Sometime during the Prince Electric and/or Delaval years I took to pretty extensive exercising. I first began by running. I decided I wanted to run a marathon. Greta Weitz was a world famous runner at that time. She ran in the Charlotte Marathon. I decided I would run in the 10K or 5K, I can’t remember. They had a big pasta meal the night before and Greta was there. She may have spoke, I don’t remember. I don’t remember if Penny went with me or not. I went to the meal. It was so not me to do something like that. I don’t remember if I ate with anyone, met anyone, sat with anyone or whatever. I don’t remember. I showed up the next day and ran the race. I don’t remember how I did. It was pretty average, I’m sure.
From there I wanted to run a marathon. I began to train more intensely. I was running about 9 miles one afternoon and I felt something in my right side-knee area snap. It was a terrible pain. I was 1.5 miles away from home. I decided to run on in. It was not a good choice, but I had to get home. It was a day w/o cell phones, imagine that. I hobbled in. My knee has never been the same. It was checked out one time, but they couldn’t find anything. I can run and walk and ride a bike in a limited way, but if I push it the pain will kick in. It’s been that way for 25 years.
From there I took up riding. Like most things I was an incessant rider and it wasn’t long before I was doing 100 mile bike treks. And it wasn’t long before the same thing happened to my knee. It went out again and this time I was 25 miles from the house, but I wanted to do the 100 miles so I rode it on in and that was pretty much the end of my biking days.
Boy, did we have fun. One time I was coming across Skyway Drive and I spotted a dump truck at a traffic sign. I got behind it before it took off and when it did take off I began to draft the dump truck. I had a “cat eye” computer on my bike and before long I was drafting above 55 mph. It was a surreal moment. It was a dumb moment I suppose. But it was fun. I decided to pull out of the draft because he couldn’t see me back there. I was drafting anywhere from 5 to 12 inches from the truck.
When we made the long trips we would ride in-line and let one person take the brunt of the wind on point. We would draft behind and then take turns. It was the fun times for sure. I really do miss those day.
As with every company I have ever worked for I had an opinion about how it should function. Unfortunately Delaval was no exception. My arrogance knew no bounds back then. It knows little less now. One would think I’d learn a bit more discretion over the years. I wish I had some back then.
It didn’t take me long to figure out what was wrong (Read: dumb) with Delaval and armed with that data I was ready to share my opinions with most anyone who would listen. I would begin by sharing with my peers and then my immediate supervisor and then later with management. I did get a hearing with the head guy in HR and at another time I had a meeting with the President of the company. His name was Lippincott or something like that. I’m sure these guys were well aware they had a brash, arrogant, upstart on their hands. I have no idea why they paid any attention to me. I can’t recall all the circumstances today, but to think they would listen to me for any reason befuddles me. It speaks more of their grace than my importance.
I remember telling Lippincott about the book “In Search for Excellence”, which I had read. He said he had read it several times I think. I thought that was dumb because you only had to read it once to get it. Since then I have read the bible several times and I still don’t get it. My, my…God is incredibly kind to me.
They began having team and shift meetings to get at some of the morale issues they were dealing with. I spoke up at one such meeting. One fellow said I was “the Winston Churchill of Delaval.” He was impressed. (Read: humorous) I suppose it’s not that difficult to impress some. He was probably impressed with my boldness more than anything else. Most certainly I was impressed with myself.
We also developed Quality Circle meetings where we got together to figure out how to improve our quality. These were fun times, frustrating times and I was a fish out of water. I couldn’t put it together at the time, but God had a particular calling on my life. I can see that now. I couldn’t see it then. I was striving. I had strong feelings and an even stronger desire to do more in life than run a machine. If I couldn’t be one of the shakers and movers then I was going to offer my insight to anyone who would listen. They did listen. They were gracious. They didn’t fire me. Cal Pearson told me a few days after I announced my resignation that I was one of the few people at the plant that was really needed. This was a high compliment from Cal. He was kind. It did cause a bit of pause, but oh so briefly as to whether I should stay. I was convinced God had called me elsewhere and I had no choice but to leave.
