Saturday, October 5, 2019

Part 4: A-la-a-ska















            Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear, and the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear; with only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold, a half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold; while high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars?  Then you've a hunch what the music meant... hunger and night and the stars.  Robert Service


No one knows exactly how long ago human beings got to the Americas, but most scientists believe the first men to arrive walked from Siberia across a land bridge into what is now Alaska about 20,000 years ago during the last Ice Age.  As the planet warmed during subsequent millennia, melting glaciers and ice caused a general rise in oceans of the world, creating the body of water known as the Bering Strait between Russia and Alaska, stopping any further Asian migration. 
By the time the Europeans arrived in the mid-seventeenth-century, three groups of native peoples were living there – Eskimos, Aleuts, and Indians. 
From Alaska’s north coast to Greenland, Eskimos hunted whales, seals, and polar bears, and inland, caribou.  Their cousins, the Aleuts, lived on the Aleutian Islands and the Alaska Peninsula and were skillful sea hunters using hide-covered kayaks. 
The Indian tribes called Tlingit and Haida lived along the southern coastal regions where fish and game were plentiful while the Athabaskans lived further inland in the rugged mountainous areas.  The state’s name comes from the indigenous people of the Aleutian Islands who called the great mainland A-la-a-ska when describing it to early Russian explorers.
In 1880, Joseph Juneau and Richard Harris discovered gold deposits along the Gastineau Channel on Alaska’s southeastern coast, which eventually led to the founding of the future state’s capital city of Juneau.  Then in July 1897 lucky prospectors found rich placer gold deposits in the Klondike district of Canada’s Yukon region, just across the border from Alaska, leading to the second most famous gold rush, after California’s, in North American history – the Klondike Gold Rush of 1898, which fired the imagination of the world and brought to the remote region 30,000 prospectors. 
More placer gold strikes followed, first in Nome, then Dawson, and then several in the state’s interior along the Yukon River. The last major discovery was in Fairbanks in 1902 and as a result the city became the largest human settlement in Alaska – yet the entire state still had fewer than 60,000 inhabitants including natives.

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Soon after Skookum Jim, Tagish Charlie, and George Carmack panned a shotgun shell’s worth of gold dust out of Bonanza Creek, word spread and other local prospectors started finding gold along the rest of the Klondike River Valley deep in the heart of the remote Yukon.  When the steamship Portland finally sailed into the port of Seattle months later, it had over two tons of gold in her hold and gold fever spread like wildfire. 
Even the mayor of Seattle resigned his post and joined 100,000 stampeders in the Rush of ’98, sailing northward to Alaska’s southeast inside passage and docking at a lawless port called Skagway.  They next had to trek thirty-five miles up and over the rugged Coast Mountains through the Chilkoot Pass trail before finally reaching the source of the Yukon River near Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. 
The Chilkoot trail was steep and hazardous, rising a thousand feet in the last half-mile where 1,500 “golden steps” were carved out of ice and rock to the top of the Pass.  Too steep even for mules and packhorses, stampeders had to cache their supplies, moving small quantities of goods up the mountain piecemeal. 
The trek was littered along the entire way by discarded supplies from would-be prospectors who simply gave up and turned back.  Hauling a hundred pounds per man in equipment and rations was the last leg of the journey, a 575-mile homemade raft trip downstream, once winter ice began breaking up, to reach the Dawson City gold fields.  Many a primitive vessel broke up along the numerous sets of rapids during the three-week down river journey.
Accounts of gold finds were grossly exaggerated attracting new prospectors by the boatload; the physical work necessary to retrieve whatever gold existed there, however, was not exaggerated.  To reach the gold some ten-feet or more below ground level, prospectors had to dig through the rock-hard permafrost, a layer of permanently frozen soil, making it necessary to thaw the ground before it could be dug. 
The next step was then sluicing the dirt and soaking the crushed ore in a bath of potassium cyanide to leach out the pure gold.  Even in summer when the majority of the work was done, laboring in freezing water, men were subject to illnesses like pneumonia and rampant typhoid fever.  With temperatures of 60° Fahrenheit below zero, during cold winter months men burrowed like animals to stay warm and cabin fever led some to insanity and suicide.

