Neal Rubin: 1 street and 2 strikes, but you've probably only heard about the 2nd one

From her picket line on Lafayette Boulevard a few mornings ago, Jecinda Jones-Bettie could peer across the street and vividly see her past. What remained cloudy was her future.

Jones-Bettie and more than 1,000 other UAW workers at Blue Cross Blue Shield of Michigan went on strike Sept. 13. Two days later, the UAW struck Ford, GM and Stellantis, and her problems became a speck in everyone else's rearview mirror.

Then, on Tuesday, 3,700 casino workers hit the bricks, and the Blue Cross strike became an even more fleeting memory of an afterthought of a dim recollection. Except for the people involved, of course, who quietly walked a picket line on the south side of Lafayette while a throng of more buoyant rookie strikers massed on the north side in front of the barren Hollywood Casino at Greektown.

It made for an improbable scene: two strikes, 100 feet apart, with appreciative thumbs-ups from both sides of the boulevard when a Detroit Police Department SUV zipped past, tapping out bleats from its siren.

"We've always been the forgotten strike," said Jones-Bettie, 49, of Warren, with workers in Detroit and Lansing trying to fend off accelerated outsourcing while resuscitating stagnant paychecks. She could only shake her head a few hours earlier when a local TV station discussed the other two and didn't even mention the senior of the three, which will hit the six-week mark on Wednesday.

The strike by the five unions of the Detroit Casino Council is new enough that at the picketers' sign-in tent, table games dealer Kevin Finley was taping picket signs to cedar sticks. The health care workers' is old enough that a sympathetic pastor and attorney in a Detroit Lions ballcap walked west toward Beaubien Avenue around noontime, dispensing probably $400 in $20 bills.

"Here," said Daniel Reid of Trinity A.M.E., who genially declined to give his name until appreciative strikers asked. "It's going to get cold."

Billions, millions and food banks

The health care and casino workers' issues and annoyances overlap, even if there weren't many waves across the street on a gray day that would soon turn wet. Money is an issue for both north and south, and so is incongruity.

Teamster Leonard Wilkins, 58, of Detroit, who works in the casino's receiving department, put aside his UAW-issued bullhorn to point out that in-person and online revenues for the MGM Grand, MotorCity and Hollywood in 2022 were a thunderous $2.27 billion.

On the health care sidewalk, Detroiter Andante Valentine, 45, noted that Blue Cross CEO Daniel Loepp pocketed $16.9 million last year — an increase of $1.3 million over 2021, if still shy of the $19.2 million he earned five years ago.

Jones-Bettie and a few of her friends left their posts to greet the freshly minted casino strikers when they walked out at noon Tuesday. That interaction was fleeting, but as elders, a month and a half wiser than the casino workers, they stand ready to provide advice for anyone who might need and read it.

"Stay diligent. Stay strong. Stay unified," said Jones-Bettie, an account support clerk in the financial department. "Encourage each other, each and every day."

Also, she suggested, make a budget and keep to it. Cook in bulk to save money. Plan days and routes to save money; rather than drive home to Macomb County and then double back to pick up her son from Martin Luther King Jr. High School, she'll linger on the line until school lets out.

"Pray," said Sharon Taylor, 51, of St. Clair Shores, who works in customer service for federal employees.

Amen, said Valentine, a joint programs liaison. And as. the Bible might suggest, "don't be prideful." When food banks and other agencies offer help, they mean it.

Landlords might let you backload payments, she said. The loan company holding your car note might do the same.

Expect the unexpected, and roll with it. Jones-Bettie's husband works for an auto parts manufacturer that does business with Stellantis, and ripples have ripples; he has been cut back to three days a week.

They'll get by, she said, and then she adjusted the picket sign hanging from her neck and started up the block.

She was walking in front of Blue Cross' Richard Whitmer Building, named for the CEO who held the job from 1988 to 2006. His daughter, Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, has not been to the picket line, though Lt. Gov. Garlin Gilchrist relayed her good wishes at a multipronged Hart Plaza rally Thursday.

Richard Whitmer's compensation 20 years ago totaled $1.5 million. Adjusted for inflation, that would be $2.39 million today, about 14% of what Loepp was paid as jobs were outsourced.

Loepp has announced his retirement, effective at the end of 2024. The strikers expect to be back on the job well before then, though nothing for them is guaranteed.

Empty tables, sore joints

The casino was oddly quiet inside in the early afternoon, with entire slot machine banks empty as they flashed video come-ons nobody saw.

The sports book and accompanying bar and grill were closed. In the pit, there was one open craps table with four dealers and three players, one spinning roulette wheel with two players, and three blackjack tables with eight players between them, though one man was betting three hands.

Nine people sat in the food court, four of them eating, with two of the three restaurants open. The trash bins in two men's rooms were full, though not overflowing.

Denise Shamily, 55, of Clinton Township, whose duties include keeping restrooms tidy, was sitting against a ledge in front of the Lafayette entrance. She wore a sparkly knit cap and carried a matching cane she would lean on as she picketed.

After 23 years in the housekeeping department, Shamily said, "I got bone-on-bone-on-bone knees."

At the end of a three-year extension to a five-year contract, she had been earning $18.67 per hour to keep three ladies' rooms and two slot machine areas clean.

The Detroit Casino Council said the three gambling houses are down 1,500 workers since the pandemic. Shamily said she's moving nonstop to cover territory that used to require two or three people.

"Everybody's got health problems up in here," she said. She's willing to power through hers, "but we want our respect. We want what we deserve."

Wilkins, keeper of the bullhorn, said his issue is a bad back, exacerbated by understaffing.

"They work you so hard," he said, "and now they're talking about messing with our health insurance."

He picked up the horn, ready to start another round of "What do we want? Contracts!" Then he lowered it again, and looked back over his shoulder.

"They're printing money in there," he said.

Most days, maybe. But not this one, and they won't be for awhile.

Reach Neal Rubin at NARubin@freepress.com, or via TwiX at @nealrubin_fp.

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This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Blue Cross, Detroit casino strikes are across street from each other