The work at Delaval was not that complicated. We made rotors. Rotors were used for various applications. An application could be to off-load oil, grain, etc from ships when they dock in harbors around the world. They were displacement pumps as well as other things. There was a main screw (rotor) that we made with a number of other rotors that sat on top of the main rotor. The size of the rotors could be 6 inches to 12 feet. They fit in a housing, which we made as well. When we shipped, we shipped an entire unit. One of our customers was the US Navy. The tolerances and quality control was exceptional. It was a very involved process. I suppose there were 500 or so employees.
I remember one time going into their sound proof room. I was working 3rd shift for a few weeks. We closed the door and the deadness of it all was amazing. I could hear the inside of my ear beating. It was that quiet. It was the quietest environment I had ever been in. I don’t think I could tolerate that kind of quietness for long. It was eerie.
I was a quick study. It was not hard to learn the job and it required all aspects of memory, i.e. feel, sight, hearing, technique. Due to the high quality it required a sensitive touch to cut the rotors and not dent, scar or cause rough spots on them. Much of the finer lathe work was done by feel and not by sight. We also used our hearing to tell if the cutter was cutting at the right spot. It called for a great deal of finesse. This was the challenge that I liked. It was one thing to rough one out. You could cut it and leave a lot of stock on the rotor because the finish workers would come along and do the fine work. However, if you were finishing, then it was a totally different process. We would run two or more machines at one time. One of the things to watch out for was not to burn up a cutting disc. (I can’t remember the name of the disc now.) It was the tool that cut the grooves in the rotor. The edges of it would wear and we’d have to watch to make sure we didn’t push it too far or the cutter folks that resharpened it would be upset. Sometimes we would burn them so bad that they had to replace the cutter blades altogether. We tried to get as many cuts out of it as possible. And sometimes we would cross the line. Typically the reason we did this was because we didn’t want to change it out because it took time. We would just plow through. If you got down to a couple of rotors left, we’d like to push it on through as well, but sometimes this didn’t work and we’d burn up a wheel.
I have a picture of me grinding at one of the finish machines. This was taken around 1984. That was about the time they installed this new machine.
Delaval was a breath of fresh air. There were hundreds of employees. I don’t know the total, but I know there were enough of them that I did not meet them all. There were two shifts. Maybe 500 or so employees. I really do not know. It was a far cry from the two man shop I had been part of. There was a steady salary that I did not have to worry about whether there would be a payday. There were benefits as well. Penny worked in the office. It as a good set-up for me. I became a machinist. This was my third trajectory change in three years. I finished Hardees as a Production Supervisor, then became an apprentice electrician for two years and now I was a machinist for Delaval. I didn’t necessarily see the pattern back then, but I was not finding the security and career I was looking for. I did like Delaval however. It was a good fit.
I’m sure I would have worked there indefinitely. I remember telling Cal Pearson in the fall of 1985 that I loved my job and could not see myself doing anything else for the rest of my life, but if there was ever a day when I got frustrated, discontented or tired of what I was doing then I would walk away. I had been a Christian for about 1 year and had no idea what God was doing in my heart and the direction he was about to send me. I do remember that it was about a month or two after I made that bold statement that my heart began to grow discontent. And it did in a big way. There was a growing discontentment in my heart and it was not going to be abated. It was strong and it gained such surprising momentum that it blew me off course and in direction I was not prepared for and never would have remotely considered. More on that later.
