US Markets are closed. Labor(ing) Day.

Inflation Will Save Us! (???)

Even though it’s a “day off” our net worth keeps stacking up.

Why?  Well, I am the guy who said “load the boat on silver” when we were out in Burbank on a contract job back in 2005. Under $7 an ounce…

Let this sink in:

Hoo-rah, peeps.  Inflation is the game. Trump made his money leveraging real estate to harness what?

Inflation and whatever’s behind curtain #2!

news.objects  Tracking

We’re not sure who in DC had the brainstorm to pile US defense assets into Gaza – I sure don’t remember any discussion of this (BS):  Report: Post-War Plan Sees US Administering Gaza for at Least a Decade .  Say WTF?  What, We the People don’t get a voice in this?  Congress abdicate, or what?

Smug as Thugs in a Rug Dept: Modi, Putin get cosy at SCO summit days after US punished India for buying Russian oil.

Made Up Money Tracking: Bitcoin at $108,000 and change when we looked….

Down-Time Fun…

In lieu of a “regular” (whatever that is) ShopTalk project this weekend, I thought because of the holiday it would be useful to the young to stop for a moment and capture some of what made America Great once upon a time.

From the beginning, shall we?

When I first landed in Seattle radio news, 1970, I wound up briefly married and living in Lake Forest Park (north of Seattle) in a house that once belonged to Dave Beck’s son. Yes, that Dave Beck — the Teamsters boss who locked horns with Congress, Hoffa, and history itself. Beck was a figure who could make senators sweat. To a young reporter just starting out, sleeping under that roof was like sharing a room with the ghost of organized labor’s muscle.

Out in the back yard of the home, my 125-pound German Shepherd “Bismark” was easily able to clear the 6-foot fence separating Beck’s son’s home from the movie theater on the back side of Dave’s place.  Not on the water – across the street from it – this was what pure “class” looked like in the 50’s and 60’s. Sprawling ranch style, Romsan brick, and all Union Made.

Even years later, I remember thinking: here I am, making peanuts in radio news, but staying in the house of the son of a man who once sat at the very top of America’s labor pyramid. It was a strange kind of rent-based (with an option to buy, that I didn’t) history lesson.

Covering the Docks

From there I got close to the longshore beat. The 1970s were years of fire for the ILWU. When longshore walked, ships didn’t move, trucks idled, and the local economy seized up like an engine without oil. Covering those strikes was a reminder that news wasn’t abstract — it was sweaty men on picket lines, cops across the street, and a city trying to decide how long it could live without ships loading grain and lumber.

Worker’s had their “lunch counters” too.  There used to be a place under the elevated road from Beacon Hill over to the Duwamish bridge where for under a buck, you could get a heaping plate full of the day’s “Special”.  Working man’s food: Two scoops of mashed, 2-inch thick meatloaf, and enough perfect gravy to float a battleship.  And their offspring laid up at the Todds Shipyard ways within walking distance.

If you ever doubted the meaning of “leverage,” you only had to watch a longshore picket. Seattle was still a working port town back then. When ILWU called a strike, you learned quickly that everything — from union power to the evening newscast — rode on the docks.  Even Boeing was a dependent.

Broadcasting Roots

I can’t help but hear Labor Day through my broadcast roots. A holiday that started with bloody marches and pickets has been repackaged into bloody Mary’s and promotions.  Sales flyers and back-to-school weekends. But if you want to understand what Labor Day was meant to remind us of, spin some tunes. Songs are the folk memory of labor; and one old reporter.

They capture the grit, the bitterness, the pride, and sometimes even the gallows humor that working people carried home after a shift. Pappy always tried to make it to union meetings as a card-carrying Union firefighter in Local 27.

Here’s my set list — a Labor Day broadcast in print — drawn from Union (and scab) labor songs that still say something worth hearing.

Work Songs for America

Pick a Bale of Cotton – Lead Belly

 The rhythm is infectious, but the reality is brutal: stoop labor in southern fields that bent backs and shortened lives.

