Tag Archives: mentor

Power Plant Cajun and the Hatchet Man

Originally Posted August 30, 2013:

During the 18 years I worked as an electrician at the coal-fired Power Plant in North Central Oklahoma, we often had contractors working from our shop. I have mentioned that from the moment that I first entered the electric shop the first day I was an electrician, one of the first two people I met was a contract electrician. (See the post: “New Home in the Power Plant Electric Shop“).

Gene Roget (pronounced, “Row Jay” with a soft J) was originally from Louisiana.

A Cajun I found on Google Images that slightly resembles Gene Roget

A Cajun I found on Google Images (this is actually the actor Shia Lebeouf) that slightly resembles Gene Roget

Gene had spent the first 10 to 12 years of his adult life as a construction electrician. Charles Foster told him to be my mentor. At first Gene was shocked to find out that instead of hiring him to be a Plant Electrician along with his best buddy, Arthur Hammond, they had hired a young kid who didn’t know squat about being a real Power Plant Electrician. Yeah…. that was me.

I felt sorry for Gene because he obviously was the better candidate. The only saving grace for my mind was the knowledge that I was hired through the internal job program and that if they hadn’t taken me into the electric shop, they were going to be stuck with Charles Peavler. Charles was… well… he was somewhat older, but, well….. he couldn’t get around the fact that no matter what he did, he was always still Charles Peavler.

The day I entered the electric shop, I was 23 years and about 3 weeks old. Charles Peavler was 43. However, Charles might remind you of someone more around the age of 65. Not because he looked quite that old. He looked more like, well… um….. I guess he did look like he was about 65. I couldn’t tell if it was just the way he walked or stood, or the way his lip curled around the wad of skoal between his front lower lip and gums.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums.... Never tried it myself.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums…. Never tried it myself.

I know… I’m being a little hard on Charles. I just like to tease him. I could be worse. I could tell you that his first name was really Amos. But I wouldn’t stoop that low. That would be like saying that Andy Tubb’s first name is really Carl, only worse, so I won’t go there. Actually, Peavler looks more like an Amos than a Charles. (Oh. That paragraph was about Amos and Andy!).

Anyway, by hiring me instead of Charles Peavler off of the labor crew I figured that even though I was dumb as dirt as far as being an electrician, I was more apt to learn new things than Charles. So in the long run I was probably the better candidate. Gene Roget wouldn’t have been able to be hired even if they hadn’t chosen me.

There were two openings for electrician when I was hired. Arthur Hammond (Art) was able to be hired by the electric shop was because they convinced the higher-ups that they needed someone with a background in electronics and there weren’t any internal candidates that fit that bill. So Charles Foster, the foreman, made the case that they needed an experienced electrician with electronics background and they needed someone dumb as dirt, but able to learn something more than just how to lace up their steel-toed boot. — That was where I came in.

I figured that Gene Roget would hold a grudge against me for taking the job that he wanted. This is where the true quality of a person may shine through. When you are involved in making someone upset, even though it wasn’t your decision to make, the way a person reacts to you will tell you a lot about that person’s character.

When Charles Foster told Gene Roget to be my mentor and show me the ropes to being an electrician I suspected that I was being setup for failure. “Ok…” I thought, “I’ll watch what he does instead of what he tells me…” I’ll also watch my back to make sure I don’t end up being electrocuted or knocked off of a ledge or some other accident that would create a new opening in the electric shop.

As it turned out Gene Roget was a man of great quality. Not once in the year and a half that I worked with him did I ever have the feeling that Gene wasn’t doing his best to teach me the skills of being the best electrician I could be. It also turned out that Gene was not only eager to teach me, but he was a highly skilled electrician. So, I felt like I was being taught by one of the best.

Gene Roget (I always liked calling him Gene Roget instead of just Gene… I’m not sure why, but I suppose I can blame it on Gene Day. I never could just call him Gene. And Gene Day and Gene Roget rhymed), carpooled with Art Hammond (I always liked calling Art, Arthur, but I’ll call him Art in this post just to make it shorter… except that I just used all these words explaining it that now it’s longer).

Gene and Art were like best buddies. I carpooled with them a couple of times when I had to catch a ride because I had to stay late and my carpooling ride had to leave (that would have been Rich Litzer, Yvonne Taylor and Bill Rivers). During the drive home, I came to learn that Art and Gene had worked with each other on construction jobs for quite a while and their families were close in some ways.

I also learned that there was another activity that they did together that was not all together kosher (I don’t mean in a Jewish way). They asked me on the way into Stillwater one day if I wanted to take a “hit” on the small rolled cigarette they were taking turns taking tokes from. I had spent 4 years prior to this time in college in a dorm where smoking marijuana was more common than cigarettes and the idea didn’t phase me.

I declined, because I had no desire to go down that route. I told them that I wished that they didn’t do that while I was in the car because then my clothes would smell like I had been living in the dorm again, where your clothes were going to smell like that just going from your room to the elevator… At least it was that way my second year in college.

I’m only talking about this now because it was 29 years ago, and by now if Gene Roget wanted to set his grandchildren on his knee and tell them about the times he was a younger construction electrician, he can mention that he had a shady past at one point, but now he’s just a kind old man. So, I’m going to go on with a story that up to now I have only shared with Arthur Hammond.

One day I went into the main switchgear to find some parts in the parts cage behind the electric shop. When I went back there, an operator Dan Landes was in the switchgear with another operator. They were looking for something by the ladders, so I walked over to see if I could help. Maybe they needed the key to unlock the ladders, I thought.

I don’t remember what they wanted, but I do remember that when I walked up to them I immediately smelled the aroma of marijuana being smoked somewhere. We had just recently lost an electrician in our shop when the snitch tricked him into trading some marijuana for a supposedly stolen knife set (see the post “Power Plant Snitch“).

I asked Dan if he smelled that smell. It was pretty strong. I told him that was marijuana, and I could tell him what type it was. You see, even though I had never smoked the stuff, the drug dealer for the entire dorm used to share the bathroom with our room, and three nights each week he held parties in his room. He had high quality stuff and low. There was a definite difference in the smell. So, I would ask my roommate Mark Sarmento about it and he explained it to me.

So, I told Dan that someone had just been smoking marijuana somewhere right there. It would have definitely been a dumb thing to do. Eventually Dan and the other operator (I can’t remember who) left the switchgear to continue on with their switching. So I returned to the rack where the ladders were.

As I stood there alone I realized that the aroma was pouring down from on top of the battery rooms. So I yelled out, “Hey! You better stop that right now! Don’t you know that the smoke is coming right down here in the switchgear?!?! Put that out and come on down from there!” I stood there for a few minutes and then I walked back into the electric shop.

I laid my parts on the workbench where I was repairing something, and then I walked back over to where I could look through the window in the door into the main switchgear. I finally saw someone climb down one of the ladders from the top of the battery rooms. So, I confronted him.

Yep. It was Gene Roget. I had been working with him for a year and a half at this time and I considered him a very good friend. I told him, “Gene! How could you do that? You know if they catch you they will fire you right away. No questions asked!” He said he was sorry, he didn’t think about the smell coming down into the switchgear and he would make sure it never happened again. I told him that he was lucky that I had found him and not Dan Landes. Dan’s nickname was Deputy Dan. He was a deputy in Perry, Oklahoma.

Well. as it turned out a few weeks later, Gene Roget was let go. I hadn’t told a soul about our encounter, but I wondered if he thought I had. Later I found out that he was let go so suddenly because he had confronted Leroy Godfrey about how Craig Jones had been fired because he had done something wrong. He didn’t know all the details about the snitch, but he did know that they said he was part of a (non-existent) Drug and Theft Ring.

No one tells Leroy Godfrey how to do his job, and in this case, Leroy had nothing to do with it. As a matter of fact, Leroy’s best buddy Jim Stevenson had been unjustly fingered by the snitch just because he was Leroy’s friend. So, Leroy had Gene Roget fired. I barely had time to say goodbye to Gene as he was led out the door to the parking lot and escorted out the gate by the highway patrolman who doubled as a security guard.

One time a year later, when I was carpooling with Art Hammond once again, I talked to Arthur about that day in the switchgear. I knew he was best friends with Gene Roget. So I told him about that instance. He told me that Gene had told him the whole story on the way home that day. Gene had just about had a heart attack when I had yelled up there for him to come down. He had swore to Arthur that he was never going to be that stupid again.

I made it clear to Arthur that I hadn’t told a soul about that day. And up until now, I still hadn’t. That was when Art explained to me the real reason that Gene had been fired. That made total sense. I knew how Leroy Godfrey was. He was an “old school” Power Plant Supervisor.

This is where the short story of the Hatchet Man comes up. He was another contract electrician. I think he was hired to help Jim Stevenson and Bill Ennis with the freeze protection. They were preparing for the coming winter and they needed a little extra help. I call this guy the “Hatchet Man” not because he was a hatchet man for the “Tong”, but because the only tool he used was a hatchet.

A Detective holding aTong War Hatchet

A Detective holding a Tong War Hatchet

He didn’t have a tool bucket. He just used this one tool. A Hatchet. As it turned out, he was missing two fingers on one hand and three fingers on the other hand. Hmmm… what came first? I wondered… the hatchet or the lost fingers? It seemed comical that a person missing half of all his fingers used only a hatchet as his only tool as an electrician. — how would he screw in a screw? Electricians had to work with screws all the time. Maybe he had a pocket knife for that.

I figured he probably lost his fingers working in the oil fields, since a lot of people lost fingers doing that. This guy definitely didn’t look much like a rodeo rider, which was the other group of people that would lose fingers.

One day, while sitting in the electrical lab during break time or lunch the subject of an upcoming job opening in the shop came up. The Hatchet Man made the mistake of saying that since he was handicapped, they had to give him the job. All he had to do was apply. They couldn’t turn him down. His missing fingers was his ticket.

Well. It didn’t take long before word of this conversation made its way up to the one good ear that Leroy Godfrey used to hear. The other one was out of commission. As I mentioned before. No one told Leroy what to do. He was supreme leader of the electric shop domain. By the end of the day, the Hatchet Man was given the Ax.

Ted Riddle was hired instead. Now you know the rest of the story.

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Singing Along with Sonny Kendrick

Originally posted January 11, 2013:

Today I sit quietly in a cubicle with a group of other people on my team. We each type away throughout the day, or we are on calls in our own meetings listening to conversations where we offer input where it is necessary. I may listen to music on my computer to help me get into the rhythm of my work as I type away creating documents or sending IMs to other employees as they ask me questions throughout the day.

That was not how it was before the PC made inroads into our lives. We used to sit around and talk to each other. We did things to pass the time while we worked on tedious jobs. We talked about our families. We talked about movies and shows we had seen. We asked each other how their family was doing. Sometimes, we even sang.

I was sitting on the Precipitator Roof installing a new Rapper circuit board in the Rapper Vibrator cabinet while one of my Precipitator Mentors sat behind me making sure that I was learning the fine art of Precipitator Maintenance on one of the first actual jobs I worked on when I became an Electrician.

The day was growing long, and Sonny had taken over for me and was installing the second circuit board while I was sitting on a Tension house box where Sonny had previously been sitting. Suddenly I felt this sudden urge to burst out in song. It was not known before this moment that I was sort of a professional singer. Actually. I had grown up with a family of singers.

My mother and my sister used to break out into song at random times throughout my childhood when a song would come over the radio on the easy listening station that was constantly on. So naturally, it would be natural for me to want to break out into song when the moment was right.

So, I just let loose singing one of my favorite songs. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t an accompaniment. I didn’t need the orchestra behind me on the radio to help me keep time. I had the orchestra playing in my mind…. I didn’t need the tuning fork that Sister Maureen used to use at Catholic School when I was a kid as she would bang it on the desk and then hum with a wavering hum until she came in tune with her tuning fork. No. The tuning fork came from years of listening to my favorite songs.

