL-CIO.
Trumka took the Fifth 
when he was questioned before a federal grand jury about the federation’s role 
in a complicated contribution swap scheme arranged by various Carey campaign 
consultants, vendors, or union staff members. Most pled guilty, while one, the 
Teamsters’ political director, was convicted and jailed. Carey himself was 
forced from office and indicted for perjury; denying any knowledge of the 
transactions, he was later acquitted. Trumka was never charged.
But, in collective 
bargaining, Ron Carey was no Arnold Miller. Before Carey was forced out in late 
1997, Teamster reformers, working in his Washington and in the field, still 
managed to pull off the biggest, best-organized strike of the decade. Under 
Carey, the IBT orchestrated an unprecedented mobilization of 200,000 UPS workers 
that ended in a widely supported 15-day national workstoppage. It was widely 
hailed as just what the labor movement needed to go on the offensive again. 
Unfortunately, when the 1996 election was overturned and re-run, Hoffa won the 
first of his now four presidential campaigns. In each election, until last 
year’s race, the local officer running as TDU’s candidate got more than a third 
of the vote, while agitating for a return to the militancy and membership 
mobilization of the Carey years. Hoffa and his leadership team have taken a less 
adversarial path. Much to the dismay of some Teamster dues payers, the current 
Teamster president has also helped solidify his support by condoning (and 
contributing to) the collection of multiple union salaries by Teamster 
officials, a practice that drains the IBT treasury of $12 million a 
year.
The IBT’s Latest 
Three-Way Field
Mounting dissatisfaction 
with Hoffa’s now fourteen-year year reign spawned not one, but two local union 
challengers, who went the distance in the IBT’s latest direct election battle. 
Despite more than two decades of federal court oversight, Teamster conventions 
still reflect the culture of an unrepentant one-party state. So when supporters 
of Sandy Pope, a local president from Queens, N.Y., and Fred Gegare, a local 
president and dissenting Teamster board member from Wisconsin, went to the 
microphones to speak on behalf of their respective candidates (or any other 
issue) in Las Vegas last June, they were drowned out by the thunderous boos of a 
pro-Hoffa crowd numbering more than 4,000.
A TDU supporter since 
the late 1970s, Pope was photogenic, articulate, and a tireless campaigner with 
a substantive critique of Hoffa’s record. She also had a solid personal resume 
featuring actual Teamster work experience, followed by years of full-time union 
service as an effective organizer, international union representative (under 
Carey), and elected leader of a model Teamster local. Gegare similarly stressed 
his own rank-and-file background, as opposed to Hoffa’s lack of it; his attacks 
on “Junior” had the additional bite of coming from someone who was, for years, a 
Hoffa backer and leading mid-western member of his administration.
\Both Pope and Gegare 
were, in their own way, intent on forcing an important debate about the future 
of the union. But, in Las Vegas, where each Hoffa critic was nominated with 
about 9% of the delegate vote, the pro-Hoffa delegates, alternates, and guests 
weren’t much interested in listening to them. When the two opposition candidates 
went to the podium for their 20-minute nomination acceptance speeches, their 
audience immediately dwindled to their own combined delegation of about 300; 
everyone else walked out of the hall.
Barnstorming around the 
country, in a grueling campaign for anyone with local union responsibilities, 
both fared much better. Their combined anti-Hoffa vote among the 250,000 
Teamsters who cast ballots last fall was twice the percentage they got among IBT 
convention delegates. But, in a blow to TDU, Gegare (who was running with a near 
full slate of running mates) got 23%–taking more votes away from the reform 
movement’s past base of support than he did from Hoffa’s 
constituency.
As a result, Pope–who 
was running alone, just against Hoffa–placed a disappointing third, with 17%. 
The 70-year old incumbent was re-elected, with 40 percent of the vote, for 
another five-year term. As TDU organizer Ken Paff points out, Hoffa’s huge 
fund-raising advantage explains a lot about the results. The Teamster president 
“raised $3 million, according to his slate’s financial reports, most of it from 
officials who owe their positions or power to him,” Paff wrote in Labor Notes. 
In contrast, Pope raised about $200,000, “could afford a mailing to less than 20 
percent of the union’s membership” and relied on volunteer phone banking for her 
GOTV effort. Hoffa “did multiple mailings to the 1.3 million members, the bulk 
of them devoted to vicious attacks on Sandy Pope.” Hoffa also benefited from 
controversial IBT- funded robo-calling that was ostensibly non-partisan and 
aimed at boosting turnout but subtly reinforced his core campaign message about 
“unity.” Both Bill Clinton and Danny DeVito taped messages urging Teamsters to 
vote, which 20% did.
This lowest ever 
turn-out–and the cost of direct elections every five years–is now cited, by 
Hoffa supporters, in their revived drive to switch back to the old Teamster 
method of electing top officers and board members at convention. In response, 
defenders of “the Right to Vote” note that the twoyear administrative costs of 
the most recent direct election add up to about the same amount the IBT spends, 
in a single year, bestowing additional pay-checks on favored officials already 
receiving one or more for their local or joint council positions. As a 
percentage of Teamster dues income over five years, argues TDU, “democracy costs 
less than one half of one percent of your dues!”
A CWA Convention 
Challenge
A few weeks after the 
Teamsters vacated Las Vegas last summer, local union delegates from the 
Communications Workers of America (CWA) came to town to pick their own national 
officers and executive board members. Although only convention delegates, rather 
than the entire membership, get to vote on the union’s top leadership, the 
culture of CWA convention elections is relatively democratic, if still tipped 
very much in favor of incumbents and de facto incumbents with headquarters 
connections and backing.
