#Lexington Teamsters

[thebereatorch]

UPS Workers in Lexington Practice Picketing

By Ülvi Gitaliyev & Lily Barnette While United Parcel Services (UPS) is one of the most profitable companies in the United States, many of its workers struggle with low-wages and sub-par working conditions, with a lack of air conditioners in UPS trucks being a prime example. Therefore, earlier this year, the International Brotherhood of Teamsters (IBT), which represents 340,000 UPS workers,…

[ursafilms]

My First Teamster!

The white-hot arc of my production career started during the Fall of 1984 with Suzy Miller at the NBC affiliate in Philadelphia. In December I reluctantly left that unpaid internship at KYW-TV  to move back to New York City. My entreaties to find paid work in the City of Brotherly Love turned up absolutely nothing and my follow up to job postings on the NBC “Employment Opportunities!” site included more than one suggestion to “Perhaps look into the internship program at your local affiliate to gain some experience,” I returned to what is always touted as the world’s largest job market, The Big Apple.

I sent out 200 hard copy resumes. But since most of the people that received them didn’t get past the “G” in “George” at the top of my CV, I concentrated on getting the proposed recipients on the phone . . . yes, this was long before the millennial ideal of speaking with no one from the time you turned seven, through the moment of your untimely passing, invaded our work culture.

A typical conversation with a gatekeeper would go as follows:

Reception: “Good Morning. Big Enormous Productions.”

Me: “Hi. I’d like to speak with Joe Producer, please.”

Reception: “Who’s calling?”

Me: “Uh. Tell him it’s his mother.”

Reception: “You have a very deep voice for someone who’s been dead for six years.”

Me: “Uh, yes you’re right, and you might want to tell him it’s urgent.”

Reception: “This isn’t very funny.”

Me: “It’s not?”

Reception: “No. His mother isn’t dead, but you’ve tried this same routine three times now.”

Me: “I have? I must have lost track.”

Reception: “Oh, I believe Joe just got off the line. I’ll put you through.”

Me: “Ulp.”

Reception (SHOUTING): “JOE! IT’S THAT WISEASS P.A. LOOKING FOR WORK!!”

Joe Producer: “Did he use that bit about my mother again?”

Reception: “Yes.”

Joe Producer: “Let’s put him on the Maalox shoot, and tell the Teamster captain he called him a fairy.”

Reception: “Will do. (To me) Call time is 6am at Mothers Studios 2.”

This exchange has been embellished, and the end result is that I usually did not get hired, but once in a while someone would take pity on me and put me on a gig. Either that or they got sick of hearing from me every week or two.

At this point in the process, which was the first two months of 1985, I don’t know which I liked better, the pity hire or the annoyance hire. They both have certain characteristics.

The Pity Hire telegraphs to the producer and coordinator that you are a weak, sniveling wuss raised in a vacuum and owning a lot of bow ties. You will be humiliated publicly over this.

The Annoyance Hire connotes some strength, but at least one revenge job awaits you, and you will have to learn to throw a left jab, if you want to survive.

****

Bill Cote, owner of the cleverly named BC Studios on West 25thStreet in NYC gave me my very, very first P.A. job. He actually called me and offered lunch and no pay to work on a marketing video in his studio, which was a very nicely kept, smallish (1000 square feet?)  photo stage. 

Bill: “Crew call is at 8am.”

Me: “Would you like me to come in before them?”\

SILENCE

Bill: “This really is your first job, isn’t it?”

Me: “North of Philadelphia, yes.”

Bill: “New York is also east of Philadelphia.”

Me: “I worked in Atlantic City once.”

Bill: “In production?”

PAUSE

Me: “7:30am okay?”

Bill: “Make it 7am. There might be some gear to unload.”

Me: “Gear? I—”

Bill hung up, after not assuaging my fears of actually working on a set in New York City, which I realized was about to happen for the first time in my career. I had been on a set, but as a craft-service (That term I did know) gorging dancer.  