Yes. Even before the iPod was invented and the VCR had come around, there were two places where a person could hear a song over and over and over again. One place was the radio. Back in the 70’s when your favorite song was in the top 20’s you could hear it play over and over again every two hours on the radio.

So, I burst out with one of my favorite songs and started to serenade my new found friend, Sonny Kendrick. I began quietly and worked my way up to a crescendo. The song I sang began thus: “Here’s the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls….”

I continued with great confidence in my singing ability, knowing that I was impressing my fellow electrician with my fantastic singing ability: “all of them had hair of gold, like their mother….the youngest one in curls!” Even louder I bellowed out: “Here’s the story of a man named Brady who was living with three boys of his own. They were four men living all together, yet they were all alone!”

Now I was in full form with my hand on my chest, standing at attention with all the full emotion I could draw out as I sang the final verse: “Till the one day when the lady met this fellow. And they knew that it was much more than a hunch, That this group must somehow form a family, That’s the way we all became the Brady bunch!”

Then as if I was playing an air guitar on stage, I was able to dramatically complete my short opera with the shaking of my head as I sang the final words: “The Brady bunch, the Brady bunch. That’s the way we became the Brady bunch bunch bunch…..” (now you know the second place where you could hear a song over and over).

Acting rather proud of my accomplishment I relieved Sonny as I was going to install the third of the four Rapper cards in the cabinet…. I began connecting the wires to the circuit board one at a time when all of the sudden I was struck with some strange form of electricity!

Had we forgotten to turn off the electrical disconnect to the 480 Volts to the cabinet? My fingers were shaking from the sudden impulse of electricity. My knees were buckling so that I stumbled back and sat against rappers behind me. I was completely stunned. I couldn’t tell if my ears were actually picking up sound or I had suddenly died and was on my way to heaven because I had just electrocuted myself in the cabinet.

My head was spinning. Thoughts entered my head like, “Great. I have just been electrocuted! I have only been an electrician for less than a month and already I have killed myself. I hope my parents and my girlfriend don’t think I suffered when I died.”

Gradually, I realized that the sounds of harps and the humming of angels were all just an accompaniment that were being added by heaven itself to the song that was emanating from Sonny Kendrick! Sonny Kendrick, while he was taking his repose while I had proceeded to install my circuit board had suddenly had a similar urge to break out into song.

Only, unlike my feeble attempt at doing justice to the Brady Bunch Song, Sonny Kendrick was singing as if God himself had come down and suddenly transformed him into an Opera Singer. I couldn’t tell if he was singing something from Wagner’s immortal Opera “The Ring” or if he was singing La Boheme by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.

It didn’t matter to me. All I could do was sit there on a tension house in stunned amazement. Tears were rolling down my face. Here was a guy that people referred to as Baby Huey because of his build ( I guess):

I didn't really get the connection, unless it had something to do with the diaper.

This is Baby Huey. I didn’t really get the connection.

Suddenly his lower build had moved up to the chest area and Sonny Kendrick had transformed into Franklin Floyd Kendrick! The magnificent opera singer!

When my friend and sudden Opera singing hero had finished, he stepped over the conduits and went to work to add the last rapper circuit board on the rack with the other three.

Still sitting on the tension house coming to my senses. Realizing that my transformation to heaven was only a temporary visit. I asked Sonny…. “What was that?” — That was all I could think of saying. What else could I say? “Can I have your Autograph?” I suppose I could have said that. No. All I could say was, “What was that?”

Sonny as he is today

Sonny as he is today

Here is a picture of Sonny. He didn’t have a beard then, but he has the exact same smile today that he had that day! He gave me this exact same smile when I asked him “What was that?” Exactly!

I said, “Sonny. What are you doing here? Why are you an electrician when you have a voice like that?” He replied by telling me that he had a family and he had to provide for them and he couldn’t do it by being a singer. So I asked him how he became an electrician.

You see. At the time, Sonny had the distinction of being the Electrical Specialist. He was the only one. He had gone to Oklahoma State Tech in Okmulgee and received a technical degree there in electronics. This gave him the ability to become the electrical specialist at the plant.

His real dream was to become an Opera Singer. Being an electrician was something to pay the bills. His heart was in his song. Sonny has a tremendous heart. I know. I have seen and heard it beating.

There is a part of Sonny’s story that is a tragedy. Isn’t that usually true with great artists? I suppose that is where their passion for their creativity comes from. This was true with Sonny, and in the next few months, I learned more and more about the burden that had been put on Sonny’s shoulders.

You see. One day. Sonny had said something to Leroy Godfrey to the effect that Sonny was a electrical specialist. He should be doing something more than spending all his time working on the precipitator. What his exact words were doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Leroy Godfrey had decided that day that Sonny Kendrick was to be banished to the precipitator. Never to work on anything but the precipitator.

In order to understand what this means… you have to understand the conditions someone has to work in when they work on the precipitator… First of all. No one wants to work with you, because it means working in the midst of pigeon dung, insulation, fly ash, and dust. Along with that, when the unit is online, the roof of the precipitator is one of the loudest places at the plant. Rappers and Vibrators going off constantly. Buzzing and Banging! Very hot in the summer and freezing in the winter.

As time went by, and Bill Rivers and Sonny filled in the blanks I came to understand just how burned out Sonny Kendrick was with working on the precipitator. I could see how he literally had to drag himself to the precipitator roof to work on the cabinets or fix a transformer knife switch. He would rather being doing anything else.  The precipitator had become like Van Gogh’s ear.  He just wanted to cut it off.

It had occurred to me at the time that the units had only been online for about 3 and 4 years and Sonny was already completely burned out on this job. It made perfect sense to me when I understood that this was a punishment for trying to stand up to an Old School Power Plant Supervisor. In order to understand Leroy Godfrey read the post:

The Death of an Old School Power Plant Man — Leroy Godfrey

A little less than two years later, Sonny Kendrick sang at my wedding. He was up in the balcony singing a list of songs that had been given to him by my mom. Bill Moler, the Evil Assistant Plant Manager who was serving as a Deacon at my wedding came in the front door dressed in his robes and ready to go into the church. I was standing there greeting people as they came in.

Bill suddenly stopped and stood still for a moment. Then he said, “Who is that singing? Where did you find someone with such a wonderful voice?” I proudly told him, “That’s Sonny.” Bill leaned forward and said, “Our Sonny?” I replied, “Yep. Sonny Kendrick. Our Sonny Kendrick.”

I had decided early on that I was going to do whatever I could to pull Sonny off of that Precipitator so that he could use his talents as they were meant to be used. So, every time I was asked to help out on the precipitator, I was glad to help Sonny.

Years later, when Sonny was finally able to be free of the precipitator, he went kicking and screaming, because I had turned precipitator maintenance on it’s head and it was hard for Sonny to see his work all turned topsy turvy. I knew that like myself, Sonny had a personal relationship with his work and that when someone else was tinkering with it it was a kind of “insult”.

I knew for Sonny it was best. It didn’t take him long to step out into the open air and take a deep breathe. Once he realized it was no longer his worry, he was a much happier man. I am pleased to see that Sonny Kendrick today wears the same smile that he did that day when he had broken out in song and serenaded me on top of the Precipitator.

It means that he still has the peace that he is due. I can’t help it. I have to end this post by posting his picture again. Just look into his eyes and see his joy. I’ll bet this picture was taken just after he had finished an aria of La Traviata by Guiseppe Verdi:

Sonny as he is today

Sonny after gracing the world with an Aria

In a way. Sonny’s life has been a Aria. I have been blessed to have been able to call him “Friend”.

 

COMMENTS FROM THE ORIGINAL POST:

Ron Kilman January 12, 2013

The best job I ever had with OG&E was as a Results Engineer at Seminole. I helped start up all 3 units, design, purchase and install a water induction prevention system for unit 2, balance turbines, fans, etc., became “Plant Photographer”, designed all the racks and supports for turbine/generator rotors and diaphragms, ran performance tests on the boiler/turbine units, and lots of other fun stuff. But in 1975 I was promoted to “Senior Results Engineer”.

OG&E saw people with an Engineering degree as automatically anointed for management. I didn’t agree with that, but I was stuck in that culture. That promotion made me “Supervisor” of Montie Adams. I first began working with Montie (Old Power Plant Man) in 1967 at Mustang as a summer student in the Results department. (That’s where I got to know Leroy Godfrey too).

Montie had taught me a lot, had tons of knowledge and experience, and was much more qualified than I was. But he didn’t have the degree so he couldn’t even apply for the job. I never did become comfortable supervising people with more knowledge and experience than me just because I had the magic degree. From 1975 on, my job focus was no longer on the equipment used in generating electrical power, but on the people who used and maintained that equipment. I never understood how an engineering degree equipped me for that.

  1. Plant Electrician January 12, 2013

    Ron,

    It’s funny how cultures change over time. You described the old power plant culture perfectly.

    Today in my profession, it is perfectly sensible to manage employees that have more knowledge about their work than you have. The trick is knowing that. I currently have a terrific manager that would hardly know how to do what I do. That really isn’t his job though. He relies on his people to know what they are doing. It is being a good leader that makes one a good supervisor. Not trying to find or pretend to know all the answers yourself. Somehow that was lost on the Old Power Plant Man culture.

    I think that was why we were so stunned when you arrived at the plant and you had a personality beyond “slave driver”. I know I’ll write more about this in the future, but there were a number of times where I was pleasantly surprised to find that you listened to me and even asked for my advice.

    Kev

Power Plant Cajun and the Hatchet Man

Originally Posted August 30, 2013:

During the 18 years I worked as an electrician at the coal-fired Power Plant in North Central Oklahoma, we often had contractors working from our shop. I have mentioned that from the moment that I first entered the electric shop the first day I was an electrician, one of the first two people I met was a contract electrician. (See the post: “New Home in the Power Plant Electric Shop“).

Gene Roget (pronounced, “Row Jay” with a soft J) was originally from Louisiana.

A Cajun I found on Google Images that slightly resembles Gene Roget

A Cajun I found on Google Images (this is actually the actor Shia Lebeouf) that slightly resembles Gene Roget

Gene had spent the first 10 to 12 years of his adult life as a construction electrician. Charles Foster told him to be my mentor. At first Gene was shocked to find out that instead of hiring him to be a Plant Electrician along with his best buddy, Arthur Hammond, they had hired a young kid who didn’t know squat about being a real Power Plant Electrician. Yeah…. that was me.

I felt sorry for Gene because he obviously was the better candidate. The only saving grace for my mind was the knowledge that I was hired through the internal job program and that if they hadn’t taken me into the electric shop, they were going to be stuck with Charles Peavler. Charles was… well… he was somewhat older, but, well….. he couldn’t get around the fact that no matter what he did, he was always still Charles Peavler.

The day I entered the electric shop, I was 23 years and about 3 weeks old. Charles Peavler was 43. However, Charles might remind you of someone more around the age of 65. Not because he looked quite that old. He looked more like, well… um….. I guess he did look like he was about 65. I couldn’t tell if it was just the way he walked or stood, or the way his lip curled around the wad of skoal between his front lower lip and gums.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums.... Never tried it myself.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums…. Never tried it myself.

I know… I’m being a little hard on Charles. I just like to tease him. I could be worse. I could tell you that his first name was really Amos. But I wouldn’t stoop that low. That would be like saying that Andy Tubb’s first name is really Carl, only worse, so I won’t go there. Actually, Peavler looks more like an Amos than a Charles. (Oh. That paragraph was about Amos and Andy!).

Anyway, by hiring me instead of Charles Peavler off of the labor crew I figured that even though I was dumb as dirt as far as being an electrician, I was more apt to learn new things than Charles. So in the long run I was probably the better candidate. Gene Roget wouldn’t have been able to be hired even if they hadn’t chosen me.

