Dave started in Alcan as a “grease monkey” and slowly worked his way up to become the foreman. He was proud of his career and considered the maintenance department to be his kingdom, running it according to his own rules. Many of my early projects were in Dave’s area and I found him tricky to work with. When I needed some information he would tell me only part of what he knew and I was on my own to find the rest. I had a choice whether to spend a couple of days looking for answers or go back to Dave. He would lean back in his chair, chewing a toothpick, and tell me that engineers are not as smart as they think they are. “You guys don’t go and ask people what the problem is, and get it all screwed up. My men then have to go and fix it. We cover for you all the time”…and after lecturing me he would tell me what I needed to know and give me hints on how to do it.
There were ten people in his office and Dave was assigning work. “Does anybody know how to run a front-end loader?” Nobody knew. “when I was in the army I learned how to run a bulldozer ” I volunteered. I didn’t tell him that I had run it for less than two hours. Dave threw me the keys. “Don’t break it and don’t kill anybody.” I went to the loader. Holy cow, the tires were taller than me! It took me a few hours to figure out how to operate the levers. I had a great time driving this big machine for two days, moving material.
My next assignment was in the conveyor galleries. There were almost two kilometers of belt conveyors and air slides conveying materials from the harbour to storage silos and to pot lines, so I did a lot of walking.
I worked the day and afternoon shift and every afternoon our group had a production meeting in Dave’s office. “I can’t eat the crap they are feeding us” Dave announced one day. “We are going to draw rations from the kitchen and cook here. You scrape potatoes and do the dishes and I will cook”. Our meals improved considerably. Feeding 800 people with meals cooked in the cafeteria kitchen was a real challenge for conscripted cooks used to preparing family meals.
“Security called asking for a volunteer so I signed you up.” Dave told me after one meeting. “What did I volunteer for?” I asked. “They wouldn’t tell me, it was a secret”. At Security were ten more “volunteers”. We were given crude baseball bats made in the carpentry shop. The company bus took us to the harbour and we boarded MAYAH, the company’s 32 foot power boat commanded by a temporary captain nicknamed Super Steve. His real name was Steve and he was a jack-of-all-trades. He was a Scuba diving instructor, an auxiliary RCMP member, flew his own plane and in his spare time was building a big sailboat. Steve worked in the engineering department as a technician. He had one fault, if you could call it a fault. Whatever we talked about during our coffee break, Steve had been there, had done it, had seen it or had read about it. He always had to be on top so behind his back we called him Super Steve.
My next assignment was in the conveyor galleries. There were almost two kilometers of belt conveyors and air slides conveying materials from the harbour to storage silos and to pot lines, so I did a lot of walking.
I worked the day and afternoon shift and every afternoon our group had a production meeting in Dave’s office. “I can’t eat the crap they are feeding us” Dave announced one day. “We are going to draw rations from the kitchen and cook here. You scrape potatoes and do the dishes and I will cook”. Our meals improved considerably. Feeding 800 people with meals cooked in the cafeteria kitchen was a real challenge for conscripted cooks used to preparing family meals.
“Security called asking for a volunteer so I signed you up.” Dave told me after one meeting. “What did I volunteer for?” I asked. “They wouldn’t tell me, it was a secret”. At Security were ten more “volunteers”. We were given crude baseball bats made in the carpentry shop. The company bus took us to the harbour and we boarded MAYAH, the company’s 32 foot power boat commanded by a temporary captain nicknamed Super Steve. His real name was Steve and he was a jack-of-all-trades. He was a Scuba diving instructor, an auxiliary RCMP member, flew his own plane and in his spare time was building a big sailboat. Steve worked in the engineering department as a technician. He had one fault, if you could call it a fault. Whatever we talked about during our coffee break, Steve had been there, had done it, had seen it or had read about it. He always had to be on top so behind his back we called him Super Steve.
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| MAYAH of Alcan NAVY |
After MAYAH got underway, Super Steve told us about our secret mission. Food supplies for the kitchen were a big problem. First they were delivered by truck to the marina then ferried by boat to the smelter. When the union found out, they started to blockade the road and the company was forced to use a helicopter and sea planes. Eight hundred people consume a lot of food and air delivery was very time consuming and expensive, so the purchasing manager went to a food warehouse in Prince Rupert and bought all dry food stuff inside. It was loaded on a barge and a tugboat was towing it to Kitimat. Rumour had it that the union had found out about the barge and were sending boats to intercept it. They were going to get on the barge, sink it or throw everything on it overboard. Then Steve’s story got interesting.
