LaborFest

7 days ago

AI and Empire Building-Panel In San Francisco
www.shapingsf.org/public-talks/archive_video_2026.html#AI
Several sharp critics of the hype machine that has long characterized the internet and our successive tech booms, currently blowing up in the AI bubble. Lost in the hand wringing over the more exaggerated claims of boosters and doomers is the ongoing reproduction of a colonial seizure of what should be our common wealth. This process has long historic roots and in some ways it is thanks to our amnesiac culture that the current crop of billionaire investors and tech bros have gotten away with doing it all again. Wendy Liu, Alex Hanna, Tamara Kneese, and Elizabeth Travelslight. … See MoreSee Less

Shaping San Francisco

www.shapingsf.org

Author Nan Alamilla Boyd journeys with us through the 20th century San Francisco of gay men and lesbians, examining the culture that developed around the bar scene and homophile activism when the “C…

LaborFest

7 days ago

“Cinema Became a Way to Go Further”
Interview with Parsifal REPARATO on "She"
jeonjureview.jeonjufest.kr/post/2667
Interviewee: Parsifal REPARATO(영화감독)
Interviewer: CHA Hanbi(영화 웹진 『리버스』 기자)
2026-04-27
“Cinema Became a Way to Go Further”.jpeg
그녀: 공장의 전사들She
감독 파르시팔 레파라토Parsifal REPARATO | Italy, France | 2025 | 74 min | Documentary | 프론트라인Frontline

For Parsifal Reparato, cinema functions as more than a medium of documentation; it acts as “a catalyst of events, relationships, and understanding.” His film She, presented in the Frontline section of the Jeonju International Film Festival, follows women workers in one of the biggest electronics factories in Vietnam, distilling his anthropologically grounded practice. Rather than simply representing the experiences of others, Reparato seeks to create a space in which they can become subjects of their own narratives. In this approach, he naturally invokes the legacy of Jean Rouch. As the pioneer of cinéma vérité—who expanded the horizons of anthropology through film—Rouch suggested that the camera can become an extension of the body. Reparato, in turn, sets that body in motion to write new stories.
In She, you focus on Vietnamese women working in the electronics industry. What led you to explore this subject? Following your first documentary Nimble Fingers, how did this project come about, and what key questions or concerns did it begin with?
What led me to explore this subject has long been part of my life. It comes from a deep sense of belonging to the working class, shaped by my personal background and my political and activist experiences from a very young age. Growing up, I took part in workers’ protests and picket lines in my city in Italy, and that was where I began to understand how central the workers’ perspective is—not only as a social condition, but as a way of interpreting the world. Over time, I became convinced that workers’ knowledge offers a fundamental lens to understand the structural injustices of our present, and to imagine how to overcome them. A turning point came when I graduated and worked for a large USA multinational company producing electronic devices. Even though I was not a factory worker, I had the opportunity to closely observe the broader system of global production and exploitation behind these corporations. That experience raised a crucial question: what actually happens at the core of global electronics production? This question led me to Vietnam for the first time in 2011, where I began the journey that would become Nimble Fingers. She emerged later, as part of a longer and more structured research process. I worked in collaboration with the University of Naples L’Orientale and the Vietnam Academy of Social Sciences, and in 2020 I was involved in a EU-funded research project focused on trade union representation and the empowerment of civil society within electronics factories. The film is thus rooted in both a personal trajectory and a long-term research process, driven by a central concern: how global systems of production shape workers’ lives, bodies, and possibilities—and how, within these conditions, forms of awareness and resistance can still emerge.

As a European male scholar and artist, this project seems to involve thinking about your position as an outsider. How did you begin to think about this difference in perspective at the beginning, and what kinds of questions did it lead you to consider as the work developed?
I understand why my position might be seen as that of an outsider. But I don’t perceive myself in those terms. Rather, I see myself as giving form to a perspective that is widely shared, yet often silenced—a perspective that belongs to the vast majority of people, but is rarely represented in mainstream discourse. We are constantly exposed to narratives that serve the interests of global capital, often erasing or marginalizing the voices of workers. I come from that world. I belong to the working class, and that is the standpoint from which I began to think and work. This process has never been individual, but developed through collective work with workers and researchers. Michela Cerimele, who has extensive experience on labor issues in both Italy and Asia, played a key role in grounding the work. The broader research framework, including scholars like Pietro Masina and Do Ta Khanh, helped create a space where questions could be developed collectively over time.
What has guided me throughout is a shared condition rather than a distance. The injustice experienced by these workers is not abstract or external—it resonates with a broader global reality. In this sense, Vietnam is not an isolated case. It represents, in a concentrated form, the dynamics of global capitalism today—where technological progress and the rhetoric of Industry 4.0 are built on the bodies and lives of workers. This has been true not only in Vietnam, but also in South Korea, India, Indonesia, and increasingly again in Europe and the United States. So rather than thinking in terms of inside or outside, I see this work as an attempt to connect structurally linked experiences. Vietnam becomes a lens—a way to read the condition of the working class globally. And it is from within that condition that I speak.