There were two openings for electrician when I was hired. Arthur Hammond (Art) was able to be hired by the electric shop was because they convinced the higher-ups that they needed someone with a background in electronics and there weren’t any internal candidates that fit that bill. So Charles Foster, the foreman, made the case that they needed an experienced electrician with electronics background and they needed someone dumb as dirt, but able to learn something more than just how to lace up their steel-toed boot. — That was where I came in.

I figured that Gene Roget would hold a grudge against me for taking the job that he wanted. This is where the true quality of a person may shine through. When you are involved in making someone upset, even though it wasn’t your decision to make, the way a person reacts to you will tell you a lot about that person’s character.

When Charles Foster told Gene Roget to be my mentor and show me the ropes to being an electrician I suspected that I was being setup for failure. “Ok…” I thought, “I’ll watch what he does instead of what he tells me…” I’ll also watch my back to make sure I don’t end up being electrocuted or knocked off of a ledge or some other accident that would create a new opening in the electric shop.

As it turned out Gene Roget was a man of great quality. Not once in the year and a half that I worked with him did I ever have the feeling that Gene wasn’t doing his best to teach me the skills of being the best electrician I could be. It also turned out that Gene was not only eager to teach me, but he was a highly skilled electrician. So, I felt like I was being taught by one of the best.

Gene Roget (I always liked calling him Gene Roget instead of just Gene… I’m not sure why, but I suppose I can blame it on Gene Day. I never could just call him Gene. And Gene Day and Gene Roget rhymed), carpooled with Art Hammond (I always liked calling Art, Arthur, but I’ll call him Art in this post just to make it shorter… except that I just used all these words explaining it that now it’s longer).

Gene and Art were like best buddies. I carpooled with them a couple of times when I had to catch a ride because I had to stay late and my carpooling ride had to leave (that would have been Rich Litzer, Yvonne Taylor and Bill Rivers). During the drive home, I came to learn that Art and Gene had worked with each other on construction jobs for quite a while and their families were close in some ways.

I also learned that there was another activity that they did together that was not all together kosher (I don’t mean in a Jewish way). They asked me on the way into Stillwater one day if I wanted to take a “hit” on the small rolled cigarette they were taking turns taking tokes from. I had spent 4 years prior to this time in college in a dorm where smoking marijuana was more common than cigarettes and the idea didn’t phase me.

I declined, because I had no desire to go down that route. I told them that I wished that they didn’t do that while I was in the car because then my clothes would smell like I had been living in the dorm again, where your clothes were going to smell like that just going from your room to the elevator… At least it was that way my second year in college.

I’m only talking about this now because it was 29 years ago, and by now if Gene Roget wanted to set his grandchildren on his knee and tell them about the times he was a younger construction electrician, he can mention that he had a shady past at one point, but now he’s just a kind old man. So, I’m going to go on with a story that up to now I have only shared with Arthur Hammond.

One day I went into the main switchgear to find some parts in the parts cage behind the electric shop. When I went back there, an operator Dan Landes was in the switchgear with another operator. They were looking for something by the ladders, so I walked over to see if I could help. Maybe they needed the key to unlock the ladders, I thought.

I don’t remember what they wanted, but I do remember that when I walked up to them I immediately smelled the aroma of marijuana being smoked somewhere. We had just recently lost an electrician in our shop when the snitch tricked him into trading some marijuana for a supposedly stolen knife set (see the post “Power Plant Snitch“).

I asked Dan if he smelled that smell. It was pretty strong. I told him that was marijuana, and I could tell him what type it was. You see, even though I had never smoked the stuff, the drug dealer for the entire dorm used to share the bathroom with our room, and three nights each week he held parties in his room. He had high quality stuff and low. There was a definite difference in the smell. So, I would ask my roommate Mark Sarmento about it and he explained it to me.

So, I told Dan that someone had just been smoking marijuana somewhere right there. It would have definitely been a dumb thing to do. Eventually Dan and the other operator (I can’t remember who) left the switchgear to continue on with their switching. So I returned to the rack where the ladders were.

As I stood there alone I realized that the aroma was pouring down from on top of the battery rooms. So I yelled out, “Hey! You better stop that right now! Don’t you know that the smoke is coming right down here in the switchgear?!?! Put that out and come on down from there!” I stood there for a few minutes and then I walked back into the electric shop.

I laid my parts on the workbench where I was repairing something, and then I walked back over to where I could look through the window in the door into the main switchgear. I finally saw someone climb down one of the ladders from the top of the battery rooms. So, I confronted him.

Yep. It was Gene Roget. I had been working with him for a year and a half at this time and I considered him a very good friend. I told him, “Gene! How could you do that? You know if they catch you they will fire you right away. No questions asked!” He said he was sorry, he didn’t think about the smell coming down into the switchgear and he would make sure it never happened again. I told him that he was lucky that I had found him and not Dan Landes. Dan’s nickname was Deputy Dan. He was a deputy in Perry, Oklahoma.

Well. as it turned out a few weeks later, Gene Roget was let go. I hadn’t told a soul about our encounter, but I wondered if he thought I had. Later I found out that he was let go so suddenly because he had confronted Leroy Godfrey about how Craig Jones had been fired because he had done something wrong. He didn’t know all the details about the snitch, but he did know that they said he was part of a (non-existent) Drug and Theft Ring.

No one tells Leroy Godfrey how to do his job, and in this case, Leroy had nothing to do with it. As a matter of fact, Leroy’s best buddy Jim Stevenson had been unjustly fingered by the snitch just because he was Leroy’s friend. So, Leroy had Gene Roget fired. I barely had time to say goodbye to Gene as he was led out the door to the parking lot and escorted out the gate by the highway patrolman who doubled as a security guard.

One time a year later, when I was carpooling with Art Hammond once again, I talked to Arthur about that day in the switchgear. I knew he was best friends with Gene Roget. So I told him about that instance. He told me that Gene had told him the whole story on the way home that day. Gene had just about had a heart attack when I had yelled up there for him to come down. He had swore to Arthur that he was never going to be that stupid again.

I made it clear to Arthur that I hadn’t told a soul about that day. And up until now, I still hadn’t. That was when Art explained to me the real reason that Gene had been fired. That made total sense. I knew how Leroy Godfrey was. He was an “old school” Power Plant Supervisor.

This is where the short story of the Hatchet Man comes up. He was another contract electrician. I think he was hired to help Jim Stevenson and Bill Ennis with the freeze protection. They were preparing for the coming winter and they needed a little extra help. I call this guy the “Hatchet Man” not because he was a hatchet man for the “Tong”, but because the only tool he used was a hatchet.

A Detective holding aTong War Hatchet

A Detective holding a Tong War Hatchet

He didn’t have a tool bucket. He just used this one tool. A Hatchet. As it turned out, he was missing two fingers on one hand and three fingers on the other hand. Hmmm… what came first? I wondered… the hatchet or the lost fingers? It seemed comical that a person missing half of all his fingers used only a hatchet as his only tool as an electrician. — how would he screw in a screw? Electricians had to work with screws all the time. Maybe he had a pocket knife for that.

I figured he probably lost his fingers working in the oil fields, since a lot of people lost fingers doing that. This guy definitely didn’t look much like a rodeo rider, which was the other group of people that would lose fingers.

One day, while sitting in the electrical lab during break time or lunch the subject of an upcoming job opening in the shop came up. The Hatchet Man made the mistake of saying that since he was handicapped, they had to give him the job. All he had to do was apply. They couldn’t turn him down. His missing fingers was his ticket.

Well. It didn’t take long before word of this conversation made its way up to the one good ear that Leroy Godfrey used to hear. The other one was out of commission. As I mentioned before. No one told Leroy what to do. He was supreme leader of the electric shop domain. By the end of the day, the Hatchet Man was given the Ax.

Ted Riddle was hired instead. Now you know the rest of the story.

Power Plant Cajun and the Hatchet Man

Originally Posted August 30, 2013:

During the 18 years I worked as an electrician at the coal-fired Power Plant in North Central Oklahoma, we often had contractors working from our shop. I have mentioned that from the moment that I first entered the electric shop the first day I was an electrician, one of the first two people I met was a contract electrician. (See the post: “New Home in the Power Plant Electric Shop“).

Gene Roget (pronounced, “Row Jay” with a soft J) was originally from Louisiana.

A Cajun I found on Google Images that slightly resembles Gene Roget

A Cajun I found on Google Images (this is actually the actor Shia Lebeouf) that slightly resembles Gene Roget

Gene had spent the first 10 to 12 years of his adult life as a construction electrician. Charles Foster told him to be my mentor. At first Gene was shocked to find out that instead of hiring him to be a Plant Electrician along with his best buddy, Arthur Hammond, they had hired a young kid who didn’t know squat about being a real Power Plant Electrician. Yeah…. that was me.

I felt sorry for Gene because he obviously was the better candidate. The only saving grace for my mind was the knowledge that I was hired through the internal job program and that if they hadn’t taken me into the electric shop, they were going to be stuck with Charles Peavler. Charles was… well… he was somewhat older, but, well….. he couldn’t get around the fact that no matter what he did, he was always still Charles Peavler.

The day I entered the electric shop, I was 23 years and about 3 weeks old. Charles Peavler was 43. However, Charles might remind you of someone more around the age of 65. Not because he looked quite that old. He looked more like, well… um….. I guess he did look like he was about 65. I couldn’t tell if it was just the way he walked or stood, or the way his lip curled around the wad of skoal between his front lower lip and gums.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums.... Never tried it myself.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums…. Never tried it myself.

I know… I’m being a little hard on Charles. I just like to tease him. I could be worse. I could tell you that his first name was really Amos. But I wouldn’t stoop that low. That would be like saying that Andy Tubb’s first name is really Carl, only worse, so I won’t go there. Actually, Peavler looks more like an Amos than a Charles. (Oh. That paragraph was about Amos and Andy!).

Anyway, by hiring me instead of Charles Peavler off of the labor crew I figured that even though I was dumb as dirt as far as being an electrician, I was more apt to learn new things than Charles. So in the long run I was probably the better candidate. Gene Roget wouldn’t have been able to be hired even if they hadn’t chosen me.

There were two openings for electrician when I was hired. Arthur Hammond (Art) was able to be hired by the electric shop was because they convinced the higher-ups that they needed someone with a background in electronics and there weren’t any internal candidates that fit that bill. So Charles Foster, the foreman, made the case that they needed an experienced electrician with electronics background and they needed someone dumb as dirt, but able to learn something more than just how to lace up their steel-toed boot. — That was where I came in.

I figured that Gene Roget would hold a grudge against me for taking the job that he wanted. This is where the true quality of a person may peer through. When you are involved in making someone upset, even though it wasn’t your decision to make, the way a person reacts to you will tell you a lot about that person’s character.

When Charles Foster told Gene Roget to be my mentor and show me the ropes to being an electrician I suspected that I was being setup for failure. “Ok…” I thought, “I’ll watch what he does instead of what he tells me…” I’ll also watch my back to make sure I don’t end up being electrocuted or knocked off of a ledge or some other accident that would create a new opening in the electric shop.

As it turned out Gene Roget was a man of great quality. Not once in the year and a half that I worked with him did I ever have the feeling that Gene wasn’t doing his best to teach me the skills of being the best electrician I could be. It also turned out that Gene was not only eager to teach me, but he was a highly skilled electrician. So, I felt like I was being taught by one of the best.

Gene Roget (I always liked calling him Gene Roget instead of just Gene… I’m not sure why, but I suppose I can blame it on Gene Day. I never could just call him Gene. And Gene Day and Gene Roget rhymed), carpooled with Art Hammond (I always liked calling Art, Arthur, but I’ll call him Art in this post just to make it shorter… except that I just used all these words explaining it that now it’s longer).

