Secretary-Treasurer

I like Canada. Like any nation, it has its flaws here and there, but I like it for its geological beauty, because national health care is part of public policy, because its elections are actually representative of the will of the citizenry, because its maple leaf flag reminds one of a connection to the natural world, and because it contains some of my favorite cities in the world.

I especially like Canada because any Canadian musician—employee, independent contractor, dependent contractor, and probably busker—can secure some level of labor union representation and protection in their work. This representation and protection is unavailable to a vast swath of their American counterpart musicians south of the border, thanks to American federal labor law.

Undergirding all American labor laws— and undergirding the US Constitution, in fact—is the idea that Commerce in all its Glory must not be disrupted. It takes no keen observer to see that the scales of American Blind Justice are weighted in favor of commerce and, by obvious extension, in favor of business. That the US has any labor laws at all is not from a sense of social justice, but because historically unions had been very effective in disrupting commerce in pursuit of worker gains, and business needed something to slow down, if not reverse, that union progress. So Americans now have the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA), among others, purportedly protecting workers’ rights, but in fact, operating to suppress workers’ rights.

And what has this to do with American musicians? American labor law is designed specifically to operate on the Employer-Employee relationship, i.e., employees of an employer have the right to form a union to bargain with their employer. But an indie musician in the US likely has no legally-defined employer. A freelance musician, jumping from gig to gig, likely also has no employer within the definition of law. Transactions between those musicians and those who pay for their services fall into the bucket of commerce, not the protections of labor law. Labor law and the legal right to bargain collectively is out of their reach. The harm that this unfairness has brought upon the music profession is both insidious and profound.

Several independent musician organizations have sprung up over the years in reaction to the manifesting inequities. United Musicians and Allied Workers are working to secure mandated compensation for music streaming and fair pay at music festivals. The Music Workers Alliance seeks to regulate the use of AI by independent record labels and protect musicians’ intellectual property. The Indie Musicians’ Caucus of the AFM is pushing for the Federation to broaden and step up its representation of indie artists in all their market areas.

What these independent groups seek is very much in alignment with our union’s goals. The irony is that the very nature of their “employment” (for lack of a more defining term) prevents them from accessing the few rights otherwise available under the NLRA, and without a union umbrella to operate under, they must tread a narrow path to avoid antitrust allegations from industry. The quest for equity and fairness is frustrating and crazy.

Canadian musicians just don’t have to think about these things with the same intensity.

Consumer advocate Ralph Nader, as a candidate for US President in 2000, proposed repealing the Taft-Hartley Act (the act that made the NLRA untenable for workers). That would be a start. But for decades, the entertainment unions have struggled to push their square peg through the round hole of the NLRA. For many of those decades, the AFM attempted to persuade Congress to amend the NLRA to make union representation easier for entertainment workers, but without success. Several states have adopted legislation intended to address the performer’s employment environment, but ended up replacing old problems with new ones.

Perhaps it’s time for Congress to recognize that all of us performers in the entertainment trades are not like other workers and that we should have our own Performers’ Labor Rights Act.

In New York City, Democratic Socialist Zohran Mamdani was elected mayor, with over 50% of the three-way vote, following one of the highest NYC voter turnouts in recent memory. His election has been hailed as a victory for the left-leaning populous, an indication of the emerging power of young adults and ethnic minorities, and portending momentous positive change for life in the Big Apple.

Maybe. Winning a vote or an election is only the beginning of a long-haul struggle.

The people who voted Mamdani into office in anticipation of his promises of free public buses, affordable housing, city-owned grocery stores, a rent freeze, and raising the minimum wage to be paid for with increased taxation on the wealthy, must understand that his election alone will not automatically manifest those promises. Electing Mamdani is only the start. Mamdani cannot do it himself—there are many, many political, bureaucratic, and private agencies and stakeholders connected and affected by those promises that will resist a disruption of the status quo. The same popular movement—the people—that brought Mamdani to office must stay engaged and activated if they want any of their dreams to become a reality.

