The Battle of Bal Harbour

AS petty and personal as it may seem, the clash between President Nixon and Labor Chieftain George Meany is for the highest political stakes. At issue is not only the fate of Nixon's plan for the nation's economic recovery, which may depend on whether labor accepts the Government's wage guidelines. Also in the balance is the 1972 presidential election. Determined that Nixon must go, Meany is preparing the biggest labor participation of any campaign in history. Just as determined to stay, Nixon plans to beat back the attack by showing that he serves the national interest while labor serves only itself.*

The battle opened head-on at the A.F.L.-C.I.O. convention in Bal Harbour, Fla. A week after the encounter, pundits were still busy retracing the maneuverings of these two seasoned infighters. The President staged the first surprise. Though he had been routinely invited to attend two months before, he did not accept until the eve of the convention two weeks ago. George Shultz called Meany to ask if Nixon could address the delegates the next day. Impossible, replied the labor boss. The executive council had scheduled a meeting to vote on a resolution of noncooperation with the Pay Board. Nixon would have to come later.

No Flourishes. A swarm of presidential advancemen descended. They made a number of requests of Meany: an offstage microphone for announcing the President's arrival, a union band to strike up Ruffles and Flourishes and Hail to the Chief, a seat of honor to the right of the podium for the President to occupy while Meany made the introduction, removal of delegate seats in front of the speakers' stand to make room for live television cameras, banishment from the press area of reporters covering the convention so that there would be space for White House correspondents.

Meany flatly turned down all the requests. The White House persisted about the music. The Secret Service brought along sheet music and placed it on the musicians' stands. Meany told the Musicians' Union not to let the orchestra play. Hissed a Nixon man: "You will play this." Once again Meany insisted that the musicians lay down their instruments.

When the President emerged, he was accompanied by no music, and received only perfunctory applause from the delegates. Since he could not get the seat he felt the dignity of his office required, he walked directly to the podium. As the President spoke off the cuff, Meany sat glowering near by, occasionally muttering a sardonic rejoinder. When he finished, Nixon stepped down from the stand to shake hands with delegates. Within moments, Meany gaveled the convention back to order and sent the President on his way. The delegates gave the labor boss a standing ovation.

But if Meany had won the round inside the hall, he clearly lost it outside. In a situation where he had the upper hand, he came across as churlish and vindictive. Labor strategists conceded later that it might have been better tactics to smother the President with kindness rather than cold-shoulder him. As the convention continued last week, he tried to recover lost ground. He told the delegates that he had not intended to give the President an inferior seat. "When you go back over the history, John F. Kennedy sat in that chair. Lyndon Johnson sat in that chair. The commander of the American Legion will sit in that chair when we introduce him a little later. Jerry Lewis, if he can sit still long enough, will sit in that chair too." Meany also had an explanation for the lack of music. "We don't have an orchestra. We have what you might call some chamber music. I don't think you can play Ruffles and Flourishes on a violin." He conceded that some of the delegates had laughed during the President's speech. "But I still think we have a constitutional right to laugh."

At a news conference. Secretary of the Treasury John Connally answered Meany in kind. "Mr. Meany," said Connally, "reflected an arrogance and a boorishness and a discourtesy that ill becomes a leader of the American labor movement." Many union members seemed to agree with Connally. A survey conducted by the Opinion Research Corp. showed that 63% of union families disapproved of the treatment given the President at the convention.

Counting Pennies. Ultimately, labor's attitude toward the President will be determined by how well Phase II succeeds (see THE ECONOMY). Union members are not optimistic. A prevailing gripe is that prices have continued to rise while wages have been frozen. To many, Phase II seems to promise more of the same. "How the hell can they control things?" asks Henry Borello, an official of the Marine Engineers Beneficial Association in San Francisco. "They freeze a few wages. Then you go to the grocery store, and things are up a penny a can here, a penny there."

Workers are also worried that the economy is not going to pick up soon. While unemployment remains high, they feel business is free to increase its profits. "We'll go along with controls if they are equitable," says Paul Schrade of the U.A.W. "But why should the workingman shoulder higher prices and fixed wages when the profitmakers are getting away scot-free?"

Labor has won a number of concessions from the Nixon Administration, including pay hikes that surpass the 5.5% guideline. But if the time comes when Nixon must crack down, union members are likely to forget their differences with George Meany and close ranks behind him. There are already signs of just that. Says David Crippen, a member of the Social Services Employees of Los Angeles: "For what must be the first time in its history, this local is supporting Meany." The Battle of Bal Harbour was an opening skirmish in what promises to be a long, bitter political campaign.

*The President took on an additional labor problem last week: he invoked the Taft-Hartley Act in order to halt a crippling two-month strike on the East and Gulf Coast docks. In October, he used the law to put longshoremen back to work on the West Coast.

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