Gene and Art were like best buddies. I carpooled with them a couple of times when I had to catch a ride because I had to stay late and my carpooling ride had to leave (that would have been Rich Litzer, Yvonne Taylor and Bill Rivers). During the drive home, I came to learn that Art and Gene had worked with each other on construction jobs for quite a while and their families were close in some ways.

I also learned that there was another activity that they did together that was not all together kosher (I don’t mean in a Jewish way). They asked me on the way into Stillwater one day if I wanted to take a “hit” on the small rolled cigarette they were taking turns taking tokes from. I had spent 4 years prior to this time in college in a dorm where smoking marijuana was more common than cigarettes and the idea didn’t phase me.

I declined, because I had no desire to go down that route. I told them that I wished that they didn’t do that while I was in the car because then my clothes would smell like I had been living in the dorm again, where your clothes were going to smell like that just going from your room to the elevator… At least it was that way my second year in college.

I’m only talking about this now because it was 29 years ago, and by now if Gene Roget wanted to set his grandchildren on his knee and tell them about the times he was a younger construction electrician, he can mention that he had a shady past at one point, but now he’s just a kind old man. So, I’m going to go on with a story that up to now I have only shared with Arthur Hammond.

One day I went into the main switchgear to find some parts in the parts cage behind the electric shop. When I went back there, an operator Dan Landes was in the switchgear with another operator. They were looking for something by the ladders, so I walked over to see if I could help. Maybe they needed the key to unlock the ladders, I thought.

I don’t remember what they wanted, but I do remember that when I walked up to them I immediately smelled the aroma of marijuana being smoked somewhere. We had just recently lost an electrician in our shop when the snitch tricked him into trading some marijuana for a supposedly stolen knife set (see the post “Power Plant Snitch“).

I asked Dan if he smelled that smell. It was pretty strong. I told him that was marijuana, and I could tell him what type it was. You see, even though I had never smoked the stuff, the drug dealer for the entire dorm used to share the bathroom with our room, and three nights each week he held parties in his room. He had high quality stuff and low. There was a definite difference in the smell. So, I would ask my roommate Mark Sarmento about it and he explained it to me.

So, I told Dan that someone had just been smoking marijuana somewhere right there. It would have definitely been a dumb thing to do. Eventually Dan and the other operator (I can’t remember who) left the switchgear to continue on their with their switching. So I returned to the rack where the ladders were.

As I stood there alone I realized that the aroma was pouring down from on top of the battery rooms. So I yelled out, “Hey! You better stop that right now! Don’t you know that the smoke is coming right down here in the switchgear?!?! Put that out and come on down from there!” I stood there for a few minutes and then I walked back into the electric shop.

I laid my parts on the workbench where I was repairing something, and then I walked back over to where I look through the window in the door into the main switchgear. I finally saw someone climb down one of the ladders from the top of the battery rooms. So, I confronted him.

Yep. It was Gene Roget. I had been working with him for a year and a half at this time and I considered him a very good friend. I told him, “Gene! How could you do that? You know if they catch you they will fire you right away. No questions asked!” He said he was sorry, he didn’t think about the smell coming down into the switchgear and he would make sure it never happened again. I told him that he was lucky that I had found him and not Dan Landes. Dan’s nickname was Deputy Dan. He was a deputy in Perry, Oklahoma.

Well. as it turned out a few weeks later, Gene Roget was let go. I hadn’t told a soul about our encounter, but I wondered if he thought I had. Later I found out that he was let go so suddenly because he had confronted Leroy Godfrey about how Craig Jones had been fired because he had done something wrong. He didn’t know all the details about the snitch, but he did know that they said he was part of a (non-existent) Drug and Theft Ring.

No one tells Leroy Godfrey how to do his job, and in this case, Leroy had nothing to do with it. As a matter of fact, Leroy’s best buddy Jim Stevenson had been unjustly fingered by the snitch just because he was Leroy’s friend. So, Leroy had Gene Roget fired. I barely had time to say goodbye to Gene as he was led out the door to the parking lot and escorted out the gate by the highway patrolman who doubled as a security guard.

One time a year later, when I was carpooling with Art Hammond once again, I talked to Arthur about that day in the switchgear. I knew he was best friends with Gene Roget. So I told him about that instance. He told me that Gene had told him the whole story on the way home that day. Gene had just about had a heart attack when I had yelled up there for him to come down. He had swore to Arthur that he was never going to be that stupid again.

I made it clear to Arthur that I hadn’t told a soul about that day. And up until now, I still hadn’t. That was when Art explained to me the real reason that Gene had been fired. That made total sense. I knew how Leroy Godfrey was. He was an “old school” Power Plant Supervisor.

This is where the short story of the Hatchet Man comes up. He was another contract electrician. I think he was hired to help Jim Stevenson and Bill Ennis with the freeze protection. They were preparing for the coming winter and they needed a little extra help. I call this guy the “Hatchet Man” not because he was a hatchet man for the “Tong”, but because the only tool he used was a hatchet.

A Detective holding aTong War Hatchet

A Detective holding a Tong War Hatchet

He didn’t have a tool bucket. He just used this one tool. A Hatchet. As it turned out, he was missing two fingers on one hand and three fingers on the other hand. Hmmm… what came first? I wondered… the hatchet or the lost fingers? It seemed comical that a person missing half of all his fingers used only a hatchet as his only tool as an electrician. — how would he screw in a screw? Electricians had to work with screws all the time. Maybe he had a pocket knife for that.

I figured he probably lost his fingers working in the oil fields, since a lot of people lost fingers doing that. This guy definitely didn’t look much like a rodeo rider, which was the other group of people that would lose fingers.

One day, while sitting in the electrical lab during break time or lunch the subject of an upcoming job opening in the shop came up. The Hatchet Man made the mistake of saying that since he was handicapped, they had to give him the job. All he had to do was apply. They couldn’t turn him down. His missing fingers was his ticket.

Well. It didn’t take long before word of this conversation made its way up to the one ear that Leroy Godfrey used to hear. The other one was out of commission. As I mentioned before. No one told Leroy what to do. He was supreme leader of the electric shop domain. By the end of the day, the Hatchet Man was given the Ax.

Ted Riddle was hired instead. Now you know the rest of the story.

Singing Along with Sonny Kendrick

Originally posted January 11, 2013:

Today I sit quietly in a cubicle with a group of other people on my team. We each type away throughout the day, or we are on calls in our own meetings listening to conversations where we offer input where it is necessary. I may listen to music on my computer to help me get into the rhythm of my work as I type away creating documents or sending IMs to other employees as they ask me questions throughout the day.

That was not how it was before the PC made inroads into our lives. We used to sit around and talk to each other. We did things to pass the time while we worked on tedious jobs. We talked about our families. We talked about movies and shows we had seen. We asked each other how their family was doing. Sometimes, we even sang.

I was sitting on the Precipitator Roof installing a new Rapper circuit board in the Rapper Vibrator cabinet while one of my Precipitator Mentors sat behind me making sure that I was learning the fine art of Precipitator Maintenance on one of the first actual jobs I worked on when I became an Electrician.

The day was growing long, and Sonny had taken over for me and was installing the second circuit board while I was sitting on a Tension house box where Sonny had previously been sitting. Suddenly I felt this sudden urge to burst out in song. It was not known before this moment that I was sort of a professional singer. Actually. I had grown up with a family of singers.

My mother and my sister used to break out into song at random times throughout my childhood when a song would come over the radio on the easy listening station that was constantly on. So naturally, it would be natural for me to want to break out into song when the moment was right.

So, I just let loose singing one of my favorite songs. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t an accompaniment. I didn’t need the orchestra behind me on the radio to help me keep time. I had the orchestra playing in my mind…. I didn’t need the tuning fork that Sister Maureen used to use at Catholic School when I was kid as she would bang it on the desk and then hum with a wavering hum until she came in tune with her tuning fork. No. The tuning fork came from years of listening to my favorite songs.

Yes. Even before the iPod was invented and the VCR had come around, there were two places where a person could hear a song over and over and over again. One place was the radio. Back in the 70’s when your favorite song was in the top 20’s you could hear it play over and over again every two hours on the radio.

So, I burst out with one of my favorite songs and started to serenade my new found friend, Sonny Kendrick. I began quietly and worked my way up to a crescendo. The song I sang began thus: “Here’s the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls….”

I continued with great confidence in my singing ability, knowing that I was impressing my fellow electrician with my fantastic singing ability: “all of them had hair of gold, like their mother….the youngest one in curls!” Even louder I bellowed out: “Here’s the story of a man named Brady who was living with three boys of his own. They were four men living all together, yet they were all alone!”

Now I was in full form with my hand on my chest, standing at attention with all the full emotion I could draw out as I sang the final verse: “Till the one day when the lady met this fellow. And they knew that it was much more than a hunch, That this group must somehow form a family, That’s the way we all became the Brady bunch!”

Then as if I was playing an air guitar on stage, I was able to dramatically complete my short opera with the shaking of my head as I sang the final words: “The Brady bunch, the Brady bunch. That’s the way we became the Brady bunch bunch bunch…..” (now you know the second place where you could hear a song over and over).

Acting rather proud of my accomplishment I relieved Sonny as I was going to install the third of the four Rapper cards in the cabinet…. I began connecting the wires to the circuit board one at a time when all of the sudden I was struck with some strange form of electricity!

Had we forgotten to turn off the electrical disconnect to the 480 Volts to the cabinet? My fingers were shaking from the sudden impulse of electricity. My knees were buckling so that I stumbled back and sat against rappers behind me. I was completely stunned. I couldn’t tell if my ears were actually picking up sound or I had suddenly died and was on my way to heaven because I had just electrocuted myself in the cabinet.

My head was spinning. Thoughts entered my head like, “Great. I have just been electrocuted! I have only been an electrician for less than a month and already I have killed myself. I hope my parents and my girlfriend don’t think I suffered when I died.”

Gradually, I realized that the sounds of harps and the humming of angels were all just an accompaniment that were being added by heaven itself to the song that was emanating from Sonny Kendrick! Sonny Kendrick, while he was taking his repose while I had proceeded to install my circuit board had suddenly had a similar urge to break out into song.

Only, unlike my feeble attempt at doing justice to the Brady Bunch Song, Sonny Kendrick was singing as if God himself had come down and suddenly transformed him into an Opera Singer. I couldn’t tell if he was singing something from Wagner’s immortal Opera “The Ring” or if he was singing La Boheme by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.

It didn’t matter to me. All I could do was sit there on a tension house in stunned amazement. Tears were rolling down my face. Here was a guy that people referred to as Baby Huey because of his build ( I guess):

I didn't really get the connection, unless it had something to do with the diaper.

This is Baby Huey. I didn’t really get the connection.

Suddenly his lower build had moved up to the chest area and Sonny Kendrick had transformed into Franklin Floyd Kendrick! The magnificent opera singer!

When my friend and sudden Opera singing hero had finished, he stepped over the conduits and went to work to add the last rapper circuit board on the rack with the other three.

Still sitting on the tension house coming to my senses. Realizing that my transformation to heaven was only a temporary visit. I asked Sonny…. “What was that?” — That was all I could think of saying. What else could I say? “Can I have your Autograph?” I suppose I could have said that. No. All I could say was, “What was that?”

Sonny as he is today

Sonny as he is today

Here is a picture of Sonny. He didn’t have a beard then, but he has the exact same smile today that he had that day! He gave me this exact same smile when I asked him “What was that?” Exactly!

I said, “Sonny. What are you doing here? Why are you an electrician when you have a voice like that?” He replied by telling me that he had a family and he had to provide for them and he couldn’t do it by being a singer. So I asked him how he became an electrician.