If they think voting on November 4 was enough and then go back to life-as-usual, nothing will change. One only has to look at Barack Obama’s presidency to see the disconnect between the euphoria following his election and the moribund societal and governmental status quo that followed for the next eight years. Change takes a steady and relentless push from a lot of people

The work of the people of New York City, therefore, has only just started, and the next several months will reveal if the people are up to the task.

Following his election as US President in 1932, organized labor approached Franklin Roosevelt and demanded significant labor law reform. Roosevelt recognized the need for reform, but told the labor leaders, “You must force us to do this, because unless you do, Congress will not act.” Taking up the challenge, workers delivered up two years of nationwide demonstrations, strikes, and work stoppages, ending with Congress adopting the 1935 Wagner Act, which guaranteed the right of workers to collectively bargain with their employers.

The same principle applies in our little piece of the universe. The members of a bargaining unit, like an orchestra or theater group, who fill out a contract survey and then totally leave it up to their five-person negotiating committee to wield some sort of magic at the negotiating table cannot expect the most desirable outcome. Their committee needs the active and engaged participation of all the musicians if the employer or management is to be persuaded to agree to their contract demands. I have personally witnessed the amazing results that are achieved by musicians who step out of their comfort zone and together stake out their position on the front lines—and who then discover themselves living in a new, expanded comfort zone: collective strength. Settling a contract negotiation is not the end of a process; it’s the beginning of the next contract campaign. Building strength, whether it’s physical strength, political strength, or labor strength, requires clear goals, planning, and steady incremental action—just like our work. Steady, smart practicing means we’re always ready for the next gig. Steady, smart preparation means we’re always ready for the next contract campaign

The purpose of any union is to build power so that its members can achieve economic fairness in the workplace and justice in the political realm. Coming out of the pandemic, this Federation administration gave itself a good institutional shaking, like a Labrador Retriever coming in from a downpour, with exactly that purpose in mind.

We’ve reignited the Organizing Services Department, which has focused on a number of local and national campaigns over the past several months, with plans to build up the department even more. We’ve added a research arm to the Federation, to support organizing and contract campaigns. The Symphonic Services field negotiators were put back on the road to assist locals with their symphonic bargaining. So busy have they been that plans are now afoot to add more staff resources to keep pace with demand. Recently, President Gagliardi added a negotiator to the Theater/Touring Department to assist locals that need help with their local theater contract negotiations. Following the retirement of the late Alfonso Pollard as our legislative director in DC, we hired Ben Kessler away from the National Endowment for the Arts and he has elevated our collective voice in the US Capitol to new levels.

All of this is to illustrate that building power toward economic fairness and justice in the political realm is in the forefront of the AFM leadership’s collective mind, and always shall be.

And yet, a vast swath of professional musicians in the US and Canada operate in an economic realm not directly connected to traditional rank-and-file union organizing in the workplace, who are not directly affected by contract campaigns or political activism. They are self-produced, indie or freelance musicians for whom every one of their dollars spent is measured against the resulting benefit. The value of their membership in this union is put to a consumer test—a difficult and complex challenge for a labor union whose primary purpose is to aggregate and channel its members’ power for collective benefit.

Notwithstanding this primary imperative, meeting that consumer test is an important part of the musicians’ union’s fabric. The pages of this magazine often display a variety of valuable benefits and services that are available to all members, and they are so ever-present that they might sometimes be accused of hiding in plain sight.

Web Hosting: GoPro Hosting—Starts at $19 per year for 100 MB disk space. We handle domain registration, transfers and renewals, web hosting, and tech support, on unlimited bandwidth. www.GoProHosting.com.

Sell Your Tunes: GoPro Tunes—Sell your tracks and albums recorded on AFM contracts. 100% of net sales goes to you. And it’s non-exclusive; sell your tunes anywhere else, online or offline. www.GoProTunes.com.

