Overwhelming, stupendous diary, CH. I read it breathlessly yesterday evening, and have again now.
It tickled a memory too, albeit not as gruelling as yours. It took some searching to realise it was the feeling of being 1600 meters underground, boots in 20 cm of water, trying to measure the orientation of a fault in darkness except for the light on my helmet, perspiration dripping down my face and the sound of drills blasting through my earplugs... Mining easily ranks up as the second circle of hell, if you'd ask me. Receiving that first breath of fresh air when racing up the mine shaft was a godsend.
A strange end-note. When i went back to pick up my last check, they asked why i hadn't been back at work. I told them i thought "go home" meant being fired. They said no, it just meant i was finished for that night, but that my work was good and i could keep working for them. After that experience, i declined.
btw, i went out for drinks with some of the crew at a seedy waterfront biker bar later. i expected they would be laughing at me for being a xxxxx (wimp). Instead i had won respect, for they said, it was a bad tank, and we shouldn't have been in there. wow.
5 weeks, every day (i missed 1 and a half days), amongst the hardest in my life. Skennah Kowa
As other comments have noted, no OSHA, no EPA, no safety glasses, no steel-toed shoes, no ear plugs, no respirators. No smiles on the guys going inside, either - a few on the guys leaving.
In 1976 I was the second-shift union steward in a steel foundry. They had a paper mask pinned on the wall in the "Human Resources" room. I asked them if that was for lung protection. Answer was a smirking "yes"; Could I have one? "Yes". How much? "Free". How often could I get one? "One per day". By the time I left that plant in late 1977, about half of my shift was wearing them, and we could get two per day (change out after lunch). The one comment from all of the users - "hey, when I spit, it's not all black."
This foundry was the oldest operating steel foundry in the country at the time. The sign-up list from 1865 was also hanging on the HR office wall. Of course, it had been upgraded many times, but the actual labor practices were essentially unchanged. "Riddle, ram, and run." One night the main dust collection system for the shakeout stopped running. The foreman wanted me to keep the guys working, but I led them outside instead. He relented, but I still got a meeting at HR the next day, plus the day-shift steward told me that I really shouldn't stop work, unless the foreman concurred. I told them that I would most certainly stop work for all such situations. Even guys on day-shift came up to me and thanked me for the action. Good times!
As you say, it certainly makes one understand which side we're on - and why. paul spencer
