There was a poignancy to Paul Solman’s News Hour interview Thursday with Ron Gettelfinger, the president of the United Auto Workers. Sadness and resignation, too. Here on their knees were the once mighty GM and its once mighty union, at one time the best examples of what corporate America and the American labor movement had to offer. GM’s union workforce—460,000 strong in 1979—has now shrunk to 60,000 employees, and the auto industry’s financial troubles don’t bode well for the future. Solman made it seem like Gettelfinger was presiding over a union wake.

While the interview was fair, Solman did mention the widely held belief that union members are bad guys—a common press angle since the days of Ronald Reagan, who made a sport of showing that unions were an American problem. In Solman’s telling, skeptics believe that union members “[have] been making out like bandits for years.” To which Gettelfinger replied: “I can show you…UAW retirees that worked thirty, forty years in a plant. Their pension may be in the neighborhood of $260 to $300, $400, $500 a month, plus what they get in Social Security. Is that making out like a bandit?”

The point was that the UAW tried to ensure its workers’ economic security not just during employment, but also when they retired—at a time when poverty among the elderly was rampant. The UAW was just as interested in how its members spent their money as in how they earned it. And that’s where I came in as a cub reporter for the Detroit Free Press, charged with inventing the consumer beat. I soon learned that the UAW was a font of consumer information that warned members about the myriad marketplace traps.

I loved to visit “Solid House” out on Jefferson Ave., where I would meet with people who knew a lot more than I did about most things—health care, Social Security, hunger and poverty among the elderly, the perils and pleasures of credit cards, which had just emerged as a new shopping tool. These were themes that shaped my reporting over the years. In those days, newspapers allowed reporters the luxury to educate themselves and thoroughly learn their beats—a rare opportunity for young reporters working in any media outlet today. I took full advantage of it, and the UAW became one of my tutors.

Mel Glasser, a social worker by training, ran the Social Security department, and it was from Glasser that I learned about social insurance—that concept taken for granted by other countries as part of their national fabric, but derided as “welfare” by entitlement-wary Americans. Glasser told me why we needed national health insurance and why, in its absence, the union bargained for better health benefits so its members would not be bankrupted by medical bills. He explained about the gold-standard major medical policies that gave workers comprehensive coverage long before HMOs limited care; long before today’s growing crop of high-deductible plans that will leave people vulnerable to large medical bills.

He taught me why the union fought for Social Security cost-of-living adjustments that, when eventually enacted, lifted old people out of poverty. His lessons on the arcane bend points and primary insurance amounts in the Social Security formula were tough to follow. But he made sure that I knew that Social Security struck a balance between needs and contributions. Under the program, lower-paid workers got a greater percentage of their pre-retirement income than those with higher wages, although higher-paid employees got larger benefits. It wasn’t until years later that I had a chance to write about all that, but the basics stuck in my brain.

Trudy Lieberman is a fellow at the Center for Advancing Health and a longtime contributing editor to the Columbia Journalism Review. She is the lead writer for The Second Opinion, CJR’s healthcare desk, which is part of our United States Project on the coverage of politics and policy. Follow her on Twitter @Trudy_Lieberman.