Function
of Nicknames on the Waterfront
ROGER: The complexity of nationalities
and cultures and personalities that congregate in a seaport helps
explain why nicknames are so commonly used on the waterfront and
generally in the maritime industry. Nicknames are another example of the
nature of the industry influencing the social relationships of the
workers. Most longshoremen were dispatched from the hiring hall for
short-term jobs. They may rarely see each other on the job. They might
work with a gang for a week, and then not dispatched to the same ship or
pier for months. In maritime, too, you have guys who leave ships and
sign on ships. Pretty soon, seafarers are known, not by name, but by
nickname—which is usually descriptive. Otherwise, a name by itself
might not identify a person. How many named Jones are on the waterfront?
Pretty soon a guy becomes identified with something personal, like
"Cigar" Jones or "Raincoat" Jones or
"Skinhead" Jones, or Ollie Olson or "Wooden Shoes,"
which was Henry Schmidt's nickname. It's for identification
purposes because guys don't know each other by names as much as by some
aspect of their behavior or the way they look or dress. I always think
of the guy who was always chewing on an unlit cigar. He was known as
"See-gar." I remember two brothers who were elected and
reelected year after year to be sergeants-at-arms at Longshore meetings.
They were known to everybody as "Big Dago" and "Little
Dago." SHEARER: What did they call you? ROGER: They said Sid "Radio"
Roger. SHEARER: Sid "Radio" Roger? Roger: In Hawaii I was called "Sid the Voice." When I was in high school, some of the boys in gym, at which I was clumsy at best, dubbed me "Nerves" because of my tic. I didn't like it, but you take it from your peers in high school. Harry Bridges was most often called "The Limey" or "The Nose." So much for nicknames. The best place to find these nicknames are on ballots for union office. Most dock workers had no idea what anyone's full, real name was. So the nickname became the only form of recognition. Aside
on Eric Hoffer
ROGER: The waterfront was also a haven
for intellectuals. It was a place where they didn't have to get involved
with the other people if they didn't want to. Like Eric Hoffer, who was
a working-class guy, and also an intellectual. He spent his spare time
just reading. What did he read at lunchtime mostly? Time Magazine.
You might as well know, It wasn't Montaigne or Plato. It was Time.
I worked with Eric Hoffer quite a few times. SHEARER: This is when you were a ship
clerk? ROGER: Yes. Each ship clerk usually
was attached to a ship gang or, if the work was on the floor, to a group
of men. Once I was the clerk where Eric Hoffer was part of a floor gang,
building certain kinds of wooden flats—called loading boards—to hold
cargo in a certain configuration on a ship. I watched him as he got the
gang to work very hard in an organized and unified fashion. One would
hammer while another held pieces of wood together. Another would saw. He
made a team out of a group of men who didn't know each other. The one
thing they did have in common is they were longshoremen. It amazed me how he managed to
get them enthusiastic about doing good work even on a type of job they
didn't like. He would say, "That's wonderful." "Let's all
nail together, 1-2-3, let's nail." You saw these guys falling under
his spell. He'd get so enthusiastic. Of course, some of the union folks
might have a wry approach because, traditionally, that enthusiasm about
your work might be called speedup. But, I found it wonderful to watch
this whole work experience develop. It had something to do with pride in
your craft. There isn't much said about pride these days. Another day I
spent any time with Eric was when he was a hook-on man. We were working
— SHEARER: Hook-on? ROGER: Hook-on. Which is where two men
stand on the pier right under the hatch. When the sling comes over and
is lowered down to the pier— SHEARER: The empty sling? ROGER: Empty sling. You hook on the
next load. A hook-on job takes various forms, depending on the kind of
cargo being loaded or unloaded. Usually, two men work together—one on
each side of the load—and when the man on the winch brings the empty
hook over the side the hook-on men attach the wires, or chains or bars
or ropes, to the hook and the load is winched up and over and down into
the hatch. That's about as well as I can describe it without drawing
pictures. Now, there was a guy on the
winch on this particular job who was known for his sour-puss and
constant complaining and terrific ability as a winch driver. On this
ship, he was driving what was called a whirly crane, which takes even
greater finesse. This is over forty years ago, but I remember his name
was Albert. A grayish guy from Belgium. I remember this because we got
to talking during coffee breaks. During the lunch break, we were all
eating around the same table—Hoffer and Albert and about four other
guys and I. I remember Albert was
complaining about women. He says, "Me, I don't understand women.
I'm so good to them. I work so hard. I give this woman, this wife of
mine, everything she wants, and what does she do? She leaves me."
He turned to Hoffer and said, "Eric, you're a smart guy. You write
books. You're a smart guy. Why do you suppose women are that way?"
And Hoffer said, "You know Albert, I'll tell you, if you could make
love as good as you drive a winch, you wouldn't have any problems."
[laughter]. You heard it the first time here. The Eric Hoffer you didn't
know. SHEARER: So this is the kind of person
who was attracted to waterfront work? ROGER: These kinds of folks; this
marvelous mix of people. Dispatch
Hall Protocol
ROGER: They had something else going
for them on the waterfront. Again because of the hiring hall. If any day
you decide, tomorrow I don't want to work. Tomorrow I want to loaf.
Tomorrow I want to shop. Tomorrow I want to pay a fine or get drunk or
go visit somebody. Whatever. You can call the dispatcher and say,
Replace me. You must replace yourself. That is understood in this
particular social organization the hiring hall created. You are always
responsible to be on the job and if you're not going to be there for any
reason—in fact, you don't even have to give a reason—you are
duty-bound to make sure you're replaced. SHEARER: Meaning? ROGER: You call the hiring hall— SHEARER: And say, I'm not going to be
responding today so someone else can get ahead of me. ROGER: Well, no. It can seem complex,
but the rules are clear. When you were dispatched it was for the entire
job. Many jobs, let's say a Luckenback ship at Encinal Terminal in
Alameda, would start absolutely from scratch, empty. The ship might
take, with hand work, as much as maybe five days and nights to load the
whole— SHEARER: So this assumes someone who is
in the middle of a job? ROGER: Yes. You're in the middle of a
job and you don't want to work tomorrow for whatever reason. To a lot of
people that was a wonderful aspect of the process. As long as they did
two things. One, they had to replace themselves and two, they were
allowed one replacement a week. If they did it more than once, they had
to add eight hours to their total hours so that they wouldn't do this as
a gig in order to get advantages in job placement. You you can come back
to the hall and get another job. But you have to wait a day. That's part
of the penalty so to speak. There are marvelous types
around the waterfront. I knew people on the front who were good artists.
They liked to paint, but they had to make a living. Now and then, if
they had enough money to last a few days, they went out with easels
instead of cargo hooks. So it attracted this great mix of people. A remarkable number of them were well educated. Later, there was a wartime influx of African-Americans from the Deep South. It added a significantly different culture to the waterfront. That's the way it is now. |
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