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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