Huddie William Ledbetter — better known as Lead Belly (1888–1949) — was one of the most influential folk and blues musicians of the 20th century. Born in Louisiana, he grew up steeped in field hollers, spirituals, and the raw work songs of the South. His powerful twelve-string guitar style and booming voice carried songs like “Pick a Bale of Cotton,” “Midnight Special,” and “Goodnight, Irene” into the American bloodstream.

Lead Belly’s life was as hard as his music: he spent time in prison, was “discovered” by folklorists John and Alan Lomax, and went on to record hundreds of songs that captured the rhythms, injustices, and resilience of working-class life. Decades after his death, everyone from Pete Seeger to Kurt Cobain covered his songs, proof that the man from the cotton fields had become a permanent voice of labor and struggle.

John Henry – Harry Belafonte’s Version

Belafonte included “John Henry” on his 1962 album Midnight Special. (Link is to the Carnegie Hall session.) It’s the folk tale of the steel-driving man who tried to outlast the machine. He won the contest but lost his life. The metaphor still fits: when technology comes to take your job, sometimes all you get to keep is the story.

The Workers Song – The Longest Johns (2022)

Crank this one.

From their album Smoke & Oakum, the British folk-sea-shanty revivalists deliver a blunt anthem: “We’re the first ones to starve, we’re the first ones to die.” It’s a new coat of paint on a very old house: workers trading health and life for a wage that barely carries them through.

Chemical Worker’s Song – Process Man riff

Written in the British folk circuit (Ron Angel) in the ’60s, this one was revived by Great Big Sea on Play. The “process man” goes into the chemical plant and comes out with poisoned lungs and a shortened future. It’s a reminder that labor rights aren’t just about wages — they’re about whether you live to retire.

Sixteen Tons – Tennessee Ernie Ford (1955)

Merle Travis wrote it in 1946, but Ford’s booming 1955 version went #1. “You load sixteen tons, what do you get?” Company-store debt and a lifetime indenture. It’s still the anthem for debt servitude, whether to coal operators or the credit card industry.

Working Man Blues – Merle Haggard (1969)

From A Portrait of Merle Haggard. A song of pride rather than lament: “I’ll keep my nose to the grindstone, work hard every day.” It’s the voice of someone who doesn’t expect miracles, just respect for the sweat.

Red, White and Pink Slip Blues – Steve Earle (2004) / Johnny Reid (2009)

My pick is the Hank Williams, Jr. version here.  Steve Earle’s version came on The Revolution Starts… Now, with Johnny Reid’s cover giving it Canadian country legs on Born to Roll. It’s the anthem of the downsized — men and women who gave their years to a company, only to find the gates locked and the jobs shipped overseas.

Working Class Hero – John Lennon (1970)

“As soon as you’re born, they make you feel small.” From Plastic Ono Band. Stark, unvarnished, and often bleeped on radio for its language, Lennon turned cynicism into poetry: “A working class hero is something to be.” It’s been covered by Green Day and others, but the original carries the raw edge.

Maggie’s Farm – Bob Dylan (1965)

On Bringing It All Back Home. Dylan didn’t want to “work on Maggie’s farm no more.” On the surface, it’s surreal folk poetry, but it became an anthem for workers who’d had enough of being ordered around. Even The Specials gave it a ska spin.

9 to 5 – Dolly Parton (1980)

From the film soundtrack and her album 9 to 5 and Odd Jobs. It hit #1 across country and pop charts. “Barely gettin’ by, it’s all takin’ and no givin’.” A playful beat disguises a razor-sharp indictment of office work and gender inequities in the modern workplace.

Take This Job and Shove It – Johnny Paycheck (1977)

Title track from his 1977 album, written by David Allan Coe. It became a cultural catchphrase overnight — the country worker’s declaration of independence from lousy bosses. Everyone’s wanted to sing it at least once walking out of a bad job.

