A GREAT LAKES SAILOR
Russell H. Plumb, Jr., Part 1
Submitted by Janis Stein

Often a father’s interests rub off on his son, and such was the case with the father and son featured in this segment. Russell Plumb, the father, formerly of Ohio and New York, worked for the Lake Carriers’ Association, and later, his son, Russ, would put himself through college with the money he earned working on the boats between school terms.

Rather than a typical oral interview, Russell Plumb, Jr., the main subject of this sketch, had written down his memories for his personal use in a document titled, Recollections of a Deckhand. So great was the detail and so good was the writing, the following information was pulled from his written history, often verbatim, and used with permission.

Russell Plumb, Jr. grew up surrounded by talk of ships plying the Great Lakes. Russ’ father, after being discharged from the Navy after World War II, joined the Lake Carriers’ Association where he worked out of the Cleveland office for a brief time. Russ’ father was then transferred to the Buffalo office, working as an Assistant Supervisor from 1947-1960 and Supervisor from 1960-1961. In 1961, Mr. Plumb moved back to the Cleveland headquarters when he was promoted to Superintendent of all Lake Carriers’ shipping halls.

At Lake Carriers’, Mr. Plumb’s duties ranged from finding replacement sailors for the boats by verifying the perspective sailors waiting in the shipping hall had met the necessary requirements to transporting the new sailors down to the dock to catch the boat. On a couple of occasions, young Russ accompanied his father to Canada to catch a boat transiting the Welland Canal.

In addition, Mr. Plumb traveled through several states, recruiting individuals who were interested in sailing on the Great Lakes. And, when the shipping channels froze over winter, Mr. Plumb still had plenty of work to do: He was responsible for the operation of the annual Lake Carriers’ Association’s winter school, which prepared sailors for the Coast Guard exams so they could advance in grade – and pay. Mr. Plumb would also oversee the Lake Carriers’ shipping halls between Buffalo and Duluth.

During young Russ’ formative childhood years, there was always shipping company literature around the house. From the Lake Carriers Bulletin to the Interlake Log to US Steel Sidelights, Russ learned not only about the history of Great Lakes shipping, but also current statistics on changes in the active fleets as well as the cargo being carried. Russ also gained knowledge about the shipping industry by spending some of his free time in the shipping hall in downtown Buffalo. The shipping halls were anything but fancy and contained a wooden table and chairs and a water cooler; the hall provided the sailors a place to play checkers, cribbage and other card games while they waited for their boat. And, while the shipping hall itself was rather barren, the sailing stories shared by the waiting men were often very colorful!

With high school graduation behind him, Russ had his sights on higher education. It was only natural that he turned to the lakes to earn the money he would need to pay his way. In the summer of 1961, Pittsburgh Steamship was operating their own fleet of 58 straight deckers; Canada Steamship was operating 45 boats, which included straight-deckers, self-unloaders, package freighters, and passenger boats; and the Columbia fleet consisted of eight straight-deckers, six crane boats, and six self-unloaders. Also in operation on the Great Lakes during the early 1960s were tankers, whalebacks and 250-foot canallers.

In July 1961, Russ learned he would be working as a deckhand on the William P. Snyder, Jr. The position, however, never opened up, so Russ had to bide his time until something else became available. Not long after and while his dad was out of town on a business trip, the Assistant Supervisor, John Brill, called Russ to see if he was ready to go.

On July 31, 1961, Russ made his way to the Bethlehem mill in Lackawanna, New York, where he would catch the Johnstown. After showing his documents to the guards, Russ was told to follow the path to the docks. The walkway around, through, and over the various Bethlehem buildings was painted yellow, the yellow path indicating a safe route to the boat. Looking back, Russ knew he must have really looked like a rookie to all those who saw him walk through the plant. The 6'2", 165-pound, college-bound student carried an old cardboard suitcase, rather than a sailor’s seabag. Russ was also wearing his white University of Buffalo jacket. The rookie soon realized as he walked through the Bethlehem mill on that cloudy, rainy day that white jackets, iron ore dust and rain just didn’t mix very well!