This film carries a depth that seems difficult to achieve through straightforward reportage alone. Could you talk about the time you spent meeting and getting to know the participants before filming, and how you invited them to take part?
This film is far from a simple reportage. My background is in anthropology, and before working as a filmmaker, I always conduct research as an anthropologist—engaging in ethnographic work and immersing myself in the communities I want to understand. This process takes time.
This project began as a collaboration with universities and trade unions, and I was initially supposed to create an advocacy video. But the research coincided with the pandemic, and instead of staying in Vietnam for three months, I remained for seven. Those seven months were fundamental. I met hundreds of workers living in the industrial area of Bắc Ninh. At first, there was a strong sense of fear—not only towards me, but also towards the Vietnamese researchers. Speaking about working conditions could have serious consequences, so trust had to be built slowly. In the early months, I focused on interviews and observation with my assistant, Phuong Minh Nguyen, trying to understand a wide range of experiences. Over time, I developed closer relationships with a smaller group of women workers. They began to recognize a common ground—something that comes from a shared condition within the working class, even across different countries. This process deeply influenced the form of the film. From the very beginning, protecting the workers’ anonymity was essential, in order to avoid any risk of retaliation. Everything that appears in the film comes from the trust they chose to give me, often in the very limited time they had outside of work. For this reason, I see the film not as something I made alone, but as something that emerged from a collective process—grounded in trust and collaboration.

It wasn’t possible to access the factory interiors, and it was also difficult to show the participants’ names or faces. Within these clear constraints, the film moves into more intimate spaces, like the women’s small rooms or hair salons where they can speak more freely.
No, it wasn’t possible to film inside the factory, and this wasn’t new to me. I was never interested in “stealing” images from that space. What mattered was to represent the workers’ point of view—not the perspective controlled by corporations, but the one they try to silence. So the key question became: how can we create a space where workers can express their experience in their own terms? The answer was to focus on their expressive capacity—to give space to the knowledge embodied in their bodies. For years, there has been discussion about “workers’ knowledge,” and here that knowledge is inscribed in their gestures, in their fatigue, in their bodies. This is why the film pays close attention to details—hands, faces, small movements. Through these, the women reveal something deeply human: vulnerability, strength, emotions, even wounds. These elements allow us to connect with them in a concrete way, beyond abstraction. This approach also aligned with the need to protect their anonymity, which pushed the film toward a more abstract and performative language. The choice of the hair salon as a central space emerged progressively during the research. Around industrial areas, beauty salons and small spas are extremely common. They are both a means of livelihood for workers leaving the factory and a space where they can experience a moment of relief and reclaim themselves. Inside the factory, their bodies are strictly regulated: they wear uniforms for long hours and are controlled in every detail, from their hair to their nails. In contrast, the salon becomes a space of care, intimacy, and temporary freedom.

One of the most striking elements in the film is the performance where labor is “re-enacted” in an empty space, rather than inside the factory. Filmed in black and white from three angles, these scenes at times resemble CCTV footage. How did you come to these formal choices, and what do you think they made possible within the film?
This approach did not begin with the idea of re-enactment. It emerged from a more fundamental need: to create a tool that workers could use to express themselves more clearly and freely. I felt that the most appropriate space was a symbolic one—an empty, enclosed, and dark space. Factories are in fact very bright, with artificial neon lights on 24 hours a day. But what the workers described was not brightness—it was pressure, confinement, and control. So the intention was to represent the factory not as it looks, but as it is experienced. We organized a workshop in this space, without a script. The workers did not know each other, and they arrived with their faces covered to protect their identity. In a situation where no one knew what would happen, they performed gestures and routines from their daily work experience. What you see in the black-and-white sequences is the result of that process. A key turning point came with the introduction of what I called the “truth space.” At that moment, I told them: now you are free. You can do whatever you want. You can reflect on what you have just shown, or express any emotion you feel. The line leader, who represents authority inside the factory, was also present. The workers could react in any way—even with violence, if they had wanted to. But what emerged was something very different. Instead of revenge, they expressed a deep need to be recognized as human beings—a demand for dignity and acknowledgment. This became one of the central lessons of the entire process.