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Conditions along the alternative White Pass trail were even worse, and later it would be known as “dead horse trail” because of the thousands of pack animals that died on the slippery narrow surface and fell to their deaths.  Northwest Mounted Police required each man to have one year’s supply of goods, besides what he could haul individually, before being allowed to cross the border into Canada, about one ton per person. 
Outfitters in Seattle and San Francisco made fortunes selling useless supplies and rations left over from the Civil War.  Only 30,000 stampeders actually made it to the gold fields since most knew little or nothing about where they were going, despite pamphlets proclaiming great wealth just up ahead, and had no idea how cold and arduous the trip and subsequent mining operations would be. 
As miners drawn north by the Klondike strike began fanning out across all parts of the Alaskan Territory, it was inevitable that another major strike would be found.  Three Scandinavian prospectors struck pay dirt at Cape Nome in late 1898 where placer gold was found mixed in the sand along the beaches of the Bering Sea.  Rampant claim jumping spread as men simply plucked buckets of sand from the beaches underfoot upon landing ashore, fighting for a place to mine.  Lawlessness spread and the only law was the right-hook punch and quick draw of men with Colt six-shooters and Smith & Wesson revolvers, but the new city of Nome boomed.
These and many other discoveries of gold during subsequent years brought national and international attention to Alaska, and as its population and economy grew, it wanted more self-government, finding its ability to govern itself thwarted by special interest groups in Washington – and one in particular referred to as the “Alaska Syndicate” monopoly established in 1906 by J.P. Morgan and Daniel Guggenheim, two of the most powerful men in the country.  One of the wealthiest families in America, the Guggenheims owned the Kennecott-Bonanza Copper Mine in the Wrangell Mountains of north-central Alaska that still functioned up until 1938. 
The Great Depression hit Alaska extremely hard as prices paid for fish and copper, the territory’s two chief commodities, declined considerably and the economy ground to a halt – massive oil reserves had by then still not been discovered in Prudhoe Bay.  Between 1929 and 1932, the state’s labor force decreased by 50-percent and wages dropped even more. 
Help came from Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal programs such as the National Reforestation Act of 1933 and various Public Works Administration construction efforts.  Alaskans did their part during World War II, protecting the soft underbelly of the Aleutian Islands from surprise attacks by Japanese – including President Theodore Roosevelt’s son Kermit who was stationed and died there, and by 1950 the immense northern territory grew to a population of 138,000 people. 
The Alaskan Statehood Committee formed in 1949 intensified efforts toward making Alaska the forty-ninth state, but it took President Eisenhower’s 1954 State of the Union address to focus more attention on Alaska and Hawaii. 
Finally, in January 1959, President Eisenhower signed the official declaration which made Alaska the forty-ninth state, the first one in 47 years – giving the American flag seven rows of seven stars each.  Its flag is solid blue with seven gold stars of the Big Dipper, with an eighth representing the North Star.  Seven months later, Hawaii was made the fiftieth state.  Alaska is more than twice the size of Texas.


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In October 1973, Middle Eastern OPEC nations, led by Saudi Arabia’s King Faisal, stopped oil exports to the U.S. and other Western nations to punish them for supplying Israel during the Yom Kippur War with weapons and aid.  The embargo caused gasoline prices in the United States to quadruple from 25-cents a gallon to over one dollar in a matter of weeks, forcing long lines at gas pumps and panic buying by consumers. 
The situation worsened when oil companies panicked and horded abundant oil reserves to maximize corporate profits in the face of huge demand; 20-percent of the country’s gas stations were completely without fuel during a one-week stretch when the crisis peaked.  The sale of gas-guzzling cars plummeted, as did home construction in cooler regions of the country where fuel oil was needed to heat the new houses.  Congress reacted by passing a new highway speed limit of 55 miles per hour, down from 70 mph, and not only did fuel consumption fall, but so too did highway fatalities. 
Daylight savings time was put into effect indefinitely in order to reduce electric usage where oil-powered generators were used.  The IRS offered tax credits for using alternative forms of energy like solar and wind power, and President Nixon ordered the Department of Defense to create an emergency stockpile of oil for military defense purposes to control widespread civil disorder should it erupt – Nixon also created a new cabinet level office called the U.S. Department of Energy.
The presence of crude oil on Alaska’s North Slope was suspected for more than a century, although it wasn’t until 1968 that the Atlantic Richfield and Humble Oil Companies confirmed the presence of a vast oil field at Prudhoe Bay measuring 15 by 40 miles; it became the largest oil field discovered in North America. 
The crude oil was located at depths of 5,000 to 20,000 feet in porous rock formations and technology existed at the time to get it out either by straight drilling or curve drilling – all that was needed was a way to transport it.  By 1969 plans were already under way to build a pipeline across the entire state to carry the oil south to the port of Valdez, but it was the 1973 oil crisis that finally prompted rapid Congressional and Presidential approval of legislation authorizing the building of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline in November 1973 despite protests by environmentalists. 
In addition to construction of the pipeline, a 420-mile road had to be built from Prudhoe Bay south as far as Livengood to transport men, materials, and equipment; and a new bridge had to be built to traverse the rock-laden shores and raw foamy waters of the Yukon River.  As the road was being built in 1974, concurrently work started on pumping stations, the pipeline work pad, and the Valdez Terminal. 

