The Lineman Life Podcast

The Lineman Life Podcast


TLL 042: The Day I Wore Tampax To Work

January 26, 2023

I want to share my journey of starting out as an Apprentice Lineman. This is the story of my first week going to lineman school. Even though many things have changed in the last 40 years since I started as an apprentice, many things remain the same. Notably, people are still people and lineman act the exact same way today, as they did when I first started. I guarantee your experience will be just like mine. This is not a story about learning to building power lines, transformer banks or stringing conductor, but a story about the crazy types of people that you will meet on your trip to becoming a journeyman lineman. This is one of the greatest things about being a lineman, working together with crazy people.


I went to work at my utility South Carolina Electric & Gas back in 1979. My job title was “Utility Man”. Basically, a Utility man was the lowest position at the Baseyard. My duties included groundman for the serviceman, sweeping the warehouse, stocking materials, helping the meter readers when they were behind, and generally anything else that no one wanted to do. The most rewarding part of the job for me was going out with the serviceman and helping him run services. The serviceman I worked with was a man named Bo Gray, he was an old timer who had worked at the Baseyard since the early 60’s. Just like his name mirrors, his hair was grey, and he was somewhat of a celebrity in the towns around where the Baseyard was. This was because he was usually the first one to respond to trouble calls so everyone seemed to know him. He once showed me a phone book where under the SCE&G listing was his home phone number. If people’s lights went out, they pulled out their phone book and called Bo Gray directly and he would come out and fix the problem. They sure don’t do that anymore.


I used to love to drive Bo around in the bucket truck. It was always fun to get away from the mundane task at the barn and get out in our service territory. Unfortunately working with Bo as a groundman was a very little part of my day, and I would always have to go back to working in the warehouse. I wanted to be like Bo but there were only a small number of Apprentice positions that would open each year which could mean a long wait to get a slot.


It took almost 13 months before I finally got the word that I would be getting my apprentice slot and going to our company’s Lineman school! I will never forget the day when Bo Gray walked up to me and said, “your apprenticeship has come in. If you can make it, you will be a lineman one day. good luck, it’s going to be hard.”


SCE&G’s lineman school was in a one stoplight town in the middle of S.C., the town of Denmark. Denmark got its name from being located on the railroad. Out of boredom I guess the railroad guys named several little SC towns after Scandinavian countries, so along the railroad line there were the towns of Sweden, Norway and Denmark.


Our lineman training yard was co located with the Baseyard that served the Denmark District. The yard itself was several acres, located about three miles out of town. The railroad line ran right behind the property. When I saw the training center for the first time the one thing that immediately drew my attention was the large group of poles in the middle of a large grassy field.  They were arraigned in a circle. All were about the same height except for one pole planted in the middle of the circle. It towered over the other poles. I would later find out that the poles in the circle were 40’s and the center pole was a 110-footer.


This grassy field in rural S.C. was the field of dreams for young apprentices. For any apprentice who showed up to the SCE&G training center in Denmark, S.C. their hopes and dreams of being a lineman would be realized in that field or die in that field.


All new apprentices would have to attend 13 weeks of total training. Our training schedule went something like this. The first 3 months we would attend class for one week per month (primarily to learn climbing).  The next section of training was once a week every 3 months for a year, and finally once every 6 months until we were finished. While we were apprentices and not attending school, we were back at our different locations in the company on the line crew for “on the Job training.”  After the first 3 weeks of learning to climb, the other weeks we trained on Underground, hot stick, winch truck, bucket truck, transformers and everything else a young lineman needs to know.


The first day of class we had 14 new apprentices. Every district in our company was represented from the big city to the small-town districts as we called them. As with any group of guys that meet for the first time, everyone was introducing themselves and sizing up the competition. As we walked into the classroom in the Denmark office that Monday, I don’t think we realized that some of the friendships we formed that week would continue well into the future.


We went around the room and introduced ourselves. There was Crapps, the former USC baseball player, big and brash. There was Clark who looked more like an Engineer than an apprentice Lineman. Flynn, the muscular former SC Highway Patrolman. Flynn could spin tales about his time as a Highway Patrolman that could keep you entertained for hours. There was Dalton, tall and lanky, self-elected class clown, a former quartermaster in the Navy, a wheeler dealer, always cracking jokes and never slowing down in his running commentary on anything and everything. Mock, the reluctant and scary climber who had a knack for cooking. Wells from Columbia nicknamed “Super Lineman” because of all the countless tools he carried on his climbing belt. A group of contrasting strangers brought together to form class #48 of the SCE&G Lineman school.


