David and I began building oilfield heat exchangers in a heavy steel fabrication shop in Oklahoma when we were 14 years old. We were universally known as, “them schoolboys.”
Steel shops are notoriously noisy, but when we heard “Schooolboy!” ring out above the cacophony of hammers and grinders, we would swivel our heads toward the sound and begin walking toward whomever was looking at us.
“Hard, dirty and dangerous” describes the work and the men we worked with.
To call them “drunks, deviants, and derelicts” would certainly be less kind, but no less accurate.
There were also 8 or 9 solid family men, most of whom were foremen and supervisors.
The oil coolers we built were the size of a two-car garage. And several times a day these metal monsters would be lifted 5 or 6 feet off the ground by an overhead crane and go swinging through the air to another part of the shop as far as 300 feet away.
Heavy steel flying through the air is entirely unforgiving. One of my responsibilities was to drive injured guys to the hospital. But few of my bloody passengers were injured in accidents. Most of them were injured in fistfights with coworkers.
When we were both 16, David and I were joined by a boy named Jay. Dark hair, dark eyes, and skin that was decidedly not English, Irish, Scottish, or German. We liked him immediately.
David put a quarter into the machine and yanked a Pepsi from its mechanical jaws. He handed it to Jay and asked, “Are you some kind of Puerto Rikkan or something?”
Jay scowled and said, “No, I ain’t no dang Rikkan.”
David smiled, clicked his Pepsi bottle against the one that Jay was holding, took a long drink, then said, “It’s good to meet you, Rikkan.”
We found out later that Jay was Italian, but his name was Rikkan from that day forward.
A few days later, Rikkan began calling David “Cliff” and my name somehow became “Dean.” Rikkan never told us why he chose those names, but he refused to call us anything else, so David and I fell into line. I began calling him Cliff and he began calling me Dean.
Jay, David and Roy became Rikkan, Cliff and Dean for the next 3 years. Utterly absurd, but completely true.
Devin Wright has a sparkling laugh and I’ve always enjoyed hearing it.
So when Devin began working with me 20 years ago, I would walk into his office each afternoon and ask a ridiculous question. Devin would laugh his sparkling laugh and I would walk away smiling.
One day I popped my head into his office and looked at him quizzically, as though I was confused. He looked back at me, equally puzzled. With a completely straight face, I asked “Did you get a spray tan?”
For once, Devin didn’t laugh. He vigorously denied it, utterly aghast that I would ever think that he was so vain and shallow that he would ever stoop to such a ridiculous…
I quit listening after that.
So now you know how “Spraytan” was born.
Jacob Harrison became “Boxwine” in a similar fashion,
Dave Cullen became “Skunkmeat”
Howard Wolowitz became “Fruit Loops”
George Costanza became “KoKo”
and Jeffrey Eisenberg became “Jet.”
No, “Jet” is not a reduction of Jeffrey.
When we agreed to meet for lunch last week, Jeffrey suggested by text that we meet at 1300 hours.
I texted him back, “I never knew that you were in the Air Force. Did you fly fighter jets?”
If all of this sounds lowbrow, redneck, hick, uncultured, ill-refined, outmoded, outdated, dinosaur-ish and in poor taste, I agree.
But no one can spend 4 impressionable years working with drunks, deviants, and derelicts and walk away without at least one bad habit.
Roy H. Williams
Dean Rotbart is taking a short Sabbatical from Monday Morning Radio for the next few weeks to travel across America gathering detailed information for an extremely important new book that he is writing. We have been sworn to secrecy not to tell you what this new book is about, because if it became known, it would make Dean’s research much more difficult to accomplish.
In his younger years, our roving reporter Rotbart was a Pulitzer-nominated investigative reporter for the Wall Street Journal. Investigative reporting is his superpower. But Dean has promised us that when his research is complete and his new book has been published, all will be revealed.
But jump into the rabbit hole anyway! Indy Beagle has some treats for you.