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The first pipe was laid in the Tonsina River north of Valdez in March 1975 and by the end of 1976 another 428 miles of pipeline had been laid including one stretch that had to traverse the 2,700-foot high Thompson Pass.  In all 28,000 “pipeliners” worked the massive construction project ranging from five to ten-percent women.  Everyone working the pipeline and road project lived in 29 scattered construction camps pioneer style with cot and three squares a day. 
By May 1977, all 800 miles of the pipeline had been installed and tested; by August the first tanker named Arco Juneau sailed out of Valdez with the first boatload of North Slope crude oil.  Since then, nearly 25 billion barrels of oil have reached Valdez, flowing down from Prudhoe Bay in a 48-inch diameter pipeline at six miles an hour, crossing three mountain ranges, forests, rivers, and plains in the process; the oil takes five and a half days to make the entire journey south. 
The Prudhoe Bay to Valdez Trans-Alaska Pipeline was run like a wartime project because we were at war – Arab nations of OPEC had us by the cojones and squeezed, so the U.S. public and private sectors had no choice but to respond since OPEC’s actions threatened, invariably, our economy and consequently our national security.  Time was of the essence and money was no object – Nixon told his cabinet to take whatever legislative measures necessary to preserve and protect America, our citizens, and our way of life.  FDR had dealt with a similar existential threat during the Great Depression. 
Even though weather conditions, terrain, environmental concerns, and the immensity of the project provided incredible challenges and difficulties, Yankee ingenuity overcame permafrost, earthquakes, summertime’s ferocious mosquito attacks, frigid temperatures, blizzard whiteouts, physically strenuous working conditions, endless winter nights, and the relentless flow of the Yukon River to achieve success in a remarkably short time period of just over three years. 

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The Trans-Alaska Pipeline was one of the most difficult and remarkable engineering feats of modern times and cost $8 billion, America’s  largest privately funded construction project in history up to 1977.  Thirty-one poor souls were lost during pipeline construction, but their adventurous spirit lives on and always will.
The most basic construction problem had to do with the cold weather throughout the entire project’s lifespan – the problem wasn’t so much with the men working the lines, they could always put on more clothes – the problem was with the equipment that just wouldn’t mechanically function under extremely frigid conditions that could reach minus 100° F with wind chill factored in. 
A road was built to ferry men and equipment from Livengood stretching all the way north to Deadhorse near Prudhoe Bay, paralleling the pipeline, and was a rough extension of the James B. Dalton State Highway 11 which actually started in Fairbanks.  This was some of the most remote wilderness in the United States.
But men and women who worked on this stretch of the two-lane, raw dirt, crushed rock, and gravel road simply called it the “Haul Road” – and it was the lifeline supply route for construction, operation, and maintenance of the northern portion of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System as well as the oil fields of the North Slope.  Blowouts on tires were commonplace for passenger-type vehicles after only twenty miles or so because of the sharp rocks used for surface material.   Asphalt and concrete surfacing could not be used due to frost-heaving and frost-jacking. 
Tundra trolleys were used for hauling steel pipes, which varied in length of 40 feet and 60 feet with a half-inch thick shell.  Over 100,000 sections were used, shipped in from Italy and Japan, with the pipe weighing about 250 pounds per linear foot.  Without the Haul Road, there would have been no pipeline.
People came from everywhere to work on the pipeline or the Haul Road – from every state in the Union and many foreign countries; besides the chance for adventure, it was about the excellent wages, free room and board, and the chance to work as many hours and days of the week as you wanted in 12-hour shifts weather permitting.  There wasn’t much playtime and whatever there was of it, there wasn’t much to do. 
From September through May, construction equipment was left running 24/7 because of frigid conditions; after all, there was plenty of fuel since a small on-site refinery was set up to make diesel fuel for fuel tanker replenishment trucks which roamed up and down the line.  If you needed to throw trash in the dumpster at day’s end, you always bumped the dumpster with the fender of the truck first to shoo away immense brown grizzlies. 

