By N.C. Aizenman
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, January 5, 2005; Page B01

Mark Coles warmed up the Ford Taurus, while Hayes Calvin loaded the trunk with all they would need for the day:

Hard hats to wear as they roamed construction sites in search of potential recruits; booklets to hand out, describing the training, pension and health benefits offered by Ironworkers Local 5; and, most crucial, a stack of postcards printed with a Spanish translation of their opening pitch.

"Viva Mejor," the postcard message began. "Ironworkers como usted merecen algo mejor" -- "Live Better. Ironworkers like you deserve better."

In an industry increasingly reliant on Central American immigrants, the cards would be the union organizers' only means of communicating with many of the ironworkers they approached that day. "It seems like 75 to 85 percent of the ironworkers we see on nonunion job sites are now Latino," Coles said as he pulled out of the parking lot at Local 5's headquarters in Upper Marlboro.

Desperate to escape civil wars, natural disasters and poverty in their native countries, Hispanic immigrants have flooded the Washington region in the past two decades, more than tripling in number since 1980. They now comprise about 6 percent of the area's population.

Coming from nations where work is scarce, many eagerly accept nonunion construction jobs -- at wages that are low by U.S. union standards but far higher than what they were paid back home. The impact on unions such as the Ironworkers has been dramatic, said Walter Wise, president of the Ironworkers District Council for the Mid-Atlantic States.

Since 1991, Local 5, which represents ironworkers in Maryland, Virginia and the District, has seen its members' share of man-hours of work decline by 40 percent, according to the union.

In some sub-specialties, such as structural ironwork, union leaders estimate that 10 percent of the work is done by union members, compared with about 50 percent a decade ago.

Coles said Local 5 can still find plenty of work for its members at union wages. But he worries that more companies will decide that they have no choice but to go nonunion.

In an earlier era, union leaders might have resented the Latino arrivals and lobbied for tighter immigration laws. But these days, many unions across the country view immigrant workers as a source of new membership, and so Local 5 has mounted a campaign to recruit them.

Soon the union will hire a full-time Spanish-speaking organizer, officials said. For now, U.S.-born organizers such as Coles and Calvin -- neither of whom speaks Spanish -- troll the region's construction sites bearing welcoming smiles and translation cards.

The goal is to get the worker interested enough to give his home address or phone number. Then Coles or Calvin swings by a few evenings later with one of the union's Spanish-speaking members for a more extended talk.

"Whoa! What's that?" Calvin, 53, asked his partner as they approached a warehouse-like building under construction along the side of a road near Upper Marlboro.

Coles, 42, slowed down and looked for an exit. "We can't ride by steel going up and not find out who's doing it," he said with a smile.

The two men have almost 50 years of ironworking experience between them. As they turned into the construction site, Coles spotted a red pickup truck that he immediately recognized as belonging to a particularly hostile foreman of a nonunion company. "Uh-oh. If he sees me here, he's going to cuss me out," Coles said.

He and Calvin are often on uncertain legal ground when they enter a construction site.

If some of the workers belong to a unionized company, organizers of the union have a right to walk on to talk to them. And while they're at it, there is nothing to stop the organizers from exchanging a few words with nonunion workers, particularly if those workers are on a break.

But if none of the workers on a site belong to the union, the organizers are technically there at the contractor or site owner's forbearance. If a foreman asks them to leave, they must do so immediately.

Some foremen are sympathetic to the union and welcome visits from Coles and Calvin. Others seem indifferent or oblivious to the organizers, who try to escape notice by matching their hard hats and safety vests to the style or color worn on each construction site.

Then there are foremen like the owner of the red pickup. He glared silently as Coles and Calvin got out of their car. Only a few ironworkers -- all of whom appeared to be Latino -- were working, and they were balanced high on steel beams in full view of the foreman.

"Let's come back some other time," Calvin muttered.

Their next stop, a sprawling complex under construction in Suitland for the U.S. Census Bureau, proved a more promising recruiting ground. The union men navigated around mounds of dirt toward a multistory steel frame and then scrambled up a narrow ladder to the second level.

Keeping an eye out for the foreman, Calvin approached one of the workers. "Are you making the right money?" he asked after a quick introduction.

In response, he got a blank look.

"Cuanto dinero?" Coles asked, rubbing his thumb against his index finger.

"Fifteen," the worker said, haltingly.

"Fifteen. You should be making $24 an hour on this job," said Calvin, as Coles showed the man a listing of union wages and benefits.

"Call me," Coles said, handing one of the Spanish translation cards and pointing to his phone number.

"Okay," the man said.

The union organizers did not ask the man for his name or contact information. "It's like your first acquaintance with a date," Calvin said later. "Sometimes you don't ask for the phone number right away. You've got to work your way in and sense it."

So it went with two more workers before the organizers decided they should head back to the car to avoid wearing out their welcome.

Maybe now that the workers have the union's number, one of them will give a call the next time he has trouble with his boss, Calvin said, as they turned onto the Capital Beltway toward a job site in Virginia.

"Yeah," said Coles with a smirk, "that guy who was making $15 will probably call me even quicker."