There are two Miguel Contrerases.

One is a cunning and powerful political boss. He’s the Contreras who politicians have to please, the man who controls the money and the clout of the Los Angeles County Federation of Labor. He’s the man the Los Angeles Times recently compared, however subtly, to Vito Corleone. This Contreras sounds like the villain from “On the Watefront”: the quintessential union boss.

The other Miguel Contreras is a brilliant and passionate individual who dragged himself out of poverty and never stopped fighting for the nation’s poor. He’s the Contreras who began working as an agricultural worker at age five, the Contreras who so impressed Cesar Chavez that he was asked to work for the United Farm Workers at age 17. He’s the Contreras who worked his way up the labor movement hierarchy and ended by uniting L.A.’s fractured union movement, building bridges across race and class barriers and winning significant victories for L.A.’s working people.

Both public personas came to an end last Friday when Contreras suffered an unexpected fatal heart attack. The heart attack has left the news media unsure what to do next. Most accounts of Contreras’ death focus on his remarkable biography or his achievements in the labor movement, but the stories all have an undercurrent of criticism, a hint that accusations of bossism have not died simply because Contreras has.

Republican politicians and those in the media who do their bidding have, especially over the last decade, found a new tool for attacking working people. When politicians or activists come forward to defend working people against business interests, the Republicans accuse them of being beholden to “union bosses.” The hoped-for mental image is of a bunch of fat white guys in three-piece suits smoking cigars, an image that will make us immediately forget whatever policy we were talking about. Hell, we wouldn’t want “bosses” running things; who cares what kind of bosses they are.

The fact is most Americans have one boss. He’s the guy who tells you you’ve been fired because the CEO just got busted for securities fraud. He’s the guy who makes sure you’re not eating on company time. He’s not the guy who fights city hall to make sure you get a living wage.

“Union bosses” are exactly the opposite of regular bosses. Union bosses are (almost always) elected by the people they represent. They generally used to be, or still are, working people themselves. And their job is to fight for the people in this country who have the least power: the people who do all the work.

Miguel Contreras is a good example of a union boss. He was caring, intelligent and pragmatic. He knew the struggles of working people because he grew up in some of the most abject poverty this country allows. He worked his way up through the ranks through force of personality and a willingness to do the hard, unrewarding work of social justice. Under his leadership, the L.A. County Federation of Labor grew from 125,000 to 800,000, largely because the group courted immigrant workers, a demographic that often works in the worst conditions and has the least political power.

Marshall Ganz, a Kennedy School Professor and former colleague of Contreras, describes him as “smart, driven to make a difference, resilient, and gifted with a sense of humor that helped make it possible for him to broker relationships that surprised everyone.” Ganz’ comment could describe union bosses in general. They are men and women who get things done for people who would otherwise be ignored by those in power.

The labor movement will mourn Contreras, but the whole country should mark his passing. People like Contreras make this country a more moral place. They provide a voice for the voiceless. Republicans call them bosses. We should call them heroes.

Samuel Simon ’06 is a social studies concentrator in Eliot House. His column appears regularly.