The next day, a very cold typical January day for New York City, I sprang out of bed and joined the subway commuters on the 6 train at 77th and Lexington Avenue. If any of you survived the adventures of the videogame also known as the Metropolitan Transportation Authority of the 80’s, you know how much fun commuting with a bunch of Wall Street Yuppies can be. Given that I was, more or less, sleeping with one of them, I was sorta thrilled to be crushed by humanity as the already packed train pulled into the station and every doofus with an Ivy League degree turned the platform into a rave. 

Made a promise to myself after this first morning. If rush hour commuting ever made it back into a regimen for me I was heading to the middle of as many women as possible. Their clothes at the time weren’t any nicer than the suits the men wore, but at least they smelled good. 

I survived the subway ride and showed up at 6:55am in front of a bell/buzzer that read “X$#&%,” but appeared to be in the approximate area of the main door to Bill Cote’s studio on West 25th Street. I rang, and straight from the scene from FX, a window opened and a set of keys that would have made the managing monk at a Benedictine monastery proud, plummeted from a window. The ring included a genuine skeleton key about the size of Johnny Depp. The key ring cracked the sidewalk. I noticed several other weekend golfer sized divots nearby.

“It’s the copper colored one.” Came a voice that had just finished gargling razor blades.

There were six copper colored ones, not counting the Johnny Depp sized skeleton key. I tried three before I got in.

I stared at a second door that could have helped Ripley hold back the creatures in Aliens. I took the bold move of throwing the security bar off the jamb and turning the latch.

It opened, and not a single retractable-jawed alien stood on the other side. Just a hardwood floor room with several flavors of wall surrounding it. One brick. One wood paneled. One with a piece (Later I would be told this was called seamless) of gray paper covering it. And one wallpapered relic from the 50’s that held a multipaned door.

In the far corner, directly away from the Alien barrier, sat a man with an Ozzy Osbourne hair style. At least a dozen empty wine bottles in front of him at a kitchen table. He folded the lead foil from their necks into neat little blocks. 

Me: “You must be Bill Cote.”

Bill Cote: “Why?”

I took it as an auspicious way to start my film career.

Me: “No reason."

Just as this in-depth conversation about German Expressionism, or was it Minimalism, was about to continue, the Alien barricade door swung open once more and slammed into the brick façade wall of the studio. Shortly thereafter a parade of cholesterol-challenged leg-breakers waddled in. 

My first Teamsters.

One at the lead, wore the haute couture of a black T-shirt that read, “Mama’s Pizzeria, because someone has to work in this family,” a pair of bluejeans once owned by Levi Strauss, and work boots with the bloodstains from the body of the previous owner. During the man’s hour long trek across the forty foot studio floor, a sandbag in his left hand exploded, its contents spilling onto the hardwood. He stopped, which had the same effect as the QE2 trying to back up. His colleagues also applied their brakes at the rate of local government, and the five of them gathered round the sand pile.

The killer of the sandbag, looked down, dropped its cloth corpse onto the sand, and turned his head in the direction of Bill Cote. It might have been the most exercise the man had in a month. 

Sandbag Killer: “Pffffww.” 

Bill Cote: “George will take care of it.”

Sandbag Killer: “Who F$&K is George?” 

Bill pointed his non wine bottle arts and crafts finger at me.

Sandbag Killer: “Pffffww.” 

He turned and looked at his colleagues. They erupted into laughter that sounded like a half dozen tugboats competing for space in the East River. The lot of them turned like a fleet of 747s on a tarmac and waddled back out again.

Me: "Where are they going?"

Bill Cote: "Hennessy's. A place around the corner. They'll be back at wrap."

Me: "What will they do all day?"

Bill finally stopped obsessively folding lead foil and stood. He put his hands on his hips and gave me a quick up and down.

Bill Cote: "Yep. Your first job. Let's get started. You'll figure it all out as we go."

And in hindsight, two firsts for that day. Teamsters and a very prescient statement about the production industry. You just sorta figure it all out as you go.

NEXT SUNDAY: A seemingly harmless TV spot for Frito-Lay lands an actor in the Loeb Boathouse Lake and sets a personal record for Yours truly for hours worked. See you then.