There were about 10 guys or so on our team. Greg Smith, David Russian, Joe Barrett, Ricky Price, Joe Mullis, Liston Darby, Cal Pearson, Ken Griffin, Ken Pressley, Donny somebody and a few others. It was a good group. I think we all liked one another. We did get along. I don’t remember any skirmishes with anyone. There was some frustration with the management from time to time. Liston was the easiest to get along with. Joe Barrett was a supervisor that was difficult to get along with. He was a Yankee, like Liston and Cal, but he had an angry edge to him. He was impatient and opinionated in the wrong kind of ways. We butted heads: it takes one to know one. Cal came across mean and condescending. He seemed aloof and didn’t mind telling you if you were doing a bad job. He didn’t work with you, just argued and fussed a lot and then walked away. He was the most feared of all the bosses. Ricky was passive and not too communicative. He was challenging to work with, but not a bad boss. He was hard to read and we didn’t become best buddies. I’m can be aloof as well and not attempting to be liked, which was my way of protecting myself. I had very little social skill.
I was looking for something indoors. I didn’t want to get rained on or have to work in sweltering heat. I didn’t want to get hollered at and/or cussed out. I wanted a stable environment on all fronts. I did miss pulling wire for Joel Carriker. He always put sand underneath his houses. That made it fun to work in. I could crawl around in sand for an hour our two. The only time that was a pain was when I sweated. Then the sand adhered to my back and front. That was rough. I also missed the roofers. They were amazing. They were some of the most vulgar people I had ever met. I liked them a lot though. They were cool. They would smoke, chew, spit, cuss, drink and work like no one I’d ever seen. They had rotten teeth or no teeth. The could set a nail on the shingle and hit it once and move their other hand simultaneously. They were artist. They were incredibly accurate and lightning fast. It was their life. They could work in any weather but the rain and seemingly never complained, though they complained about most everything else.
I sort of missed Jr. Horton in Wadesboro, another builder who built nice homes. I liked going to Wadesboro because it was sort of a long trip and I could sleep on the way down. We got paid for being in the truck. The longer the trip the better. It was good nap time. We also played Pac Man in one of the diners in Wadesboro, or at least I did and I liked that. I didn’t do it a lot, but it was fun.
I missed going to the Mint Hill diner as well. There was a girl who was quite lovely in many ways and I liked looking at her. I never got the nerve to build a relationship with her or say anything to her, but it was fun going in there. I suppose I was thinking something would magically happen and sorta hoped so though I knew I couldn’t do anything about it since I was married. There was always a nagging feeling that I married the wrong person. I married because that is what you are supposed to do after high school. So I did. I took what I could get and as noted in a prior post the day before the wedding I had doubts and those doubts never left my mind.
There were many other experiences with Prince Electric that I will always remember I suppose. Even though there were the positives it was time to leave for better pastures. TransAmerica Delaval was hiring at the time and my Aunt Pat was working there. It seemed like a good fit for me. I applied and they hired me. I was making around $8 per hour with Prince and I think I got a bit more with TD. I know I left with $10 per hour 5 years later, which for 1986 when I left it was very good money. I worked at Hardees from about ’77 to ’79 and for Chuck Prince from ’79 to ’81 and TransAmercia from ’81 to ’86. TD was a life-altering experience.
Besides the heat, cold and mud I wasn’t too convinced that I could do this work into my old age. It was not as physical as roofing work, but as I thought about the wear and tear it didn’t seem plausible that I could do this as an older man. I realized I would not be pulling wire forever. The reason I did it as long as I did was because Ron had seniority over me and it was a two-man shop. If we had a third person or grew to two trucks there was a possibility I would have been the lead guy on one of the trucks. I did go with Ron to CPCC (Central Piedmont Community College) to take some Journeyman classes. He wanted his Journeyman card and I thought it would be a good thing for me to get mine so I went with him. I didn’t finish because I quit. I’m not sure if he ever finished his classes and got his card.
