When he first went underground in 1948 it was a "League of Nations" in the mines, said Sisneros, now 75.

"We all had to learn a little of each others' language so we could communicate and watch out for one another," Sisneros said. "And looking after the guy next to you, well that was what being a member of the union was all about."

As the number of American workers represented by organized labor continues to decline - the Bureau of Labor Statistics reports just 13 percent of wage and salary workers are now union members compared with 20 percent in 1983 - the number of die-hard union supporters such as Sisneros slowly is dwindling. And so too is that sense of camaraderie and community that remains a hallmark of the labor movement and one of its most celebrated strengths.

"Years ago down in the mines if you saw someone who looked like he didn't have enough to eat for lunch, you'd just offer half your sandwich and not think anything about it," Sisneros said. "I doubt if that kind of thing goes on as much anymore. It is almost as if people everywhere have forgotten how to treat each other."

During the heyday of organized labor in the 1950s when more than 30 percent of the nation's working population belonged to unions, the solidarity among workers went far beyond the willingness to hoist a picket sign every three to five years when a company threatened to let a collective bargaining agreement expire.

Unionism was a way of life.

There were regular barbecues and picnics, bowling teams and wedding receptions, and a closeness based on the knowledge that all were struggling to make a decent living and that, united under a union banner, they could make life on and off the job a little easier for everyone.

"In many places, especially the smaller towns, the union hall served as the cultural and economic center of the community," said David Cornfield, a Vanderbilt University sociology professor who has studied the evolving role of labor unions in the American economy. "They were places people went to socialize."

For years, labor leaders have strained to restore that sense of community and bring American workers back to the protection of the union fold.

Corporate America's growing infatuation with downsizing and outsourcing may be handing the unions a new impetus.

"It seems that every day, there is more news about workers who can't afford health insurance and day care for their children, and companies trying to walk away from their pension obligations," said Bob Butero, a regional director of the United Mine Workers of America (UMW).

Butero believes there will be a rising interest in organizing as it becomes more obvious that those still covered by labor agreements are the ones who are suffering least as corporate America strives to cut costs and boost productivity at the expense of its workers.

Unions "have a real shot now," he said.

And nowhere do unions see more opportunity than among the growing number of immigrant laborers who often accept low-wage jobs with few benefits and poor working conditions.

Immigrants traditionally were among the mainstays of the labor movement, Cornfield said, noting that unions appear to be returning to their historical roots. "Many now view the growing immigrant populations that include those living in the great gateway cities along the East and West coasts as the next great frontier in labor organizing."

Utah, though, hasn't escaped attention.

In late 2003, several dozen primarily Latino coal miners launched a drive to organize at the Co-op Mine near Huntington, Utah.

The mine is owned by the polygamous Kingston family. The miners complained of low wages, poor working conditions and a lack of benefits.

Their struggle has attracted national attention and continues to be a rallying point for organized labor as the miners continue their fight to form a UMW local.

Two weeks ago the UMW held a solidarity picnic for the miners in Huntington. Representatives of the International Longshore and Warehouse Union from the West Coast, a carpenters union from Yakima, Washington and the Paper, Atomic, Chemicals Employee Union from Salt Lake City attended the picnic and rally.

The Co-op miners "are not members of the UMW yet, but we certainly view them as our brothers and sisters as does the whole labor movement," Butero said. "And in my thinking, those brothers and sisters are more important right now than their membership in the UMW."

Co-op miner Bill Estrada said union members from across the country have given both moral and financial support for the miners' struggle. "Their support has helped many of our people realize they don't have to depend entirely on that little hole 10 miles down the road."

For shuttle car driver Alyson Kennedy, one of only two women working underground at the time, the solidarity shown by the miners toward one another has made all the difference in the miners' willingness to stick with their organizing effort.

"Family members of the miners would come by the picket line and see if there was anything we needed. Wives of the miners would cook food and bring it down to us. Everyone wanted to help, even though it was hard on a lot of people," she said.

Despite such camaraderie, Sisneros and Melvin Stevenson, another retired UMW member who describes himself as "born and raised a union man," lamented that there wasn't more support shown by the rank and file.

"Thirty years ago if someone had held a rally like this there would have been been 400 or 500 people here showing their support" instead of a hundred, Stevenson said.

Sisneros and Stevenson maintain that like the Co-op mine workers the labor movement may have to go through its own intense struggle before the solidarity of old will be restored. "You have to look at these miners here and admire what they're trying to do," Sisneros said. "And you have to admire their guts. Unlike a lot of the miners in Utah who work for non-union mines, they had the guts to call in the UMW and ask for help."

steve@sltrib.com