For example, it’s not 
unusual, although difficult, for the president of a large local, who has never 
been tapped to serve on the national union staff, to run successfully against an 
incumbent CWA vice-president in charge of one of CWA’s fourteen geographical or 
occupational groupings. The odds are better when there’s an open executive board 
seat, like the one won last year by an African-American president of a large 
telephone local in Texas. He defeated a top assistant to the previous CWA 
executive board member from District 6, which covers a five-state 
region. 
In 2011, however, Don 
Trementozzi, a telecom local president in New England, became the first local 
union leader in thirty years to run for a CWA national officer job. (The last 
such challenger, also from Texas, actually succeeded when two headquarters 
officials vied for the same vacant position as Executive Vice-President.) Last 
year, to save money, CWA eliminated this EVP slot–a position held, at the time, 
by 20-year national union employee and former CWA District 7 leader, Annie Hill. 
Hill teamed up with incumbent President Larry Cohen to run for 
secretary-treasurer, when the holder of that office decided to 
retire.
In the normal course of 
events, the Cohen-Hill “unity team” would have been chosen by acclamation, due 
to the long political coat-tails of the widely-respected Cohen, who made it 
known that he also plans to retire in 2015. But Trementozzi, like Pope and TDU, 
wanted to force a debate about issues–in this case the breakdown of CWA 
bargaining coordination and solidarity within AT&T, the union’s largest 
employer three years ago.
No Time For 
Debate?
A 52-year-old native of 
Rhode Island, Trementozzi is a Verizon customer service rep and former activist 
in AFSCME and the IAM, who was elected president of CWA Local 1400 in 2002, 
after running on a reform slate. He was involved in last year’s strike at 
Verizon and serves as a member of the regional union committee trying to 
negotiate a new contract covering 45,000 VZ workers from Massachusetts to 
Virginia. Last February, Trementozzi announced his independent candidacy for CWA 
secretary-treasurer with a statement redolent of union populism from the past. 
Dubbing his effort “Save Our Union 2011,” Trementozzi declared that CWA “needs 
more people in the top leadership who can better reflect the perspective of 
those of us closest to the membership, who must deal with rankand- file concerns 
every day.” (Seehttp://www.saveourunion2011.org/)
In their low-budget 
campaign, Trementozzi and his backers blamed Hill for AT&T bargaining 
miscues in 2009. Taking a supportive and conciliatory stance toward the top of 
the administration ticket, Trementozzi argued that “President Cohen needs a 
stronger partner in Washington than he’s going to end up with for the next four 
years if Annie Hill becomes secretary-treasurer.”
Unfortunately, 
Trementozzi’s appeal for “ticketsplitting” as “the way forward in CWA” failed to 
sway delegates from the union’s flight attendant division, newspaper guild, 
manufacturing sector locals, and public employee bargaining units in New Jersey 
that Cohen helped organize three decades ago. Save Our Union (SOU) drew support 
primarily from telecom locals in upstate New York and New England, plus unhappy 
AT&T local officers in other parts of the country (including leaders of the 
largest telecom local in Texas). SOU’s total campaign budget was about 
$7,000.
The day before the vote, 
Hill haughtily boycotted a candidates’ forum that Trementozzi had arranged so 
the two could finally have a face-to-face debate. Taking a leaf from Hoffa in 
the Teamsters, Hill had earlier refused to make any joint appearance with her 
opponent, via conference calls or in person, before delegates anywhere in the 
country. Instead of debating in Las Vegas, Hill handed out a list of “Cohen-Hill 
supporters” that included the names of more than 70 union staffers, lawyers, and 
executive board members who were not even delegates or eligible to 
vote.
CWA convention rules 
unfairly limited “Save Our Union” speakers to just the two delegates who 
nominated Trementozzi and then second his nomination. They were granted a total 
of four minutes to make the case for electing him. There was no time allotted 
for either secretarytreasurer candidate to address the delegates before the 
convention recessed so secret balloting could begin.
About 1,100 delegates 
cast votes based on the membership strength of their locals. Hill received 276, 
769 votes (or 74.5% of the total), while Trementozzi got 94,733 (25.5%). While 
Sandy Pope and other TDUers will be resisting efforts to make the 2011 Teamster 
presidential race the last one decided by a popular vote, Don Trementozzi and 
other SOU supporters have a more modest procedural proposal to make. They’d just 
like to change CWA’s convention rules, in 2013, so any future contenders for top 
union office get the same twenty minutes to make a nomination acceptance speech 
that Teamster candidates had. In CWA, they believe, most delegates might even 
stay in their seats to hear what the opposition has to say.
Steve 
Early worked for 27 years on the national staff of the Communications Workers of 
America in the northeast. In 2011, he was an active supporter of Don 
Trementozzi’s “Save Our Union” campaign for CWA secretary treasurer. Early also 
aided Ron Carey’s successful candidacy for Teamster president and, while on loan 
from CWA, served on Carey’s headquarters “transition team” in 1992. In the mid- 
1970s, he was a headquarters staff member of the United Mine Workers when MFD 
candidate Arnold Miller was president of that union. He is the author most 
recently of The Civil Wars in U.S. Labor from Haymarket Books, 
and can be reached at Lsupport@aol.com. This piece 
originally appeared in Social Policy, Winter, 2012, Volume 41, #4,  
For Social Policy subscription information, see http://www.socialpolicy.org/)
