Canyon Secret (4 page)

Tomas looked back and forth between his father, his brother-in-law, and Nolan. He hoped they were kidding, but nobody laughed. Nolan held a smirk on his face, and David showed red from the neck up as they stared at each other. Mikhail interrupted the tense scene, “Show us where we stay.”

The barracks were built to house three-hundred workers without families. Each man lived in a room that had a single bed, a chair, and a bench in the small room. Showers and bathroom were military style located down the hall. There was a mess hall, a bakery, and a bowling alley attached. Mikhail and his son took rooms across the hall from one another. Nolan found an empty room near the end of the opposite end of the building.

As they unloaded their duffle bags from the Chevy, David approached Mikhail. “You need to be at the Union Hall at 9:00 tomorrow morning. It’s set up for you and Tommy. You’ll be able to go out on afternoon shift tomorrow at 4:00 o’clock. They’ll fix you a lunch next door and keep a tab until payday. I’m staying in a trailer in Hungry Horse behind the Dam Town Bar if you need anything. I’m on day shift. Probably won’t see you for a while. Good luck.”

Mikhail never said a word. He slung the large army bag over his shoulder and went into his room.

Tomas nervously read the April summary sheet as he waited for the bus to take him up to the worksite at the top of Hungry Horse Dam. He stood close to the posted newssheet and squinted through his dark rimmed glasses as he read.

Concrete placing and payrolls soared to new levels for 1952. Concrete placing on the dam averaged 5,500 cubic yards a day during April. Contractors report employment at the 1,600 mark. Total employment on the project including the Bureau of reclamation is at 2,000. Mid-April payrolls exceed the $2,400,000 a month level. Minimum rate of pay at the dam for seven-day week is $114.56 for laborers. Currently, there are 525 laborers, 411 carpenters, 100 steamfitters, 70 mechanics, 61 truck drivers, 54 electricians as well as other crafts and trades.

At present, the major part of the dam runs up to 454 feet above bedrock, and is 81 feet thick and 1,680 feet across. At the bottom the concrete is 321 feet thick. Cement car shipments to Coram, Montana are currently 71 bulk cars a week.

Water storage in the reservoir now totals 282,000 acre-feet. Visitors at the project Vista point overlooking dam construction are averaging about 2,500 each Sunday with about 150 visitors on the weekdays. Last year 260,000 visitors saw the dam being built.

Mikhail joined his son. “Anything good there?”

“Ya, as laborers, we’re going to make over a hundred dollars a week. That’ll really help Kat with the doctor bills.”

Mikhail loosened the snaps on his extra large jean coat, “We work seven days a week.”

Tomas looked up at his father, “Nothing else to do but work I expect. Do ya think Tim Nolan will land a job?”

The bus pulled up outside of the quonset hut and the men climbed the stairs to the bus. Mikhail nodded his head toward Tomas. They walked out of the building and up the stairs into the bus. Finally he said in a low tone of voice, “Probably. Nolan’s a good electrician. They’ll put him on.”

Tomas sat near the window on the trip up the hauling road to the top of the dam. As they passed the tiny lake on the left, he noticed a small aluminum boat anchored in the middle of the lake. He spoke as he saw the person in the boat reading a book. “Look at that, fish jumpin’ all around the lake, and that woman out there’s readin’ a book. I’d be fishin’ instead of readin’ if I was her.”

Mikhail glanced briefly at the boat and then at his son. He imagined just how nervous Tomas must be on his first day of work. The union assigned Tomas to a cement crew using a vibrator to tamp down the cement as it was poured. “Tomas’ll work hard. He’s going be dog-tired when he gets back to the barracks. Probably won’t be able to lift his arms in the mornings for a week or so. He’ll do a good job for em’.”

The first view of the partially completed dam intimidated Tomas. “Look at the size of that thing! And it’s not even finished yet. I can’t wait to see the water it’s holdin’ back. Wonder where I’ll be workin’?”

The stocky, bearded man across the aisle gave a stilted laugh, “You’ll find out soon enough, Kid. Just follow me; you’re on my crew.”

Tomas spoke nervously, “Thanks, sir. I, I appreciate it.” The men sitting around them laughed. Mikhail smiled and nodded his head.

The man stuck out his hand, “Don’t call me sir, I’m Shorty Davis.”

