I started my career with the Alyeska
Pipeline Service Company in August 1979, 2-years after the start-up of the
Trans-Alaska-Pipeline. So NO, I was not part of that “Oil In” effort and take
No credit for it. I had applied for a vacancy job with Uncle Al as an
“Instrument & Electrical” technician back in 1976, but informed through a “Letter
of Rejection” that my qualifications were not enough. At the time I was the
“I&E” technician for the University of Alaska-Fairbanks “Power Plant” and
had my electrical license along with “continuing education” credentials from
the ISA - Instrument Society of America. Before coming to Alaska, had worked
for Texas Instruments and Bell Aerospace, so Alyeska had a very “high bar” its
technicians in waiting. Not to fret, as I guess my qualifications were of interest
when the bottom of the barrel was of interest, so I was offered a job a few
years later. But it was not a position on the pipeline, and when I went for my
interview at Bragaw, of the 5-supervisors in the interview process only the
“Valdez Marine Terminal” manager saw an interest in my job qualifications and
experiences and I was offered a job. It meant a relocation to Valdez. So that
is wherein I would rest my soft-hat for an Alyeska brand spanking new white “hardhat”.
And I could see why, as there was a massive amount of stuff to get working,
even after two-years already history the “Oil In” of 77. One system that was
still new out of the package, the John Zink “Thermal Oxidizers”, also known as
the “Incinerators”. OK, it all depends on how one defines an “Incinerator” as
the cadaver cremation stove used to burn “oily rags” was also considered an “incinerator”
for purview of the air quality operating permits Alyeska operated under. I don’t
know what was more confusing, a state issued “permit” or an Owner Company “Pipeline
Tariff”? We needed an understanding of both to do our jobs. But there came a
new kid on the block, who thought he was god’s gift to the instrumentation
circus of clown land. WTF? Walley World on Clark Griswold steroids wherein
Uncle Al finds a substitute with Uncle Eddie. For real, why were misfits trying
to turn our paradise into a Funny Farm…
“They're coming to take me away ho-ho hee-hee ha-haaa
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see those nice young men
In their clean white coats
And they're coming to take me away ha-haaa
You
thought it was a joke!
But this was no joking matter. One time,
I remember we received a call from the power-house, about a “high vibration” alarm
on electrical generator #3. Now when we arrived up the hill, instead of the
unit shutdown by the operators so we could monitor the vibration “storms” with special
test equipment, well low and behold we were still on the 1st Floor
of the massive-concrete-foundation plant and could feel the vibrations, as the
momentum behind a generator in “fibrillation mode” is nothing to mess with. And
vibrations can find a “natural frequency” and cause a self-destruct path. So it
was rather odd that the unit was still running, and loaded up to generate
electricity whereas the grid frequency all over the map, the lights were diming!
What gives was our sentiment? OK, the new boss said don’t worry about a thing
everything is going to be alright keep the “bitch in heat”, power plant talk.
So I approached Larry, to get his reasoning but had to retreat to the control
room, as the vibrations were loud and I was afraid the damn casing was about to
go airborne, and when that happens it is shrapnel away! People can die! Now this
guy was new around Valdez, and I had only met him once before but he carried
along a stigma, from the “pipeline” that wasn’t very impressive but I can judge
for myself. Sure enough, he shows me his index finger, or what remained of a
finger once upon a time and goes into this story how he got it cut off on the
pipeline, and laughed about it. For real, laugh about an accident? I mean blood
and guts flying and finding it humorous? But then he got really serious, and
went into detail how that finger left behind, well it was very sensitive to
vibrations and better then the Bentley Nevada “vibration” monitors designed to
detect and shutdown a misbehaving shaft before damaging it beyond recognition. Here
we were, being dealt a load of bull-shit over 800-miles long. Now I remember,
Larry was the instructor for new-hires at Pump Station#5 - the guy Will told us
to laugh off. And for real, when the retirees at a pump station replumbed the
latrine to dump their crap back into the pipeline so it could become a “floater”
in one of the storage tanks in Valdez, for real they got that idea from Larry?