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Duke Mitchum was a newly minted civil engineer from Texas A&M University with a minor in geology when he was hired by the huge Houston-based conglomerate Houston Industries Corporation, commonly referred to by its acronym and Dow Jones listing as HICO.  His new company had its fingers in many pies because the 1970s was the era of the big corporate conglomerate: a central control and command business model with tentacles branching out to many disparate types of activities. 
HICO was into everything, from agribusiness to banking to real estate to specialty equipment to road construction, all organized in separate operating divisions so that spinning off divisions that were under-performing dogs could be done without impacting the good of the whole – thereby avoid screwing up bonus plans and stock option plans of the fat cats back in Houston.  On the Fortune 500 listing HICO came in as the sixteenth largest company in America.
Duke was an academic and athletic standout in college where as tight end he made first team All American, although his six-foot-four frame supported forty more pounds back then than his current 220.  He had been recruited by HICO right out of A&M and his credentials were further enhanced by having a father who was almost as famous a heart surgeon as his mentor, the legendary Dr. Michael E. DeBakey. 
Duke senior was a respected member of the Houston community as well and his wife Becky, an energetic socialite that seemed to be everywhere, was a key partner of the power couple’s very successful lifestyle.  As the only child, Duke junior was raised with all the trappings and advantages one would expect of Texas bluebloods, and he had fond memories of Methodist Church services on Sundays as a child and lunch afterwards at the Masonic Temple Hall.
After two years of management training, including a six month stint as special assistant to HICO’s Chairman & CEO, Gerard Rainos, Duke was given a very high profile job working on the Trans-Alaska Pipeline as a way to start grooming him for advancement by higher-ups at the corporate office, and now the big guys in Houston were monitoring the success of their rising young star. 
After showing his stuff working on construction of the Haul Road, he’d be given a series of other projects in succession, each one with a little more responsibility, and with each success in that assignment, another promotion would follow.  In twenty years, if things went according to plan, this young mover and shaker was destined be a major rainmaker in American industry.
He was not the top man in his new role as deputy foreman of a road crew, but the job was still very high profile given his young age and inexperience.  The only problem was that the man he reported to, Big George Savidge, didn’t give a rat’s ass who this young upstart was and let his opinion be known in no uncertain words to his boss, the superintendent of the road building project. 
“It’s not what you know, it’s who you blow,” was how George summed up corporate management in general.  Savidge had been around, quoting his own often-used phrase, “since Moby Dick was a minnow and Fluff was a kitten” and damned if he was going to take any shit from some hotshot college boy with friends in Houston. 

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His boss, Ernie Parrent, was used to Savidge’s combative nature since the business they were both in wasn’t exactly full of girly men.  Parrent admired George’s work, but pretty much told him that if he screwed this kid over his next job would be in the Republic of Chad.  Sobered somewhat by the thought of working in a hot and desolate Arab country he had no choice but to cut the kid some slack which he did rather grudgingly.
“Maker breaker one-niner, this is Tall Texan unit two, come in Boss Man unit one,” was the scratchy sound Savidge heard coming from his two-way radio unit mounted under the dashboard of his El Camino.  It was the era of the citizen band radio craze and everyone tried to talk like truck drivers of eighteen wheelers who broke the monotony of long hauls with colorful chatter, first with other truckers and then with whoever wished to join in, by using CB radios. 
A whole culture grew up around the craze, with movies and songs and a lexicon of new phrases entering the English language like “Smokey Bear” for highway policemen; “take the front door, rocking chair, or back door” denoting your position in a “convoy;” “looks like we got us a Kojak with a Kodak” (Telly Savalas played detective Kojak on a popular television show of the age and Kodak meant radar); “that’s a big ten-four good buddy,” meaning you understood the transmitted message by answering the caller this way; and everybody involved in the chatter had to have a “handle” or cool call-name like Rubber Ducky, Wooden Nickel, or Suicide Jockey.
“Unit two, you’re a moron!  We’re not using CBs up here, these are two-way radios and you don’t need to use those idiotic ‘handles,’ just speak normally.  And when you’re finished, for Christ’s sake, say the word ‘over’ so I know you’re done talking.”  Savidge had to use every ounce of self-control not to pepper his ass chewing of Duke with his favorite noun/verb/adjective expletive “fuck.” 
All of his crew had two-way radios either in their vehicles or somewhere close-by and all tuned to the same channel, including the superintendent, and they cracked up.  Parrent had also taken to fining Savidge for using expletives during his radio discourses because radio transmissions were monitored by the FCC and profanity over the airways was not allowed under federal law. 