He removed the glove from his hand and shook the man’s rough, bony hand. “I’m Tom Anzich, glad to meet ya.”

Mikhail gave a short wave of his hand in the man’s direction, “I’d be his father, Mikhail Anzich.” He wondered why his son introduced himself as Tom. Maybe Nolan was right. Even Tomas wants to be called by his American name.

Johnny “Shorty” Davis waved back and faced forward as the bus came to a stop in front of the concrete mixing plant. “This is it Kid. Let’s go.”

The other men on the cement crews gathered their lunch bucket, coats, and hardhats and started for the bus door. Tomas followed suit and quickly turned back to his dad, “I guess I’ll see you down below around midnight, huh Dad?”

“Ya. Pay attention.”

Shorty Davis stepped inside the cement mixing plant and stopped to sip his thermos cup of black coffee. Tomas looked at the glory hole below the mixing plant and walked into the back of Shorty Davis. Hot coffee spilled down the front of Shorty’s black canvas work pants. “Jesus Christ, Kid! I said stay with me, not on the top of me.”

The other men laughed as they made their way toward the bank of lockers near the west wall of the shack. One of the men called over to Shorty Davis, “You’d better not decide to take a crap anytime soon, Shorty. God knows what you do with the Kid.”

Davis laughed and flipped the man the finger. He walked over to his six-foot locker with Tomas following him but at a distance. Davis smiled at his new young partner and said, “Come on over here, Kid, and park your slicker in my locker. We’ll find you a locker later on.”

Climatic conditions were such that concrete placement was stopped during the winter months. From about the middle of November to the middle of March each year, all construction activities were reduced to a minimum with only drilling, repair, and maintenance, and other incidental work carried on. Four power skylines were used to haul cement across the dam with use of cable. Each bucket held eight cubic yards of concrete. One set of cables opened the buckets, one set held the buckets. The bucket would be opened and the concrete dropped onto the pour area. There was a portable tower on one side of the dam to accommodate the locating of the buckets for the pour.

Three shacks that housed men directed the cables for the buckets. The fourth shack housed the bellman or spotter. The bellman signaled the operator with a bell system alerting him when to drop the load of cement. Each pour area was a five-foot wide area. Men used vibrators and tamped the dropped cement into the area. Two men operated each vibrator. These pneumatic vibrators operated by the laborers removed the bubbles in the pour and had to be done carefully to keep the integrity of the cement.

Floodlights hung from a pulley that expanded the length of the dam and put off enough light at night that a person could read a newspaper at the base of the dam. Cement pouring went on twenty-four hours per day, seven days per week.

Cooling pipes were installed within each pour to bleed off the heat from the concrete. The water came up from pipes and hoses that stretched the length of the dam. The water originated upstream two miles and traveled on red wooden pipes down to the Dam.

Tomas stood and watched the men go through their daily routine of getting ready to begin their shift. Most of the men drank coffee, talked, and smoked Camels or Lucky Strikes. He waited to hear instructions from his new friend and co-worker, Shorty. Tomas nervously waited to get started. He wanted to see the dam and the water behind the dam. I can’t wait to get going. We’re getting paid so we should be working. He twisted his shiny new brass GSM identification badge so that it hung straight on his shirt pocket. Number GSM 3170. I think that’s a lucky number. I’ll like it better after it gets worn like Shorty’s.

A shrill whistle blew and startled Tomas. The men laughed as he exhaled a “What’s that?”

“Time to hit the bricks, Kid. Let’s go.” Shorty exchanged some final parting remarks and walked outside toward the tracks leading out to the center of the dam. “We’ll be pouring in the middle today. Don’t go at it like we’re beating snakes. Me and you are on one vibrator. Go at my pace and we’ll get along good.”

Four other men joined them as they climbed down into the five-foot deep area. The day shift laid the cooling pipes, rebar, and encased the area with the footings. The three pneumatic vibrators sat in the corner of the pour area. Shorty pointed up toward the power lines that hauled the bucket of concrete. “Watch this Kid. The bucket’ll come our way and stop above us on the signal of the bellman. His operator will then drop the load. Stand against this wall; cause when that load empties that bucket’s goin’ go skyward-fast. It’ll scare the shit out of you the first time.”