Book Your Group: AFM Entertainment—The AFM’s booking agency, connecting union musicians with gigs. Register your group at AFMEnterntainment.org.

Public Service Gigs: MPTF—Music Performance Trust Fund has money to support gigs that are free and open to the public. Ask your local officer how to get paid with MPTF.

Musical Equipment and Liability Insurance—US and Canadian members have access to competitively priced insurance for all your business, instruments, and gear, both at home and on the road. www.afm.org/insurance-products.

Gig Contract Enforcement: 1-800-ROADGIG (US) / 1-800-INFOFED (Canada)­—On the road and get stiffed by a club, lounge, or other client? If the gig was covered by a contract and a copy was filed with the local where the gig was, call one of the numbers above, and within 24 hours, a Federation official will get on the case and work toward a resolution.

Cellular Service—Union members in the US and Canada can get significant discounts with Bell and Rogers in Canada and AT&T in the US. For more info, go to UnionSavings.ca in Canada, and UnionPlus.org in the US.

Union Discount Programs—Take a look at other savings on financial services, travel, shopping, and insurance for union members and their families. Visit UnionSavings.ca (Canada) and UnionPlus.org (US).

To find other services, discounts, and resources available to AFM members, visit members.afm.org > Document Library > Member Benefits and Services folder.

Despite the best of intentions, life for most of us amounts to a series of reactions, well-considered or otherwise. The organisms of nature, of which we humans are a subset, seek to exist in a place of comfort. If undisturbed, there we organisms remain, content. Only when that familiar contentment is disturbed do we react. It’s a rather passive way of moving through life, and anathema to smart activism, because a reaction is a response to a disturbance that we might have foreseen and taken action against before the disturbance arrived at our doorstep. But action takes planning.

Long range planning is a difficult process for almost everyone. It requires uninterrupted periods of thought and contemplation just to consider possible goals or objectives. Half the work is deciding on the end game. The other half of the work is making the plan to accomplish the objectives. But there are at least two additional halves—finding the means and the time to work the plan, and then avoiding the distractions that take us off-plan. Mashing four halves into one whole illustrates the pressure behind planning and execution, and it embodies the conflict between action and reaction.

The complexity of the foregoing increases exponentially when the long-range planning is for a constituency-based, collectively-governed, ostensibly democratic organization tasked with guarding and advancing the welfare of its constituency with only the resources that the constituency decides to make available—rather like our union.

In my lifetime, long-range planning as an operational concept for our union did not see daylight until around 1991, when my former IEB colleague and past Secretary-Treasurer Sam Folio introduced a bylaw proposal to the Convention requiring the IEB to formulate a three-year plan with quantifiable goals and objectives, which were to be evaluated, reviewed, and updated on an annual basis. 1991 brought in an almost completely new Federation administration and International Executive Board and seemed like the perfect moment to begin a long-range planning process.

But constituency demands (including a disaffiliation campaign led by the then-leaders of the Montreal local, several knotty national contract negotiations, and enhanced service demands from the union’s various industry sector representatives) together with insufficient funding conspired to capture the full attention of that leadership team, and three years went by before the IEB finally got around to beginning a planning process. And then the Federation leadership changed, effectively resetting the Federation’s nascent planning back to square one.

That cycle repeated again and again over the next few decades—planning started, only to be disrupted—internal political turmoil, a debilitating health crisis for one of the Federation officers, the 9/11 attacks, an internecine conflict between Federation leadership and the recording musicians, impact of the dot-com bubble burst followed by the Great Recession of 2007, which led to the pension fund crisis of the previous decade, bankruptcies in the symphonic sector, a second disaffiliation movement by the members of the Montreal local, the COVID pandemic, social upheaval, cyclical financial crises—and the list goes on and on—basically a DC al segno with never a coda jump to be seen on the horizon.

But there never is nothing going on with our union, which means that the planning and execution of a long-range plan will always require determination, focus, and commitment (and some degree of continuity) from the leadership that rises well above the norm.