“Your job is to defend the barge. You will be on the barge when they come. Use minimum force to stop them from climbing on it. Step on their hands or kick them in the head and throw them into the water. Use the baseball bats as a last resort.” These were the instructions from the law abiding, RCMP auxiliary, Super Steve. I listened in disbelief. I would have a word with Dave about volunteering me.
The MAYAH was mostly used to take Alcan brass or other VIPs fishing. We were a little crowded inside, still surprised by the task we had volunteered for. Somebody opened a locker overhead. “Look at this, it’s full of booze!” We started to open other lockers. MAYAH was a gin palace loaded to the gunnels with alcohol and beer. Over the protests of Super Steve we opened various bottles and started to sample best liquors money could buy. When we reached the prearranged point where we were supposed to meet the barge, it was not there. Could it have been sunk? By now we didn’t care. Liquor was flowing freely and we were getting into a combative mood. We became the Alcan Navy, ready to take on the Union Navy.
Finally we could see a light in the distance; it must be the barge. When we got close, the barge was empty. The union had got there first! Super Steve brought MAYAH close to the tug boat and started to ask what had happened. He got an earful. “Get the fuck out of here you assholes. If anybody steps on my boat I will kick his ass and throw him overboard!” OOPS, it was the wrong barge.
Because anybody could listen to the wireless conversation between MAYAH and Alcan, Steve made up a word code for communication. He now tried to report to Alcan’s Security office but the code didn’t make sense. He decided that we would go back to Alcan to report in person. He came back with surprising news. The barge was in Clio Bay, five miles from Alcan across the Chuck. The tug boat crew belonged to a union and had refused to bring the barge all the way to Alcan.
“We will board the tug boat and persuade the captain to take the barge to the harbour. If the crew refuses to cooperate, we will take over the tug boat and run it without them. If they resist we will detained them,” were our orders. Wow, we would attack the barge with baseball bats. We were ready for it. However we got a surprise when we arrived to Clio Bay. The ocean-going tugboat was two stories high, dwarfing MAYAH, and the bay was reverberating with its powerful engines. “The barge is tied up to a log boom. We are leaving. Good luck!” squawked the loudspeaker.
“Your job is to defend the barge. You will be on the barge when they come. Use minimum force to stop them from climbing on it. Step on their hands or kick them in the head and throw them into the water. Use the baseball bats as a last resort.” These were the instructions from the law abiding, RCMP auxiliary, Super Steve. I listened in disbelief. I would have a word with Dave about volunteering me.
The MAYAH was mostly used to take Alcan brass or other VIPs fishing. We were a little crowded inside, still surprised by the task we had volunteered for. Somebody opened a locker overhead. “Look at this, it’s full of booze!” We started to open other lockers. MAYAH was a gin palace loaded to the gunnels with alcohol and beer. Over the protests of Super Steve we opened various bottles and started to sample best liquors money could buy. When we reached the prearranged point where we were supposed to meet the barge, it was not there. Could it have been sunk? By now we didn’t care. Liquor was flowing freely and we were getting into a combative mood. We became the Alcan Navy, ready to take on the Union Navy.
Finally we could see a light in the distance; it must be the barge. When we got close, the barge was empty. The union had got there first! Super Steve brought MAYAH close to the tug boat and started to ask what had happened. He got an earful. “Get the fuck out of here you assholes. If anybody steps on my boat I will kick his ass and throw him overboard!” OOPS, it was the wrong barge.
Because anybody could listen to the wireless conversation between MAYAH and Alcan, Steve made up a word code for communication. He now tried to report to Alcan’s Security office but the code didn’t make sense. He decided that we would go back to Alcan to report in person. He came back with surprising news. The barge was in Clio Bay, five miles from Alcan across the Chuck. The tug boat crew belonged to a union and had refused to bring the barge all the way to Alcan.
“We will board the tug boat and persuade the captain to take the barge to the harbour. If the crew refuses to cooperate, we will take over the tug boat and run it without them. If they resist we will detained them,” were our orders. Wow, we would attack the barge with baseball bats. We were ready for it. However we got a surprise when we arrived to Clio Bay. The ocean-going tugboat was two stories high, dwarfing MAYAH, and the bay was reverberating with its powerful engines. “The barge is tied up to a log boom. We are leaving. Good luck!” squawked the loudspeaker.