You see. At the time, Sonny had the distinction of being the Electrical Specialist. He was the only one. He had gone to Oklahoma State Tech in Okmulgee and received a technical degree there in electronics. This gave him the ability to become the electrical specialist at the plant.

His real dream was to become an Opera Singer. Being an electrician was something to pay the bills. His heart was in his song. Sonny has a tremendous heart. I know. I have seen and heard it beating.

There is a part of Sonny’s story that is a tragedy. Isn’t that usually true with great artists? I suppose that is where their passion for their creativity comes from. This was true with Sonny, and in the next few months, I learned more and more about the burden that had been put on Sonny’s shoulders.

You see. One day. Sonny had said something to Leroy Godfrey to the effect that Sonny was a electrical specialist. He should be doing something more than spending all his time working on the precipitator. What his exact words were doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Leroy Godfrey had decided that day that Sonny Kendrick was to be banished to the precipitator. Never to work on anything but the precipitator.

In order to understand what this means… you have to understand the conditions someone has to work in when they work on the precipitator… First of all. No one wants to work with you, because it means working in the midst of pigeon dung, fly ash, and dust. Along with that, when the unit is online, the roof of the precipitator is one of the loudest places at the plant. Rappers and Vibrators going off constantly. Buzzing and Banging! Very hot in the summer and freezing in the winter.

As time went by, and Bill Rivers and Sonny filled in the blanks I came to understand just how burned out Sonny Kendrick was with working on the precipitator. I could see how he literally had to drag himself to the precipitator roof to work on the cabinets or fix a transformer knife switch. He would rather being doing anything else.

It had occurred to me at the time that the units had only been online for about 3 and 4 years and Sonny was already completely burned out on this job. It made perfect sense to me when I understood that this was a punishment for trying to stand up to an Old School Power Plant Supervisor. In order to understand Leroy Godfrey read the post:

The Death of an Old School Power Plant Man — Leroy Godfrey

A little less than two years later, Sonny Kendrick sang at my wedding. He was up in the balcony singing a list of songs that had been given to him by my mom. Bill Moler, the Evil Assistant Plant Manager who was serving as a Deacon at my wedding came in the front door dressed in his robes and ready to go into the church. I was standing there greeting people as they came in.

Bill suddenly stopped and stood still for a moment. Then he said, “Who is that singing? Where did you find someone with such a wonderful voice?” I proudly told him, “That’s Sonny.” Bill leaned forward and said, “Our Sonny?” I replied, “Yep. Sonny Kendrick. Our Sonny Kendrick.”

I had decided early on that I was going to do whatever I could to pull Sonny off of that Precipitator so that he could use his talents as they were meant to be used. So, every time I was asked to help out on the precipitator, I was glad to help Sonny.

Years later, when Sonny was finally able to be free of the precipitator, he went kicking and screaming, because I had turned precipitator maintenance on it’s head and it was hard for Sonny to see his work all turned topsy turvy. I knew that like myself, Sonny had a personal relationship with his work and that when someone else was tinkering with it it was a kind of “insult”.

I knew for Sonny it was best. It didn’t take him long to step out into the open air and take a deep breathe. Once he realized it was no longer his worry, he was a much happier man. I am pleased to see that Sonny Kendrick today wears the same smile that he did that day when he had broken out in song and serenaded me on top of the Precipitator.

It means that he still has the peace that he is due. I can’t help it. I have to end this post by posting his picture again. Just look into his eyes and see his joy. I’ll bet this picture was taken just after he had finished an aria of La Traviata by Guiseppe Verdi:

Sonny as he is today

Sonny after gracing the world with an Aria

In a way. Sonny’s life has been a Aria. I have been blessed to have been able to call him “Friend”.

 

COMMENTS FROM THE ORIGINAL POST:

Ron Kilman January 12, 2013

Re; Post on Leroy Godfrey The best job I ever had with OG&E was as a Results Engineer at Seminole. I helped start up all 3 units, design, purchase and install a water induction prevention system for unit 2, balance turbines, fans, etc., became “Plant Photographer”, designed all the racks and supports for turbine/generator rotors and diaphragms, ran performance tests on the boiler/turbine units, and lots of other fun stuff. But in 1975 I was promoted to “Senior Results Engineer”. OG&E saw people with an Engineering degree as automatically anointed for management. I didn’t agree with that, but I was stuck in that culture. That promotion made me “Supervisor” of Montie Adams. I first began working with Montie (Old Power Plant Man) in 1967 at Mustang as a summer student in the Results department. (That’s where I got to know Leroy Godfrey too). Montie had taught me a lot, had tons of knowledge and experience, and was much more qualified than I was. But he didn’t have the degree so he couldn’t even apply for the job. I never did become comfortable supervising people with more knowledge and experience than me just because I had the magic degree. From 1975 on, my job focus was no longer on the equipment used in generating electrical power, but on the people who used and maintained that equipment. I never understood how an engineering degree equipped me for that.

  1. Plant Electrician January 12, 2013

    Ron,

    It’s funny how cultures change over time. You described the old power plant culture perfectly.

    Today in my profession, it is perfectly sensible to manage employees that have more knowledge about their work than you have. The trick is knowing that. I currently have a terrific manager that would hardly know how to do what I do. That really isn’t his job though. He relies on his people to know what they are doing. It is being a good leader that makes one a good supervisor. Not trying to find or pretend to know all the answers yourself. Somehow that was lost on the Old Power Plant Man culture.

    I think that was why we were so stunned when you arrived at the plant and you had a personality beyond “slave driver”. I know I’ll write more about this in the future, but there were a number of times where I was pleasantly surprised to find that you listened to me and even asked for my advice.

    Kev

Power Plant Cajun and the Hatchet Man — Repost

Originally Posted August 30, 2013:

During the 18 years I worked as an electrician at the coal-fired Power Plant in North Central Oklahoma, we often had contractors working from our shop.  I have mentioned that from the moment that I first entered the electric shop the first day I was an electrician, one of the first two people I met was a contract electrician.  (See the post: “New Home in the Power Plant Electric Shop“).

Gene Roget (pronounced, “Row Jay” with a soft J) was originally from Louisiana.

A Cajun I found on Google Images that slightly resembles Gene Roget

A Cajun I found on Google Images (this is actually the actor Shia Lebeouf) that slightly resembles Gene Roget

Gene had spent the first 10 to 12 years of his adult life as a construction electrician.  Charles Foster told him to be my mentor.  At first Gene was shocked to find out that instead of hiring him to be a Plant Electrician along with his best buddy, Arthur Hammond, they had hired a young kid who didn’t know squat about being a real Power Plant Electrician.  Yeah…. that was me.

I felt sorry for Gene because he obviously was the better candidate.  The only saving grace for my mind was the knowledge that I was hired through the internal job program and that if they hadn’t taken me into the electric shop, they were going to be stuck with Charles Peavler.  Charles was… well… he was somewhat older, but, well….. he couldn’t get around the fact that no matter what he did, he was always still Charles Peavler.

The day I entered the electric shop, I was 23 years and about 3 weeks old.  Charles Peavler was 43.  However, Charles might remind you of someone more around the age of 65.  Not because he looked quite that old.  He looked more like, well… um….. I guess he did look like he was about 65.  I couldn’t tell if it was just the way he walked or stood, or the way his lip curled around the wad of skoal between his front lower lip and gums.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums.... Never tried it myself.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums…. Never tried it myself.

I know… I’m being a little hard on Charles.  I just like to tease him.  I could be worse.  I could tell you that his first name was really Amos.  But I wouldn’t stoop that low.  That would be like saying that Andy Tubb’s first name is really Carl, only worse, so I won’t go there.  Actually, Peavler looks more like an Amos than a Charles. (Oh.  That paragraph was about Amos and Andy!).

Anyway, by hiring me instead of Charles Peavler off of the labor crew I figured that even though I was dumb as dirt as far as being an electrician, I was more apt to learn new things than Charles.  So in the long run I was probably the better candidate.  Gene Roget wouldn’t have been able to be hired even if they hadn’t chosen me.

There were two openings for electrician when I was hired.  Arthur Hammond (Art) was able to be hired by the electric shop was because they convinced the higher-ups that they needed someone with a background in electronics and there weren’t any internal candidates that fit that bill.  So Charles Foster, the foreman, made the case that they needed an experienced electrician with electronics background and they needed someone dumb as dirt, but able to learn something more than just how to lace up their steel-toed boot. — That was where I came in.

I figured that Gene Roget would hold a grudge against me for taking the job that he wanted.  This is where the true quality of a person may peer through.  When you are involved in making someone upset, even though it wasn’t your decision to make, the way a person reacts to you will tell you a lot about that person’s character.

When Charles Foster told Gene Roget to be my mentor and show me the ropes to being an electrician I suspected that I was being setup for failure.  “Ok…” I thought, “I’ll watch what he does instead of what he tells me…”  I’ll also watch my back to make sure I don’t end up being electrocuted or knocked off of a ledge or some other accident that would create a new opening in the electric shop.

As it turned out Gene Roget was a man of great quality.  Not once in the year and a half that I worked with him did I ever have the feeling that Gene wasn’t doing his best to teach me the skills of being the best electrician I could be.  It also turned out that Gene was not only eager to teach me, but he was a highly skilled electrician.  So, I felt like I was being taught by one of the best.

Gene Roget (I always liked calling him Gene Roget instead of just Gene… I’m not sure why, but I suppose I can blame it on Gene Day.  I never could just call him Gene.  And Gene Day and Gene Roget rhymed), carpooled with Art Hammond (I always liked calling Art, Arthur, but I’ll call him Art in this post just to make it shorter… except that I just used all these words explaining it that now it’s longer).

Gene and Art were like best buddies.  I carpooled with them a couple of times when I had to catch a ride because I had to stay late and my carpooling ride had to leave (that would have been Rich Litzer, Yvonne Taylor and Bill Rivers).  During the drive home, I came to learn that Art and Gene had worked with each other on construction jobs for quite a while and their families were close in some ways.

I also learned that there was another activity that they did together that was not all together kosher (I don’t mean in a Jewish way).  They asked me on the way into Stillwater one day if I wanted to take a “hit” on the small rolled cigarette they were taking turns taking tokes from.  I had spent 4 years prior to this time in college in a dorm where smoking marijuana was more common than cigarettes and the idea didn’t phase me.

I declined, because I had no desire to go down that route.  I told them that I wished that they didn’t do that while I was in the car because then my clothes would smell like I had been living in the dorm again, where your clothes were going to smell like that just going from your room to the elevator… At least it was that way my second year in college.

I’m only talking about this now because it was 29 years ago, and by now if Gene Roget wanted to set his grandchildren on his knee and tell them about the times he was a younger construction electrician, he can mention that he had a shady past at one point, but now he’s just a kind old man.  So, I’m going to go on with a story that up to now I have only shared with Arthur Hammond.

One day I went into the main switchgear to find some parts in the parts cage behind the electric shop.  When I went back there, an operator Dan Landes was in the switchgear with another operator.  They were looking for something by the ladders, so I walked over to see if I could help.  Maybe they needed the key to unlock the ladders, I thought.

I don’t remember what they wanted, but I do remember that when I walked up to them I immediately smelled the aroma of marijuana being smoked somewhere.  We had just recently lost an electrician in our shop when the snitch tricked him into trading some marijuana for a supposedly stolen knife set (see the post “Power Plant Snitch“).

I asked Dan if he smelled that smell.  It was pretty strong.  I told him that was marijuana, and I could tell him what type it was.  You see, even though I had never smoked the stuff, the drug dealer for the entire dorm used to share the bathroom with our room, and three nights each week he held parties in his room.  He had high quality stuff and low.  There was a definite difference in the smell.  So, I would ask my roommate Mark Sarmento about it and he explained it to me.

