Smell of Success : Unsung Hero Dons Wet Suit to Keep Laguna Beach Sewers Flowing

For $42,000 a year, Graham Wright does a job that few other people would want to do--at any price.

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Several times a year, Wright, 44, dons a disposable body suit, hip boots and a paper surgical mask and descends into Laguna Beach’s sewers, wading through the effluent of the affluent, in what his bosses describe as a heroic effort to keep the sewage from backing up and spilling into the ocean.

For Wright, who was raised in Laguna Beach, the job is much more than an adventure (he once scraped the walls of a city sewage tank with a snake swimming alongside him). It’s a calling.

“The main objective is to keep the beaches open and keep the sewage flowing,” he said. “It comes back to me . . . when we have a failure.”

In a city where residents loathe few things more than a sewage spill, Wright’s superiors say he is an unsung hero.

“He’s a very serious individual, really takes a great deal of pride and ownership in the pump stations,” said Municipal Services Director Terry Brandt.

Clearly, Wright, who has logged 19 years of city service, takes his responsibilities to heart.

Like a doctor with too many patients, he tries every day to visit all of the city’s 26 pump stations.

“It takes half a day just to make the rounds, poke your head in and make sure nobody broke anything,” he said. “There’s always something breaking.”

On an overcast morning, Wright arrived at the Main Beach pump station at 8 a.m., an hour into his day, with keys in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. An assistant, Steve Walker, 41, was with him.

Inside, Wright presented the station as if it were his home in the country. For years a dingy gray, the walls are now painted a soft blue or green, colors Wright selected.

“We’ve tried this new blue color,” he said. “How does it look to you?”

He lingered at the station’s prized possession, a $175,000 computerized telemetry system that monitors the pump stations 24 hours a day. He pointed at a small red light flashing from the circuit board.

“It’s talking to each [pump station] right now, saying, ‘Are you OK? Is everything OK?’ ” Wright said.

Wright descended the stairs, stepping over a rusty wrench and past a hefty bar of deodorant perched at the edge of the staircase in a futile attempt at air freshening. Lit by a glaring overhead bulb, he didn’t flinch at the jarring bang as a starter forced a pump motor to work.

“If you were in here yesterday, it was leaking like a sieve,” Wright said, showing off one of the city’s aging but refurbished pumps, its shaft now sealed tightly with new packing.

The city’s worse sewage spills have been caused by failures at the pump stations because of power outages, Wright said. A rash of spills here several years ago prompted the city to buy the telemetry system and about eight back-up generators, officials said.

While he can’t be blamed for power failures, Wright admits he has taken past spills personally.

“I live in Laguna Beach . . . and I’m an avid beach-goer and skin diver,” said Wright, who grew up here, graduated from Laguna Beach High School and spends his leisure time on the beach with his two sons, Ben, 11, and Will, 9. “And, yeah, no one likes to see it.”

Wright didn’t aspire to sewer service, but in 1974, when he was offered a promotion from fueling buses for the city to working on its sewer system, he jumped at the chance because the job offered “room for advancement.”

But even Wright is surprised he has stayed the course.

“I didn’t think I would be working as many years as I have in the sewers, I know that,” he said. “There was an era there where people . . . didn’t change jobs much and that may be where I fit in. I don’t know.”

Part of what Wright enjoys about his job is working near the beach.

On Tuesday, as dozens of beach-goers played yards away, Wright used a pick to wrestle loose a manhole lid at the Pearl Street pump station, releasing a stomach-churning smell, which he seemed not to notice.

“We have some cockroaches in this one, but not real bad,” he said, peering into the cavern where deposits of grease and more float on slimy gray water.

This was where he first made his descent into a wet well.

“I couldn’t believe what they were asking me to do,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, would you climb down there?”

Now, he takes such chores in stride, taking turns with six other city employees.

When he finishes the job, Wright pulls off the disposable body suit he wears over his uniform and under his waders and tosses it in the trash.

While he takes his turn in the wet wells three or four times a year, most of his time is spent on tasks such as installing and repairing equipment. Whatever the duty, Wright said, he tries to keep clean.

“We’re always washing ourselves,” he said. “The pick handles and everything we touch around here has bacteria and, I’m sure, diseases of all kinds. But I’ve never come down with any ailment.”

Wright’s bosses say he must also take credit for keeping the pump stations well.

“We’ve just been doing a lot better in terms of performance at the pump stations,” Brandt said. “A large part of that is due to the work that Graham puts in on them.”

If his job seems distasteful to some, Wright said he is just thankful to be working.

So he doesn’t complain. Not even about the odor.

“It smells like money,” he said.