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A Lucky Day on the Waterfront
By Jon Halgren
1960
High school
is finished and it is time to earn money for college. I went to the Longshore
union hall on Western and Union. I learned I would have to appear at the
Executive Board with my Dad. It was something for the record so I could get
papers to apply for a Navy pass. What a mess. As I remember I was asked what my
Grand Father and Grand Mother on both sides did when they were young.
I applied for the pass and that was the main
thing. I could not work at the Navy until I had a pass.
The Navy
piers could berth 12 to 16 ships, depending on sizes. It seemed work was heavy
on Monday and toward the end of the week. I did not expect to work.
On a Monday,
I joined the rest of the casuals seeking work.
Names were called and men walked out of the
building. They seemed to know where they were going.
My name was called. “Refer, pier 67, late start, on the fish boat, take
the slip.”
What did that mean? I was lucky, and a
longshoremen remembered when he started and must have seen the confusion on my
face.
“Hey, kid. The fishing boat is late; it will be
at pier 67, sometime after 9 and you will be discharging frozen fish. Bring warm
clothes because the hold is below 0
C and you are down in it.”
It is mid June, I am dressed in jeans and a light
shirt, with sneakers on my feet. What am I to do? Give the job back, and wait
seven more days for an opportunity. No.
I called home to ask if there was any way to get cold weather clothes brought
down to me.
I have two older brothers and three sisters so I
had hope. I was sure glad it was a late start and I had additional time to
prepare. My luck was good that day. Someone
would be there as soon as possible.
We agreed to meet out on the street, at a
passenger load zone. Could we make it in time?
It worked
out. I walked down the dock as the fish boat came in.
I was dressed for mighty cold weather. I had
trouble moving because of all the clothing.
This boat was like a pleasure boat compared to the container ships of
today. It must have been 20’ by 50’. The
hatch was covered with tarps. We took off the tarps one at a time and had them
neatly folded and stacked on deck. They
must have been worried about heavy weather as they used three tarps. The hatch was really small, it was about 8’ by 12’.
We
took off the hatch boards, or as the longshoremen said, we uncovered the hatch
and there were the fish.
FISH, I had never seen so many.
Frozen whole and loaded into the ship. Water was sprayed on to keep the
fish in place in high seas. How could we possibly get them out of the boat? I was willing to come back after lunch.
Maybe they
would thaw.
No chance.
We put a rope sling around the tail of 8 fish and the winch driver would
give a pull with the gear.
It worked.
To keep from getting hurt, we had to watch for fish that were broken from
the pile as they could slide down on you.
When the slings came in we would to get another 8
tails of fish picked out, loop the rope on the tail and find a safe place to
stand. Now I had on the extra shirt, coat,
and pants. I felt very good. Nice and warm. The 0 Celsius did not bother me,
thanks to my older sister who brought me the extra cloths.
For lunch I walked over to Ivar’s
and had fish and chips.
For some
reason, after lunch it felt very cold in the refer hatch. When exhaling, your
breath made a fog. Toes seemed to be a little brittle, but none broke.
When we hooked up the last load of fish we were
happy. We covered the hatch, spread the tarps and headed for home.
I had a lucky day.
Someone asked where I lived. “Capitol
Hill” I said.
“Hey Ole
lives up that way. He can give you a
ride.”
I got a ride
with Ole, in his 1960, red Chevy. He lived about five blocks north of me.
I was tired from the excitement, concern for my safety and working with
the wonderful, helpful, good natured longshoremen.
I
did have a lucky day.
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