So, I told Dan that someone had just been smoking marijuana somewhere right there.  It would have definitely been a dumb thing to do.  Eventually Dan and the other operator (I can’t remember who) left the switchgear to continue on their with their switching.  So I returned to the rack where the ladders were.

As I stood there alone I realized that the aroma was pouring down from on top of the battery rooms.  So I yelled out, “Hey!  You better stop that right now!  Don’t you know that the smoke is coming right down here in the switchgear?!?!  Put that out and come on down from there!”  I stood there for a few minutes and then I walked back into the electric shop.

I laid my parts on the workbench where I was repairing something, and then I walked back over to where I look through the window in the door into the main switchgear.  I finally saw someone climb down one of the ladders from the top of the battery rooms.  So, I confronted him.

Yep.  It was Gene Roget.  I had been working with him for a year and a half at this time and I considered him a very good friend.  I told him, “Gene!  How could you do that?  You know if they catch you they will fire you right away.  No questions asked!”  He said he was sorry, he didn’t think about the smell coming down into the switchgear and he would make sure it never happened again.  I told him that he was lucky that I had found him and not Dan Landes.  Dan’s nickname was Deputy Dan.  He was a deputy in Perry, Oklahoma.

Well.  as it turned out a few weeks later, Gene Roget was let go.  I hadn’t told a soul about our encounter, but I wondered if he thought I had.  Later I found out that he was let go so suddenly because he had confronted Leroy Godfrey about how Craig Jones had been fired because he had done something wrong.  He didn’t know all the details about the snitch, but he did know that they said he was part of a (non-existent) Drug and Theft Ring.

No one tells Leroy Godfrey how to do his job, and in this case, Leroy had nothing to do with it.  As a matter of fact, Leroy’s best buddy Jim Stevenson had been unjustly fingered by the snitch just because he was Leroy’s friend.  So, Leroy had Gene Roget fired.  I barely had time to say goodbye to Gene as he was led out the door to the parking lot and escorted out the gate by the highway patrolman who doubled as a security guard.

One time a year later, when I was carpooling with Art Hammond once again, I talked to Arthur about that day in the switchgear.  I knew he was best friends with Gene Roget.  So I told him about that instance.  He told me that Gene had told him the whole story on the way home that day.  Gene had just about had a heart attack when I had yelled up there for him to come down.  He had swore to Arthur that he was never going to be that stupid again.

I made it clear to Arthur that I hadn’t told a soul about that day.  And up until now, I still hadn’t.  That was when Art explained to me the real reason that Gene had been fired.  That made total sense.  I knew how Leroy Godfrey was.  He was an “old school” Power Plant Supervisor.

This is where the short story of the Hatchet Man comes up.  He was another contract electrician.  I think he was hired to help Jim Stevenson and Bill Ennis with the freeze protection.  They were preparing for the coming winter and they needed a little extra help.  I call this guy the “Hatchet Man” not because he was a hatchet man for the “Tong”, but because the only tool he used was a hatchet.

A Detective holding aTong War Hatchet

A Detective holding a Tong War Hatchet

He didn’t have a tool bucket.  He just used this one tool.  A Hatchet.  As it turned out, he was missing two fingers on one hand and three fingers on the other hand.  Hmmm… what came first?  I wondered… the hatchet or the lost fingers?  It seemed comical that a person missing half of all his fingers used only a hatchet as his only tool as an electrician.  — how would he screw in a screw?  Electricians had to work with screws all the time.  Maybe he had a pocket knife for that.

I figured he probably lost his fingers working in the oil fields, since a lot of people lost fingers doing that.  This guy definitely didn’t look much like a rodeo rider, which was the other group of people that would lose fingers.

One day, while sitting in the electrical lab during break time or lunch the subject of an upcoming job opening in the shop came up.  The Hatchet Man made the mistake of saying that since he was handicapped, they had to give him the job.  All he had to do was apply.  They couldn’t turn him down.  His missing fingers was his ticket.

Well.  It didn’t take long before word of this conversation made its way up to the one ear that Leroy Godfrey used to hear.  The other one was out of commission.  As I mentioned before.  No one told Leroy what to do.  He was supreme leader of the electric shop domain.  By the end of the day, the Hatchet Man was given the Ax.

Ted Riddle was hired instead.  Now you know the rest of the story.

Singing Along with Sonny Kendrick — Repost

Originally posted January 11, 2013:

Today I sit quietly in a cubicle with a group of other people on my team.  We each type away throughout the day, or we are on calls in our own meetings listening to conversations where we offer input where it is necessary.  I may listen to music on my computer to help me get into the rhythm of my work as I type away creating documents or sending IMs to other employees as they ask me questions throughout the day.

That was not how it was before the PC made inroads into our lives.  We used to sit around and talk to each other.  We did things to pass the time while we worked on tedious jobs.  We talked about our families.  We talked about movies and shows we had seen.  We asked each other how their family was doing.  Sometimes, we even sang.

I was sitting on the Precipitator Roof installing a new Rapper circuit board in the Rapper Vibrator cabinet while one of my Precipitator Mentors sat behind me making sure that I was learning the fine art of Precipitator Maintenance on one of the first actual jobs I worked on when I became an Electrician.

The day was growing long, and Sonny had taken over for me and was installing the second circuit board while I was sitting on a Tension house box  where Sonny had previously been sitting.  Suddenly I felt this sudden urge to burst out in song.  It was not known before this moment that I was sort of a professional singer.  Actually.  I had grown up with a family of singers.

My mother and my sister used to break out into song at random times throughout my childhood when a song would come over the radio on the easy listening station that was constantly on.  So naturally, it would be natural for me to want to break out into song when the moment was right.

So, I just let loose singing one of my favorite songs.  It didn’t matter that there wasn’t an accompaniment.  I didn’t need the orchestra behind me on the radio to help me keep time.  I had the orchestra playing in my mind….  I didn’t need the tuning fork that Sister Maureen used to use at Catholic School when I was kid as she would bang it on the desk and then hum with a wavering hum until she came in tune with her tuning fork.  No.  The tuning fork came from years of listening to my favorite songs.

Yes.  Even before the iPod was invented and the VCR had come around, there were two places where a person could hear a song over and over and over again.  One place was the radio.  Back in the 70’s when your favorite song was in the top 20’s you could hear it play over and over again every two hours on the radio.

So, I burst out with one of my favorite songs and started to serenade my new found friend, Sonny Kendrick.  I began quietly and worked my way up to a crescendo.  The song I sang began thus:   “Here’s the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls….”

I continued with  great confidence in my singing ability, knowing that I was impressing my fellow electrician with my fantastic singing ability:  “all of them had hair of gold, like their mother….the youngest one in curls!”   Even louder I bellowed out:  “Here’s the story of a man named Brady who was living with three boys of his own.  They were four men living all together, yet they were all alone!”

Now I was in full form  with my hand on my chest, standing at attention with all the full emotion I could draw out as I sang the final verse:  “Till the one day when the lady met this fellow.  And they knew that it was much more than a hunch, That this group must somehow form a family, That’s the way we all became the Brady bunch!”

Then as if I was playing an air guitar on stage, I was able to dramatically complete my short opera with the shaking of my head as I sang the final words:  “The Brady bunch, the Brady bunch.  That’s the way we became the Brady bunch bunch bunch…..”  (now you know the second place where you could hear a song over and over).

Acting rather proud of my accomplishment I relieved Sonny as I was going to install the third of the four Rapper cards in the cabinet….  I began connecting the wires to the circuit board one at a time when all of the sudden I was struck with some strange form of electricity!

Had we forgotten to turn off the electrical disconnect to the 480 Volts to the cabinet?  My fingers were shaking from the sudden impulse of electricity.  My knees were buckling so that I stumbled back and sat against rappers behind me.  I was completely stunned.  I couldn’t tell if my ears were actually picking up sound or I had suddenly died and was on my way to heaven because I had just electrocuted myself in the cabinet.

My head was spinning.  Thoughts entered my head like, “Great.  I have just been electrocuted!  I have only been an electrician for less than a month and already I have killed myself.   I hope my parents and my girlfriend don’t think I suffered when I died.”

Gradually, I realized that the sounds of harps and the humming of angels were all just an accompaniment that were being added by heaven itself to the song that was emanating  from Sonny Kendrick!  Sonny Kendrick, while he was taking his repose while I had proceeded to install my circuit board had suddenly had a similar urge to break out into song.

Only, unlike my feeble attempt at doing justice to the Brady Bunch Song, Sonny Kendrick was singing as if God himself had come down and suddenly transformed him into an Opera Singer.  I couldn’t tell if he was singing something from Wagner’s immortal Opera “The Ring” or if he was singing La Boheme by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.

It didn’t matter to me.  All I could do was sit there on a tension house in stunned amazement.  Tears were rolling down my face. Here was a guy that people referred to as Baby Huey because of his build ( I guess):

I didn't really get the connection, unless it had something to do with the diaper.

This is Baby Huey.  I didn’t really get the connection.

Suddenly his lower build had moved up to the chest area and Sonny Kendrick had transformed into Franklin Floyd Kendrick!  The magnificent opera singer!

When my friend and sudden Opera singing hero had finished, he stepped over the conduits and went to work to add the last rapper circuit board on the rack with the other three.

Still sitting on the tension house coming to my senses.   Realizing that my transformation to heaven was only a temporary visit.  I asked Sonny…. “What was that?”  — That was all I could think of saying.  What else could I say?  “Can I have your Autograph?”  I suppose I could have said that.  No.  All I could say was, “What was that?”

Sonny as he is today

Sonny as he is today

Here is a picture of Sonny.  He didn’t have a beard then, but he has the exact same smile today that he had that day!  He gave me this exact same smile when I asked him “What was that?”  Exactly!

I said, “Sonny.  What are you doing here?  Why are you an electrician when you have a voice like that?”  He replied by telling me that he had a family and he had to provide for them and he couldn’t do it by being a singer.  So I asked him how he became an electrician.

You see.  At the time, Sonny had the distinction of being the Electrical Specialist.  He was the only one.  He had gone to Oklahoma State Tech in Okmulgee and received a technical degree there in electronics.  This gave him the ability to become the electrical specialist at the plant.

His real dream was to become an Opera Singer.  Being an electrician was something to pay the bills.  His heart was in his song.  Sonny has a tremendous heart.  I know.  I have seen and heard it beating.

There is a part of Sonny’s story that is a tragedy.  Isn’t that usually true with great artists?  I suppose that is where their passion for their creativity comes from.  This was true with Sonny, and in the next few months, I learned more and more about the burden that had been put on Sonny’s shoulders.

You see.  One day.  Sonny had said something to Leroy Godfrey to the effect that Sonny was a electrical specialist.  He should be doing something more than spending all his time working on the precipitator.  What his exact words were doesn’t really matter.  What matters is that Leroy Godfrey had decided that day that Sonny Kendrick was to be banished to the precipitator.  Never to work on anything but the precipitator.

In order to understand what this means… you have to understand the conditions someone has to work in when they work on the precipitator…   First of all.  No one wants to work with you, because it means working in the midst of pigeon dung, fly ash, and dust.  Along with that, when the unit is online, the roof of the precipitator is one of the loudest places at the plant.  Rappers and Vibrators going off constantly.  Buzzing and Banging!  Very hot in the summer and freezing in the winter.

As time went by, and Bill Rivers and Sonny filled in the blanks I came to understand just how burned out Sonny Kendrick was with working on the precipitator.  I could see how he literally had to drag himself to the precipitator roof to work on the cabinets or fix a transformer knife switch.  He would rather being doing anything else.

It had occurred to me at the time that the units had only been online for about 3 and 4 years and Sonny was already completely burned out on this job.   It made perfect sense to me when I understood that this was a punishment for trying to stand up to an Old School Power Plant Supervisor.  In order to understand Leroy Godfrey read the post:

The Death of an Old School Power Plant Man — Leroy Godfrey

A little less than two years later, Sonny Kendrick sang at my wedding.  He was up in the balcony singing a list of songs that had been given to him by my mom.  Bill Moler, the Evil Assistant Plant Manager who was serving as a Deacon at my wedding came in the front door dressed in his robes and ready to go into the church.  I was standing there greeting people as they came in.