It’s interesting that your background is in anthropology. In your documentary practice, how do you experience the differences between fieldwork, building relationships, and translating those experiences into film? Over time, how have you navigated or expanded your interests between academic documentation and cinematic representation?
For me, fieldwork is first of all about building relationships. At a certain point, it becomes more than just a research method—it becomes a way of life. Anthropology taught me something important: the idea of complete objectivity in science is, in many ways, an illusion. What gives ethnographic research its strength is not neutrality, but subjectivity—the ability to create relationships, build trust, and develop connections through lived experience. Over time, this has become a method. It’s something I have tried to share and transmit through the Ethnographic Filmmaking Lab, which I founded in Italy. Each year, we work with young filmmakers, encouraging them to develop their projects through ethnographic research—spending time in the field, engaging with people, and letting stories grow out of experience. Filmmaking came as a natural extension of this process. For me, cinema became a way to go further. It is not just a tool for representing reality, but a catalyst—a catalyst of events, relationships and understanding. It allows me not only to observe the other, but to create a space where they can represent themselves and participate in shaping the narrative. This is something that written or academic language often cannot achieve with the same intensity. Cinema can reach people differently—not only in terms of audience, but in terms of engagement and shared experience. It opens the possibility for people to become active subjects of their own stories through a more immediate and embodied form of self-representation. As Jean Rouch suggested, the camera can become an extension of the body—a kind of prosthetic device that amplifies reality and transforms observation into a process of mutual discovery. In this sense, filmmaking is not separate from fieldwork. It is part of it. It is another way of knowing.

I understand that your next project will also focus on factory workers, forming the final part of a trilogy on labor. Could you share a bit in advance about how it connects to your earlier works, Nimble Fingers and She?
What I can say is that I continue to see wage labor—and the conflict between capital and labor—as one of the most important keys for understanding our time. This body of work has been a journey. Through filmmaking, I have sought to go deeper into the lives of the people I work with, while also exploring the broader structures that shape those lives. More recently, I have become increasingly interested not only in working conditions, but also in the imaginary—in what exists beneath the surface of everyday life. The aim of this project is not only to document, but to offer a way of interpreting reality—and perhaps to provide tools to think about how to transform it. For me, cinema is a way to make visible the structures that usually remain hidden: the social and economic systems that sustain the dominant order. Focusing on the electronics industry means going directly to the core of these dynamics, where many of the contradictions of contemporary capitalism become visible. This is what connects these films. They are not separate works, but different chapters of the same attempt: to understand, and to make visible, the conditions that shape our present. … See MoreSee Less

“Cinema Became a Way to Go Further”

jeonjureview.jeonjufest.kr

“Cinema Became a Way to Go Further”Interview with Parsifal REPARATO on “She”Interviewee: Parsifal REPARATO(영화감독)Interviewer: CHA Hanbi(영화 웹진 『리버스』 기자)2026-04-27그녀…

LaborFest

2 weeks ago

Reclaiming AAPI and Agricultural Worker History
www.pwcsc.org/farmworkers-educational-forum-and-media-round-table?fbclid=IwY2xjawR9pFpleHRuA2FlbQ… Organized by the Larry Itliong AAPI Coalition
Media Roundtable & Educational Forum
May 30, 2026 | 10:00 AM – 12:00 PM
Join community leaders, organizers, advocates, and members of the Filipino community for a timely educational forum and media roundtable focused on honoring the legacy and ongoing contributions of farmworkers in California and across the nation.
This gathering will provide background on the growing campaign to rename Cesar Chavez Day as Farmworkers Day — a movement aimed at recognizing the collective power, sacrifice, and leadership of the countless farmworkers who have shaped the farmworker labor movement throughout history.
Attendees will learn about the historical roots of the movement, the contributions of farmworker communities and organizers, and why this campaign matters today. The forum will also help prepare community members, media representatives, and supporters for an upcoming press conference taking place in June.
The event will include:
Educational presentations on farmworker labor history
Discussion on the Farmworkers Day campaign
Community perspectives and storytelling
Media engagement and Q&A
Opportunities to connect with organizers and advocates
This forum is open to community members, students, educators, labor advocates, media professionals, and anyone interested in learning more about the fight for recognition, dignity, and justice for farmworkers.
Together, we honor the people whose labor feeds our communities and whose organizing continues to shape movements for workers’ rights and social justice. … See MoreSee Less