Our main instructor’s name was “Crick Bridges,” an old crusty veteran of many years of linework. Crick talked with a slow drawl and had a way of controlling unruly apprentices without having to yell or get angry. He knew line work inside and out and usually never had to resort to looking at notes or reading out of some manual. Crick had given more to SCE&G than most, his son was killed as an apprentice when his crew was pulling in a distribution line under a 115KV transmission line. On a hot day the 115 sagged down and contacted the distribution under construction. I never heard Crick mention the incident, but everyone in the class was aware of what happened and was very supportive. Crick loved people and loved to talk, before Crick came in in the morning, the class would plot to see who could get Crick off the subject and talk about something besides line work. Hunting, fishing, camping, vacations were all topics Crick could talk about for hours. if we got him off the subject when Crick would leave at the end of the day, we would high five each other. We all loved Crick and respected him for paying his dues.


Day one was set aside for getting tools issued and beginning to learn to climb. If you ask a Lineman, one of the greatest days in their lives is when they finally get their first set of hooks and belt. The first day of Lineman school in Denmark we were issued all our tools. This was back in the days of free climbing, there were no “Buck Squeezes” or any other device to prevent you from falling if you cut out. We only had a single pole strap, a safety we called it. Placing a safety around the pole and climbing was considered only for old men and no up and coming lineman would ever consider hitching up a pole with a safety around it. If you had to do that you probably didn’t belong in this business. Denmark had a fully stocked toolroom of belts, hooks, pliers, hammers and every other hand tool a lineman could want. Crick carefully measured everyone for what size body belt they needed. We wrote down the number he told us on the list of tools we needed to get from the stores clerk. We got in line, one by one we walked up to the toolroom window and handed the toolroom attendant our list. Then we patiently waited in line for our tools. The stores clerk pulled everything from the shelves, checked off each item and placed them in a canvas lineman bag. He threw the bag up on the small shelf of the half door to the toolroom and as you grabbed your bag to walk away, he yelled “next.”


 We all sat on the cool concrete floor of the warehouse. I will never forget the alluring smell of the fresh leather from the body belts and climber pads as we assembled our set of climbing equipment. Every now and then laughter would ring out as someone in the room assembled their hooks with the pads facing the wrong way or on the wrong side. The ribbing was heavy as the person who messed up was ridiculed by all in front of the group.


I remember the pride I felt when I first lifted that newly assembled belt and buckled the large buckle. The lineman’s office strapped around my waist, hand tools in the holster like a gunfighter ready for a showdown, the loud alluring snap as the safety was secured in the D-ring. Strapping on those steel climbers, securing the straps, ready to feel the power of the razor-sharp gaffs hit a pole. We all strutted out to the pole yard to start climbing.  Butterflies danced in my stomach; did I have what it takes to climb a pole?   


Things were still hot that day as the long steamy S.C. summer was still holding on. We all fanned out and claimed one of the 40’ poles in the circle of poles in the training area. Every pole was already well used by other lineman classes that had come before us. Hundreds of tiny creosote daggers surrounded every pole, facing up at 45 degrees, created every time a gaff went in and out of the pole. Daggers that would inflict punishment and pain on any apprentice who had the misfortune of cutting out and trying to grab the pole on the way down.


Crick came around and drew a chalk circle on each pole about 2 feet off the ground. Our first climbing instructions were to take our gaffs on our climbers and practice hitting inside the circle. After about 15 minutes of gaffing the circles we soon became bored. Many guys wanted to attempt to climb to the top of the 40 that first day. Crick would not allow it’ “guys, we are going to start slow. Maybe by Friday you can climb to the top if you feel ready.” So that first day we settled into safetying off a couple of feet off the ground and practicing rotating. Day one ended and we headed off to the hotel.


Denmark did not have a hotel for us to stay in, so we were put up in the Thunderbird Motor Lodge in Orangeburg, SC which was about 20 miles away. The Thunderbird Motor Lodge could be described as “dated” and probably was at its heyday somewhere around the early 60’s. Back then SC-301 where the Thunderbird Motor Lodge was located was the main highway from up north to Florida. When Interstate 95 was completed in the 60’s, hotels like the Thunderbird Motor Lodge were left with no business and deteriorated into cheap, seedy hotels. A monument to days gone by.


