by Jeff Crosby, Sep 12, 2008

Charlie Ruiter, 1948-1999

Few of us became involved in the union movement completely on our own. Typically, there is a union leader who inspires and encourages new activists. The mentor is a sounding board who directs and even protects new activists as they learn the ways of the movement.  Men and women like this serve as a counterculture to the leaders who hoard their knowledge and positions like personal gold reserves, an all-too-common practice.

Charlie Ruiter, a business agent from 1989 until 1995 for my local union, IUE-CWA Local 201, served that role for me and many others. He passed away suddenly nine years ago this month, way before his time. It is hard to overestimate his role in Local 201 and in my own life.

Charlie is best remembered, perhaps, as a storyteller. In one legendary performance he concluded an arbitration with AMETEK Aerospace & Defense for a hapless worker, a well-intentioned brother who was perhaps not fully capable of a productive day’s work in the plant. He compared this member to a yellow canary, sitting on a windowsill, while pleading:

Don’t slam the window shut and kill this poor canary.

The arbitrator and witnesses were spellbound. The company human relations representative told us later he knew he had lost right then. The canary went back to work and just retired this year, in his late 60s. Charlie cared absolutely for every worker who was doing his best, from the least among us to the highest paid—but especially for the least among us.

Charlie Ruiter: a union leader who inspired and mentored new activists.

But he admired individuals who stood their ground under fire. His commitment to social justice was as true and as broad as that of anyone I have ever known, in a contract negotiation or on an issue of racial justice, women’s rights, homophobia or war. And he never backed down to the red-baiting that plagued our local union during all the years that he served it.

When Charlie’s wonderful wife, JoAnne, needed a break from the union functions and rubber chicken circuit, Charlie would take as his “date” a tough kid from the Polish neighborhood of south Boston, a machinist who earned her college degree while working a third shift piece-work job in Local 201. Sue also was his campaign manager in the business agent elections, and an elected trustee in her own right. “Suzy,” he’d say, “Get yer dancin’ shoes on.  We’re going on a date.” Having Charlie’s support went a long way in the plant, and anyone who was a good, honest union person got Charlie’s backing, without exception. Sue later married Marcia, the former head of the Women’s Committee in Local 201, and they received the first marriage license in the state after Massachusetts made gay marriage legal.

Charlie was an anti-war Vietnam veteran, whose Seabee unit had been overrun by the North Vietnamese outside Hue during the Tet offensive.  His military background gave him great credibility as a consistent voice against U.S. imperialism.

After Charlie’s sudden death nine years ago from a heart attack, JoAnne gave me an article about Charlie written by a friend, Joe Corcoran,  from the Navy who served with him in Vietnam.  I was amazed by how much the Charlie he knew in Vietnam sounded like the Charlie I knew later in Local 201. And I can’t describe Charlie better than his war buddy “Corky” did.  Corky, JoAnne tells me, was involved recently in his own union negotiations with the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (AFTRA) out on the West Coast. Corky wrote:

Charlie was our squad leader. He looked a lot like Archie Bunker with a New England accent wrapped around a Barney Rubble laugh. We called him the Big Duke. He would tell us tales in a voice that rumbled around somewhere between Yosemite Sam and John Wayne, as he improvised….

I did not comprehend it way back then, but I have known for a long time that Charlie was one of my life’s mentors. As much a big brother in Vietnam as my real big brother had always been. Charlie led me to see the world through eyes older and wiser than mine, helping this 18-year-old farm kid from Minnesota feel a little safer and a little bit smarter….

Brother Dave and Charlie are those bigger than life characters. Rough around the edges, but intelligent men with sharp wits and a grasp of the facts. Street smarts tempered with honesty and a sense of doing the right thing. Both using wit and humor to keep arrogance and selfishness in its place while possessing a genuine belief that part of their role in life is looking out for and helping the little guy.

Among other things, Charlie taught us how to compromise and maintain a relationship with General Electric Co. (GE) that allowed us to survive, while maintaining the strength and independence of our union. He fought the internal battles in the union, helping new voices in the local, but he also showed us how to put the factionalism and tribal hatreds to bed to focus on the good of the members.

The son and brother of GE workers, he was a self-described “country boy from Lowell Trade.” He wore a big cowboy-style hat. His favorite hat was from a peasant’s cooperative in Guatemala. He was consistently smarter than the company negotiators and often left even his own negotiating committee in his wake. I once received a note passed behind Charlie’s back from Ric Casilli (at that time, our recording secretary) during a negotiation with GE, when Charlie was rambling on and on. Ric asked, “Do you have any idea what he is talking about or where he is going?” I wrote back, “No clue. But look at them. They’re completely baffled. I think he is just stalling for time until he figures out what to do.” When Charlie mercifully paused, the company asked for a recess to collect their wits, and the negotiations resumed in a completely different direction.

As “Corky” concluded:

Very little has been better for the soul or warmed my heart more than the thought of Charlie.

Thanks for everything, big fella. We love you and miss you. And we are doing the best we can to maintain our union for the next generation.

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