Farmworkers Educational Forum and Media Round Table – Pilipino Workers Center of Southern California

www.pwcsc.org

Join community leaders, organizers, advocates, and members of the Filipino community for a timely educational forum and media roundtable focused on honoring the legacy and ongoing contributions of far…

LaborFest

2 weeks ago

The Mystery of What Happened to Plutonium Scandal Whistleblower Karen Silkwood
www.distractify.com/p/what-happened-to-karen-silkwood
"Oh, I'll be gone. … But I'm gonna shut them down before I go."

Risa Weber – Author.webp
BY RISA WEBER
PUBLISHED MAY 20 2026, 9:06 A.M. ET
What Happened to Karen Silkwood?
SOURCE: UNSPLASH
In 1974, Karen Silkwood left a union meeting in Oklahoma and headed out to meet a New York Times reporter at a nearby Holiday Inn. Minutes later, she died as her car crashed into a concrete ditch on the far side of Highway 74.

Silkwood worked at the Oklahoma plutonium factory at the time, where she noticed unsafe conditions were being ignored by the owners of the plant, the Kerr-McGee Corporation. She worked as a spy for her union and was collecting evidence of these unsafe oversights. The folder of evidence she carried the night of her death was never found. Here's what we know about what happened to her.

What did Karen Silkwood say happened at the Oklahoma plutonium plant?

Silkwood said that the plutonium plant "strayed so far from the federal nuclear code that it posed a danger to its workers and the public," according to an article Rolling Stonepublished in 1977. Two former heads of the Kerr-McGee corporation eventually backed up Silkwood's claims of negligence on behalf of the company.

Silkwood reported dangerous conditions at the plant, including leaky pipes and broken equipment. Even when workers were being contaminated with plutonium, the company told them to continue working with faulty machines until demand waned, Silkwood claimed, according to Rolling Stone.

She claimed that the company was fudging quality reports and putting young, under-trained employees at risk of contamination.

Silkwood reported that the company shipped waste in unfit containers, which leaked and contaminated areas where it was buried.

Additionally, as many as 50 pounds of plutonium, enough for four nuclear bombs, went missing. Some believe Silkwood unintentionally discovered a smuggling ring during her investigation into the plant and the missing plutonium.

What happened to Karen Silkwood?

Before the car crash, Karen believed that she'd been contaminated with plutonium, according to Good Morning America. She wrote, "I have no knowledge of what happened, but I feel the contamination is coming out from my body." She said she was contaminated as she started investigating.

When she was tested, it seemed that her samples had been "intentionally spiked." While the union argued that someone may have contaminated Silkwood or spiked her tests, the company floated the idea that she contaminated herself for leverage in union negotiations, per GMA.

Other tests found "permissible levels" of plutonium in her lungs.

When Silkwood was encouraged to leave the plant for fear of her own safety, she said, "Oh, I'll be gone. … But I'm gonna shut them down before I go."

The night she died, she was carrying a folder full of evidence to a meeting with a New York Times reporter. A few minutes into her drive, her car veered across the two-lane highway, resulting in the fatal crash.

At the time of the crash, authorities said that Silkwood's tire tracks showed that she'd been unconscious and didn't have control of the wheel at the time of impact. An anxiety medication, a sedative, was found in her purse, further pointing to this theory. However, the steering wheel told a different story: that she'd braced for impact and couldn't have been asleep.

In 1992, a state trooper disclosed that off-duty Oklahoma City officers had followed Silkwood the night she died, and may have "bumped" her car as she drove, according to GMA. … See MoreSee Less

The Mystery of What Happened to Plutonium Scandal Whistleblower Karen Silkwood

www.distractify.com

Karen Silkwood was about to share evidence of negligence at the Oklahoma plutonium factory the night she died in a car crash.

LaborFest

2 weeks ago

Al Rojas, staunch defender of farmworkers and prominent member of UFW, dies
www.latimes.com/obituaries/story/2021-04-02/al-rojas-defender-of-farm-workers-ufw-dies

EL SEGUNDO, CA — OCTOBER 08, 2019: Metpro 2019. Priscella Vega. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
By Priscella Vega
Staff Writer

April 2, 2021 5:29 PM PT

While the United Farm Workers union prepared to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Delano grape boycott, Al Rojas was too busy plotting his next move to partake in the festivities.