[bagelpantry90-blog]

Soon to be Lost - The Rohe & Brothers Building, 527-531 West 36th Street

photograph by Renee Stanley

In 1872 the massive Manhattan Market opened on New York's West Side.  Engulfing the block between Eleventh and Twelfth Avenues, from 34th and 35th Streets, it was the largest market building in the world--offering fresh meats (a butchery was on site), fish and produce.  It was a welcomed neighbor for Rohe & Brother, which had erected its sprawling provision packing house and lard refinery at No. 533 through 541 West 36th Street two years earlier.  Simultaneously an architecturally matching warehouse and stables building had been erected on West 35th Street.

Although a block apart, the main plant (center) and the warehouse (left) were designed to match. from the collection of the Library of Congress

In 1897 The National Provisioner noted that the packing and refinery property "has been added to a number of times...The building is a substantial one of brick, and extends from 533-543 West Thirty-sixth street, to 534-540 West Thirty-seventh street.  The abattoir [butchery] is located at the foot of Fortieth Street, North River, and occupies four lots."  Charles Rohe had died in 1888 and his son, Charles, Jr., became a member of the firm.  Charles Sr.'s other son, Julius, by now supervised the packing house and the manufacturing of goods.  Florian's sons, Albert and Oswald Rohe, worked in the store and main office.

Florian Rohe as he appeared in 1897.  The National Provisioner, January 30, 1897 (copyright expired)

The National Provisioner noted that "the secret of the success of Rohe & Bro. is the splendid business ability which characterizes its movements and the bond of fraternity which exists between employees and employers."  The Rohes recognized the importance of good employee relations and a contented staff.   A separate article in the journal reported on the 11th annual employee ball.  Many, if not most, of the factory workers were German immigrants and the event was a brilliant change to their day-to-day lives.  "The entire office staff of the house of Rohe & Bro., from the office boy to their traveler and salesman, was present, while the large force of employees, numbering many hundreds, together with their wives and sweethearts, were delighted participants in the night's proceedings, all actuated by a loyal regard for the interests of the firm." On January 19, 1898, The Butchers' Advocate and Market Journal reported that year's ball, held in the Lexington Avenue Opera House.  "When the orchestra, led by Professor Rode, started the grand march, about 300 couples were on the floor, and these quickly fell in behind Mr. Albert Rohe and wife, who led the army of gay marchers through a series of evolutions more beautiful than any ever seen before in this city." Two months later, on March 5, the Real Estate Record & Builders' Guide reported that George D. Bogert had sold the "old buildings" at Nos. 527 through 531 West 36th Street to Rohe & Brother for $24,750; just under $860,000 today.  The property abutted the main lard refinery and packing plant and The New York Times noted "the buyer will erect a factory on the site." That would not happen, however, until 1902.  On March 29 that year The National Provisioner reported "Rohe & Brother now have their specifications in for their new packing house at 527-531 West 36th Street."  The firm had hired the architectural firm of Werner & Windolph to design the structure, which was projected to cost about $1.8 million in today's money. Somewhat surprising was the architectural style of the new two-story addition.  It may have been that Charles Rohe (his uncle, Florian, was deceased by now) directed Werner & Windolph to match the old factory; or perhaps the architects themselves chose to meld the two.  Either way, the design, out of style for years, seamlessly carried on the design of the 1870 Rohe & Brother building.  Only the delicate corbel table that ran below the cornice broke ranks with the original structure. Upon the building's completion the Rohes incorporated "the packinghouse firm of Rohe & Brothers," as reported in Industrial Refrigeration in April 1903.  The article mentioned "The company will do a general meat packing business."  It was an interesting and unusual move.  By 1908 there were three corporation names.  Charles was listed as head of Rohe & Brother;  Albert as head of Rohe Bros.; and William of Rohe & Bro.  All three, legally separate firms, were listed as "large refiners and provisions." The sons of the firm's founders never abandoned its interest in employee contentedness.  On June 29, 1904 The Butchers' Advocate and Market Journal reported on the employee summer outing at Bachmann's Pavilion on Staten Island.  "How those Rohe & Brothers' employees did enjoy themselves!  They danced and bowled and ran races and absorbed the product of Mr. Bachmann with a strenuousness that would make a lazy man tired just to look at." The two-story building at Nos. 527-531 held the company's offices.  Working past nightfall could be risky, given the sketchy Hell's Kitchen location and that threat came to pass on the night of January 22, 1913.  The Elmira Star-Gazette reported "Five men dashed up to Rohe & Brothers' wholesale meats, provisions and oils plant at 527-531 West 36th street, between Tenth and Eleventh avenues, last night in a taxicab and at the point of revolvers held back two inside and two outside employees of the firm."  The Morning Call of Patterson, New Jersey entitled its article "Wild West Game in New York" and began "The west side of Manhattan, where automobile holdups and robberies are not by any means unknown, experienced last night its most spectacular Wild West holdup and robbery about 7:30 o'clock."