The barge was huge, loaded with boxes. There was no way MAYAH could tow it so we climbed on the barge and Steve went back to Alcan for instructions. It started to drizzle and each of us built a shelter out of various boxes. Steve returned with the news that MV NECHAKO, a boat belonging to Alcan would arrive early in the morning and tow the barge to Alcan. NECHAKO was a fast passenger ferry boat running between Kitimat and Kemano where Alcan had a power station. Captain Fralich a crusty Newfoundlander in charge of NECHAKO looked at the barge and shook his head. “NECHAKO is built for speed to carry passengers, not to tow this bucket. We will give it a try but- I am sure it will not work”. A towing cable was made fast and NECHAKO went full speed ahead. The stern went down almost awash with water but the barge barely moved. It was decided that NECHAKO would ferry boxes to the Alcan harbour.
We formed a chain, passing boxes on the boat. “Cigarettes” somebody yelled, and dropped the box. After the NECHAKO was loaded smokers from our crew ripped the box open and stuffed their pockets with cigarettes. We started to pillage other boxes and soon collected a loot of snack bars, potato chips, and other junk food. It took us half a day to unload the barge. Finally there were only four big bundles left on the barge, containing rough-cut pine poles about ten feet long. They were used to break the crust that formed inside smelting the pot.
The raw material containing alumina is dissolved in the pot by electric current into a molten bath of aluminum, and a hard crust is formed on the surface. The crust must be broken up; otherwise the pot would get sick. The electric current of about 200 000 amperes passing through the pot generates a powerful magnetic field and all tools and equipment operating around the pot must be made of nonmagnetic materials like stainless steel. Wooden poles are nonmagnetic and non-conductive, the perfect material to be used for breaking the crust.
We were surprised when an Okanagan helicopter landed on the barge. Apparently the production line had run out of poles and needed a new batch so badly they had sent the chopper to fetch it. The pilot got out and started to inspect the bundle. He was not surprised; he was used to transporting unusual cargo. He pulled out a pole and weighed it in his hands. “The bundle is too heavy. I will strip down the chopper and keep only a minimum fuel to increase the payload.”
The chopper returned without doors or seats. His co-pilot organized the lift. “We need somebody to hook up the load” he yelled. I volunteered. The chopper didn’t hover motionlessly. It moved slightly up and down and sideways, making it difficult to hook up the heavy sling. The engine noise, the chop-chop-chop of blades, the air wash, and feeling that a big hunk of metal hovering in the air above my head could come down and squash me, got me scared shitless. The engine roared and the load went up into air. The pilot gave a thump up and the helicopter started to move forward, gathering speed. As it passed the end of the barge it lost the ground effect and dipped down. “Watch out! He is going to crash!” somebody yelled but the chopper moved on, slowly gathering speed and height.
I returned to the maintenance office with a bag of goodies that were appreciated, especially the cigarettes. Then I had heard the bad news, somebody (guess who) had cut the telephone lines to the smelter. Luckily the company had two-way radios to communicate with their office in Kitimat. Calling home was a morale-booster so the company let us use the radios, but talking to your spouse was awkward. She had to come to the Alcan Kitimat Office and the call was public, monitored by the union. There were many people who wanted to call home therefore the time was limited and we were not suppose to talk about anything related to work.
The company had another problem to deal with. Every day the helicopter shuttled between Kitimat and the smelter, carrying mail, passengers and various supplies. It would land at a prearranged place where an Alcan car would be waiting. The union monitored radios and knew the time and place of landing and the “goon squad” would be there waiting for the chopper. No problem, Alcan had two “Code Talkers” in its ranks. A Chinese engineer in the smelter passed messages in Cantonese to his brother in Kitimat and the helicopter’s landing place was secured again.
I was on the afternoon shift one day, standing in the conveyor gallery, looking outside at the yacht club behind the fence. Sometimes I would go there for lunch, taking a short cut through a hole in the fence. Suddenly it occurred to me that if I snuck out through the hole I would get away from Alcan and the daily hassle. Hell, I could even go home. I would follow the road along the fence and then head into the bush. There was a bad section where a tornado had knocked down many trees. After I got through it, a logging road would take me to the highway. Our house was only three kilometers away. I calculated the trip would take about an hour and a half. Coming back would be easy. I would take my inflatable boat, launch it into the river near the bridge, float down the river, then across the Chuck to the yacht club,
through the hole in the fence and back to work. It would be a piece of cake. “I can do it. I am going home tonight.” I decided. When my shift ended I walked to the hole in the fence and snuck outside….
PS. If you want to read the union’s side of the strike click on http://www.caw2301.ca/files/Projectforweb.pdf and go to page 27. You can also read the whole article “The history of the union in Alcan.” Long, but interesting, with many pictures.
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