Friday, Aug. 31, 2001 | 4:27 a.m.
The stench stayed with him.
The Rev. Phil Carolin, an Episcopal priest, had slipped into the back of the Stratosphere to meet with the garbage sorters -- the men and women whose job it is to separate glass from plastic, paper from waste. He had worn his priest collar -- "I was dressed in moral authority," he says.
He was there to inspect for himself, and for the Las Vegas Interfaith Council for Worker Justice, alleged worksite problems: a lack of gloves and goggles, a potential exposure to hepatitis.
"This is a strange town," Carolin said. "Up front, it's an employment model for the nation -- you've got employees in Strip casinos making a good living and buying their own homes. But then in the back, you've got these garbage sorters working for low wages and in this stench -- I'll never forget the stench."
For four years, Carolin and about 20 other clergymen in the Interfaith Council have made it their business to hike through construction sites, inspect restaurant kitchens and -- more often -- meet with union representatives.
Since its establishment in 1997, the council has expanded to include Reno, added its second paid position and founded the Dolores Huerta Center for Workers Rights in Las Vegas. The council's mission is generally to advocate for livable wages, safe workplaces and diversity in the workplace, Executive Director Michael Slater says. The council is composed of Christian, Jewish and Muslim clergy who say it is their religious duty to stand up for the disenfranchised.
But not all religious groups support the specifics of that mission. In fact, the Rev. Paul Hansen, a council member, says affiliation with the council often causes controversy within congregations.
"There is a feeling that the council is just a front for union interests, and there is a question about whether that is an appropriate role for us as a congregation. There are a lot of business owners (in my congregation)," Hansen of Holy Spirit Lutheran Church said. Although he is an active member of the organization, his congregation has not decided whether to endorse it as a group.
"I brought it up to our (church's) board," Hansen said. "There is a perception that the council is against business or management, and we have to fight that perception. It's not against business, it's just about simple justice issues."
The council began in partnership with the AFL-CIO and first picketed New York-New York hotel-casino to protest low wages paid by subcontractor Ark Las Vegas Restaurants Corp. in 1997. Since then it has lobbied management at hosts of Las Vegas businesses, published lists of "bad employers" based on union research, and brought media attention to workplaces that had "violations of basic human rights," such as no water or restrooms on construction sites, Slater said.
The Las Vegas council is affiliated with the National Committee for Worker Justice, a Chicago-based nonprofit organization with 64 affiliates nationwide, and has developed into a model of clergy advocacy, Slater said.
But owners of some local businesses say the group abuses the image of clergy and exaggerates workplace problems to assist union efforts.
Chad Stewart, president of Precision Concrete Corp., a company listed in the council's bad employers "Book of Shame" for allegedly failing to supply water to workers, illegally firing employees and illegal discrimination, says the use of the clergy's pious image in labor disputes is unethical. He denies that his worksites are unsound.
"I'm a religious person myself. I attend church every week," Stewart, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, said.
"I think the council is basically a union-organizing tie to a very small part of the religious community, and they disseminate a lot of falsehoods. Does God want me to sign a union contract? That's ridiculous."
When Stewart wouldn't comply with workplace demands made by the council three years ago, members of the council contacted his church bishop in an effort to "put pressure" on him, he said. Additionally, the council held a vigil in front of his home.
"It's not a complicated issue,"council member the Rev. Valerie Garrick of Northwest Community Church, said. "We're talking about having drinking water available in 110-degree heat. It's not hard to tell what's right and what's wrong here ..."
"And we are called, as clergy, to seek and to serve all persons. Those are not passive verbs," Carolin interjected. "Am I a pawn of the union? Does that matter when someone doesn't have water?"
Council member the Rev. Bonnie Polley of Christ Episcopal Church said the union issue is ancillary to the religious duty to "defend human dignity."
"We really need to meet the needs of the people. If that means getting involved in a union, so be it," Polley said. "But if management would treat these people fairly without a union then that would be wonderful."
Unions contributed nearly half of the council's $180,000 fiscal year 2000 budget. The remainder came from national grants and individual and group donations.
But churches, too, rely on donations -- often from business owners and managers who attend their churches. The majority of religious groups in Las Vegas do not belong to the Interfaith Council.
The Catholic Diocese does not have representation on the council, although two parishes do. The city's two largest synagogues, Congregation Ner Tamid and Temple Beth Sholom, also do not have representation on the council, a point that became contentious in 1999 when the council was fighting for unionization at the Venetian.
Owner Sheldon Adelson is one of the major philanthropists in the Jewish community and opposed union efforts.
The rabbi at Temple Beth Sholom, which counts Adelson as a member, said then that the Interfaith Council's "demonizing" business owners such as Adelson was wrong.
"The term social justice is a very dangerous one ... Social justice is also about providing opportunities; social justice is about giving the people of our city a better quality of life through more job opportunities," Rabbi Felipe Goodman told the Sun in 1999.
Polley said a lot of clergy are loath to take political positions contrary to their congregations' business interests.
"It's kind of confrontational, and a lot of clergy aren't confrontational," Polley said.
But the council's goal, says Slater, is to shatter the image that clergy shouldn't get involved in labor abuses. He wants to educate and involve more clergy and laity in the council's mission.
"There is an idea in our country that says, 'We don't want our clergy persons talking about answers to economic policy," Slater said. "People think it's OK for clergy to talk generally about giving to the poor, but not to offer political solutions.
"This isn't about negotiating pensions, this isn't about affluent people. It's about the working poor.
"We have a problem where work isn't paying people enough to live. That's a serious moral issue."
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