En route to board the Johnstown, Russ passed the newly reconstructed Canadian straight-decker Red Wing, which was tied up on the starboard side of the Lackawanna slip. Meanwhile, the Johnstown was under the Huletts on the slip’s port side and was almost finished unloading. Despite Russ’ familiarity with the shipping industry, he stood almost mesmerized as the Huletts rolled back and forth, removing the last of the pellets from the Johnstown’s holds.

With her holds almost empty and her ballast tanks drained, the 698-foot Johnstown was sitting high and dry. When Russ reached the boarding ladder, two Scotsmen – a watchman named McDonald and a deckwatch by the name of McDougall – with very thick accents asked Russ if he was the new deckhand. Before Russ’ mind could comprehend the question, the Scotsmen had a line on his suitcase, and up it went!

Russ followed his belongings up the ladder and made his way down the starboard side to the forward cabins. He then entered the First Mate’s cabin where he signed the ship’s articles. Upon completion of the paperwork, Russ was lead to a two-man cabin below the spar deck on the port side. This would be home, if only for a little while. Russ stored his gear and reported for duty on deck.

Because this was Russ’ first experience, the Mate told him to stand back and watch so he could observe and learn how to close the hatches. The Johnstown had the capacity to carry 20,800 tons; she had five cargo holds with 21 single-piece hatch covers. Compared to many ships on the Great Lakes, the Johnstown, built in 1952, was a relatively new boat and, as such, she was equipped with a hatch crane, also known as an iron deckhand.

Russ watched as the iron deckhand moved up and down the deck on rails and was used to raise and lower each hatch cover. When the hatch cover was in position over the hold, an angle iron ran through a guide hole on the hatch cover and the corner of the hatch coaming to align the cover. After the cover was lowered, a series of spring loaded c-clamps, spaced approximately one foot apart around the circumference of the hatch, were used to fasten each hatch cover.

When the unloading process was completed, a tug pushed the Johnstown away from the dock, spinning the boat around. It was about 3 p.m. and before Russ knew it, the Johnstown was bound for Taconite Harbor, Minnesota, for another load of pellets. It would be Russ’ first trip to Lake Superior.

Once out on Lake Erie, the deckhands finished closing and clamping the hatches and securing the iron deckhand. Next, it would be the deckhands’ job to wash the spillage off the deck, and it was only then that Russ realized he didn’t have any rain gear! Russ borrowed some gear from the off-duty sailors and, after a trip or two, he purchased his own set of rain gear from the bumboat.

Russ stayed up until about midnight on his first day working on the lakes. After he ate, he spent the evening unpacking his gear and getting acquainted with some of the crewmembers. At 7 a.m., Russ was told it was time to start the day, and a tired Russ realized summer vacation - as he knew it - had passed.

Russ made his way to the galley for breakfast and noted they were passing through the St. Clair River and entering Lake Huron. After breakfast, Russ waited for his orders, as did the other two deckhands, the deckwatch and the watchman. At 8 a.m., the Mate informed the men they would take advantage of the sunny day by painting on deck, cutting in hatch coamings, timberheads and the like.

With another day’s experience under his belt, Russ made the smart decision to retire a bit earlier than midnight, now that he knew he’d be expected to rise at 7 a.m. Russ, however, was in for a surprise when, at 2 a.m., he was awakened again to go to work: The Johnstown had arrived at the Soo Locks.

Since Russ hadn’t yet had the experience of going over the side, the Mate advised him to stand back and watch. Russ watched the other two deckhands go over the starboard side at the Poe Lock and walk up to the gate. The deckhands then climbed over 20 feet of stairs, ran the length of the Poe Lock, crossed over the closed gate on the up river side of the lock, and ran over 1,100 feet down the opposite side of the lock to get the mooring cables on the port as the Johnstown entered the lock. Russ watched these movements in earnest so that he would know what to do next time. The thought also crossed his mind that he had gotten up at 2 a.m. in order to watch the other two deckhands run a half mile!

After a few hours off, Russ ate breakfast at 7 a.m. and resumed painting on deck at 8 a.m. Later that morning while working aboard the Johnstown, Russ noted that he had entered Whitefish Bay and Lake Superior for the first time.

