EP1 - The Bus Driver Story

 
   Brothers and Sister, gather around and let Uncle John tell you the story of the City Bus, in Eugene-Springfield.  I'm going to tell you about bus drivers, and not even hardly mention the mechanics who were there too, like Billy Moore.  They too were a great bunch of guys, and we couldn't have made it without them, but for now, this letter is just about Bus Drivers.

   In the early 1950's, the City Bus was owned and operated by a big company based out of Portland, named Oregon Stage Lines, or something like that.  (Uncle John is so old now that he has trouble remembering some little details, so bear with me.)  They were big old lumbering GMC busses that belched blue smoke and roared like a herd of dinosaurs. 

   The busses were driven by good, hard working men (there were no lady bus drivers yet) who liked their jobs and the people they hauled every day. 

   One day, for whatever reasons, the good old bus drivers went out on strike.  The bus company got mad at the impertinence of the bus drivers and hired other men, called scabs, to drive the big busses in their place.  And to make matters worse for the drivers, the company locked them out from getting their jobs back.  The good old bus drivers didn't have a very strong union at that time, and soon the union went bust.

   First, the good old bus drivers were sad.  But then they got mad.  They got together and pool what remaining money they had and bought several old large vans.  Chevies, Fords, and Volkswagens.  Especially Volkswagens.  And then they made a plan.

   They started driving these vans over the old bus routes about 5 minutes before the big city busses got there.  The people, who had always like the good old bus drivers, soon caught on, and would hop into the vans instead of the big busses.  The good old bus drivers couldn't, by law, charge anyone to ride with them, but the people would put money in a little pot that sat near the driver.  Now, it only cost 25 cents to ride the big city bus, but the people would put dollar bills into the pot.  Lots of them.

   I remember hopping into one of the little vans one afternoon with my mother and watching her put a 5 dollar bill into the pot.  I said "Mom, it doesn't cost that much to ride the bus."  "I know," she said, "but we're not riding the bus.  We're riding with our friends."

   Well, wouldn't you know, before long, the big city bus company soon went completely out of business.  And the scabs went scurrying back into their holes.

   The good old bus drivers then got together and borrowed some money, and went out searching for old used busses to buy.  They bought several old school busses, and even found one old bus behind a farmer's barn being used as a chicken coop.  They brought all the old busses together and cleaned them, fixed up the engines, and painted them green.  They proudly painted "City Bus" on each of them, and they formed a company.  They named it "Emerald Transportation Company."  And for many years after that, the good old bus drivers drove the city busses, affectionately called "The Green Meanies," around town, taking their friends to work, to school, to the movies, and back home again.  It was good.

  
   I went to work for Emerald Transportation Company in the early spring of 1970.  I had gotten the job with the help and advice of one of the good old bus drivers named Ray Stewart, who told me that "something good was in the wind" with mass transit, and I should get in quick to be on "the ground floor."  I didn't care about the wind, or the floor, I just needed a job.  I soon got to know and like the 30 or so employees of Emerald, and the crotchety old boss, Elmer Settle.  To these old guys, I was the kid, although there was another kid working there who had been hired a few months before me.  He was a skinny, geeky little guy with thick glasses named Paul Headley.  Everyone was real nice and helped me learn the ropes, because there was no formal training involved.  Three days after I was hired I went solo.  The
passengers told me where to turn.  I got paid $1.90 an hour.  It was a good time.

   Now, because Elmer was getting very old, he wanted to sell the company and retire.  And the U.S. government had enacted a law that established public transit districts in cities who wanted and needed them.  Each district would receive funding on the federal and county level.  But the county had to agree to it all first.  And in 1970, Lane County wasn't too hot on the idea.  Many people said we didn't need busses.  For a while, it looked like we'd all be out of a job.