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Verbal admonishments had not worked but fining the crew boss, first a fin and later a sawbuck per cuss word, seemed to be working, at least for now.  Still in all, just like everyone else listening into the kid’s reaming out by the crusty one, even the superintendent had to laugh out loud at Savidge’s ranting.
“Roger that, unit one,” was Duke’s calm response, “I’m on my way back to camp and I’ll see you there.  Over.”  Despite the irascible nature of his supervisor, if truth be told beneath his tough exterior Savidge actually had an admiration for the young Mr. Mitchum, and not because of his high level connections back at the corporate office.  Duke was a hard worker, not the least bit arrogant, and had a great sense of humor. 
When he had first gotten to Alaska and arrived at camp, a few boys in the canteen at supper his first evening there were making off-color comments about Aggies’ preference for farm animals instead of women, and their fondness for macho-male bonding.  Big George didn’t intervene; he just sat there at the adjoining table within earshot of the conversation and waited to see just how this rather large young Texan intended on handling the situation.
 Sitting across from Duke was Little George Young, who was now kidding him mercilessly about growing up rich.  When there was a quiet moment Duke spoke up with a few quips of his own and said, “Well, my life wasn’t so easy growing up ya know, I was so ugly my mom used to feed me with a slingshot.  I ate Pez three times a day.  I could tell both my parents hated me because my bath toys were a toaster and a hair dryer.  But the worst part was when I was kidnapped and they sent my dad a piece of my finger.  He told the kidnappers he needed more proof!”
The place broke up and not only did Duke immediately establish himself as just one of the boys, unknown to him, he had just endeared himself to the tough old foreman as well.
Big George hailed from Indiana and went to the school of hard knocks most of his life, dropping out of high school to enlist in the U.S. Navy just prior to the end of World War II.  His trained specialty was underwater demolition and as part of special teams during the Korean War, he saw action at Inchon, Iwon, Chinnampo, and Wason clearing out mines and other ordnance.  By the time President Kennedy commissioned the first Navy SEAL teams in 1962 using sailors from Chief Petty Officer Savidge’s old unit, the ex-frogman was already working for a construction company later acquired by the corporate monster HICO. 

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Although pushing fifty, no one screwed with Big George – the bruiser Hoosier was six feet tall and almost that wide and thick, solid muscle, bald as a cue ball, and always chomping on half a Garcia Vega.  The one thing that awed him was higher formal education, the idea that someone could complete four years of college and have a diploma – to him, that meant you were a gentleman and even though he had only gotten his GED high school equivalency diploma while in the Navy, he had always held dear the idea of a college education. 
The thing that really pissed him off were so-called educated people who should know better but refused to listen to others with differing points of view, or they had no common sense.  Adults who didn’t know better because no one ever spent time to teach them about stuff, he could handle; they were just ignorant, like kids, and it wasn’t their fault.  But narrow-minded, hardheaded assholes who knew everything, these arrogant individuals were just plain contemptible and he couldn’t abide being in their company for more than a few moments. 
So this kid, this fair-haired boy who had wandered into his camp, he was okay but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get his ass chewed out on occasion.  “I mean shit, my life as a Navy grunt had been a relentless hell and I made it,” he said to himself.  Duke would have to earn his stripes just like everyone else.
And earn his stripes he did.  Upon arriving in Fairbanks, Duke started out just like the rest of the grunts who wanted to work on the pipeline and that meant getting into the Union of Operating Engineers so he could run the equipment – even though he was salaried management.  All the pipeline jobs were union controlled and to start with, you had to apply for training and be put on the “B” list. 
Every morning at 9:00 a.m. and afternoon at 2:00 p.m., bosses would call out jobs first for people on the “A” list and whatever was left over, went to “B” listers.  In both cases, your “bid” for a particular job was linked to a particular number and the lowest numbers had the best shot that day for the job they wanted. 
Working for a construction company supporting the bigger pipeline companies was how to get off the “B” list and be put on the “A” list – and that meant learning how to operate loader backhoes, skidsteers, bulldozers, scrappers, manlifts, hydraulic excavators, and towcats for hauling the tundra trolleys.  The workhorses on site were the famed Ford 555 “Triple Nickel” loader backhoe and the Caterpillar D6 bulldozer, and once these two were mastered the rest were easy – hell, Duke even got certified on the biggest dozer of the day, the mammoth Cat D9.  His equipment operating instructor was a pipeline’s legend Donaldo Mall.