As predicted, the concrete flowed out of the bucket and covered the prepared area. The emptied bucket shot upward. Tomas jerked and belted Shorty with his forearm. Again the men laughed and enjoyed the young man’s embarrassment. “Now the fun starts Kid. Get on the purchase end of this big prick and let’s start tamping. Get on the stick and stay on it.”

F
our women sat and talked at the large round table facing Main Street in Martin City. This coveted corner in the Club Café was reserved every Friday morning at 8:00 for the four women. Between cups of free coffee, they eagerly discussed the upcoming fundraiser. The Canyon town dance was less than two months away. Funds raised would be used to purchase a resuscitator for the volunteer fire department.

She sat quietly and listened to the update on money raised so far. What a unique group we are, she thought. “How in the world did we ever find each other? Come on now, how many times do you see a Madam of a cathouse, a housewife of an accountant, a widowed theater and women’s clothing store owner, and the wife of a railroad worker who rents and cares for cabins on a lake together. And here we are, organizing one more fundraiser. People just look at us and shake their heads. But somebody has to run these two towns. It sure isn’t going to be any of the men around here. They’re working or drinking all of the time. Hungry Horse and Martin City would dry up and blow away without us.”

“Maybe you’d join us here, huh Hannah?” Mabel looked at her dear friend as she spoke. “Where did you go anyway?”

Hannah Holley lowered the white coffee cup from her lips as her face reddened. “Sorry ladies, I just drifted off there for a minute or two. I wondered how the four of us ever landed here at the same time and then found each other.”

For two years now the Care Less Group as they called themselves met regularly and organized the Martin City and Hungry Horse citizens to provide assistance to families in need, sponsor youth organizations, schedule social activities, and raise funds to advance the growing community needs. Mabel tapped Hannah on the forearm as she spoke, “Hannah, the Lord works in mysterious ways. We found each other so the men around here wouldn’t screw everything up.”

Coffee erupted from Hannah’s mouth in mid-drink and she coughed violently and struggled to catch her breath. Not quite finished coughing she answered, “You know a lot about men screwing up Mabel. In fact, you probably know a lot about men screwing down too.”

The group erupted into loud, uncontrollable laughter. Normally very reserved, well-dressed, and made up perfectly, Betty Hansen seemed out of character as she joined in the free-fall activity, “In fact, I bet Mabel knows every direction men screw. Up, down, sideways, on their heads.”

Mabel wiped the tears from her cheeks and attempted to talk, but she laughed again so hard that she passed gas. The laughing then reached high notes of squealing and gasping for breath. “Oh dear God in heaven, make them stop. I can’t believe you, Betty, saying that. Wouldn’t your husband have a cow if he heard you.” Lila reached for another table napkin to dry her eyes one more time. The other three ladies drew breaths and rubbed their fatigued cheek muscles.

The waitress poured fresh coffee into their cups. Hannah thanked her and then asked, “What’ll we do if ticket sales come up short of the $563 needed for the resuscitator? God knows, if we keep laughing this hard, we’ll be the first ones to need that damn machine.”

The three ladies subtly looked at Mabel as she stirred the two sugar cubes into her coffee. Her eyes burrowed deep into the steaming cup as she responded, “I believe I can part with some of my hard-earned cash if we need a few bucks.”

More than once Mabel made up the difference of what was needed for the various fundraisers. The fire truck, Boy Scout uniforms, the children’s Christmas party, and the money for the Little League team equipment and new uniforms all were made possible by Mabel’s generosity. The community didn’t seem to mind that the money came from the dam workers playtime with Mabel’s girls on Sugar Hill. Her girls were welcomed anywhere in town as long as they minded their manners and didn’t solicit on their own. Mabel had escorted several girls to the bus depot in Columbia Falls for not following her strict rules of public behavior.

R
ain streaked his office window that faced the front of the dam construction site. David Sednick stared out at the massive concrete project partly shrouded by the dense clouds and pelting rain. He finished signing the time cards for the two-week period for the day shift and rested before tabulating the individual hours for each of the two-hundred and fifty men on his shift. The image of the one-hundred and twenty-five acres on the North Fork of the Flathead River that he bought burst into his mind. Five more payments of eight hundred dollars each remained before he owned the title. Only the realtor and the previous owner knew of his special purchase.