Tears and fears

Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 07/11/2009 (5813 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

PINE FALLS — It’s been 68 days since the paper mill in this close-knit town locked its doors and shut out 270 workers. In many ways, Tembec is Pine Falls. It’s the life blood of the small community, a place where generations of men and women have spent their working lives.

If you don’t work for the plant in Pine Falls, you know someone who does.

Many of the men and women on the picket line spent decades performing the brutal alchemy that transforms wood into paper. As the lockout drags on and savings vanish, some wonder if their town, located about 130 kilometres northeast of Winnipeg, can recover.

Attempts at mediating a labour dispute between the plant and its unionized workers failed.

About 70 workers and their families have left. The area population was a smidge over 1,400. More people are considering severing their ties, searching for work that will restore their cash flow and their pride.

Todd Jessau is 43. He worked at the mill for 24 years. He was earning $27 an hour making pulp. Now he and his family are living on $200 a week from his union. They’re barely surviving.

Jessau and his wife have six children. They range in age from 24 to their latest, a surprise who is under one. Three of his kids are still at home.

His Montreal Canadiens tuque pulled down low on his forehead, Jessau talks frankly about the lockout.

"It’s putting me in the hole right now. We get $200 a week. Two hundred dollars! Food’s a big one. Baby’s expensive.

"I’m getting behind in rent, hydro, telephone. I’m trying to keep that because of the baby."

Going from $27 an hour to accepting help has been galling.

"It’s tough to swallow your darn pride," he says.

He’s looking for part-time work. If something doesn’t come along soon, he’ll be forced to leave.

"A lot of guys want to tough it out. In order to do that I need a backup. Every second Friday the paycheque’s not there. There’s no buying new stuff for baby. We’re buying diapers. That’s all. She’s 11 months old and we’re trying to get her potty-trained as fast as possible.

"This is the crossroads. I’ve always taken care of my family. I can’t do that now."

He rubs his eyes roughly and looks down at the table. It’s damnable to be a proud man and not be able to provide.

Jerome Bouvier, 48, has been "making a great sheet of paper" for 28 years. The divorced father of three has been trying to support his fellow workers.

"They’re having a hard time accepting charity," says Bouvier. "They’re running out of food. These are guys who have worked hard all their lives. They never thought they’d have to ask for help."

Houses have gone up for sale and school breakfast programs are full, says Bouvier.

"I’m hearing from a few guys who are having a hard time putting food on the table."

He begins to cry, saying he’s always been emotional but this is killing him.

The town of Pine Falls has rallied behind the workers. Every day has seen a stream of donations. The women of neighbouring Brokenhead Ojibway Nation sent bannock and soup. Others have dropped off food or water.

The community family resource centre, aided by a Winnipeg financial planner, is organizing a food bank.

Kim Wilson, 49, thinks he’s one of the luckier ones. He and his wife, Laurie, own the Broadlands Mall, a small joint with a convenience store, restaurant and laundromat. He spent 30 years at Tembec.

The couple invested and planned for retirement.

"I’m one that saves. But now I’m hurting. My business is hurting, too. If no one has any money to spend, it hurts us all."

He says he worries most about the guys with kids.

"When I hear that kids are going hungry…"

He trails off, then the hulking mill worker starts to sob.

"I’m concerned about Christmas coming. A lot of guys don’t have a dime."

Chad Schmidt, 34, thinks he’s young enough to start over. He’s been at the mill for 13 years. He’s had a nibble from a coal mine in British Columbia.

"I’ve never been without a job. I’ve been working since I was 15."

He and his wife are fighting constantly, he says.

"It’s hard on the kids."

Glenn Hibbert, 72, spent 42 years at the plant. He’s walked the line with the guys every day. His wife and a number of other women are holding a community dinner for the workers and their families.

"I’ve known a lot of these guys since they were little tykes," he says. "There’s stress. The school’s cancelling programs because parents can’t afford them. Nobody’s had a paycheque in two months. I’m concerned about the future of my town."

Laurent Raymond says the impact of the lockout has already been felt. He’s had to cut shifts at his gas station and tackle shop. His children have seen classmates move away.

"We rely on the locals at this time of year. We rely on them, period."

Gord Patzer, 53, is burning through his RRSPs. He was at the mill 30 years and thought he’d be fine when he retired.

"It’s going to be a short time before it’s all gone," says the divorced father. "If you came and looked in my fridge you’d see milk and eggs and bread. That’s it.

"Personally I find it embarrassing, disappointing and frustrating. I’ve been a working man since I was 17 years old. Pride is a big thing. I can’t believe I need charity."

Cindy Beck, 39, was at the mill 15 years. Her husband is a heavy equipment operator. He’s out of work, too.

"I’m looking for full-time secretarial work," she says. "I worry about my kids. It’s hard."

Norm Vezina, 45, is a divorced father of three, He can’t make his house payments or pay child support. He’s already told his kids there won’t be Christmas this year. He’s starting a truck driving course Dec. 1.

"It’s a sad proposition. You want to be a lifetime employee."

Like so many others, he tears up.

However this ends, Pine Falls will never be the same. There’s already grieving, for the families forced to leave and those who are doing without what they need. Pride only gets you so far and then necessity takes over.

These men and women weep because, after 68 days, they feel no hope.

lindor.reynolds@freepress.mb.ca