But unions hope for a payoff next time ore than a year ago, the 13.7 million-member AFL-CIO took the unprecedented step of endorsing a Democratic presidential candidate, Walter Mondale, before a single caucus or primary had been held. The goal: to establish labor early on as the decisive element in the Democrats' bid for the White House. "If we do not do what we propose to do, we shall be reviled as toothless and irrelevant," said AFL-CIO President Lane Kirkland at the time. "If we succeed, we shall be condemned for daring to aspire to a share of power in our society."
Unspoken, however, was a third possibility: that the Democratic nominee might lose, with labor's support proving as much a hindrance as a help. That is what happened on Election Day. Up against a popular President and a humming economy, union leaders were simply unable to call home the once monolithic "labor vote." What is more, the union label alienated many of the swing voters—yuppies, independents and moderate Republicans—whom Mondale needed in order to defeat Ronald Reagan. "The public is looking for someone who works for them," says Political Analyst Alan Baron. "It doesn't mean they hate labor. It just means they want somebody who's independent."
Mondale had been endorsed by every major union except the Teamsters, who opted for Reagan. After stumbling badly in the early primaries, Mondale relied on union money and muscle to grind down Gary Hart in New York, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Michigan. "Without labor, we would not have been the nominee," admits one Mondale strategist.
But the effort left a sour taste. "We paid the penalty of being labeled a special-interest group," says Douglas Fraser, retired president of the United Auto Workers. Labor's all-out embrace also reinforced outdated expectations that its members would vote as a bloc. "The fact that people expect labor to deliver a unified vote is ridiculous," says Sam Fishman, president of the Michigan AFL-CIO. In 1964, 73% of labor households voted for L.B.J.; by the time Jimmy Carter ran for re-election in 1980, the Democrats' share of the union vote had dropped to 50%. "I don't even read the stuff they send me," says Robert McConnachie, a Reagan sup porter who belongs to the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees in Avon Township, Mich. "They can't tell me how to vote." Just as important, a dwindling percentage of the work force is in the labor movement. According to the Bureau of National Affairs, a private research group, 17.9% of the work force was unionized in 1982, down from 24.7% in 1970.
Many union members picked Reagan for the same reasons other voters did: his sunny optimism and his stands on pocketbook and patriotism issues. Ironically, by negotiating ever higher wages, many unions have helped their members climb into the middle class, where they perceive their economic interests to be better served by the G.O.P.
Reagan's stand-tall image also held appeal. When Geraldine Ferraro asked workers in a Belvidere, Ill., Chrysler plant why they planned to vote for Reagan, they said they feared Mondale would reinstate the anemic foreign policy of the Carter Administration. Says Fraser: "The macho factor was important."