Memories of a Deckhand on the Great Lakes in ‘30s

The article by James Risen on Great Lakes shipping (Jan. 15) was excellent and brought back nostalgic memories of my own experiences when I shipped out as a radio operation-deckhand far back in 1934, 1935 and 1936--first following graduation from high school and later during summer vacations from the University of Michigan.

1934 was the last season of the hard 12-hour work days; six hours on, six hours off, seven days a week if necessary. Turnarounds in port were as fast as possible, and back out on the lake again. Pay was $60 a month, something like 10 cents to 20 cents an hour, without payroll deductions of any kind.

The room and board was fine, always good food and plenty of it. No automation then; the boilers were hand-fired by firemen and coal passers working in an inferno of stifling heat, and the pounding triple-expansion steam engines dated from the turn of the century. No under-the-deck tunnels to use in bad weather either; in high seas one held tight to the cable-type rails to go from one end to the other of the 600-foot boats. (On the Lakes they are boats, on the ocean they would be called ships).

Radio equipment was U.S. Navy surplus from World War I and all communication was in code. However, the need for radio operators ended quite abruptly in 1937 when the radiomen struck for more pay, but failed to reckon with advances in communication technology, by use of radiotelephone. New equipment was quickly installed on all the boats, which enabled the captain in the wheelhouse to pick up his microphone and talk directly to the shipping offices in Cleveland, Detroit, or wherever. By then I was close to graduation and left the Lakes forever to start on a career in electrical/electronics engineering.

As for employment, 1934 was a year like Risen’s description of 1986--most of the boats laid up and sailors glad to have a job. Only two years earlier, in the real depths of the Depression, the shipping line I worked for (Cleveland Cliffs, which sold all their boats a few years back) crewed their one or two active boats with all licensed men. Captains would be working as deckhands and chief engineers as coal passers.

But the scenery and sailing was magnificent. I can still clearly recall the calm of long summer evenings, steaming on the placid waters of the St. Mary’s River between Lake Superior and Lake Huron, the river banks close on either side, the pulsations of the engine at the rear of the boat, the long plume of smoke trailing from the funnel, the nice smell of the land close by. Some resemblance to Joseph Conrad’s romantic descriptions of sailing in the East Indies.

THOMAS B. FRIEDMAN

Los Osos