Charles Rohe, Jr. was the principal of the firm following Florian Rohe's death. Empire State Notables, 1914 (copyright expired) 

While the employees were held at gunpoint, one of the robbers jumped over the wire cashier's cage and snatched up $700 in cash, a considerable $18,300 today.  The gang escape in the waiting taxicab and although the four employees rushed out in pursuit, they were unable to get the license plate number in the darkness.  The Elmira Star-Gazette said "None of the employees could give much of a description of the robbers, further than that all were 'tough looking,' and all wore caps." In 1914 Rohe & Brother was, according to Chicago's The Day Book, the "largest New York provision packer."  The firm was, for instance, the major United States exporter of lard to Venezuela.   In 1930 the Rohes sold off all the firm's property in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood except for Nos. 527-531 West 36th Street.  The Sun explained on May 6 that year that the building was still used as Rohe & Brother's executive offices.  But that would not last long, either. Architect William H. Fuhrer renovated the building in 1936 for the bottling plant of milk dealer Hershey Farms, Inc.   It was run by Max Doner, who chose not to use union employees for its delivery drivers.  It was a daring decision at a time when unions used strong-arm tactics to force businesses to comply with their demands.

A 1940 tax photograph reveals the ground floor changes for Hersey Farms, including an architecturally disparate pedimented entrance.  The main Rohe & Brother plant has been demolished.  photo via NYC Department of Records & Information Services.

On March 19, 1942 nine labor leaders, involved with the International Brotherhood of Teamsters, Chauffeurs, Warehousemen & Helpers of America, Local 445, were indicted on extortion.   The New York State prosecutor charged that between December 1935 and November 1940 the defendants "feloniously, wrongfully, willfully and extorsively obtained the sum of $7,125.00" from Max Doner "by the wrongful use of force and fear induced by threats" to injure both him personally and the property of Hershey Farms, and to induce strikes. Hershey Farms remained here until 1959 when the building was once again renovated, this time for a storage warehouse.  In 1970 it was converted for use by Scheuman Lumber.   A later occupant was Steven & Francine's Complete Automotive Repair Inc. who shared the building with its owner, the Convention Center Hardware & Supplies, LLC.  By 2012 the once gritty district had been discovered by developers and the upscale Hudson Yards project, formerly unthinkable, was on the table.   The old Rohe & Brother  building sat within the four-acre Hudson Park and Boulevard project--Phase II of the larger Hudson Yards development.

The buildings at the right of this photo have all been demolished, stranding the Rohe & Brothers building as in a wasteland.  photo via Commercial Observer, November 2012.

Faced with eventual eminent domain Convention Center Hardware and Supplies placed it on the market in November 2012 for $10 million. Any architectural historian who might pass the vacant and boarded up building today would date its construction at around 1870; not knowing that its anachronistic design was based on its 32-year old next-door neighbor.  But they would have to be quick.  The unlikely survivor has a short life expectancy. many thanks to Renee Stanley for prompting this post

Source: http://daytoninmanhattan.blogspot.com/2019/05/soon-to-be-lost-rohe-brothers-building.html