I’m gratified to say that the present nine-member leadership team of the AFM has met that threshold. For the past year, under the guidance of a nationally respected facilitator, the International Executive Board has slowly, but methodically, taken the appropriate time and attention to peel away the outer layers of the “planning onion” and arrived at the core objectives that this union—any union, for that matter—must embrace to fulfill its mission, which is to build sufficient power to enable members to attain fairness in the workplace and justice in the political realm.

It’s too early for a rollout of details, but I can say with a large degree of enthusiasm and optimism that the Convention delegates who will assemble in Ottawa next June to chart the next phase of the American Federation of Musicians of the United States and Canada will have their hands on the levers of some very exciting controls.

The Muse Collective has taken another unauthorized vacation.

When, in 1983 at age 27, I assumed my first union post of Secretary-Treasurer of Local 76 (now 76-493) in Seattle, I walked into an office steeped in tradition, history, and habits. The office secretary had been there ten years and knew everything inside and out about the local, the Federation, and the membership. She taught me the first half of everything I know about our union.

The union office had a peculiar not-quite-musty-but-very-pervasive smell—sort of a combination of stale cigarette smoke and damp wood. I later learned that the secretary had saved every bit of paper that came into the office if it had a blank side, just in case the local fell on hard times and couldn’t buy paper anymore. Reams and reams of this scrap paper had quietly absorbed years and years of cigarette smoke from the local’s boardroom, creating a near-permanent aroma that had found its way into every nook and cranny of the building.

The local’s accounts receivable system was carried out on an electro-mechanical behemoth of a greyish-tan machine manufactured by NCR, from which we’d close out the day’s receipts with a series of button pushes and rhythmic electro-mechanical clicks and clacks as it dutifully stamped the day’s totals on a special ledger card. That machine was the first thing every member would see upon entering the local to file a contract or settle up on work dues. It sat in the middle of the office counter, like a troll guarding a bridge. I learned how to run it, and I also learned that the last transaction of the day could not be a credit to someone’s account because that would, for some reason, prevent the daily close-out procedure. Other than that, the troll never failed.

The PC was new to our society in that first half of the decade, and I determined that we could replace our counter-guarding NCR machine-troll with a computerized membership management program that would streamline our operation. All we needed was a PC. And some software. I persuaded the executive board to go whole hog—we purchased the most powerful machine available—for $2,000, we got a Leading Edge XT system with an 8088 processor, 512KB of RAM, a 20MB hard drive, running MS-DOS, and two floppy drives, along with a dot matrix printer and a letter-quality printer. And the software—the Leading Edge word processor and an off-the-shelf accounting program called BPI. I hired one of our programming-savvy members to write a membership program, and in two years’ time, we almost had everything working half-way. The ever-present counter troll dutifully worked alongside us all that time, probably chuckling silently to itself as it observed my nearly vain efforts to move into the modern technological age.

In 1987, I was offered the job of AFM Assistant Secretary, and decamped to New York to assume my post in the AFM’s headquarters office. Other than a pseudo-mainframe computer system for the master membership roster system and finance department, I found an AFM office that was still running on IBM Selectric typewriters. And it had the same smell as the Seattle office. There was one PC in the AFM—tucked away in a dark corner of the Symphony Department on which ran the department’s Bulletin Board System—the BBS—allowing any member who had a computer and a modem to dial up and access the department’s chat forum.

What I remember about those early years was that at the end of the day, we went home and spent after-hours with friends and family. And maybe read the newspaper. There was no expectation of after-hours availability for the boss or the membership. There was no email with an expectation that it be answered within the hour; there was no texting; there was no 24/7 assumption that employees were available to jump at someone’s beck and call. Faxing was the fastest mode of communication then, but long-distance phone charges to reach the fax machine meant that it was used only in emergencies.

I compare that measured pace of work and private life back then to the never-ending and distracting stream of communications, news, and social media to which we subject ourselves today (voluntarily, mind you), and I wonder at the life we have created for ourselves.