Christopher Danze is a hero of Texas proportions.  The Austin concrete supplier has shut down construction of a Planned Parenthood abortuary by rallying his colleagues and competitors in the construction industry to boycott the project.  Without concrete—to say nothing of plumbers, electricians, and carpenters (even the porta-john vendor has pulled out)—the project’s general contractor, Browning Construction, broke its contract with Planned Parenthood in November, citing circumstances beyond its control.  (Browning, the favorite of Austin’s political left, has a list of current projects that includes buildings at the University of Texas, elementary schools, and an Episcopal seminary.)  Planned Parenthood has announced that they will contract the project themselves, a move Danze calls “desperate.”

Noting that Austin is the “hometown” of Roe v. Wade, Danze foresees a p.r. crisis for Planned Parenthood if they fail to build the abortuary on their “home turf.”  “This was to be their $6.3 million flagship prototype—a model for future clinics throughout the nation,” Danze says of the planned 25,000 square-foot building.  “Now the job site is padlocked.”  Danze is prepared to “give up everything” to see that it remains so.

Danze and his wife of 25 years, Sheri, have been fighting battles on behalf of the unborn throughout their entire marriage.  They have taken into their home for months at a time unwed teenage mothers, one of whom is currently their foster child.  Sheri, as co-coordinator of the Gabriel Project for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Austin, performs corporal and spiritual works of mercy for Austin’s unwed mothers.  Danze himself has organized countless vigils of “prayer and presence” at Austin’s three abortuaries.  There used to be four: Last February, Danze and others shut one down by befriending the abortionist, inspiring him to step out of his building and to declare his days of killing babies had come to an end.  Danze is determined that the one they shut down will not be replaced.

He is candid about the hardball methods he has used in his latest battle.  To start, he sent letters to concrete plants and suppliers of steel, lumber, and dirt with whom he does regular business, requesting that they refuse to take “blood money” and that they keep away from the project.  He added that, should they supply any materials for the job, they would never do business with him again.  He is the largest customer of one of Austin’s 17 concrete plants, which happens to be only two blocks from the job site.  The plant announced that it would not supply concrete for the job, and the remaining 16—in some cases under pressure from some of Danze’s competitors—followed suit.

With no concrete available anywhere within greater Austin, Planned Parenthood was stuck.  Concrete, as Danze explains, is a “perishable product.”  In less than three hours, it begins to set.  “Dope” can prolong the set time, but only at the expense of the material’s workability and the strength and integrity of the concrete—and, thus, at the expense of the supplier’s reputation.  The unavailability of concrete was the straw that broke the camel’s back, leading to Browning pulling out in November.

Danze did not rest, however.  Seeing the hand of Providence in a recent slowdown in his business, he has made stopping the construction of the abortuary a part-time job.  Armed with Matthew 25:33—“And he shall set the sheep on his right hand but the goats on his left”—Danze has made personal visits to many of Austin’s subcontractors, explaining to them everything that is at stake.  In cooperation with Texas Right to Life, he has built an e-mail list of over 60,000, who are all ready, willing, and able to flood any tradesman considering this job with a barrage of phone calls and letters.  He formed a network of volunteers in the tight-knit, conservative construction community of Austin.  Each has his ear to the ground, listening to find out if any among them will break the boycott.  They make regular visits to the job site to watch for work starting up.  Any subcontractor showing interest in the job is persuaded otherwise.

Danze’s trump card is “church work.”  When a heating and air-conditioning contractor learned from a local church that he would not be considered for an upcoming job if he worked on the abortuary, he dropped out of the project.  Now, Danze is promising to keep a list of any contractors or tradesmen who attempt to work on the abortuary, and, through 750 certified letters, he has put his colleagues in the Austin construction community on notice: Work on this job, and you jeopardize your chances to work on a church in Austin again—new construction, additions, even repairs.

As pleased as Danze is about the success of the church-work threat, he is distressed and puzzled by what he sees as the Church failing to use Her own power.  “What successes we have had with the boycott are attributable to tapping into that latent power the churches hold but seldom use.”  Danze would like to see priests and pastors encourage—even help organize—the sort of action he is taking (“They don’t have to call it a boycott”) and to be more explicit in telling the faithful to be conscious of the effects of their spending habits.

Until then, Christian laymen such as Danze will lead this charge.  Danze has received phone calls and letters from fellow concrete suppliers from as close as Dallas and as far away as Georgia, pledging to organize similar boycotts in their towns, should Planned Parenthood try to build there.  Danze has promised to help them.

The rest of us need not wait for a groundbreaking.  With Danze’s model as inspiration, it is time to make life miserable for the baby-killers in our own towns and for the vendors who service their operations.  Abortuaries need plumbers and electricians.  Somebody mows the lawn, sweeps the floor, supplies water for the cooler, and fills the vending machines.  These vendors need to be put on notice, as does every retailer, dry cleaner, garage, and restaurateur that serves the local abortionist.  These businesses can continue to do business with the Devil, but they should lose ours if that is their choice.

That cannot be legal, can it?  Danze has the answer to this objection.  Asked if he is retaining counsel, he said: “My brother is an attorney, and he advises me from time to time, but you know what?  I’m not breaking the law, and if you did only what the lawyers told you to do, you’d never do anything.”