Russ was quickly beginning to learn that a deckhand’s life could be unpredictable and fraught with little sleep. At 2 a.m. the following morning, the deckhands once again received a wake-up call – the Johnstown was approaching Taconite Harbor, Minnesota. The deckhands unclamped and opened the hatches, and then Russ put on his life vest and prepared to go over the side for the first time.

Russ quickly assessed the dock at Taconite Harbor was only four feet wide. To add to the challenge, the dock was poorly lit with widely spaced 40-60 watt bulbs, and the dock was littered with taconite pellets and dust. Russ noted the approximate 40-foot-high, solid brick wall on one side and the harbor on the other before climbing on the Bos’n chair (also known as Bosun’s or boatswain chair). It was a well choreographed scene to the seasoned sailor; Russ, though, held on as he was swung over the side and dropped down to the dock.

Russ then successfully caught the heaving line thrown to him by the watchman, but as Russ began pulling on the heaving line to pull the mooring cable over to the dock, he slipped on some loose pellets. Russ kept his wits and regained his footing – and kept control of the heaving line. His hard hat, however, was knocked off in the process and landed upside down in the harbor.

Once the Johnstown was stopped and tied up port side to the dock, crewmembers had to wind the boat around and tie her up starboard side to the dock. Since there were no tugs at Taconite Harbor at the time, nor were boats equipped with bow thrusters, the crew spun her around by pulling in the steering pole and pivoting the boat on the bow using winches and the rudder. Once the Johnstown was loaded, the ship would have a straight shot out leaving the harbor.

After the loading was underway, Russ, not ready to abandon his hard hat without another attempt at retrieving it, returned to the water’s edge. His efforts were unsuccessful, but likely it wasn’t the first hard hat – or the last – claimed by Taconite Harbor!

After his third day of work completed on the Johnstown, with two of his days beginning at 2 a.m., Russ was more than a little tired. He learned to ask where they were headed and the expected arrival time so that he could prepare to rest in between departures and arrivals.

The Johnstown, with 20,000 tons of taconite pellets in her hold, made her way back down the lakes bound for Lackawanna, New York, where her cargo would be unloaded at the Bethlehem mill. During most unloading, deckhands were relieved of their duties once the boat was tied up. The Huletts had the capability of removing ore from the holds at a rate of 17 to 20 tons per bucket. Because the operator of the Hulett arm had great maneuverability, shifting the boat during unloading operations became unnecessary. A Caterpillar was lowered down into the hold when the cargo hold deck became visible. The Caterpillar operator, along with the dock crew, worked at pushing and sweeping the remaining ore into piles, enabling the Hulett operator to continue working.

In those early weeks working as a deckhand, Russ learned new things each and every day. Completely cleaning out the cargo holds depended upon what the next cargo carried would be. On one occasion, after delivering taconite pellets to Lackawanna, New York, the deckhands were notified that the Johnstown would be traveling to Erie, Pennsylvania, for a load of coal, with delivery back to Lackawanna.

Time slipped away quickly on the short run to Erie, and the deckhands spent the day cleaning out the cargo holds – thoroughly cleaning, sweeping and washing. Just when they finished and looked forward to a break, the Johnstown had reached the Erie dock. Russ spent the next 12 hours, as did the other deckhands, working on the dock, shifting the boat during loading. At one point during the night, the Mate, realizing his men had already put in 18 hours, gave the deckhands several dollars; they promptly emptied the Coke machine at the dock office. At a nickel per bottle, the deckhands loaded up on caffeine!

Be sure to look for the continuation in next month’s issue to learn more about this sailor’s adventures as he worked his way through college in the early 1960s.

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Russ Plumb is pursuing a rather unique Great Lakes-related hobby; he is compiling Great Lakes crew information into a simplified but standardized spreadsheet database. His current version contains 291,000+ entries that span the timeframe between 1820 and 2010. The collection is a simplified listing of who worked on what boat during what year, and is largely biased toward Captains and Chief Engineers because more information is available for these positions. If you would like to contribute to this database, please send the sailor’s name, the position if known, the ship’s name, and the year sailed on each boat to The Lakeshore Guardian, P.O. Box 6, Harbor Beach, MI 48441, or send an e-mail to janis@lakeshoreguardian.com. Please be sure to include your contact information, if you choose, so Russ can follow up with you if desired.