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When not running equipment, he learned to run a drill rig to bore holes for the vertical support members support-pipe installed above ground, moving south to north from camp to camp.  He may have been management with a fixed annual salary, but hourly wage earners actually earned more than he did, especially factoring in overtime. 
Running the small equipment paid $10.50 an hour and running the bigger Tonka Toys that went vroom vroom meant you earned $13.50 an hour, big money back in 1974 particularly if you consider all your living expenses were pretty much paid for and a big new Cadillac cost only $7,500.  Working 80 to 84 hours a week and earning time and a half for anything over 40 hours – do the math – meant you were making mid-executive management level salary comparable to corporation hotshots down in the “lower 48.”
The pipeline construction ran around the clock in three shifts and people took very little time off – the idea was to make money because everyone knew the gravy train would end after a couple of years.  One of Duke’s most cherished memories was celebrating the 1976 Bicentennial on the Yukon River working nightshift, when everyone stopped to whoop, holler, honk horns, and generally raise hell at midnight since with all the sunlight, it was still too bright for fireworks. 
Even with the noise, off in the distance on a ridge surrounded by incredible scenery you could plainly see a pack of gray wolves just staring at the strange scene below them, then they nonchalantly turned and walked away.  You lived the National Geographic, and observing the stunning moving pictures of real-time wildlife was one of Duke’s greatest enjoyments while working in Alaska.
When not eating at the canteen, working, and sleeping, you could drink beer, watch television, or play pool at the recreational center.  The game played was sometimes eight ball, but mostly three-ball, a uniquely Pacific Northwest version of pool that allowed for up to four players.
And it was a great gambling game.  The objective was simple as pie – you went in rotating order and whoever sank the three balls, racked just like a regular game of pool, using the fewest shots won. 
The kicker was that one tie, all tie, meaning the game could go on and on, each tie requiring that every player had to add another dollar to the opening ante of a dollar, or whatever stake was agreed to.  Pots of $20 to $30 were commonplace and things could get hot and heavy after a few rounds.  It was during one such game that Duke gave a small lesson on Civil War history to Big George and the other guys of his road crew, after the Texan had mentioned innocently enough the previous day to Little George that his great-great-grandfather had been a Confederate officer and once actually met the beloved General Robert E. Lee.
“Okay Mitchum, you’re up and you need a two to tie,” Savidge bellowed, just as Duke prepared to send the white ball crashing into the other three at the opposite end of the table.  The foreman was licking his chops because he had just sunk two on the break and nailed the remaining ball in the side pocket so he figured his score of two shots would win this pot.     
Big George figured the pot had to be over a hundred bucks by now and doubted that these other stumble bums could tie, let alone win – sinking three on the break was well nigh impossible so that didn’t worry him. 