There was no doubt the longtime, scrappy organizer understood the importance of the anniversary. The late 1960s boycott organized by Filipino and Latino laborers marked a milestone for farmworkers and revolutionized the labor movement in the United States. It led to the passage of the California Agricultural Labor Relations Act of 1975, which established collective-bargaining power for farmworkers in the state.

But Rojas knew there were still too many laborers who needed help.

“No time to celebrate. Agricultural workers in California and Mexico are still unorganized!” Rojas wrote in a 2016 letter to the UFW days before the celebration. “Today there is an anti-labor offensive not only against farmworkers but against all workers — from postal workers who face privatization to teachers who face charters and union-busting along with more segregation in the schools.”

Working within the shadows of titan labor organizers, Rojas pushed for labor justice across the nation and in Mexico. He believed rank-and-file workers should wield power over their labor and lives.

Marion Moses inquires about the health of a patient in 1977 as an intern.

Marion Moses, Cesar Chavez confidant and expert on farmworkers’ health, dies

“Al Rojas struggled during his entire life against the exploitation and abuses of the transnational agricultural enterprises,” the Mexican Electrical Workers Union wrote in a press release. “Organizing unions, strikes and boycotts against the rich, demanding justice for the proletarians; he never gave in to racism, discrimination and white supremacy. Al always lived with the joy of his Mexican roots.”

After decades of work, Rojas died of kidney failure on March 20, his daughter Desirèe said. He was 82.

Rojas was born and raised in the San Joaquin Valley by his family of farmworkers. His parents migrated from Mexico to work throughout California’s agricultural valleys under the bracero program. Following their footsteps, he quickly learned the harsh realities of working in the fields. Abysmal pay. Unpredictable weather conditions. Shoddy equipment — if any was provided.

Soon his hands mirrored his father’s: dry, cracked and bruised. He knew this life wasn’t adequate as it stood for any human being.

Rojas organized along the coast with local activists and helped found the United Farm Workers Independent Union, IBT, until he took his advocacy for adequate pay and working conditions to a national level. He became an early, prominent member of the UFW, joining Cesar Chavez and Larry Itliong, as the Delano grape boycott gained traction. Organizers were being shipped across the nation to rally more support for the movement and Rojas was assigned Pittsburgh.

In the late 1960s, without any specific game plan but to orchestrate a boycott, he uprooted his family for the cause. The big city came as a shock, but Rojas successfully turned Pittsburgh into an active support hub for farmworkers back in California. He mobilized a team to picket at local markets and distribute leaflets and learned how to utilize local newspapers and television stations to his advantage. His wife at the time, Elena, and children would often join in during demonstrations.

“He was an organizer with the farmworker movement in every sense of the word,” said LeRoy Chatfield, former executive director of the National Farmworkers Assn. “Whatever the assignment was, Al was an activist and damn good.”

“We lived off donated food, clothing, housing and we got nothing but love from people who respected my parents,” said Desirèe, who would go on to follow in her father’s footsteps. “They did what they did because they were zealots for the civil rights of farmworkers.”

Rojas left the union after a decade. He believed the UFW had lost sight of its original mission, but he continued his work through other avenues. He worked as a California state deputy labor commissioner and founded organizations championing human rights such as North Americans for Democracy in Mexico. He also served as vice president for the Sacramento chapter of the Labor Council for Latin American Advancement.

During his final years of activism, he joined thousands of farmworkers at Sakuma Brothers Farms in Washington state and San Quintin Valley in Mexico in their boycott against Driscoll’s, the world’s largest berry distributor. During a May 2016 Bernie Sanders rally in Stockton, Rojas urged the Vermont senator to use his platform to help spread the word. Later that month, Sanders talked about the exploitation laborers face during a campaign stop in Visalia.

When Rojas permitted himself time to rest, he enjoyed basking in the sun, eating juicy oranges in his children’s gardens. An avid storyteller, he loved recounting his life history to his grandchildren.

During a hot summer day, he closely watch Desirèe prune her fruit trees. Sometimes, he’d show her where exactly to snip a branch or bud.

But this time, he left his daughter’s side and returned to his chair. He let the sun warm his face and told her, “you did pretty good today. You pruned that tree pretty good.”

