Walking A Tightrope Across The Ohio River(pg. 5)

     We got back to the hotel, and I was already lit up like a downtown marquee sign on Madison's Main Street. This hotel was up the hill about a mile from town, and it had an indoor pool that we used frequently and we all jumped in, and later that night I got wasted and spouted off to everyone, I was really ashamed of myself and Stingray put me in my place, rightfully so too.

     The next morning came so quickly and I was hung over so bad and dying of thirst, but we all were hurting yet managed to load up in the van, though my head wouldn't stop hurting. Stingray drove slowly across the Madison-Milton bridge, this was my first official day of work. We pulled up into the Dairy Queen parking lot and met up with our boss who always ate there every morning, and we always ate lunch across the Ohio River in Madison at the diner right beside the river. In either town, there were very limited places to eat. 

     Stingray was my boss so to speak, and our foreman was Terry Williams, who was a Raywickian too, and I knew him well because he used to help my dad on our farm in Raywick, he was a hard worker and a decent guy. Terry helped everyone with any problem. 

     After breakfast, we headed to the bridge, there our crew made concrete forms that were placed underneath the bridge where the following nightshift crew worked all night jackhammering the bridge joints at these certain pinpointed sections-this bridge was built between 1928-1929, very old bridge- and we came by the following day and propped up concrete forms under the belly of this old bridge, this was very dangerous work, back then there were no safety harnesses only one hand for yourself and another hand for the company. 

It was 240 feet down to your own death if you made one error and rule number one, you never ever stare down at the river, the bridge will seem like it’s moving and will give you immediate vertigo, you never stared into the abyss. 

     I got the unfortunate job of being the pack mule, carrying helium tanks, lugging them with only one arm climbing down a slick railing trestle with only one hand hanging on the bridge, then having the joy of packing them back up, which was even harder, then came muling or packing boxes and boxes of hundred pounds of bolts half a mile, and remember I wasn't a big guy, only 5'11" but I was strong as a horse. 

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