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Pedro “Ding-Dong” Campana, the resident Latino of the road crew shot pool like a girl, and Archie “Shaft” Jefferson, the black brother talked a good game but was erratic.  Mitchum was a so-so player, but he was athletic and competitive therefore unpredictable.  He figured the Texan needed distracting so he decided to rile things up a little.
“You going to shoot or what college boy?  Show some good damn backbone and bust up those balls.”  Savidge was on his third vodka, an old aqua vitae possibly invented by the Chinese and copied by the Russians.
Duke shot back, very wittily he thought, “I’d like to show a little confidence but I don’t know what it looks like.  Seems I’m always getting my ass chewed out for something.”
The oohs an aahs and finger pointing by everyone, and the mocking laughs thrown at the direction of the crew boss meant he was back on the defensive during the little repartee with the big Texan.
“See this right here hoss,” and with that Big George rubbed his right index finger back and forth over the top of his right thumb, “it’s the world’s smallest violin playing my heart bleeds purple piss for you.  Go tell it to your parish priest.”  The tide had turned and Duke knew he could never top that one, so he hunched over and focused on his shot as the place roared with laughter.
“Hey Mitchum,” Savidge now said as Duke prepared to break, “tell us about your turncoat relative who fought against Old Glory during the Civil War.”  Duke knew he was being set up, but by now, Big George had gotten the rest of the guys cheering him on to tell the story and as the clamor got louder and louder, he finally capitulated.  A few cases worth of empty Olympia beer cans littered the room and George was now well into his fourth vodka, his favorite firewater that he drank out of water tumblers over ice, so things had gotten boisterous and cheerful.                      
“Okay, okay guys,” Duke said as he backed away from the table.  Things quieted down so now he had an attentive audience which included, besides the other three players around the table with him, some of the rest of the crew: Jimbo Phelps, Little George, Jody Carp, Chuck “Canuck” Blanton, Clark “Chilibean” Billings, Greg Ziegler, Teddy “Bear” O’Connor, Wally “Beaver” Hoffman, the two Steves – Beech and Smith, Bobbo “Porker” Hansen, Howie Edwards, Billy “Butt Juice” Gelman, and Stu “Girlyman” Anderson. 
Little did the other boys know it then, but neither Wally nor Teddy would leave Alaska alive – both died premature deaths by construction-related accidents and never lived to see completion of the project they gave their young lives for.

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“It was early May in the year of our Lord 1864 and the tide had turned against the South by then,” Duke told his strangely silent friends and colleagues.  “Now it was just a waiting game, a game of attrition as the Rebel armies lost men they couldn’t replace and the North’s industrial and economic power came down on the South like a sledgehammer.  Grant was commanding general of the entire Union Army and relentless against Lee, while also inflicting massive casualties on his own blue bellies from his aggressive attack strategy. 
My ancestor’s name was Travis Mitchum and he was a captain in the Texas Brigade; he met Lee at what later became known as the Battle of the Wilderness.  It involved bloody hand-to-hand combat in thick vegetation and undergrowth so dense you could only see a few feet ahead.  It turned into savage fighting, with men bludgeoning each other with rifle butts, slashing with sword and bayonet, and when ammunition ran out, gouging eyes, scratching, and beating one another with bare hands – Americans butchering each other like jungle animals.” 
“Officers had to navigate in broad daylight with compass, yet units still got lost and had to fight on their own.  By nightfall of the first day, Grant and Lee were at a stalemate but on the early morning of the second day, still dark, Union forces led by General James Wadsworth attacked the Confederate center driving them a mile back into the woods until they burst through a clearing, which happened to be where Lee had set up his field headquarters. 
As a worried Lee watched, General Longstreet ordered his corps commander to plug the hole with the Texas Brigade under General John Gregg.  Lee mounted his horse Traveler thinking he might have to flee, but when he saw the bravery of the ragged barefoot soldiers rushing into battle, those men from the great state of Texas – a state he knew all too well from his campaigns of the Mexican War – he stood up in his stirrups, raised the hat from his gray head into the air and yelled, ‘Texans always move them.’” 
“A huge swell of cheering rose up as the hopelessly outnumbered Rebels counterattacked the advancing Yankee flood of men, and with tears welling in his eyes General Gregg exclaimed, ‘Attention you Texas Brigade, the eyes of General Lee are upon you.’  Captain Travis Mitchum later wrote in the diary he kept during the war, ‘Never before in my lifetime did I ever see such a scene as was enacted when Lee pronounced his words. 
A yell rent the air that must have been heard from miles around and we would have charged hell itself for that old man.’  Of the 673 Texans who stopped the Federals that moment in history, only 223 survived the brief skirmish by the time Longstreet finally arrived with reinforcements.  And General Bobby Lee himself reached down from his famous horse Traveler to shake a wounded Captain Mitchum’s hand and said, ‘You and your gallant men have made Texas proud this day.’”
The room was eerily quiet when Duke placed the cue ball on the pool table and took his shot sinking all three balls on the break and stealing the pot from Savidge, but no one years later who reminisced about their magic time as a pipeliner cared much about Duke’s nearly impossible shot or the pandemonium that broke loose afterwards, hell it was only a game – what they fondly remembered however was what a privilege it had been to work with and get to know personally that amazing young man from Texas, and thus the legend of Duke Mitchum was born!

