Con Ed Managers Splice Cables, or Hold Flashlights When dark smoke rose from a manhole outside Trump Tower in Manhattan on Monday afternoon, it looked like a sign of the sort of trouble that Consolidated Edison has dreaded for the last three weeks. With the temperature hovering near 90 degrees, electrical cables had started to burn beneath the pavement at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 56th Street, threatening to cut off power along one of the most expensive stretches of real estate in the world. An emergency call went out, but none of Consolidated Edison's 8,000 unionized utility workers could answer it: They have all been locked out of their jobs since July 1. In their stead came makeshift crews of the company's managers, some of whom had not spliced a high-voltage cable in more than a decade and others who never had. In flame-retardant coveralls, steel-toed boots and hard hats, the more experienced managers, like Michael Melendez, clambered down into the manhole and cut the damaged cables. Those who had held only desk jobs at the company were relegated to aiming flashlights and carrying tools. "It's all hands on deck," Mr. Melendez said as he identified the managers who formed the crews he was overseeing outside the Armani boutique opposite Trump Tower. One normally spends his days drawing up schedules in an office in East Harlem. Another is a supervisor from Staten Island. They were among the 5,000 managers Con Ed has deployed to maintain and repair the grid that distributes electricity throughout New York City and parts of Westchester County. They were called into action just hours after a four-year contract with Local 1-2 of the Utility Workers Union of America expired at midnight on June 30. But they had already been given some brief training - or retraining - sessions. Rather than risk a strike by the union, Con Ed executives immediately locked out the workers, leaving them without paychecks and, for the first two weeks, without health insurance. The union members, who have held protests outside Con Ed's headquarters near Union Square, have grown angrier as negotiations toward a new contract have dragged on. "In dangerous situations our people are up there, they are heroes, and they are being cast aside like an old shoe," said John Duffy, national vice president of the union, at a rally in Union Square that was attended by several elected officials, including the city comptroller, John C. Liu, and the Manhattan borough president, Scott M. Stringer. Representatives of the two sides met again on Monday. On Tuesday, Con Ed responded to the union's petition to state utility regulators; the petition demanded an explanation of how the company was providing adequate service to its 3.2 million customers without most of its labor force. In its response, Con Ed acknowledged that it had deferred some work, like meter reading, but said that its customers were "receiving the same level and quality of service today as they were receiving before the lockout." The biggest obstacles to operating the system safely, Con Ed said, were being created by the locked-out workers. "Union protesters are intentionally blocking the delivery of equipment needed in our Bensonhurst substation," it said, referring to a location in Brooklyn. In the meantime, the protesters have blocked fuel deliveries to generators being used to offset the transformer needs. The generators are helping to keep the lights and air-conditioning on in Bergen Beach, Canarsie, Flatlands and Marine Park," neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Con Ed officials said locked-out workers had harassed some of the managers filling in for them, but Mr. Melendez and other managers said their interactions with union members had been cordial. The same could not be said for all New Yorkers. On Monday afternoon, two men sitting on a stoop on Mercer Street in SoHo spotted Frank McBrien and Jessica Barcco in their white Con Ed hard hats. "Did you guys settle already?" one of the men called out. Mr. McBrien, detached from his office on the East Side to conduct inspections of gas lines during the lockout, shook his head and said no. The stoop-sitter caught on quickly: "Oh, you guys are managers," he said. "Scabs," his friend added. Mr. McBrien winced a little and headed inside to check out the pipes in a building's basement while monitoring for gas leaks. "It's not personal towards me," Mr. McBrien, 46, said of the union members" feelings. I empathize with them. People have wives, kids, mortgages to pay. People just hope this comes to an amicable end. Mr. Melendez, a sturdy 48-year-old who lives in Yonkers, suggested that he was unfazed by the remarks of passers-by. "A couple people go by and boo," he said. The public seems confused about what is happening with the union members, Mr. Melendez said. "They know they're out, but they think it's a strike and we're scabs," he said. Having been a member of the union for about 14 years before he was promoted into management, he took umbrage at the suggestion that he would take another man's job by choice. "You have to explain to them that we're not the enemy," he said. I feel for the guys. To be out of work this much time with this economy is tough. The managers have been collecting overtime pay, working 12-hour shifts, six days a week. But the trade-off has meant time away from their families and missed summer vacations. Mr. Melendez said his longer hours have added to his wife's burden in caring for her father, who uses a wheelchair. He also had to cancel an annual two-week July vacation to Aruba, where he owns a time-share, he said. He said he was proud that the managers had kept the lights and air-conditioners on through a few heat waves so far, but he was not sure how much longer their luck would hold. "As long as nothing major happens, we can maintain the system," he said. Obviously the longer it goes, the heat is going to take a toll. At 5 p.m. on Tuesday, the load on Con Edison's network hit a high for the year: 12,429 megawatts, only about 5 percent shy of the all-time peak of 13,189 megawatts set on July 22 last year. Rhea Chedid contributed reporting.