The final reason I got to thinking I might need to find something else was because of the danger of electrical work. I respected it immensely. I did not play around with wiring. I knew it could hurt you, could kill you. One time I was doing some work in the top of a dental office in Monroe. I thought the power was off, but it was not. I cut into a hot wire with my side-cutters. We didn’t use plastic or rubber grips on our pliars because they got in the way. We preferred the naked pliars because you could get a better feel for the wire. Wiring required a certain amount of finesse and you wanted to be as close to it as possible. Anyway I cut into this wire and it shocked me. I couldn’t let go of the pliars and I finally slung them across the attic of the dental office. I went and found them afterwards in the insulation. The pliars had a nick in them. My pliars had several nicks in them. You could hold them up to the light and see the holes in the cutting area. I didn’t cut into something hot a lot, but it was enough to bring a reasonable amount of fear to my soul.
I finally said that I didn’t want to work with something that I couldn’t see. I didn’t know about the Holy Spirit at the time. It is sort of humorous now, but at the time it was dangerous to me to work in the electrical field. I told Chuck I was going to quit and he offered me a raise. I was doing a good job. I was one of the best workers he ever had. I didn’t complain a lot. Not because of personal maturity. It was due to fear. I also learned very quick and could think on my feet. I could think through things, plan ahead, thing peripherally and was lightning fast at the job. I was also smart. The smart thing was never explored in school. My teachers and my attitude kept me away from fully applying myself. I gave up on school in middle grade and it all hit the fan by the tenth grade. It was a bust. But in the work world I knew how to shine and Chuck knew it as well. However, he couldn’t control his anger and there were too many things on the table to cause me to leave. However, from a practical perspective it was probably the best job I ever had. It was brutal, but Chuck taught me more in the arena of the handy man than anyone.
After two years of Chuck Prince I felt it was time to go. I didn’t want to have a career in the electrical world anymore. There were several factors involved in the decision. Chuck was very hard to work for. He was verbally brutal. I had a built in resistance to that kind of person since I received that from my dad for 19 years. I shunned that kind of negativity and harshness. What I didn’t realize is the whole world is on fire and that harshness, negativity and anger is probably more commonplace than not. It seems almost every job I have ever had with the exception of church work I have had to deal with an angry man. In some cases it was an angry woman like when I worked with four lesbians and Findley Adhesives.
Nevertheless, at that time I thought it would be good to get away with an angry man. I wanted calmer waters. I didn’t know that Cal Pearson was waiting for me at TransAmerica Delaval or Jim Gossett at Alcoa Recycling. My other reasoning for leaving Prince Electric Company was due to the weather. It was very cold in the winter time and very hot in the summer time. I was okay with the heat for the most part. The only time when the heat was difficult was when we were in attics, which we seemed to be in more during the summer than winter. During the summer folks would requests attic exhaust fans to be cut into their roofs to help let out some of the accumulating heat. Typically it was difficult to breathe in an attic that has been roasting in the sun during the summer.
The winter time was a wholly different animal. It was cold. My job consisted mostly of pulling wires underneath the house. Ron would poke the wire through a hole in the floor at a receptacle and I would pull it further through the hole and carry it to the next hole in the floor and poke it up through the floor so he could put it in the next receptacle and then we’d do it all over again until all the boxes in the house were wired. Since most of the houses had crawl spaces the shortest distance between two points was to pull the wires underneath the house. Actually it would be better to pull the wires through the studs, but that took forever to drill the holes. So from a time perspective it was better to pull the wires underneath and back up. That meant somebody had to do the pulling and that was me. There were a few houses that were built on a slab, which meant many of the wires went up through the top plate, across the attic and back down. That took a lot more wire, but I didn’t mind as long as I didn’t have to crawl underneath the house.
In many of these houses I was crawling around under there was mud and standing water. That was not good on any day, but it was particularly worse during the winter. It was like crawling through slush or ice and that was no fun at all.
Secret Agent Man was the name of a song back in our day and it was tailored made for the kinds of things we liked to do. We were quite playful and 007 and other such movies were the thing to watch and act out. We had code names. Every secret agent had a code names and so did we. I don’t remember who was what. I’d like to think that I was Blue-o instead of Pink-o. That’s my story anyway. Blue was my favorite color. I think Gary was Red-o and Dwayne was Pink-o. We didn’t go much further than that with the names except we used them when we talked to one another. That is how we communicated.