Rojas is survived by his four children, Debra, Albert Jr., Desirèe and Shalom; and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. … See MoreSee Less

Al Rojas, staunch defender of farmworkers and prominent member of UFW, dies

www.latimes.com

During his final years of activism, he joined thousands of farmworkers in boycott of Driscoll’s, the world’s largest berry distributor.

LaborFest

2 weeks ago

NICK JONES 1942-2026
The Man Who Changed the Labor and Boycott Movements
leftcoast.substack.com/p/nick-jones-1942-2026?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=37141&po…
JAMES R SMITH
MAY 21

Nick Jones changed the way the labor movement conducted business in the latter half of the 20th century. Before he came along, unions were mostly found in big factories or the construction world. After the boycotts were over, these new organizers fanned out into organized labor, and turned it into a real movement.

Some union executives were afraid to hire new, exuberant women and people of color, but most union officials realized that they were losing members and needed to boost the membership. The fruit of Nick’s boycott strategy spread throughout labor and gave it a second wind.

Nick opened the door to the unskilled and unemployed, letting them join the labor movement. Nick brought in 300 boycott organizers, many of whom were getting their first experience with the labor movement.

He did this by starting the biggest labor boycott ever. For many people, their first real look at unions, justice, poverty, or better lives for farmworkers was thanks to Nick Jones.

It was the first time that millions of working people considered not using grapes or lettuce, or drinking Gallo wine because workers they didn’t even know suffered from intolerable conditions.

Nick had grown up in Fargo, North Dakota. His father had been a union carpenter who was proud that he had never crossed a picket line. Nick enrolled at North Dakota State University with a four-year ROTC (Reserve Officers’ Training Corps) scholarship. He soon joined the millions of young people who opposed the war in Viet Nam. Because of the conflict between his personal anti-war beliefs and his connection with the ROTC, Nick dropped out of college and traveled to Chicago,where he joined SDS (Students for a Democratic Society).

There was a military draft at this time, and they soon caught up with Nick. However, Nick was able to win conscientious objector status. He set off again. This time to Delano, California where he was recruited by the United Farm Workers Organizing Committee, which soon changed its name to the United Farm Workers Union. The union assigned him to Seattle to work on the boycott. This is where he met and married Virginia Rodriguez, who was a member of one of the original 1965 farm worker families strike. Virginia had been working as an administrative secretary to Cesar Chavez. Nick’s boycott work impressed the UFW leadership, but the union’s budget prevented his being hired. One of the union’s leaders, Chris Hartmire got around this by putting Nick on payroll as a “migrant priest,” and Nick carried on his boycott work.

https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F008860d0-1e9d-458a-bb06-41af1fefaab9_343x328.heic
The boycott included grapes, lettuce, Gallo Wine, Safeway and other companies that refused to respect the farmworkers’ struggle.
In 1968, Chavez began a well-known fast at union headquarters, known as Forty Acres. Nick and Virginia were some of the first supporters to realize that Chavez was unprotected. They began guarding him night and day. After the strike Nick became Chavez’s first bodyguard. He would stay outside Chavez’s house in Delano, armed with a shotgun. Nick recruited a crew of bodyguards who took turns, shotgun in hand, protecting Chavez, and his wife, Helen. Chavez was known for his non-violence, but many of his supporters were ready to die for their leader.

The majority of Nick’s time with the farm workers was on the boycott. In the beginning, Nick and Cesar traveled together from town to town speaking in churches and union halls, and visiting the boycott picket lines at grocery stores (mostly Safeways), urging consumers not to buy grapes, which were the first major boycott target. Under Nick’s leadership as National Boycott Director, consumers refused to buy the produce that the union was protesting. By 1976, Nick had assembled 300 boycott organizers spread out in nearly every major city in the U.S. and Canada.

Cesar’s Paranoia Results in Firings

Also in 1976, Chavez became more and more paranoid that some of the staff were trying to destroy the union. A number of staff were fired, without cause, but only because Cesar was paranoid. Finally, Chavez focused on Nick and Virginia. By that time, each of them had been with the union for 10 years. By 1976, no one dared disagree with Chavez.

Proposition 14 would have given farm workers more rights and would have strengthened the Agricultural Labor Relations Board, which oversees union elections and violations of labor law. There were several people in the UFW who did not think the Proposition would pass, although Chavez was strongly in favor of it. In fact, it failed by a margin of 2-1. Among those who did not think it would win were Nick and Virginia. They were attacked for not mobilizing the boycott workers for the election campaign.

