Grain dust is one of the most explosive dusts in existence.  As you can probably speculate, wiring in a grain elevator is very particular, in more ways than one.  You have to be very particular about the materials and manner of wiring, and you have to work in an area of particulates.  One spark could blow the elevator to smithereens.  (I’ve always wondered where Smithereens are located.)

Grain elevators are not replaced very often.  They are built to last for many years.  One of the more common methods of building grain elevators is to lay 2×6 boards flat on top of one another and nail them together.  Other elevators may be constructed of poured cement.  As a result of the longevity of grain elevators, some of them are very old and do not have modern equipment, design or wiring.

One of the jobs I was given in Montana required me to rewire an old wooden elevator.  I had to use special, extra tough, wire and seal-offs.  These are materials commonly used in gasoline pumps, propane pumps and some manufacturing plants.  They are collectively referred to as “explosion proof” materials.

To get to the top of the grain elevator, I had to use a “man” elevator.  Well actually it was a little platform about 2 feet square that operated by a rope and pulley system.  The rope was run through a series of pulleys and allowed me to hoist myself to the top.  Coming down, I had to pull on a different rope, similar to some window shades.  There are times I still dream of riding that open elevator.

Now a passenger elevator in a multi-storied building is different.  They have the mechanism for running the elevator on the roof in a small building called a penthouse.  An older elevator will have cables, pulleys, contacts and controls.  I worked on an older one that needed regular repair work.

I would step inside the little penthouse and it was a cacophony of sound.  There were snaps, clicks, bangs and sparks flying everywhere.  I could see signs of a fire having burned inside the penthouse, but since it was built out of a non-flammable material, the fire had gone out.

I had to replace the points on a number of contacts.  It required that the elevator be shut down.  That was very inconvenient for everyone.

Now the newer elevators will have a long hydraulic shaft buried deep in the ground under the elevator housing area.  Usually these are a type of telescoping shaft.  They run much smoother and quieter than the older ones, without the need of a penthouse.

There are times I am utterly astounded at all of the equipment that is used to get us through an ordinary day.

A labor union is structured much like any other business.  In simplest terms there is a Boss, a Superintendant, and the worker bees.  However a difference occurs with the regulatory restrictions to occupational work.

For example, one of my friends was employed as a painter for a large corporation.  He was a Union Painter.  He was assigned to paint a metal stairway and hand rail.

In this instance the stairway and hand rail were covered in grease.  Before he could apply paint to the job the grease had to be cleaned off.  He was certainly qualified and had the proper materials and cleaning agent to do so, but this portion of the job was assigned to the Laborer’s Union.

He properly approached the Laborer’s Union Steward and made his request for a laborer to clean the grease off the stairway and hand rail.  The reply was; “We’ll do it when we get to it.”

So my friend waited a few days working on other things while he awaited the completion of the cleaning.  The Boss came by and wondered why the stairway and hand rail weren’t painted yet.  Upon being told that the job was awaiting the cleaning job by the Laborer’s Union the Boss said he would see to it.

A couple more days went by with no cleaning having been done.  Tired of waiting anymore, the painter did the paint job, grease and all.  Of course it wouldn’t have lasted very long.  The cost of  cleaning the grease on the painted parts would be more expensive, as well as having to repaint.

This type of activity is common in the Unions.

Back in the ‘60s while I was on a Government job in Montana we were working on about 100 different sites scattered around the countryside.  The sites were approximately 6 miles apart in all directions and tied to a control center located equidistantly from a number of sites.

One part of the job required control wiring to be fed through plastic piping/conduit to all of the sites.  To prevent condensation in the pipe, refrigerated air was blown through the pipe.  From time to time it was necessary to splice the control wiring because they did not have a control wire cable that was 6 miles long.

The Union Electricians were not allowed to work on this wiring because we were not in the correct Union for control wiring.  (I believe it was some sort of Fiber Optic Union.)  This particular Union did not allow its membership to exceed a specific number.  The only way to get in that union was to have a member die or retire.

When a splice was necessary, a tent would be set up over the area of the splice.  A helper would assist in the set up of the tent and equipment.  After setting up the tent, the helper would stand guard outside the door of the tent while the splice was made in secrecy.

To get the “secret” splice made, a call went out to this union and a man would be flown in to the job.  He would be put up in the best hotel, fed at the best restaurants, and paid high wages.  No one cared about costs on Government jobs.  The Government had an unending supply of money.

Sometime later I spoke to a telephone cable splicer and he said that was all foolishness, because any telephone splicer could do that job.

They just weren’t in the same Union.

And that’s where the money goes.

I guess you could say I am German-American.  Mostly.  There was one job I was on where one of the carpenters was African-American.  Totally.  Every so often he would come into the room where I was working and ask what I needed.  I would reply: “I don’t need anything.”

He would reply: “I thought I heard you call me.”

This would happen two or three times a day.  Finally one time he asked my name.  I told him “Adrian.”  He said; “That’s what it is.  My name is Maynard.  When they call you I think they are calling me.”

As he was leaving the room I was working in, he paused at the door, looked back at me for a short time and then he said; “And we don’t look anything alike!”

On the same job, the carpenters were using metal lath.  Metal lath is designed to hold plaster.  It comes in 4×8 sheets.  When they would hold the sheets up to the wall to fasten them, they would call to each other to inform the other worker that the sheet was ready for nailing.

The electrician I was working with was named Mark.  When the carpenters were ready to nail they would say so by calling “mark”, meaning the sheet was properly placed.

They kept my fellow electrician running.

I guess there was a lot of running back and forth on that job.

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Another fellow who was pretty much on the trigger was on the same job as I was from time to time.

One instance I remember about him was when he was standing on the very top rung of a five foot ladder.  Another boy wanted to use the ladder so he was standing by waiting for it.  Eventually he grew tired of waiting for the guy to get finished and asked him; “How long are you going to need that ladder?”

The guy on the ladder very deliberately turned around and counted the steps on the ladder.

“One, Two, Three, Four, Five – about five feet.”

Isn’t the English language amazing?