Anyway, he was not my boss but the “Boss Hog” of the…I said fine, call us when…it
wasn’t 3-hours later when the shaft seized up. See, he thought it wise to keep
the unit running and had the operations bypass the “Emergency Trip”, because he
learned it all on the “pipeline”. This was a time when influence - more like
interference - from the “pipeline” was starting to make-over the way things were
supposed to be performed. I mean this was “Safety 101” violated, for a finger? More
like a finger-fucking. OK, so that shaft was now a piece of scrap and somebody had
to write a check for $10k to buy another replacement. And it was time to get
back to more important things around the “campus”, like that “Thermal Oxidizer”.
See, it worked, contrary to popular opinion early on the start-up of the
pipeline! But it was a very complicated system, as “oxidation” and “combustion”
two different animals. It was a combustion-cycle-exchanger with 8-different chambers,
each with its own fuel-air ratio controller. And that was for a single unit,
there were 3-such units at the “Terminal”. So getting the combustion ratio
correct was an interesting proposition, as the “waste gas” from the 18-storage
tanks could vary in BTU content depending on the pipeline and inventory in the “Tank
Farm” and the “dead-band” for proper operation to meet the “air quality permits”,
delicate but doable. We had a handle on it and kept a vigilance on what was
happening. One day I get a call from the “Operations”, that there was once
again balls-of-flames “Hell Fire Red” in the combustion chambers, not how the
system was supposed to act or react. Well come to find out, Mr. Larry Finger
Fucker high on George Nelson “Freeloading Bucks”, he thinks his smarts is
better then that finger and believes he knows more about 3-mode control and
fuel-air ratio then a combustion analyzer, and had taken it upon himself to
adjust all the combustion air louvres, nailed the coffin shut in efforts to
save fuel. He disconnected the louvres, and bolted the air dampeners in a fixed
position. We were dealing with a maniac. For this “illegal” and profound idiocy
to work, that required the tank farm operator to open the “vent valves”
prematurely, so long to automatic control, to allow hydrocarbon doping so that volatile
vapors could be purposely sucked off the tanks to satisfy his incompetency. We
at one time had a very supportive manager that would go to bat for us - he got
the Al Capone. Then when the interference stepped in as part of Alyeska’s new “mission
impossible mental mindset”, we knew it was just a matter of time before an
EXXON Valdez sized wreck would make headline news. So what to do about the “permit”
in violation? We called the local DEC compliance officer and when he showed up
to the “Terminal”, when we mentioned the “incinerator” he thought we were
talking about the cadaver incinerator and wanted nothing to do with the “Big
Polluter”. Funny, as he exited the security gate there came black billowing
smoke from one of the “Incinerators”, and when this happens it is an ugly site
to be seen. See, when you finger-fuck lock the controls, you can starve the
combustion process and a burp from the pipeline, say to an incoming relief
flying open because of the “slack line” phenomenon in Thompson Pass a little
upset…but get used to it we would as this was a sign of the times as nobody
gave a rat’s ass. And the sad fact of the matter, it is not that nobody was
looking as everybody and their brothers and sisters was looking, but everybody
was afraid to speak up so let the fucking begin…hey that looks like Joe
Hazelwood circa 1985! Is that a limp or is he missing a finger? Hire the
bastard as he’ll fit right in!
And wait there’s more. About a year
before the EXXON Valdez wreck of a lifetime, I was spending some time down at
Perkin’s Cove - over yonder Valdez outskirts. I had already moved to Anchorage,
just back in town visiting my old Alyeska associates. Now it was a beautiful
summer morning, eagles flying about and fish jumping - the way I remember Valdez.
Then the serenity of the shoreline was disrupted by a noise that got my
attention. Off in the mudflats of a protected tide pool, some jerk stuck in the
mud on a backhoe. So I high tailed it over to his location, as this was against
the law and I wanted his name, rank and serial number - to report it to the “Crime
Line”. Guess what, it was the DEC warden that I mention in the above, the guy
that wanted nothing to do with the “Incinerators, he was right there in front
of me violating it all, as he was the only authority in town so thought he
could get away with it - and when he pulled out a hand gun, I guess he meant
it. NOBODY GAVE A RAT’S ASS! Why, because we were rolling in dough, the State
of Alaska was benefitting from all this abuse and like it would never end. And
for awhile, well we did prove that it could be done right and documented our
every move to prove it so - so one day when the grandkids of our kids ask us
what happened, we can say here, let me show you!