Another issue for Cesar, who was strongly Catholic and anti-Communist was the politics of the boycott workers,who were mostly radical and non-religious. Chavez began attacking boycott workers for being Communists or leftist, although there was no evidence to substantiate the allegation. In any case, Nick and Virginia were put in an untenable position. They resolved it by submitting their resignations.

Their letter to Cesar cited “mistrust, and baseless accusations against staff, and a toxic atmosphere of innuendo without evidence.”

Cesar’s response accused Jones of harboring or enabling “leftists”/disruptors and being naive or complicit.

The loss of Nick and Virginia caused a major rupture in the union that made the front page of the Los Angeles Times. Someone had given the paper a letter of resignation from Nick and Virginia, without the knowledge of the Jones or the UFW. The Times headline read, “UFW Aide Quits, Alleges Chavez Anti-leftist Bias.” Actually, Nick and Virginia avoided the topic of leftism in the letter which focused on the arbitrary treatment, including hiring and firing, meted out to boycott staff. Cesar complained about staff laziness. The UFW spokesperson flatly denied politics had been involved, “There was no purge of leftists.” No one dared disagree with Cesar, which was at the heart of the union.

The boycott work carried on after Nick left, but it never soared to the heights that it reached under Nick’s guidance. Chavez’ paranoia continued to grow as he became more involved in Chuck Dederich’s Synanon cult, which developed into an alternative community centered on group truth-telling sessions that came to be known as the “Synanon Game”, a form of attack therapy. It was said to be one of the “most dangerous and violent cults” America had ever seen.

Nick left the UFW in 1976. Cesar Chavez continued as president until he died in 1993. He was succeeded by his son-in-law, Arturo Rodriguez, in 1993. Rodriguez, in turn, was followed, in 2018, by current president, Teresa Romero.

Chicago, A Union Called Sweetheart, and the Mafia

The union at the Sweetheart Cup factories around Chicago were in deep trouble. They didn’t have a leader, and they were besieged by nothing less than the Crime Syndicate.

Fortunately, their efforts to find someone to lead them out of this mess led them to Nick Jones. The Executive Board liked Nick’s style and quickly voted him in as President of the Chicago Joint Board of the Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union (RWDSU). The Joint Board was made up of several local unions, all working for Sweetheart and boasting at least 1,000 members.

The RWDSU had been founded in 1937 and was part of the CIO (Congress of Industrial Organizations). This was a time when everyone seemed to be joining unions. Even the President, Franklin D. Roosevelt, urged workers to join a union. But by the 1980s, when Nick showed up, unions had become a tough sell. Nick quickly got the union in order. The Executive Board met regularly and the members got used to seeing Nick walking through the plant and taking care of their grievances.

But there were problems with the mob who wanted to take over the union. They paid off workers to get them to sign a petition to vote for their paperworkers union. During the campaign to save the union, the RWDSU called a mass meeting, with Charlie Hayes, a Congressman who had previously been a reform member of the AFL-CIO. Hayes had been a colleague of Rev. Jesse Jackson and Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. during the Civil Rights Struggle. There was a bomb threat which made it impossible to hold the mass meeting. There was no doubt who threatened to plant the bomb. It was the Crime Syndicate. Nick was unfazed by the threat of violence, and redoubled his efforts to win the election.

Nick, and his union team, of course won the election. The Mafia found out the hard way that unions are not theirs for the taking. At least, the union led by Nick Jones was no easy pickings.

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Nick, supporting another union, in California, that was fighting for its rights.
Another Union in Trouble

Service Employees International Union (SEIU) Local 250, in California’s Bay Area, was descending into chaos when Nick joined it. He had returned to his home to be closer to friends and his daughter, Raquel.

In the mid-80s, there was probably no union with 28,000 members seething with more unrest than the health care union. It had been ruled without democracy for 15 years by Tim Twomey, the son-in-law of the former international president. His rule began to come apart with the tentative negotiation of a contract that was unacceptable to the rank-and-file. Local 250 was the international’s largest union, but it had no credible leadership.

Workers refused to accept a two-tier wage plan and instead voted down the proposed contract. They then went on a disastrous strike. When the strike failed, workers were forced to negotiate department by department. At this time, two capable leaders emerged, Sal Roselli and Shirley Ware. They were able to repair much of the damage to working conditions, while refusing to agree to any two-tier wage plans.

