Grounded

No more than two decades ago, the grounding of all the commercial flights in the U.S. would have caused hardly a ripple in the nation's transportation pattern. Last week the U.S. discovered just how dependent it has become on the airplane, which now crisscrosses the U.S. over hundreds of routes that form a tightly knit skein, carrying more than 94 million passengers in a year--more than intercity trains and buses combined. In the biggest airline strike in the nation's history--the last one of any size was in 1961--the International Association of Machinists struck and grounded five of the biggest U.S. airlines: Eastern, Northwest, TWA, National and United.

Ordinarily, the five transport a total of 150,000 people a day, tot up no less than 61.5% of all U.S. airline passenger-miles. They serve 231 cities and 23 foreign countries, carry fully 70% of the nation's mail. The strike against them came at a time when more Americans were flying than ever before, and at the very height of the summer travel season. The U.S.'s six other trunk air lines and 13 regional carriers could scarcely begin to cope with the enormous demand for flight space among affluent Americans bound for vacations, conventions and business appointments. Some airlines had so extended their equipment for the rush season that they could manage to add only a few flights at best.

Ingenious Ways. The result was chaos. Airports were first jammed with stranded passengers, then all but deserted as passengers realized the futility of trying to get on the few flights flying. Bus depots across the country were jammed and railroad stations crowded. Rent-a-car firms revved up every available roadworthy vehicle for service, then happily handled orders from travelers willing to drive from Boston to Denver or from Los Angeles to Atlanta. U.S. mail piled up in sacks everywhere, to be delivered a day or several days late. Pentagon officials moved swiftly to arrange for extra planes for priority flights for Viet Nam-bound servicemen on leave. In New York and San Francisco, thousands of high-spirited, conventioneering Lions and Shriners became stranded.

Some people found impressively ingenious ways to bypass the strike. A San Francisco businessman who had to get to New York on crucial business booked a seat on Pan American to London, flew over the polar ice cap, then flew from London across the Atlantic to New York. Cost: $607. Many found that they could move between the East Coast and Chicago by flying via Montreal or Toronto on Air Cana da, and others hopscotched erratically across the U.S. by taking any available flight that would take them on a dogleg route home. At New York's Kennedy Airport and others, entrepreneurial types rented private airplanes, then canvassed passengers waiting in line to share the ride and the cost.

Unprecedented Step. Though the strike seemed to catch the nation by surprise, it actually came after nearly a year of fruitless hassling. The 894,000-member I.A.M., which is the U.S.'s fourth largest union, contains men who work on everything from missile manufacturing to repairing newspaper presses --as well as the 35,400 airline strikers who maintain and service the craft of the five carriers. The union worked through the National Mediation Board to try to get the industrywide bargaining that the railroads have had for many years, and last August the five took the unprecedented step (for airlines) of deciding to fly or founder together. The union then filed its requests. Among them: wage hikes totaling 530 an hour over three years (on top of a top mechanic's pay of $3.52 an hour), an overtime jump that would increase time-and-a-half pay to double-time pay in most instances and to triple-time in some, pension and health-welfare plans whose costs would be borne entirely by the airlines and, last, a cutback in the workweek from 40 hours to 37 1/2 hours.

The airlines offered top wage increases totaling 30-c- an hour over three years but insisted on sticking pretty much to the status quo on all other points. Late in April, President Johnson appointed an emergency fact-finding board after both union and airlines agreed that they could not negotiate. The board ultimately suggested that the majority of the union's general demands should be withdrawn and recommended that the gut issue--money --be settled through a top wage increase of 48-c- an hour served up over 3 1/2 years. President Johnson praised the board's recommendations and the airlines agreed to them--but the union turned thumbs down.

Under President Paul L. Siemiller, who took over as head of the I.A.M. last year just four years short of his mandatory retirement and is in a rush to get things done, the union has grown, waxed more powerful and effectively unified its fractious factions. Siemiller calls it "the go-go union for workers who want action"--and neither he nor his negotiators considered the fact-finding board's recommendations action enough. After a 30-day cooling-off period, the union made its "last" request--a wage-and-benefits hike that would cost, according to the airlines, some $114 million over the life of the contract. That was nearly 60% more than the presidential board's total recommendation. The airlines said no; the union struck.

No Visible Move. Union leaders expect a high settlement because they feel that they have the airlines over a barrel; they did not even bother to quarrel with management's cost estimates. The major U.S. airlines are in a period of unprecedented prosperity, which last year yielded them record profits of $221 million and in 1966's first six months sent earnings 20% above that level. Said Chief I.A.M. Negotiator James Ramsey last week: "The machinists went along with the airlines during their lean years, and now they should share some of that prosperity. This strike could last more or less in definitely." The union is also aware that the strike is costing the carriers a horrendous total of $7,000,000 a day --a rate at which it would take the strike just 17 days to surpass the full cost of the contract requested by the I.A.M.

Fully aware of all this, Lyndon Johnson made no visible move last week to inject himself--or his famed person-to-person labor-settlement techniques --into the bitter dispute. Although he was as surprised as anyone that the strike had actually occurred, he said: "I have done everything within my power and have taken every action available to the Federal Government to minimize the inconvenience to the public resulting from the strike. But the basic responsibility to the public rests with the union and the carriers." At week's end, negotiations were resumed in Washington, and Labor Secretary Willard Wirtz flew back from Hawaii to help out--but only after waiting hours himself to get a seat on a plane.

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