ART WORK.

SCHNEIDER, DANIEL B.

DANIEL B. SCHNEIDER ON THE MOMA STRIKE

AS THIS ISSUE OF ARTFORUM goes to press, the strike at the Museum of Modern Art enters its fourth month, with negotiations at a virtual standstill, accusations of duplicity and bad faith issuing from all sides, and little hope that a settlement will be reached before the museum begins its $650 million expansion next year.

A giant inflatable rat, putative symbol of no-holdsbarred union vigilance, has been positioned outside the museum's entrance. A dozen or so weedy, hiplooking picketers, members of the museum's Professional and Administrative Staff Association, toot whistles, slap drums, and urge visitors to go to the Whitney or the Guggenheim instead. "We're out here to demonstrate our resolve, though from the museum's point of view, we literally can't afford to take a principled stand," said Michael Cinquina, a buyer for the museum bookstore. "It's contemptible of the museum to ignore the fact that 150 of their people have been on the sidewalk every day."

The strikers include historically nonunionized professionals like archivists, conservators, and assistant curators, as well as librarians, editors, writers, secretaries, photographers, and the retail staff of the bookstore and design shop. Formed in 1971, the patchwork white-collar union--known by the unfortunate acronym PASTA--is one of the few of its kind in the country, representing 250 of the museum's 650 employees; its members are, on average, the lowest paid of the museum's six unions.

On the surface, the strike encompasses a broad range of bread-and-butter issues, including salaries, health-care benefits, union participation, and job security after the museum closes its Manhattan galleries for the three-year expansion. The negotiating atmosphere soured considerably after the staff association's contract expired last October. Though disputes between PASTA and management have become acrimonious in the past, many on both sides claim they were caught off guard when the negotiating committee voted to strike. "Was I surprised?" said Glenn D. Lowry, director of the museum since 1995. "Yes."

Now, exasperated by the museum's apparent intransigence, many PASTA members on both sides of the picket line wonder aloud if Lowry is simply trying to cripple the union before the museum closes and new construction begins. "The museum is punishing us for behaving like a union instead of an association," said Cinquina, who has served on PASTA's negotiating committee for nine years.

According to longtime members, the staff association has traditionally been a free-spirited, highly independent group. PASTA first went on strike for eight weeks in 1973, unsuccessfully seeking a staff seat on the board of trustees and the inclusion of full curators in the bargaining unit. Though ties between PASTA and its brawnier affiliate, Local 2110 of the United Auto Workers, have strengthened in recent years, only about 170 PASTA workers are dues-paying members, and of these only 115 voted to strike in April.

Since then, the bitterness and inflexibility shown by both management and the union have surprised observers, and there is a broad sense that the river of mistrust and personal enmity has jumped its banks. A federal mediator has not called the two sides together for face-to-face talks since the strike began, and the museum has watched a bad situation dramatically worsen.

The picket line works in three daily shifts, drawn from a pool that has withered to under 125. Museum attendance is down only slightly, if at all. But while management has claimed that over half of PASTA's members have crossed the picket line, only around fifty of those eligible for union support have actually refused to strike or returned to work. "I think it's going fine. The people on strike are more committed than ever before," said Maida Rosenstein, president of Local 2110.

Charles Silver, an assistant curator in the film department and an original PASTA member, says he crossed the picket line because Local 2110 distorted management's position and ignored the worker's interests. "I'm committed to the concept of the union, and to this particular union, but there are realities and common sense involved, and all that's gone out the window," said Silver, who was defeated in a number of recent PASTA elections. "These [UAW] people strike. It's what they do. They care about themselves. They care nothing about the museum workers."

Many of those who have crossed the line are curators, who constitute the staff association's priestly class. Their absence is notable because they are among PASTA'S best-educated and highest-paid members, and the exhibitions they organize are, in effect, the museum's only product. Returning workers, it should be noted, receive the museum's proposed wage increase, along with a new dental plan and pension package.

