By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
"We are embarking on a mission today to return this union to its former glory," said Ensley, 62. Thirty of the council's 56 local presidentsrepresenting 70,000 of the council's 120,000 memberswere present to support his candidacy, Ensley said, and he had them raise their hands as the crowd of 100 cheered and shook blue signs proclaiming a "Unity Slate."
The rally was held on a plaza at the rear entrance of the council's huge headquarters at 125 Barclay Street on the far west side of Lower Manhattan, offices purchased back in those glory years when anything the council's then influential leaders said had impact at City Hall and in Albany. Those days are long gone, however. Now the plaza is notable as the site where investigators for the Manhattan district attorney's office hauled away truckloads of records in 1999, in a probe that resulted in criminal charges against some 20 officials of D.C. 37 and a seismic shake-up in what had always been perceived as a sedate and corruption-free labor organization. The investigation opened a Pandora's box of long-hidden secrets, ranging from the blatant rigging of contract votes and local elections to the theft of union treasuries and even hushed-up mob associations. The plaza was also the place, union veterans knew, where the leader of a key local was savagely beaten by goons dispatched by a mobster dissatisfied with the size of his tribute.
The D.A.'s probe felled several of the heads of the so-called Big Five locals, the largest of the 56 within the council. Some, like Charles Hughes, of the low-wage school aides, and Al Diop, chief of the clerical workers, went to prison for grand larceny and other crimes. Others, like James Butler, of the city hospital workers, were forced out of office amid exposés prompted by the winds of change. Stanley Hill, the once proud militant leader-turned-Rudy Giuliani ally, was booted from his post as executive director of the council, banished by his own international leadership for having failed to intervene in the tidal wave of corruption, both large and petty, that surrounded him in the union's headquarters.
Almost alone of the top leadership, Ensley emerged unscathed. No charges were pressed against him or his top officers. No misdeeds were revealed by the expensive and painstaking forensic audits of the entire council compiled by two top private investigative firms. If anything, the close-up examinations revealed a local that excels in its own internal democracy. From its offices more than 30 blocks away from the council's Barclay Street headquarters, the local publishes its own newspaper, The Unionist. Unlike the other big locals of D.C. 37, where the top executives awarded themselves immense salaries and perks (Hughes took in $240,000 while representing some of the council's lowest-paid members), Local 371 caps its own officers' salaries at the highest wages of its own members. Ensley receives a total of $87,0000, a combination of the $57,000 he is entitled to as a Supervisor Three title in the city's workforce, and $30,000 for other union hats he wears, including as a vice president of the parent body, the American Federation of State County and Municipal Employees.
Once deemed an outsider with a penchant for making trouble, Ensley earned credibility after loudly claiming that he believed the union's infamous 1996 contract vote was rigged. This was the vote in which members mysteriously ratified a contract that included two years of no pay increases. When Ensley demanded an accounting, he was met with icy silence. Later, investigators determined that ballots had been handwritten by union aides close to Hill and phony figures had been provided by crooked local leaders.
"Charles is supremely democratic; his election could change the whole course of this union," said Mark Rosenthal, a onetime insurgent who helped spur the investigation and ensuing cleanup. Rosenthal, president of Local 983, which represents parks workers and motor vehicle operators, won election as treasurer of the district council last year on a ticket headed by Roberts, a former union leader brought back as a peacemaker for warring factions inside the council.
Roberts, 75, Ensley's opponent, was a feisty teenage organizer in Chicago when she caught the eye of former labor strongman Victor Gotbaum, who brought her to New York to organize hospital workers. She was Gotbaum's heir apparent to head the council, until he became unenthused about her leadership qualities and urged her to accept a post as state labor commissioner.
After being forced out as labor commissioner by Governor Mario Cuomo in 1986, Roberts became a vice president of Total Health Systems, a health maintenance organization that was accused of running afoul of city rules by paying city union officials to sign up members. No charges were ever pressed, but Roberts later quit the business and retired. She said that reading the newspaper stories about the squalid scandals unearthed in the council had made her sick at heart, so she became a consultant to international trustee Lee Saunders, who had his hands full dealing with both persistent law enforcement inquiries and the ever fractionalized council.