Old Salt Stays Afloat by Helping Sailors

Ray Evans understands the life of a merchant seaman.

At 16, he got a job as a bellboy on a British ocean liner, and in the next 13 years worked his way up to second engineer on a cargo ship. Twenty-seven years and several jobs later, Evans, 56, now retired and living in Tustin, still has saltwater in his veins.

“I often wish I could go to sea again,” he said. “It gets into your blood. I’ll see a ship at the dock and I wish I could go out with her.”

But because Evans also remembers that life at sea can be isolating, he has taken on a new vocation, as the shipboard visitor for the Seamen’s Church Institute in San Pedro.

At least three days a week, Evans boards ships docked in the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach and visits the captain and crew, some of whom have been at sea for as long as three years. Evans mediates conflicts among the crew, provides counseling to distressed sailors and offers the religious services provided at the institute.

Evans uses his years of experience and “just good old common sense” to fight the greatest of all seafarers’ ills: loneliness.

“As an ex-seamen I can tell you, it’s a busy life, but it’s also a lonely life,” he said.

Evans is one of the 78 volunteers who work for the 107-year-old Seamen’s Church Institute at 101 W. 11th St. Started on board the SS Warrior in 1881 and then moved to its present location in 1907, the institute’s mission is to provide comfort to the thousands of sailors who come to the ports from all over the world. It offers recreation facilities, pay telephones, a library, bus tours to tourist attractions, and religious services.

Sometimes Evans confronts the unusual.

Several years ago, a Chinese sailor jumped ship, taking refuge in the institute for three days. The sailor told Evans that the captain was beating him, and he refused to go back aboard the Burmese ship.

Discussions with the captain and the sailor were futile, so Evans arranged for the ship’s owner to fly the crewman home to Singapore, where he found a job on another ship.

“I got letters from the company and the sailor afterward, thanking me for my help,” Evans said proudly.

But most often, the situations Evans finds are simpler, and all a sailor needs is an understanding and sympathetic ear. In those cases, Evans, a reserved man with a big smile and a heavy British accent, fills the bill.

When Evans boards a ship, he usually asks the captain if any of the sailors seem troubled. During a recent visit to a cargo ship named the Glory Fuji, which is owned by a Japanese company and sails under a Burmese flag, Evans met Chief Officer Tin Maung Cho, 32, who was worried about his mother in Singapore.

“My mother is very sick,” said Maung Cho, who was on a 17-day journey from Singapore to Washington. “I think I should go home soon. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

Sitting together in the small, musty galley, Evans listened politely, nodding in understanding. “I’m

sorry to hear that,” he said. “Let’s hope she gets better soon.”

Other times, the men simply need to talk to their families, Evans said. In such cases, he directs them to the church-run Seafarers Communication Center at Berth 93A, where sailors get assistance from church volunteers in putting through long-distance calls on the center’s pay phones.

The captain of the Glory Fuji, Thein Oo Myint, 37, said he is grateful for Evans’ visits. “If their problems are bad enough they could endanger the crew and ship,” he said. “The sailor’s personal problems can affect the way he does his work.”

While the captain can also help the sailors with their personal worries, sometimes the captain is part of the problem or is too busy with his duties to get too involved, Evans said.

The problems of the seafarer have been aggravated by a recent trend in the shipping industry that reduces shore leave, said Roald Kverndal, executive secretary of the International Council of Seamen’s Agencies in Seattle.

Layover Time Reduced

With technological advances speeding up the time it takes to unload a ship and with growing competition from Asian-run shipping companies, harbor layover time for sailors has been drastically reduced, he said. With less time away from the ship and more time at sea, personal distress or on-board conflicts can become major problems.

“Seafarers are like anybody else: They have physical, emotional, mental and spiritual needs,” Kverndal said. “The shipping industry normally only meets their physical needs and very seldom their emotional needs.”

Many ships sail under the flag of a country that pays sailors minimal salaries and benefits, Kverndal said. In some cases, the sailors will get as little as $200 a month, plus room and board, he said.

“Seafarers have almost always been exploited,” said Kverndal, the author of “Seamen’s Missions: Their Origin and Early Growth.”

Evans agreed, saying that many conflicts between crew and captain stem from wage disputes.

Chapel Next Door

At the institute, which is funded mostly by Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles and the United Way, those seamen who do get a few hours of shore leave can get a free cup of coffee while enjoying a game of pool, Ping-Pong or a book in the institute’s library. Next door is St. Nicholas Chapel, which conducts Episcopal services for seafarers and landlubbers alike.

When the seamen have a few hours of shore leave, they usually want to shop for personal items or gifts for their families, said Bill Lowery, who runs the institute. Volunteers from the institute use a church van to drive the men to “places like Thrifty, K mart or Sears,” Lowery said. “They don’t like going to those big, glitzy shopping malls. Those are too big.”

If the men have a couple of days in port, they may be taken to such tourist attractions as Disneyland, Magic Mountain or Hollywood.

And inevitably, some men will ask to be taken to a place where they can meet women, to which Lowery responds: “We are a religious organization. We don’t deal with that.”

‘Far From Home’

If sailors are hospitalized, Edna Gilbert, a seven-year veteran with the institute, visits the seafarers.

“They are far from home and they just need a touch and a smile and they’ll feel comfortable with you,” Gilbert said. “You basically get them whatever they need and they’ll trust you.”

Lowery said that while he has never worked on a ship, he understands the life of a seaman is routine. “When a guy has been on the Alaska run for crude (oil) for 30 to 60 days, he wants to get off the ship for a while. Anyone can see that,” he said.

Most sailors work around the clock, taking eight hours off for every four-hour watch.

Highlight of the Day

The meals on the Glory Fuji, which consist of many traditional Burmese dishes, are the highlight of the day, said Maung Cho. “There is very little else to look forward to on the ship except the food, so if it is not good, you are going to have some trouble,” he said.

For some, the work consists of scrubbing the deck, cleaning the living quarters, chipping paint from the hull and general ship maintainence. Other sailors check the ropes and chains that secure the cargo, while the officers navigate the ship and keep on the lookout for fog or stormy weather.

The Glory Fuji, for example, brought 18,000 tons of steel from Japan, unloaded it and then headed for Washington, where it picked up a load of timber for the return trip.

“It’s busy work,” said Maung Cho. “But we have our free time and we have books to read.”

Evans agreed. “They have time to read and study,” he said. “But sometimes at night the waves don’t let you sleep and during the winter it gets very cold.”

The life of a seafarer is rough, Evans agreed, but as he left the Glory Fuji after a recent visit, he looked back at the ship and smiled. “Sometimes I still wish they would take me with them.”