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Duke’s passion from a young age had been building things – first with Tinkertoys and Lincoln Logs, then with lumber and nails to construct tree houses, and finally learning how to survey to clear land and widen dirt roads on the family ranch outside Houston.  He loved to go the library and research how the ancient cultures built their roads – the Romans and the Incas.  Sure, the Chinese and Egyptians made great strides in discovering the principles of pure mathematics and science; and the Greeks were known for the creativity of their people in the area of arts and culture, but it was the Romans who were the engineers and builders he admired most. 
For large building construction, Romans used huge blocks of a stone called volcanic tufa, a relatively porous and lightweight stone, but as strong as much denser rock.  Rather than use ramps of sand or earth to slide stones into place during the construction process like those used by ancient Egyptians, Roman engineers invented a system of ropes, pulleys, and crane-like machines for lifting. 
Rather than use lime mortar, which dried out and cracked when used with porous stone, Romans used techniques to precisely cut and fit the stones together and then held them together with clamps of poured molten metal alloys shaped like a bowtie, copied from the Greeks who in turn had copied this practice from the Egyptians. 
Many of these stones and clamps were later robbed by architects of the Renaissance who looted ancient structures as a source of materials and supplies to erect the great cathedrals of Europe.  It was also during the Middle Ages that metallurgists learned to make stone binding clamps from iron, since much higher temperatures of 3,000° F were needed to separate it from ore in metal form pure enough to be used for making clamps from molds.

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Duke and his classmates at the university wore their slide rules in leather sheaths they attached to their belts, and slung them on their right leg; the same side where the soldiers of the Roman Legion wore their short, wide killing swords. 
Attending private schools his whole life had prepped him well for college, but rather than accept an offer to attend the prestigious Rice University in Houston, he chose the bigger A&M instead since that meant getting out of the city and learning how to live on his own – even if the campus was only eighty miles away from home.  He set new standards of academic excellence at the engineering college and had a passion for surveying and geodesy. 
Back then, studying conventional leveling meant using a telescope that rotated up and down to carry elevations from a known point to determine the elevations of unknown points, and these instruments were much more temperamental to get set up because of the manual adjustment screws.  Modern surveyor’s digital tools like the total station, commonly seen in road construction set up on a tripod, is used to make sure the road and structures are in the right place and are accurate to within a few millimeters. 
The automatic level is somewhat similar to the total station and measures levels very accurately over long distances.   Today’s automatic levels are a snap and can be set up in moments thanks to delicately suspended digital sensors, yet the principles of surveying haven’t changed in centuries.
One of Duke’s fondest memories while in college was the field trip his senior engineering class in geology took to Stone Mountain Georgia, to study rock formations, mineralogy, surface exfoliation, and lichens of this 300-million-year-old granite rock.  The culmination of the trip, and indeed the final exam of the course, dealt with measuring the immense rock of some eight miles long, two miles wide, and 700 foot high at the summit and answering a series of questions related to surveying, geodesy, and geology. 
He still remembered the answer to some of the questions.  The volume of the mountain came to 7.5 billion cubic feet, and with granite weighing 168 pounds per cubic foot that meant Stone Mountain weighed 640 million tons.  And the question as to whose figures were carved on the mountain’s face was something he proudly related to thanks to his Southern heritage – Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and Jefferson Davis.




(This is a work of fiction.  Although some real-world names, organizations, historical settings, and situations are used to enhance the authenticity of the story, any similarities to actual persons, organizations, or situations are coincidental and all portrayals are purely the product of the author’s imagination.  This is the second edition abridged version 2019.  First edition Copyright © 2006.  All rights reserved)



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