Factory – Bruce Springsteen (1978)

From Darkness on the Edge of Town. A quiet, mournful look at his father’s factory life. “End of the day, factory whistle cries / Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes.” This is the sound of work that doesn’t kill you instantly, but erodes your spirit year by year.

Born in the U.S.A. – Bruce Springsteen (1984)

Often mistaken as a flag-waving anthem, the title track from his album of the same name is really about veterans coming home to no jobs and no respect. It’s about being used up by both war and work, and it still cuts through the noise today.

Allentown – Billy Joel (1982)

When Billy Joel released Allentown on his The Nylon Curtain album in 1982, he gave voice to an entire generation of blue-collar workers watching their hometowns crumble as factories shut down. The song was inspired by Bethlehem Steel and the collapse of heavy industry across Pennsylvania and the Rust Belt. Its pounding rhythm mimics the mechanical thud of a mill, while the lyrics paint a stark picture: young men promised steady jobs and good lives, only to see the plants shuttered and the future vanish.

“Allentown” isn’t just about one city — it became shorthand for industrial decline in America. At the time, critics called it bleak, but workers called it honest. Forty years later, it still resonates every time another plant closes or another town is left behind by globalization. For Labor Day, it stands as one of the clearest pop anthems about what happens when the contract between labor and management breaks down, and the “American Dream” gets repossessed.

Working for a Living – Huey Lewis and the News (1982)

From Picture This. It’s bar-band rock but with real teeth: “Workin’ for a livin’, I’m takin’ what they’re givin’.” It’s light compared to Springsteen, but it spoke to the everyday hustle of the ’80s workforce.

Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? – Bing Crosby (1932, revived in the ’60s and ’70s)

Yes, older than 70 years, but it resurfaced during the folk revival and Vietnam protests. Originally a Depression ballad, it reminds us that when systems fail, it’s the working man who ends up on the breadline asking for pennies.

Working on the Chain Gang – Sam Cooke (1960)

A soul classic, released as a single in 1960 and later included on The Wonderful World of Sam Cooke. Inspired by the sight and sound of prisoners on a chain gang, it became both a lament and a rallying cry. Cooke’s smooth delivery carried a sharp edge: forced labor and the weight of systemic exploitation.

Career Opportunities – The Clash (1977)

On their self-titled debut album, The Clash railed against dead-end jobs in Britain: “Career opportunities are the ones that never knock.” Punk at its finest — sarcastic, angry, and perfectly aligned with the frustrations of working youth in the 1970s.

Working Class Man – Jimmy Barnes (1985)

An Australian entry that went international. From the album For the Working Class Man, it became an anthem for factory workers, miners, and tradespeople. Gritty vocals, pounding rhythm, and a straight shot of labor pride.

Why These Songs Matter

You can stack up policy papers and economic statistics all day long, but if you want to know how work feels, you go to the songs. They tell the truth in three minutes flat. Some celebrate the pride of labor, others curse its indignities, but together they form a soundtrack of America at work.

Labor Day isn’t just the unofficial end of summer. It’s the one holiday that grew out of blood, picket lines, and the unshakable belief that ordinary people deserved more than exhaustion and a casket at 55.

So while you’re flipping burgers or waiting in line at the hardware store sale, maybe take a few minutes to cue up these tracks. Let them remind you of what it took to win the weekend in the first place. And maybe imagine a young reporter, in the 1970s, covering longshore pickets by day and going home at night to a house that once belonged to Dave Beck’s son. That’s where I learned the hard lesson: labor isn’t just about work. It’s about who really runs the country, if they ever care to stand up and show it.

It’s always being stolen – Our America – you just have to know where to look and what their moves will be.  Labor knew.

I learned from then.  As We built this City on rock ‘n roll….

Anyone else remember when a workweek was 40-hours?

Write when life gets Unionized,

[email protected]   (a proud past member IAM local 751, Seattle)