Bill suddenly stopped and stood still for a moment.  Then he said, “Who is that singing?  Where did you find someone with such a wonderful voice?”  I proudly told him, “That’s Sonny.”   Bill leaned forward and said, “Our Sonny?”   I replied, “Yep.  Sonny Kendrick.  Our Sonny Kendrick.”

I had decided early on that I was going to do whatever I could to pull Sonny off of that Precipitator so that he could use his talents as they were meant to be used.  So, every time I was asked to help out on the precipitator, I was glad to help Sonny.

Years later, when Sonny was finally able to be free of the precipitator, he went kicking and screaming, because I had turned precipitator maintenance on it’s head and it was hard for Sonny to see his work all turned topsy turvy.  I knew that like myself, Sonny had a personal relationship with his work and that when someone else was tinkering with it it was a kind of “insult”.

I knew for Sonny it was best.  It didn’t take him long to step out into the open air and take a deep breathe.  Once he realized it was no longer his worry, he was a much happier man.  I am pleased to see that Sonny Kendrick today wears the same smile that he did that day when he had broken out in song and serenaded me on top of the Precipitator.

It means that he still has the peace that he is due.  I can’t help it.  I have to end this post by posting his picture again.  Just look into his eyes and see his joy.  I’ll bet this picture was taken just after he had finished an aria of La Traviata by Guiseppe Verdi:

Sonny as he is today

Sonny after gracing the world with an Aria

In a way.  Sonny’s life has been a Aria.  I have been blessed to  have been able to call him “Friend”.

 

COMMENTS FROM THE ORIGINAL POST:

Ron Kilman January 12, 2013

Re; Post on Leroy Godfrey The best job I ever had with OG&E was as a Results Engineer at Seminole. I helped start up all 3 units, design, purchase and install a water induction prevention system for unit 2, balance turbines, fans, etc., became “Plant Photographer”, designed all the racks and supports for turbine/generator rotors and diaphragms, ran performance tests on the boiler/turbine units, and lots of other fun stuff. But in 1975 I was promoted to “Senior Results Engineer”. OG&E saw people with an Engineering degree as automatically anointed for management. I didn’t agree with that, but I was stuck in that culture. That promotion made me “Supervisor” of Montie Adams. I first began working with Montie (Old Power Plant Man) in 1967 at Mustang as a summer student in the Results department. (That’s where I got to know Leroy Godfrey too). Montie had taught me a lot, had tons of knowledge and experience, and was much more qualified than I was. But he didn’t have the degree so he couldn’t even apply for the job. I never did become comfortable supervising people with more knowledge and experience than me just because I had the magic degree. From 1975 on, my job focus was no longer on the equipment used in generating electrical power, but on the people who used and maintained that equipment. I never understood how an engineering degree equipped me for that.

  1. Plant Electrician January 12, 2013

    Ron,

    It’s funny how cultures change over time. You described the old power plant culture perfectly.

    Today in my profession, it is perfectly sensible to manage employees that have more knowledge about their work than you have. The trick is knowing that. I currently have a terrific manager that would hardly know how to do what I do. That really isn’t his job though. He relies on his people to know what they are doing. It is being a good leader that makes one a good supervisor. Not trying to find or pretend to know all the answers yourself. Somehow that was lost on the Old Power Plant Man culture.

    I think that was why we were so stunned when you arrived at the plant and you had a personality beyond “slave driver”. I know I’ll write more about this in the future, but there were a number of times where I was pleasantly surprised to find that you listened to me and even asked for my advice.

    Kev

Power Plant Cajun and the Hatchet Man

During the 18 years I worked as an electrician at the coal-fired Power Plant in North Central Oklahoma, we often had contractors working from our shop.  I have mentioned that from the moment that I first entered the electric shop the first day I was an electrician, one of the first two people I met was a contract electrician.  (See the post: “New Home in the Power Plant Electric Shop“).

Gene Roget (pronounced, “Row Jay” with a soft J) was originally from Louisiana.

A Cajun I found on Google Images that slightly resembles Gene Roget

A Cajun I found on Google Images (this is actually the actor Shia Lebeouf) that slightly resembles Gene Roget

Gene had spent the first 10 to 12 years of his adult life as a construction electrician.  Charles Foster told him to be my mentor.  At first Gene was shocked to find out that instead of hiring him to be a Plant Electrician along with his best buddy, Arthur Hammond, they had hired a young kid who didn’t know squat about being a real Power Plant Electrician.  Yeah…. that was me.

I felt sorry for Gene because he obviously was the better candidate.  The only saving grace for my mind was the knowledge that I was hired through the internal job program and that if they hadn’t taken me into the electric shop, they were going to be stuck with Charles Peavler.  Charles was… well… he was somewhat older, but, well….. he couldn’t get around the fact that no matter what he did, he was always still Charles Peavler.

The day I entered the electric shop, I was 23 years and about 3 weeks old.  Charles Peavler was 43.  However, Charles might remind you of someone more around the age of 65.  Not because he looked quite that old.  He looked more like, well… um….. I guess he did look like he was about 65.  I couldn’t tell if it was just the way he walked or stood, or the way his lip curled around the wad of skoal between his front lower lip and gums.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums.... Never tried it myself.

Just a pinch between your cheek and gums…. Never tried it myself.

I know… I’m being a little hard on Charles.  I just like to tease him.  I could be worse.  I could tell you that his first name was really Amos.  But I wouldn’t stoop that low.  That would be like saying that Andy Tubb’s first name is really Carl, only worse, so I won’t go there.  Actually, Peavler looks more like an Amos than a Charles. (Oh.  That paragraph was about Amos and Andy!).

Anyway, by hiring me instead of Charles Peavler off of the labor crew I figured that even though I was dumb as dirt as far as being an electrician, I was more apt to learn new things than Charles.  So in the long run I was probably the better candidate.  Gene Roget wouldn’t have been able to be hired even if they hadn’t chosen me.

There were two openings for electrician when I was hired.  Arthur Hammond (Art) was able to be hired by the electric shop was because they convinced the higher-ups that they needed someone with a background in electronics and there weren’t any internal candidates that fit that bill.  So Charles Foster, the foreman, made the case that they needed an experienced electrician with electronics background and they needed someone dumb as dirt, but able to learn something more than just how to lace up their steel-toed boot. — That was where I came in.

I figured that Gene Roget would hold a grudge against me for taking the job that he wanted.  This is where the true quality of a person may peer through.  When you are involved in making someone upset, even though it wasn’t your decision to make, the way a person reacts to you will tell you a lot about that person’s character.

When Charles Foster told Gene Roget to be my mentor and show me the ropes to being an electrician I suspected that I was being setup for failure.  “Ok…” I thought, “I’ll watch what he does instead of what he tells me…”  I’ll also watch my back to make sure I don’t end up being electrocuted or knocked off of a ledge or some other accident that would create a new opening in the electric shop.

As it turned out Gene Roget was a man of great quality.  Not once in the year and a half that I worked with him did I ever have the feeling that Gene wasn’t doing his best to teach me the skills of being the best electrician I could be.  It also turned out that Gene was not only eager to teach me, but he was a highly skilled electrician.  So, I felt like I was being taught by one of the best.

Gene Roget (I always liked calling him Gene Roget instead of just Gene… I’m not sure why, but I suppose I can blame it on Gene Day.  I never could just call him Gene.  And Gene Day and Gene Roget rhymed), carpooled with Art Hammond (I always liked calling Art, Arthur, but I’ll call him Art in this post just to make it shorter… except that I just used all these words explaining it that now it’s longer).

Gene and Art were like best buddies.  I carpooled with them a couple of times when I had to catch a ride because I had to stay late and my carpooling ride had to leave (that would have been Rich Litzer, Yvonne Taylor and Bill Rivers).  During the drive home, I came to learn that Art and Gene had worked with each other on construction jobs for quite a while and their families were close in some ways.

I also learned that there was another activity that they did together that was not all together kosher (I don’t mean in a Jewish way).  They asked me on the way into Stillwater one day if I wanted to take a “hit” on the small rolled cigarette they were taking turns taking tokes from.  I had spent 4 years prior to this time in college in a dorm where smoking marijuana was more common than cigarettes and the idea didn’t phase me.

I declined, because I had no desire to go down that route.  I told them that I wished that they didn’t do that while I was in the car because then my clothes would smell like I had been living in the dorm again, where your clothes were going to smell like that just going from your room to the elevator… At least it was that way my second year in college.

I’m only talking about this now because it was 29 years ago, and by now if Gene Roget wanted to set his grandchildren on his knee and tell them about the times he was a younger construction electrician, he can mention that he had a shady past at one point, but now he’s just a kind old man.  So, I’m going to go on with a story that up to now I have only shared with Arthur Hammond.

One day I went into the main switchgear to find some parts in the parts cage behind the electric shop.  When I went back there, an operator Dan Landes was in the switchgear with another operator.  They were looking for something by the ladders, so I walked over to see if I could help.  Maybe they needed the key to unlock the ladders, I thought.

I don’t remember what they wanted, but I do remember that when I walked up to them I immediately smelled the aroma of marijuana being smoked somewhere.  We had just recently lost an electrician in our shop when the snitch tricked him into trading some marijuana for a supposedly stolen knife set (see the post “Power Plant Snitch“).

I asked Dan if he smelled that smell.  It was pretty strong.  I told him that was marijuana, and I could tell him what type it was.  You see, even though I had never smoked the stuff, the drug dealer for the entire dorm used to share the bathroom with our room, and three nights each week he held parties in his room.  He had high quality stuff and low.  There was a definite difference in the smell.  So, I would ask my roommate Mark Sarmento about it and he explained it to me.

So, I told Dan that someone had just been smoking marijuana somewhere right there.  It would have definitely been a dumb thing to do.  Eventually Dan and the other operator (I can’t remember who) left the switchgear to continue on their with their switching.  So I returned to the rack where the ladders were.

As I stood there alone I realized that the aroma was pouring down from on top of the battery rooms.  So I yelled out, “Hey!  You better stop that right now!  Don’t you know that the smoke is coming right down here in the switchgear?!?!  Put that out and come on down from there!”  I stood there for a few minutes and then I walked back into the electric shop.

I laid my parts on the workbench where I was repairing something, and then I walked back over to where I look through the window in the door into the main switchgear.  I finally saw someone climb down one of the ladders from the top of the battery rooms.  So, I confronted him.

Yep.  It was Gene Roget.  I had been working with him for a year and a half at this time and I considered him a very good friend.  I told him, “Gene!  How could you do that?  You know if they catch you they will fire you right away.  No questions asked!”  He said he was sorry, he didn’t think about the smell coming down into the switchgear and he would make sure it never happened again.  I told him that he was lucky that I had found him and not Dan Landes.  Dan’s nickname was Deputy Dan.  He was a deputy in Perry, Oklahoma.

Well.  as it turned out a few weeks later, Gene Roget was let go.  I hadn’t told a soul about our encounter, but I wondered if he thought I had.  Later I found out that he was let go so suddenly because he had confronted Leroy Godfrey about how Craig Jones had been fired because he had done something wrong.  He didn’t know all the details about the snitch, but he did know that they said he was part of a (non-existent) Drug and Theft Ring.

No one tells Leroy Godfrey how to do his job, and in this case, Leroy had nothing to do with it.  As a matter of fact, Leroy’s best buddy Jim Stevenson had been unjustly fingered by the snitch just because he was Leroy’s friend.  So, Leroy had Gene Roget fired.  I barely had time to say goodbye to Gene as he was led out the door to the parking lot and escorted out the gate by the highway patrolman who doubled as a security guard.

