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.”
CHAPTER FOUR
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
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.”
CHAPTER FOUR
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
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