The guys had no problem with it as the hotel basically served only as a spot to sleep. We had company meal tickets at “The Western Sizzlin” a popular steakhouse in Orangeburg which allowed us to charge meals to the company. We were eating “high on the hog” as they say in the south. We ate a big ole steak every night, and it never got old. There were three scenarios that occurred almost every evening after arriving at the hotel from the training yard. One, everyone would shower, change clothes, eat and head out to the many bars around Orangeburg. Two, shower, change clothes, eat, hit the convenience store for beer and drink it in someone’s hotel room. Three head to Columbia, S.C for some nightlife. So basically, our life was to train, eat, drink beer, sleep, repeat. Every morning at school everyone would be complaining’ “I feel like shit, I’m never going out again, I’m never drinking on a school night again,” but by the afternoon memories were short and those thoughts were forgotten. By 1 o’clock the talk was where are we going to drink tonight? Nothing like living the dream of being a Lineman.


I mentioned going to Columbia, a couple of the guys lived there. It was only about 35 miles from Denmark. They did not stay in Orangeburg but made the trip down to school in Denmark daily.  Crapps was one of the guys making the daily trip.  Every day Crapps would invite a few guys up to Columbia for some nightlife. Since Columbia was a big city, the nightlife was much better for a group of early 20-somethings. After the party in Columbia everyone would stay at Crapps’ house, we would have to get up extra early to drive down to Denmark to be to class on time the next morning.


Now our instructor Crick had a problem with being late to class. In his opening speech that week he had warned us, “if you are late to class I am going to call back and talk to your general foreman.”  None of us wanted to deal with our general foreman’s back at home particularly the GF in Charleston whose nickname was “the rattler”.  One morning at the beginning of class there were several people missing. Crapps, Flynn and Dalton were nowhere to be found. Now the others in class knew that those guys had gone to Columbia to Crapps’ s house the previous day. We also knew they were in big trouble.


After about an hour of class Crapps, Dalton and Flynn showed up. When they walked through the door, we were totally shocked to see that they were all covered in grease. All over their pants, shirts and even their faces. Dalton was the spokesman for the group, and he began to razzle and dazzle Crick with his talents as a bullshitter. “Sorry Crick, my Volkswagen broke down on the way to work today. We were stuck on the side of the road for about an hour until we got it fixed.” It was a performance deserving of an academy award. I too was feeling a little sorry for them until I started looking at their faces with the grease. It was just a little too staged. Perfect lines of grease marks resembling black grease like football players sometimes wear under their eyes for night games. Crick seemed to accept the excuse and we continued with class. At the first break when Crick walked out everyone busted out laughing. Nobody left in that room believed that story of the car breaking down and Dalton confirmed that the car never broke down and they had hatched out the plan to keep out of trouble. They stopped and got some grease from under the hood to smear on their clothes and faces.


The second day the typical lineman drill of passing the basketball around was introduced into the mix. This we climbed about head high, practicing rotating and passing the basketball. By this time a few people started to develop some issues. This was back before “wussy pads” which are large cushioned climbing pads. We only had the old school leather pads, for a new climber the leather climber pads would move around and begin to chafe the upper calf areas. If your leg was not used to climbing it could turn into a debilitating and painful issue. I’m not sure who the first person I saw using old newspapers to place between the pad and their leg to relieve the chafing and pain, but it turned out to be a great solution. One guy had picked up the daily paper that morning and we split it between several of us. After lunch as we were putting on our climbing gear back on I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I saw Dalton with what looked like Kotex Maxi Pads. “Dalton, what in the hell are you doing with those? I asked. “These work better than old newspapers and they can be peeled and stuck to your pants leg before strapping on your hooks.” He replied. A crowd gathered around Dalton, we all laughed until we cried, Dalton was humiliated for the next several hours. “Dalton, are you serious, what a wimp. Does your wife know you stole her maxi pads?” were just a couple of comments from the peanut gallery. 


The second day ended and when we got back to the hotel room, we continued with one of our daily scenarios. Flynn called out “Beer run!”, we piled into 2 cars and headed out to the grocery store for our beer run. Then came a moment that would solidify our unity as brothers for a lifetime. As I was in line, I looked over and to my surprise almost every other guy in the checkout line had beer and you guessed it, a box of maxi pads in their hands. I can only imagine what the store clerk thought when 10 rough looking apprentices walked in and every one of them bought Bud Light and Kotex Maxi Pads. It was a day to remember. And yes if you are wondering, i bought some maxi pads myself.


Day three came and everyone was ready with their Maxi Pads in place. We were building more confidence and Crick allowed everyone to go up to about 10 feet and pass the ball and get used to the height. Every day a train would pass by the yard and we would all wave at the Engineer and he would give us a blast on his horn to return the greeting. We started taking more chances with our climbing, rotating faster, no hands on the safety as we rotated. Sticking one foot through the other leg which allowed you to turn around away from the pole almost 90 degrees. We could sense it, we felt we were becoming master climbers. We were hot and dripping in sweat, but no one complained, this was the life. Another successful day, heading to the hotel and hitting the bar to cap off the night.


