By Vivianne Draper |
This is the first in a series of interviews featuring Southwatch workers talking about their jobs. The interviews
are recorded by a Windup Scribe, and presented here with a minimum of
editing.
*We intend to publish the collected
set as: “On the Brass Clock: Work in the City of Southwatch.”
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Pipe Fitter
Well, Mr. Delbert’s shop was the best
one, probably. I worked there as a young man. We put in our twelve
hours, sure enough, and we was all hard-working lads. But there was
breaks during the day, times when the work was slowed enough to allow
a body to talk.
Lunch time we’d set down, we’d all
have our lunch and a pint together. Often times, Mr. Delbert himself
would come out and join us.
We did some fine work in those
days—small boilers and such, for concerns that needed a bit of
steam or apartment buildings that used them for heat. Well made, they
was. I’ve heard tell some of them are still in service. Makes me
proud, really, to think something I made been around that long.
I was fitter. Working with the pipes.
Fitting them together, you see. Yes, that’s where the name comes
from.
I worked with all different kinds of
pipe. Copper for water supply — slide the nut over, splay the end
and crank her down so she seals, you see. Had to weld for the steam,
though. High-pressure stuff was tricky, but I got the hang of it
pretty quickly, and did a lot of good work. Both for Mr. Delbert and
later for Mr. Corkington.
Delbert had to close up when he
couldn’t get the orders any more. Folks preferred the cheaper
models from Mr. Corkington’s works. I was sad to see old Delbert
go, but truth be told, I understood. Mr. Corkington was making them
cheaper and they was better. That’s all there was to it, really.
Corkington was putting in things like anti-bursting valves that we
couldn’t match, not at that price.
So I went to work for Mr. Corkington.
No question it was a harder-driving shop. No sitting down together
for lunch — just grab a bite when you could. They had a little
assembly line there, where they pulled each piece of work though and
you did your bit on it, then passed it on to the next lad. If you
didn’t get your pieces moving, you found yourself out on the
street, that was sure. But the pay was better, so I didn’t mind so
much that the work was harder.
But then there was Consolidated Boiler.
Big affair down in the Steamworks itself. They was turning them out
even faster than Mr. Corkington. In the beginning, they was about the
same as Mr. Corkington’s work, quality-wise. We tried to keep up
with them, finding places where we could be faster and better. Sped
up the lines, we did, but it wasn’t enough. Mr. Corkington lowered
our wages, trying to make it up, but in the end it was no good for
him, either. He closed up.
I drifted around a bit, did some odd
jobs, took what work I could. Fitters are needed on repairs, and
there was the occasional construction job, but nothing steady.
I always kept a positive attitude,
though. Foreman look for that. No one wants a long-faced lad on the
site.
When I got the chance to get on at
Consolidated, I jumped at it, of course. It only paid half what
Corkington had paid, but what choice did I have, eh? Go back to not
knowing if I’d work one day to the next?
Consolidated was hard work, too. No two
ways about it. Working with them mechanicals, that was strange
business. They was all somewhat manlike, even those that was built
right into the line. Them were the ones that gave me the creeps —
fastened to the works right there where a proper man would have his
waist. Fastened to the line or walking about, them things don’t
even stop to take a piss, so you keep moving to just to keep up
with’em.
The line was always getting faster,
too. No time to stop and fix what’s wrong, just send it down and
hope the QC inspector down there doesn’t see and have it come back
to you.
It seemed like every day there was
fewer people. In the beginning, we’d have a rigger to help us when
one of them big custom boiler jobs had to be moved across the
factory. Now, we’re just supposed to move it ourselves with a few
lifts and jigs.
Then finally, they said they had a
mechanical that could do the fitting, and I’m back to scrounge
work. But I’m optimistic. Nothing accomplished without optimism, I
always say. I’m trying to, what was that expression? Oh, yes, I’m
trying to “Embrace change as a positive force in my life” like
that office fella said when he came to give us our notice.
So, though I may be an old mill rat,
I’m looking out for the new and finding a place for me to fit in.
I’m sure I’ll find it OK. I really am.
Unfortunately, since this interview
was taken, Mr. Quigly was scalded to death while attempting to repair
a defective boiler in a Brockton apartment complex.