   The county held a series of meetings, and on one particular meeting, they invited the public to come in a testify about the need for busses in Eugene and Springfield.  The meeting was to be held at 8 o'clock that night, but the busses only ran to 6:30.  The people who rode the busses, the elderly, the kids, the low income, couldn't get to the meeting to testify.  So several of the bus drivers arranged it with Elmer for us to come down after work that night and take out the busses and pick up the people who wanted to testify and bring them to the meeting, and take them home afterwards, all, of course, on the driver's own time.

   We took the busses out that night and went practically door-to-door and got the old ladies, the kids, and the poor, and took them to the meeting.  After listening to several hours of impassioned speeches from very determined people, the County Commissioners gave in.  And Lane County Mass Transit District was born.

   Things happened quickly after that.  A Board of Directors was appointed, and a General Manager, Fred Dyer, was hired.  One of the federal rules for forming a transit district said that the old private bus company had to be bought out, and all its employees hired by the district with seniority intact.  We suddenly got a raise to $2.25 an hour.  We were rich.

   The district started hiring drivers to expand the routes and extend the hours of operation.  And somebody said two guys from some union wanted to talk to us Wednesday night at the Eugene Hotel. 

   We had been warned by the county official that we'd probably be approached by union people.  He told us we'd be better off not joining a union, even though he couldn't promise us we could get Civil Service positions because of the nature of a transit district.  He added that he knew for a fact that he could get us $2.50 by the end of the month.  And maybe even a paid vacation every year.  We were sorely tempted.

   We all went to the meeting at the Eugene Hotel anyway, and we were all sure that the two guys would be scary, Mafia thugs who would offer us the moon.  We were half right, sort of.  Mel Schopert and Del Hadley looked exactly like two Mafia thugs.  But there was no mention of the moon.  Instead, they explained to us in careful detail every option we could ever possibly have.  They calmly answered all of our questions, honestly.  They bought us drinks.  We talked until 3 in the morning.  We voted to join the Amalgamated Transit Union, Local 757.  We were now officially family.  We were Bus Drivers.

   The first official act of the new Transit District was to fire seven of the old drivers because of their driving records.  The Amalgamated Transit Union walked in, calmly explained to Fred Dyer how the 13c Agreement of the Federal Transit District Act worked, and got all seven their jobs back.  Just like that.

   As a matter of fact, The Union actually set up most everything we work with now.  Fred Dyer didn't know how to do it.  The Union had the experience.

   ---------------------------------------------

   Now, the reason I'm telling you all this is because I want you all to remember who we are.  We come from a long line of good old bus drivers and mechanics who went through a lot, and never gave up, never quit.  They've always considered themselves members of one big family of hard-working people.  They protected each other, and they protected their job. 

   I know some of you newer people are scared about what's happening lately.  Well, I'm here to tell you:  Don't be.  You are protected by one of the largest, most powerful International Unions in the country.  You have the most highly skilled, highly motivated Union Officers you can find anywhere.  And remember, you also have the labor laws of the federal and state government on your side. 

   We will not only live through all this, we will prevail.  We will win because we are right.  And you can't just stand around feeling helpless, because there are a few things you must do. 

   First, you must truly consider yourself a part of this family.  As long as you work here, every contract employee is your brother or sister.  Get to know them.  Shake their hand.  Give them a wave.  If they need help, help them if you can.  We are family. 

   Next, do your job well.  Come to work on time, everyday, ready for work.  When at work, keep your mind focused on your job.  Treat your passengers well, we may need them, like we did back in 1970.  Stay neat, and clean.  Eat right, and get plenty of rest.

   And watch what you say, and who may around you listening in when you say it.  Keep Union business in the Union only.  Above all, trust your Union officers.  Don't bitch and complain to other people, bitch and complain to the officers, that's what they're there for.  Go to all the Union meetings.

  And finally, stop worrying.  We'll all get through this.  We always have.  All those good old bus drivers from the 50's are gone now, but I have a feeling they're watching over us.  They fought and worked hard so that we could be here now, and I know we won't let them down.  We have their spirit.  No one can beat us.  

   We are Bus Drivers.

 

Stay strong, Brothers and Sisters.
John Perry