Day 4 Thursday came. We were allowed to inch up higher on the pole. Most guys could free climb up to about 20’ and safety off. We practiced it over and over again. Climb up 20’, safety off, rotate around the pole, take your safety off and step down to the ground. Then it happened, to my right I heard the words “oh shit.” When I glanced over, I saw Dalton slide down his pole about 10 feet. He had a bear hug on that pole until his feet hit the ground. Crick hollered out “whoa Dalton” Dalton winced in pain; I could see his arms were bloody. When I came down off the pole and ran over to him, I could see many, many creosote splinters impaled in his arms. We walked Dalton back into the warehouse and sat him down. Crick brought out a first aid kit. He wiped down Dalton’s arms and called for a pair of Kleins. I was thinking in my mind’ “why would he want pliers?” I then realized, Crick was going to pull out the large splinters, many were over an inch long! Dalton grimaced as Crick jerked about 10 large splinters out of his arms. After removing the large splinters Dalton had what looked like 20 to 30 smaller splinters that were completely under the skin. Crick then called for the tincture of Methylate out of the first aid kit. The rest of us cringed because we knew this was not going to be pretty. Crick stained Dalton’s arms red with the antiseptic but Dalton barely said a word. I don’t know how because I knew that Methylate on an open wound, burns like hell. To Dalton’s credit, after this incident he was willing to head back out to the pole yard. As a side note, 2 years later while we were at school Dalton was still pulling out festered creosote splinters.


After witnessing that incident everyone was a little less cocky and a little more deliberate in climbing those poles, no one wanted to suffer the fate of Dalton. We also all realized that you could get hurt in this job. Day four ended, Bud Light time, tomorrow was the test. Who would climb to the top of their 40?


Friday morning came and after a little written test on some of the things we had been learning in the classroom we headed out to the pole yard for our last day of our first week. Crick had told us that anyone wanting to climb to the top of their 40-foot pole was free to do so. For me, I was scared as hell but I chose not to let anyone know I was scared. I immediately put my tools on and free climbed all the way to the top of my pole. When I reached the top, I breathed a sign of relief as I was still thinking about what had happened to Dalton the day before. I was also thinking that if I cutout on the top of a 40’ pole I could really get hurt, more than just a couple of splinters. It only took a few minutes until everyone was safety’d off at the top of their poles. Only one person couldn’t get up there, Mock. He was frozen in position about 10 feet off the ground. Crick yelled out, “hey Mock, get on up that pole.” Mock was completely silent and did not answer back. He was just sitting there holding on to his safety and not saying a word. Crick threw on his tools and climbed up to Mock and began talking him down. After several minutes Mock was back on the dirt. After a few minutes on the ground Mock regained his confidence and made it to the top.


The rest of us carefully threw the basketball around for about 30 minutes before coming down. We gathered in a circle around Crick; he told us how proud he was of us and that we needed to continue to practice climbing when we got back on our crews. He also told us that he was going to let us off early to give us time to drive home. We all poked our chests out and began to pack up our gear. There were handshakes and man hugs before we walked out to the parking lot to make our way home. 14 strangers had walked through the door of the Denmark training center on Monday and 14 lifelong friends had walked out of the door on Friday. Life was good.


This was only the beginning of our journey; many challenges lay ahead. Yes, we had conquered the 40-foot pole. But in the middle of those 40-foot poles sat the 110’ pole. Every time you walked by it whispered your name and asked, “do you have the balls to climb me?” That question would be answered in the weeks to come.


39 years have passed since that week, yet time stands still, it only seems like it was yesterday. Every now and then Crick used to call me to meet up. He retired and used to bring his camper down to Edisto Beach State park, a state park in my service area. We would sit down and relive the glory days. I am not sure if Crick is even alive today as I lost contact with him since I am out in Hawaii now.. On occasion when I see the other guys, we are instant friends as if no time has passed between our last meeting. Most of us had long careers at SCE&G, some still work there. Sadly, some are no longer on this earth. All 14 made it to lineman which is very unusual as most classes had a 40% dropout rate. I look back on my life and I realize that that week was one of the most important weeks of my life, one of those weeks where you are transformed from a boy to a man. Some things in life are luck. It was my luck to be placed with an amazing group of friends that shared that magical week in the fall of 1981.


My story is the story of all Linemen. The experience of coming together as a group is no different today as it was back then. A lineman is a lineman, same personalities different time.