One time a year later, when I was carpooling with Art Hammond once again, I talked to Arthur about that day in the switchgear.  I knew he was best friends with Gene Roget.  So I told him about that instance.  He told me that Gene had told him the whole story on the way home that day.  Gene had just about had a heart attack when I had yelled up there for him to come down.  He had swore to Arthur that he was never going to be that stupid again.

I made it clear to Arthur that I hadn’t told a soul about that day.  And up until now, I still hadn’t.  That was when Art explained to me the real reason that Gene had been fired.  That made total sense.  I knew how Leroy Godfrey was.  He was an “old school” Power Plant Supervisor.

This is where the short story of the Hatchet Man comes up.  He was another contract electrician.  I think he was hired to help Jim Stevenson and Bill Ennis with the freeze protection.  They were preparing for the coming winter and they needed a little extra help.  I call this guy the “Hatchet Man” not because he was a hatchet man for the “Tong”, but because the only tool he used was a hatchet.

A Detective holding aTong War Hatchet

A Detective holding a Tong War Hatchet

He didn’t have a tool bucket.  He just used this one tool.  A Hatchet.  As it turned out, he was missing two fingers on one hand and three fingers on the other hand.  Hmmm… what came first?  I wondered… the hatchet or the lost fingers?  It seemed comical that a person missing half of all his fingers used only a hatchet as his only tool as an electrician.  — how would he screw in a screw?  Electricians had to work with screws all the time.  Maybe he had a pocket knife for that.

I figured he probably lost his fingers working in the oil fields, since a lot of people lost fingers doing that.  This guy definitely didn’t look much like a rodeo rider, which was the other group of people that would lose fingers.

One day, while sitting in the electrical lab during break time or lunch the subject of an upcoming job opening in the shop came up.  The Hatchet Man made the mistake of saying that since he was handicapped, they had to give him the job.  All he had to do was apply.  They couldn’t turn him down.  His missing fingers was his ticket.

Well.  It didn’t take long before word of this conversation made its way up to the one ear that Leroy Godfrey used to hear.  The other one was out of commission.  As I mentioned before.  No one told Leroy what to do.  He was supreme leader of the electric shop domain.  By the end of the day, the Hatchet Man was given the Ax.

Ted Riddle was hired instead.  Now you know the rest of the story.

Singing Along With Sonny Kendrick

Today I sit quietly in a cubicle with a group of other people on my team.  We each type away throughout the day, or we are on calls in our own meetings listening to conversations where we offer input where it is necessary.  I may listen to music on my computer to help me get into the rhythm of my work as I type away creating documents or sending IMs to other employees as they ask me questions throughout the day.

That was not how it was before the PC made inroads into our lives.  We used to sit around and talk to each other.  We did things to pass the time while we worked on tedious jobs.  We talked about our families.  We talked about movies and shows we had seen.  We asked each other how their family was doing.  Sometimes, we even sang.

I was sitting on the Precipitator Roof installing a new Rapper circuit board in the Rapper Vibrator cabinet while one of my Precipitator Mentors sat behind me making sure that I was learning the fine art of Precipitator Maintenance on one of the first actual jobs I worked on when I became an Electrician.

The day was growing long, and Sonny had taken over for me and was installing the second circuit board while I was sitting on a Tension house box  where Sonny had previously been sitting.  Suddenly I felt this sudden urge to burst out in song.  It was not known before this moment that I was sort of a professional singer.  Actually.  I had grown up with a family of singers.

My mother and my sister used to break out into song at random times throughout my childhood when a song would come over the radio on the easy listening station that was constantly on.  So naturally, it would be natural for me to want to break out into song when the moment was right.

So, I just let loose singing one of my favorite songs.  It didn’t matter that there wasn’t an accompaniment.  I didn’t need the orchestra behind me on the radio to help me keep time.  I had the orchestra playing in my mind….  I didn’t need the tuning fork that Sister Maureen used to use at Catholic School when I was kid as she would bang it on the desk and then hum with a wavering hum until it came in tune with her tuning fork.  No.  The tuning fork came from years of listening to my favorite songs.

Yes.  Even before the iPod was invented and the VCR had come around, there were two places where a person could hear a song over and over and over again.  One place was the radio.  Back in the 70’s when your favorite song was in the top 20’s you could hear it play over and over again every two hours on the radio.

So, I burst out with one of my favorite songs and started to serenade my new found friend, Sonny Kendrick.  I began quietly and worked my way up to a crescendo.  The song I sang began thus:   “Here’s the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls….”

I continued with  great confidence in my singing ability, knowing that I was impressing my fellow electrician with my fantastic singing ability:  “all of them had hair of gold, like their mother….the youngest one in curls!”   Even louder I bellowed out:  “Here’s the story of a man named Brady who was living with three boys of his own.  They were four men living all together, yet they were all alone!”

Now I was in full form  with my hand on my chest, standing at attention with all the full emotion I could draw out as I sang the final verse:  “Till the one day when the lady met this fellow.  And they knew that it was much more than a hunch, That this group must somehow form a family, That’s the way we all became the Brady bunch!”

Then as if I was playing an air guitar on stage, I was able to dramatically complete my short opera with the shaking of my head as I sang the final words:  “The Brady bunch, the Brady bunch.  That’s the way we became the Brady bunch bunch bunch…..”  (now you know the second place where you could hear a song over and over).

Acting rather proud of my accomplishment I relieved Sonny as I was going to install the third of the four Rapper cards in the cabinet….  I began connecting the wires to the circuit board one at a time when all of the sudden I was struck with some strange form of electricity!

Had we forgotten to turn off the electrical disconnect to the 480 Volts to the cabinet?  My fingers were shaking from the sudden impulse of electricity.  My knees were buckling so that I stumbled back and sat against rappers behind me.  I was completely stunned.  I couldn’t tell if my ears were actually picking up sound or I had suddenly died and was on my way to heaven because I had just electrocuted myself in the cabinet.

My head was spinning.  Thoughts entered my head like, “Great.  I have just been electrocuted!  I have only been an electrician for less than a month and already I have killed myself.   I hope my parents and my girlfriend don’t think I suffered when I died.”

Gradually, I realized that the sounds of harps and the humming of angels were all just an accompaniment that were being added by heaven itself to the song that was emanating  from Sonny Kendrick!  Sonny Kendrick, while he was taking his repose while I had proceeded to install my circuit board had suddenly had a similar urge to break out into song.

Only, unlike my feeble attempt at doing justice to the Brady Bunch Song, Sonny Kendrick was singing as if God himself had come down and suddenly transformed him into an Opera Singer.  I couldn’t tell if he was singing something from Wagner’s immortal Opera “The Ring” or if he was singing La Boheme by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.

It didn’t matter to me.  All I could do was sit there on a tension house in stunned amazement.  Tears were rolling down my face. Here was a guy that people referred to as Baby Huey because of his build ( I guess):

I didn't really get the connection, unless it had something to do with the diaper.

This is Baby Huey.  I didn’t really get the connection.

Suddenly his lower build had moved up to the chest area and Sonny Kendrick had transformed into Franklin Floyd Kendrick!  The magnificent opera singer!

When my friend and sudden Opera singing hero had finished, he stepped over the conduits and went to work to add the last rapper circuit board on the rack with the other three.

Still sitting on the tension house coming to my senses.   Realizing that my transformation to heaven was only a temporary visit.  I asked Sonny…. “What was that?”  — That was all I could think of saying.  What else could I say?  “Can I have your Autograph?”  I suppose I could have said that.  No.  All I could say was, “What was that?”

Sonny as he is today

Sonny as he is today

Here is a picture of Sonny.  He didn’t have a beard then, but he has the exact same smile today that he had that day!  He gave me this exact same smile when I asked him “What was that?”  Exactly!

I said, “Sonny.  What are you doing here?  Why are you an electrician when you have a voice like that?”  He replied by telling me that he had a family and he had to provide for them and he couldn’t do it by being a singer.  So I asked him how he became an electrician.

You see.  At the time, Sonny had the distinction of being the Electrical Specialist.  He was the only one.  He had gone to Oklahoma State Tech in Okmulgee and received a technical degree there in electronics.  This gave him the ability to become the electrical specialist at the plant.

His real dream was to become an Opera Singer.  Being an electrician was something to pay the bills.  His heart was in his song.  Sonny has a tremendous heart.  I know.  I have seen and heard it beating.

There is a part of Sonny’s story that is a tragedy.  Isn’t that usually true with great artists?  I suppose that is where their passion for their creativity comes from.  This was true with Sonny, and in the next few months, I learned more and more about the burden that had been put on Sonny’s shoulders.

You see.  One day.  Sonny had said something to Leroy Godfrey to the effect that Sonny was a electrical specialist.  He should be doing something more than spending all his time working on the precipitator.  What his exact words were doesn’t really matter.  What matters is that Leroy Godfrey had decided that day that Sonny Kendrick was to be banished to the precipitator.  Never to work on anything but the precipitator.

In order to understand what this means… you have to understand the conditions someone has to work in when they work on the precipitator…   First of all.  No one wants to work with you, because it means working in the midst of pigeon dung, fly ash, and dust.  Along with that, when the unit is online, the roof of the precipitator is one of the loudest places at the plant.  Rappers and Vibrators going off constantly.  Buzzing and Banging!  Very hot in the summer and freezing in the winter.

As time went by, and Bill Rivers and Sonny filled in the blanks I came to understand just how burned out Sonny Kendrick was with working on the precipitator.  I could see how he literally had to drag himself to the precipitator roof to work on the cabinets or fix a transformer knife switch.  He would rather being doing anything else.

It had occurred to me at the time that the units had only been online for about 3 and 4 years and Sonny was already completely burned out on this job.   It made perfect sense to me when I understood that this was a punishment for trying to stand up to an Old School Power Plant Supervisor.  In order to understand Leroy Godfrey read the post:

The Death of an Old School Power Plant Man — Leroy Godfrey

A little less than two years later, Sonny Kendrick sang at my wedding.  He was up in the balcony singing a list of songs that had been given to him by my mom.  Bill Moler, the Evil Assistant Plant Manager who was serving as a Deacon at my wedding came in the front door dressed in his robes and ready to go into the church.  I was standing there greeting people as they came in.

Bill suddenly stopped and stood still for a moment.  Then he said, “Who is that singing?  Where did you find someone with such a wonderful voice?”  I proudly told him, “That’s Sonny.”   Bill leaned forward and said, “Our Sonny?”   I replied, “Yep.  Sonny Kendrick.  Our Sonny Kendrick.”

I had decided early on that I was going to do whatever I could to pull Sonny off of that Precipitator so that he could use his talents as they were meant to be used.  So, every time I was asked to help out on the precipitator, I was glad to help Sonny.

Years later, when Sonny was finally able to be free of the precipitator, he went kicking and screaming, because I had turned precipitator maintenance on it’s head and it was hard for Sonny to see his work all turned topsy turvy.  I knew that like myself, Sonny had a personal relationship with his work and that when someone else was tinkering with it it was a kind of “insult”.

I knew for Sonny it was best.  It didn’t take him long to step out into the open air and take a deep breathe.  Once he realized it was no longer his worry, he was a much happier man.  I am pleased to see that Sonny Kendrick today wears the same smile that he did that day when he had broken out in song and serenaded me on top of the Precipitator.

It means that he still has the peace that he is due.  I can’t help it.  I have to end this post by posting his picture again.  Just look into his eyes and see his joy.  I’ll bet this picture was taken just after he had finished an aria of La Traviata by Guiseppe Verdi:

Sonny as he is today

Sonny after gracing the world with an Aria

In a way.  Sonny’s life has been a Aria.  I have been blessed to  have been able to call him “Friend”.