Museum representatives continue to portray the union leadership as the real impediment to any resolution. As evidence, they have trumpeted the union's demand that all new employees join the union or, if they choose not to join, be required to pay union dues, creating what is known as an agency shop. "I don't believe there are any issues of substance or consequence, outside of the union demand [for an agency shop], that cannot be resolved. Quickly," said Lowry. Robert Batterman, the museum's chief negotiator, was even more explicit. "The union leadership made it clear to me months before the strike began-indeed, before the negotiations began-that an agency shop was going to be the sine qua non for a settlement," he said. "I made it clear that this was an issue of high principle to the museum, that we had a tradition of twenty-nine years with an open shop, and that we would not be agreeing to this demand."

In negotiating several past contracts, the local took what would seem to be a more rigid stance, calling for a union shop, which all PASTA members would be required to join. In the end, however, the union has always set aside that demand in the interest of reaching a settlement. Some members have concluded, therefore, that the museum's present focus on the agency-shop clause is essentially a ruse, designed to portray Local 2110 as grasping, unreasonable, and single-mindedly committed to an issue that is of secondary importance to much of the rank and file. In other words, they suspect that the museum is in truth more concerned about other aspects of the contract and is cynically spotlighting the agency-shop demand in order to undermine support for the union.

Furthermore, union representatives point out that the museum's other unions have agency shops. "In New York City it is totally standard to have a union security clause, and it costs the museum nothing. For the museum to make an issue of this is simply unjust," said Rosenstein.

Museum salaries are monastic, almost by tradition. At the high end, associate curators make almost $60,000 annually, but bookstore clerks and visitor assistants start at $17,000, and the median salary for the association as a whole is only $28,000. The union has asked for a raise of 5 percent in the first year and 4 percent in each subsequent year, of a five-year contract, while demanding the museum raise its minimum salary to $20,000.

"I'm one of the people that started at $17,000," said Matt Ramsey, who has worked at the visitor services desk at the museum entrance for six years and now finds himself on the picket line. "For years I lived in the farthest reaches of Queens, where apartments are cheap, and I still couldn't get by. And I've always lived with roommates."

The museum has offered a 3 percent raise each year for three years, an amount that Bob Batterman describes as "right on target with typical wage settlements in this country." Batterman argues that starting wages at MOMA are comparable to-or better than-those offered by the city's other museums, while the museum provides a superior benefits package, including vacations that start at four weeks.

Museum officials also stress that the worker's low wages are partially offset by the comprehensive health plan it shares with museum management. The union, however, has concluded that reductions in coverage are imminent. The museum has, in fact, asked the union to waive any right to negotiate health benefits in the future, insisting that bargaining rights would be granted only if the union agreed to administer its own plan. Many strikers point to the waiver request as the issue that actually nudged them onto the picket line. "The museum has no plans to make any changes to the program," Lowry insisted. "One ought to judge an institution by its record."

PASTA members are; by and large, youthful, educated, and well-spoken, and even on the picket line they are quick to proclaim their respect for the museum's programs and collections. This has made it difficult to summon forth the kind of banner headlines and broadcast images that might otherwise galvanize popular opinion in their favor, and they feel it works to the museum's advantage. "It is such a reflection of the art profession at large, this pervasive notion that only privileged individuals work in the art world," said Carina Evangelista, a research assistant in the department of painting and sculpture and a member of PASTA'S negotiating team. "When hear that some people on the staff can't afford a phone, it's just not excusable."

Lowry has said repeatedly that no more than forty employees will be laid off during the museum's upcoming building expansion, a figure that is met with open suspicion by the rank and file. The museum has guaranteed that all employees will be recalled when the museum reopens, but the union has insisted that employees be returned to their previous positions. "We're really serious about making sure our employees remain employed, but we can't guarantee them the exact same job." Lowry said, with a trace of exasperation.

Political pressure for a settlement has yet to coalesce; sympathetic actions by other unions have thus far been cosmetic; and funding for the museum expansion appears to be holding. If the strike continues until next year, a reserve gate will be put in place when construction begins, so that laborers can come and go without encountering the picketers. "I am resolute in my hope that the strike will be over by then," said Lowry, who now finds himself demonized by many PASTA members on both sides of the picket line. "The most important thing is to remember that it will end."

"I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel," said Abby Pervil, a development assistant, gesturing toward the museum. "I mean, it's not like we're closing down a steel plant or an auto factory here."

Daniel B. Schneider s writer who lives in New York.