It was the end of the old regime. Enter the Trusteeship, which was imposed by the international president, John Sweeney. In place of Twomey came Trustee Phil Giarrizzo. He stabilized the union and was well received – for a while. If you compare union politics with political politics, then Twomey is the authoritarian, Giarrizzo is a moderate. In fact, he was one of a group of “moderates” who got their experience from SEIU Local 715 in the San Jose area. Together with Bob Muscat, John Tanner , and a few others, they began fanning out to unions around the country, whose workers and what they did, was alien to them.

The newly formed New Leadership caucus consisting of Sal, Shirley, Charlie Ridgel, Nick and many more rebels in the ranks sent an open letter to the union heads back in Washington, DC. They said of the Trustee, “he got into screaming arguments with members who dared to disagree with him. He threatened and fired staff who refused to support his (upcoming) campaign for President. He turned official Union meetings into recruitment drives for volunteers for his campaign.” There was also a meeting where members were demanding his resignation when he turned his back on them and refused to look at his critics.

Giarrizzo was called to Washington for “consultations,” during which he was asked for his resignation; in other words, he was fired. Unfortunately, the Trusteeship had caused a lot of damage to the ailing union. Both Nick Jones and Sal Roselli were fired. This might seem like an irreparable blow to the union democracy movement, but, on the contrary, it gave them more time to organize. Both Nick and Sal were restored to their jobs.

They won their jobs back when thousands signed on to the New Leadership caucus. The leaders held nominations and elections and were nearly 100 percent successful. Later, they left SEIU and became the militant, independent union that the workers wanted. It was renamed the United Health Care Workers West. Years later, they negotiated a new affiliation with SEIU in which they maintained their name and their democratic union.

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In later years, Nick and wife, Antonette Garcia, visited Carthage in North Africa.
Another job well done, Nick. Time to retire. Nick had a great retirement traveling the world, spending time in Italy, Turkey and other parts of Europe, South East Asia and the Pacific Islands, before settling for at least part of every year in the Philippines and the remainder in Richmond, California. Wherever he was, Nick never forgot the struggle for justice, freedom and dignity. He went out of his way to actively support movements that needed his help.

He is survived by his wife, Tonette Garcia, daughter Raquel. and son, Martín. A memorial will be held in the Bay Area at a time not yet set. Left Coast News <leftcoast.substack.com> will post the information, below the latest article, as soon as we have it. … See MoreSee Less

NICK JONES 1942-2026

leftcoast.substack.com

The Man Who Changed the Labor and Boycott Movements

LaborFest

2 weeks ago

Divestment Now! Student Activism and the Anti-Apartheid Movement at UC Berkeley
events.berkeley.edu/library/event/309073-exhibit-divestment-now-student-activism-and-the-anti-
Oct. 27, 2025 – May 30, 2027

Exhibit | Divestment Now! Student Activism and the Anti-Apartheid Movement at UC Berkeley
Oct 27, 2025 – May 30, 2027
The Rowell Exhibition Cases, Doe Library, 2nd floor

Photograph, circa 1985-86, Fang Family San Francisco Examiner Photograph Archive, BANC PIC 2006.029, Box 213, The Bancroft Library, Unive…
Photograph, circa 1985–86, Fang Family San Francisco Examiner Photograph Archive, BANC PIC 2006.029, Box 213, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.
Sponsor(s): The Bancroft Library, UC Berkeley Library
In 1985, UC Berkeley students, with support from faculty, staff, and labor unions, transformed the campus into the heart of a powerful anti-apartheid divestment campaign. They organized rallies, teach-ins, and shantytown encampments to protest the university’s financial ties to companies profiting from South Africa’s system of racial segregation. Divestment Now! Student Activism and the Anti-Apartheid Movement at UC Berkeley highlights a movement that mobilized thousands, politicized a new generation, and laid the groundwork for ongoing struggles for racial and economic justice.

Admission Information:
This exhibit is free and open to the public. Please check Doe Library hours to make sure the library is open during your planned visit.

Contact Info:
Jessica Tai, jessicatai@berkeley.edu

Access Coordinator:
Erin Copp, ecopp@berkeley.edu, 510-642-3781
The Bancroft Library, Exhibit, Doe Memorial Library, Equity and Inclusion … See MoreSee Less

Exhibit | Divestment Now! Student Activism and the Anti-Apartheid Movement at UC Berkeley

events.berkeley.edu

In 1985, UC Berkeley students, with support from faculty, staff, and labor unions, transformed the campus into the heart of a powerful anti-aparthe…