The Shadow of a Dream Part 3

In my brief career as a third engineer aboard the passenger ship “SS Independence,” the man who made the greatest impression on me was the first professional watch engineer I worked with. His name was Joe and he had been at sea for around 20 years. I was his junior engineer and this was my first real job.

Rag Pickers

I soon found out that the watch engineer’s “uniform” was a “boiler suit,” flashlight, gloves and a rag. The boiler suit had a pouch sewn in on the right leg just above the knee for a flashlight which was always carried there at arm’s length. Kind of like an old west gunslinger. Gloves were calf skin, rolled up and carried in a back pocket. Watch engineers always had a rag stuffed in their boiler suit back pocket with the end kind of dangling out “just so.” Not that you needed a rag for anything, mind you, but it did make you look the part. So I’m “in uniform” on my first watch with this guy and I’m kind of following him around trying to “learn the ropes.”

The very first thing Joe did after being briefed by the previous watch was to head for the rag bin. Rags were supplied to the ship by a company that recycled old clothes, tore them into rags, cleaned them and sold them in bundles. Instead of merely grabbing a rag and sticking it in his pocket, Ol’ Joe spent about 45 minutes going through the rags until he found one exactly to his liking as if he were an interior decorator selecting swatches of leather for a $30,000 Roche Bobois sofa! 45 minutes! I felt for this poor, demented man who, obviously, had been at sea far too long (red plaid was his favorite, as I remember).

Big Wheel on a Two Stacker

So there I was, a young lad 20 years old with the responsibility for running an engine room watch on a major passenger ship. Yes, I was a “big wheel on a two stacker” and was learning more every day.  One of the most important things I learned that carries through to my dealings with all kinds of machinery today was that of all your senses, your hearing is most important. 

Standing on the control platform in a huge engine room underway at full power with high pressure and low- pressure turbines wailing, two boilers making superheated steam, pumps spinning, turbo generators whining, reduction gears grinding, huge shafts spinning, steam hissing past valve packing and huge blowers forcing air into the engine room and the boilers — amidst all this your ears could detect a very minor change in the overall din and you knew something was wrong. A small pump’s bearing could go out on the lower level and you could hear it. 

Then there were off watch occurrences and escapades that made life almost bearable between the boredom of standing watches. On one of our early cruises, a big deal was made of the fact that around midnight we would be passing our sister ship, the “Constitution,” in mid-Atlantic going the opposite direction. This was a rare occurrence and all passengers and crew were gathered on deck for the show. 

Sure enough, at the appointed time lights appeared on the horizon and grew brighter at a combined closing speed of around 52 knots. The ships passed within a few hundred yards of one another. Steam horns bellowed, people waved and clapped and then, suddenly, it was all over. My feeling at the time was “big deal — it certainly doesn’t take much to amuse us.” Many people use the expression “two ships that pass in the night” but few have experienced it.

Back then, transatlantic jets had not yet taken a firm foothold in the travel business. Ships were still the way to cross oceans and the American Export Lines “Sun Lane Cruises” were very popular. New passengers always kept things interesting. Charlton Heston was aboard on one trip. Jane Mansfield came aboard to film a piece for one of her movies (I remember being extremely impressed by her high center of gravity supported by spindly legs).

Idyllic Life?

Looking back now, it seems like I led an idyllic life. I was making big bucks, could take time off whenever I wanted, was served the same food as first-class passengers and had hot and cold running women. After three years at sea (even though I had taken three months off every summer to go boating), I owned three neat cars outright (a new Jaguar XKE, a classic ‘55 Thunderbird, and a monstrous Eldo Biarritz Convertible. I had just acquired a bigger boat and kept her at a nice marina. 

I had substantial savings in the bank which gave me a great, early financial head start in life. And I had virtually no living expenses since everything aboard ship was taken care of. It was like perpetually living in a first-class hotel with maid service, any kind of food you wanted at any time of the day or night, and exotic ports for a playground. I felt like I lived two lives. In one life I was a mole or bat living down in the hot dark, noisy bowels of the ship. In the other life I was a playboy with all the accoutrements. I thought “what if people really knew what I did for a living…” I faced the dilemma that every hooker must face. Continue to take the easy bucks or “go straight.” 

I knew that in my fellow watch standers who had been to sea for 20 and 30 years — guys like Sheet Metal Man, the Hummer, and the Nail Cleaner — I could see my future if I stayed at sea. Besides, the future of passenger ships was in doubt due to the increased popularity of jet planes. I knew my way out was my sheepskin — my degree in Marine Engineering that could lead me to a respectable job ashore (albeit at a salary of one-quarter what I was making working nine months a year). I wrestled with these thoughts for two years until…

From Rags to Poverty

Sadly, my career in the Merchant Marine ended rather abruptly when I came to the realization that it was absolutely time for me to pursue other venues. I went down on watch one evening, and, as usual wandered over to the corner of the engine room where the rag locker was located. There, instead of grabbing a rag and going about my business as I had done countless times before, I proceeded to sift through the rags for about a half hour.  Finding nothing appealing in the rag bin, I cut open a new rag bundle and sifted through that until a rag to my liking appeared (blue paisley with a hint of avocado as I recall). I knew then that my time had come. The “Shadow of a Dream” was over. To this day, I have to restrain myself when I see a pile of rags. 

(Reprinted with permission of Regina Fexas.)

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