I grew up on Staten Island our neighbor was Lenny Balagerchek (sp), an agent for the Isthmian Line working at 90 Broad Street. He promised, when I finished high school to get me on a ship. I completed all the paperwork and union business (SIU) while still in school. Cleaned floors and butt cans at the Brooklyn Union Hall on Saturdays, “paying my dues” they said. I graduated high school on a Friday and was on the Steel Chemist Saturday, left the Brooklyn Army Depot Monday for a Hawaiian Pineapple run as a Wiper, June of 1965. I was 17. Home sick before we left the pier. First port Philadelphia, overnight trip. I was by then a seasoned Merchant. After all I blew tubes and oiled the aft steering gears. Baltimore, Tampa, New Orleans, Baton Rouge, by this time I was walking around the waterfront districts as if I belonged there. Next stop, Panama for bunkers, spent a wild night in Panama City with a few of the crew. Twenty plus days later we were hopping around the Hawaiian Islands. To most reading this, I suppose veteran seamen, my little jaunt was just another trip, but to me who had never been further than Grant’s tomb it was an odyssey.

Though I never sailed again, my mind remained strongly connected to this one sailing experience. I learned there how to conduct myself. Work hard, be responsible, fellowship. Forty five years later I still can recall the crew, the conversations the experiences. What a time. If I could, I’d do it all over again.

Respectfully,

C. Ron Evans

Ron (Wiper), Joe (Ordinary), Jim (Wiper)