It went well with all the romping we did around our house, our grandparent’s and the surrounding land.
We played in the woods over on “Chaney Road”. We called it Chaney Road because Bill Chaney lived on it and that is how we got to his house. We would go to his house to play football on Sunday afternoon. We would really tackle, not play touch. We also would play army in the woods across Chaney Road. There was this crater type area over there where we pulled a bunch of limbs, sticks, trees around the perimeter of it and it made the perfect cut-out, large fox hole. It probably was not as deep as I remember it and probably not as big, but it seemed deep and wide and was a ton of fun. It was headquarters for us. We also had a jail.
One day we went and attack the enemy and captured Billy Hamilton, another community boy. We took him to the jail and then went out after more conquests. And as kids do, we later went on to other things. Our attention only stayed focused for a short period of time before we were off to other things. I remember late that night when Billy’s mother called over to the house and asked if we had seen her son. We actually thought that one of us had let him out. (Gary says taht he and Joey were aware he was still there.) Apparently no one let him out and he was in jail all day and part of the night. It was my understanding that he was really ticked off when we went to let him out. I assume my older brothers let him out of jail. The jail was constructed with limbs, ropes and other things that made it secure.
We also liked to play in my grandmother’s shed. This is where she parked her car. It was an out building more than a carport or garage. It had sand in it. The smokehouse was attached and there was another room attached to that plus a loft over the smokehouse. It was the perfect place. As you would imagine the loft became our clubhouse for a certain time.
We would cut roads in the sand with our little cars, dump trucks and back hoes and the like. We made our own city. It was a place of endless adventure and creativity. The carport was cool from the summer heat and was the perfect spot in that it was closed in on three sides.
Before XBOX 360 and Playstation 3 and laptops and IM there were Cowboys and Indians. No one stayed in their house or their bedroom all day playing with some device, shut out from the world. Night was an inconvenience that got in the way of fun, activity, romping through the woods and discovering new places to play. We were born for activity. We had three channels on our TV sets and they signed-off around 1 PM or before and didn’t sign back on until sometime in the morning.
Night time became of interest to us as we grew older and could drive or knew somebody who could drive. Then we could prolong our days and explore more things to get into. Only then we were teens so the things we explored grew more complex and mischievous.
One of our early games we played was Cowboys and Indians. Robby and Joey would invariably be the cowboys because the cowboys always won and they were the older brothers. Gary and Dwayne and myself would make up the indians. They had cowboy hats, holsters and so forth and we had head bands with feathers and bows with arrows. The pursuit was on. Many times we played in our grandparent’s pasture next door. It was a huge open field fenced-in with many possibilities for hiding, playing, shooting, etc.
The only time I really remember a specific incident was after we had finished playing one day. My brothers climbed out of the pasture, up a bank that was beside a creek and onto the road. They went to the other side of Olive Branch Road to look at the creek from that angle. I was attempting to make my way up the embankment. I slipped and fell into the creek. I fell head first and my head landed on a sharp rock that was pointing upward. It knocked a pretty good size dent in my forehead. I climbed out of the creek, up the embankment and walked up the drive. The entire front of my body was covered in blood. Mother saw me coming up the hill. I remember riding in the car to the hospital, sitting in the front seat with a towel about my head. We had no child seats and didn’t use seat belts in those days. Mother said she looked into the emergency room and all she saw was a sheet over a little boy with a hole in it at the head. Apparently it was a frightening scene. We came home and I don’t really remember the aftermath of that event. It healed. The doctor said that if the hole had gone about 1/16” deeper that it would have killed me. I have a scar on my forehead today from that incident. It is amazing that we didn’t get killed at an early age. We played hard and we played w/o safety in mind.