The Last Union Town

FRANK KEEL RECENTLY placed an enormous hand on a hallway wall in City Hall. The broad-shouldered spokesman for Philadelphia’s electricians union grimaced, and literally leaned on the corridors of power.

“We’ll be all right,” he said.

Inside its chambers, City Council considered what might at first seem like just another bit of legislative drudgery: whether to allow non-union workers to bid for jobs at the new Convention Center expansion. But everything that led up to that moment — and much that followed — signals a turbulent time for unions, and so likewise for the City of Philadelphia.

In the hallway, Keel shook his head, incredulous at the very idea. “We expect to see this — this problematic amendment about non-union workers — removed,” he said.

A few days earlier, a couple of blocks away, the same electricians union had been outbid for a job repairing a bit of wiring at the Five Guys burger joint. The electricians are headed by John Dougherty, one of the city’s most vocal and visible union leaders, who has a reputation for rough tactics when it comes to union business. The union — Local 98 — sent picketers who insinuated that the restaurant was unclean due to a vermin infestation. The restaurant manager posted a small bill on the storefront, titled, “What is Really Happening Outside?” It said there were no vermin anywhere inside and never had been; also: “We are being picketed by members of the electrical workers’ union (Local 98) because they are upset that a Local 98 subcontractor didn’t win a contract. … The Local 98 bid was three times higher than the bid by the winning subcontractor.”

The Convention Center expansion is worth $700 million. Allowing lower bids from non-union contractors could cost the unions vast sums, entire horizons of money. When Local 98 was outbid for a job wiring up a burger joint, it sent troops with signs and rumors to try and shut down the business. Now, facing the loss of this — the single largest expenditure in the history of the state — the union sent Frank Keel.

He’s a massive man with a rumbling manner, and he moved through the gilded passageways of City Hall like a Sherman tank through a field of tulips. He’s John Dougherty’s mouthpiece, brash and warm at the same time. In his gray suit and kelly green tie, he looked like a distillation of the history of Philadelphia trade unionism poured into the vessel of one man: big and Irish, with long arms and a loud voice.

The “problematic” piece of legislation stemmed from a push by City Council for more racial balance in the trade unions, following a series of stunning revelations in previous weeks.

The prospect of non-union competition sent a tremor through unions across the city. The maneuvers by City Council had joined a confluence of social, financial and political circumstances that together offer one of the biggest challenges to Philadelphia’s unions in the past two centuries.

On the day Council deliberated on the idea, 400 people packed into Council chambers at City Hall, stuffed into rows of creaking wooden chairs and peering down from the balcony.

Among them sat Frank the Tank, looking well-rested and prepared for a siege.