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But now that cozy relationship has been ruptured, leaving deep wounds. One man lost his job to his twin brother, another to a first cousin. Mario Rodriguez watched his two brothers cross the line. "I don't talk to them," he says bitterly. "They are not my brothers any more." Since the strike began, the number of domestic problems—child abuse, for example—has shot up 30% in the area. Teenage friends who used to sit together at football games now go separate ways, as do many older colleagues. At Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church in Clifton, some striking parishioners will not participate in rites that include the deacon, Richard Gonzalez, because he crossed the line to go back to his job.
At the height of the strike this summer, 424 state troopers and 325 National Guardsmen poured into Morenci. Vacant houses were torched; rocks and rifle bullets were flying. More than 20 people have been arrested on strike-related charges. In Ajo, another Phelps Dodge town, a three-year-old girl was wounded in the brain when someone fired through the walls of her strikebreaking father's house.
In August, more than a thousand club-carrying, chain-wielding strikers threatened to shut down operations. But with little progress at the bargaining table and a successful recruiting effort by the company, the odds have shifted against the union. Although negotiations between the company and the 13-member bargaining team continued last week, strike leaders admitted privately that sympathy for their cause has shriveled and that they have lost the battle. "I have never seen such totally frustrated discouragement," says Father John Brent Bardon, the pastor of Sacred Heart Church.
Almost all the positions at the Morenci operations, which employ 1,400 workers, are filled, nearly 500 by returning employees. Many agree with Joe Imrich, who says, "My family and I like to eat. The bottom line is not whether you're a scab or not, but whether you're employed or not." In all, Phelps Dodge may fire some 1,400 workers as it replaces strikers. The company is readying houses in Morenci for the families of new workers. It has sent 60 eviction notices to "terminated" strikers like Buzz Cole. The Coles plan to move to Massachusetts to look for work, but they vow to return.
Even if they go, even if the strike is finally settled, the scars will probably remain a permanent feature of these communities. "It's brother against brother, and those lines will still be here 20 years from now," says Clifton Police Chief Edward Cramer. "At picnics, ball games and weddings, fights will start over this. It will never be the same." ·