Turbulence in the Tower

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Complaining that airline traffic was up sharply while the number of controllers was not, some 450 of them protested in June 1969 by staying home for two days, claiming to be sick. The FAA declared that PATCO had encouraged the sickout and that it would no longer recognize the union. For three weeks in the spring of 1970, some 3,000 controllers claimed illness and stayed off the job. "We had no equipment—it was dangerous, dangerous," recalls Carl Vaughn, 45, a Pittsburgh controller. "Little or no automation had been introduced, and near misses were a common occurrence." The FAA reacted by firing some 100 local PATCO leaders and temporarily suspending most of the sickout participants. Still, the FAA seemed to get the controllers' point; automated radar gear was gradually installed at major centers. To regain certification as a bargaining unit, PATCO in 1971 formally pledged never again to encourage a work stoppage or engage in a strike. At the time, only about 3,000 controllers remained in the union.

As air traffic continued to grow, so did the controllers' concerns about stress and safety, and so did PATCO. By the mid'70s, the union had nearly 15,000 members—all but 2,000 of the entire staff of qualified FAA controllers. The union grew increasingly militant as rank-and-file members felt that each new contract failed to meet their same old demands for more reliable equipment, less grueling shift schedules and more pay.

A turning point came last year when both Leyden and the union's longtime vice president, Poli, turned in resignations to PATCO'S executive committee in response to the mounting membership complaints. The board accepted Leyden's, but not Poli's. Explained Controller Vaughn:

"In Leyden's day, there was no better union leader. But in the end he didn't hang tough. He didn't want a strike. Poli stood up to it all." Added another controller:

"Leyden had our hearts, but Poli understands us."

Elevated to the presidency, Poli took his reputation as a militant seriously. A hearty eater and drinker, the 6-ft. 2-in. Pittsburgh native usually speaks calmly and always clearly. "I am not a ranter or a raver or a stomper," he says. "I am frank and straightforward." One critic calls him "a brash bastard," while one follower considers him "a helluva father figure." Poli does not apologize for, in effect, pushing his friend Leyden aside. "We could see there might be cause to strike," he explains coolly. "I knew I would be ready for it, and John might not be."

Still, a strike seemed far from inevitable when negotiations between PATCO and the FAA began last February. Technically, the FAA is not like a private employer in such talks; anything it agreed to would have to be approved by Congress. Poli opened the bargaining by presenting 96 demands, a list the FAA's Helms understandably dismissed as excessive. Yet the union was truly serious about three of its concerns:

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