Cyclops

Typically at the Electric Boat shipyard, when an electrical inspector does his job by the book, a few electrical supervisors get upset. Even when an inspector doesn't do his job properly to help a supervisor guilty of dereliction of duty, it doesn't always work out. On a few occasions, the saying, "No good deed goes unpunished," appeared to be true.

           Cyclops was a large, intimidating supervisor with a single white eye - no iris. In April 1956, he lost that eye at the age of thirteen. I suspect he was already a bully then, just as he was when I knew him. While defending himself, a smaller boy struck Cyclops in the eye with a shuffleboard cue. Twenty-three years later, while defending myself, I broke his nose with my fist.

           In December 1979, Cyclops certified that thirty deficiencies had been corrected. He signed the official paperwork, stating that the repairs were satisfactory and had been inspected by him. If he actually performed those inspections—which I doubt—he violated the union contract between the Company and the union. The agreement clearly stated that supervisory employees were prohibited from performing work traditionally assigned to hourly-rated employees. Inspection was the responsibility of an inspector, not a supervisor. That contractual violation had been the subject of numerous grievances, all of which were still pending arbitration.

           My boss assigned me a sample lot inspection, giving me three of the thirty defects Cyclops had inspected. My job was to inspect those three unsats and rewrite any that weren't corrected.           

           The three defects remained as written. They were obvious and in plain sight. Instead of following the written procedures, I showed all three defects to Cyclops.

           "Get those unsats fixed," I said to Cyclops. "I'll be back tomorrow morning."

           "Okay, I'll get 'em fixed," he replied, appearing upset. Then, he abruptly walked away without thanking me.

           The next morning I discovered all three defects weren't repaired.

           Instead of simply rewriting the unsat reports as I was supposed to, I tracked down Cyclops and brought him to look at the deficiencies. Then I said, "Sorry, John. I have to write them up."

           Immediately, Cyclops pointed his finger in my face. "Don't write 'em up," he yelled, as if it were my fault. Then, lowering his voice, he added, "I'll have Dumaine and Gladue take care of them this morning."

           "I have to turn the paperwork in before noon."

           He jabbed me in the chest. "Come back this afternoon. That's an order."

           "You're not my boss," I muttered while turning to leave that submarine. My attempt to give Cyclops a chance to get the defects fixed without me writing them up was met with hostility rather than gratitude.

           On December 23, our union held a Christmas party inside the Fleet Reserve building located near the shipyard. Downstairs, my colleagues shot pool, chatted, and helped themselves to food on a small table. Upstairs, I played poker with four electricians I knew and two strangers.

           Cyclops entered the room, stomped over to me, and pointed at my face. “I wanna talk to you, outside.”

           “I'm busy - playing cards.”

           “I’ll be waitin' for ya. No matta how long it takes - I’ll be waitin’.”

           Cyclops stormed out of the room. Nobody said a word. By the looks on their faces, it appeared I was the only one surprised by what just happened. Nicoli, an electrician, had a smirk on his face and avoided eye contact with me.

           The player to my right asked me, "Are you an Electrical Inspector?"

           "Yes; do you know why he wants to talk to me?"

           He didn't respond.       

           I threw my cards on the table and got up. I thought I’d better see what Cyclops wanted before we both drank too much.

           After going down a flight of stairs, I strolled by four union brothers playing pool. The Bee Gees' "Staying Alive" filled the room. En route to the bar located by the back exit, I passed a group of union brothers standing and talking. Their eyes followed me as if they knew something was about to happen. I had no idea.

           Cyclops sat at the bar between Gladue and a thin union steward with red hair, Dumaine."

           I stopped in front of Cyclops. “What’s your problem, John?”

           “Come with me,” Cyclops said as he got off his stool.

           Cyclops sauntered over to a door and opened it.

           “Why do you want to go outside?”

           “I wanna talk in private. It will only take a minute.”

           He exited the club.

           I hesitated, then I followed him.

           Outside, Cyclops stood facing me, about six feet away from the entrance. He shoved me. "If I get two days off because of you, I'm gonna beat the shit outta ya."

           "See ya later." I turned and grabbed the doorknob. The door wouldn't open.

           Gladue and Dumaine stared at me through the glass portion of the door. From behind, Cyclops punched the side of my right temple extremely hard - breaking my eyeglasses. I saw bright stars.

           I turned, barely seeing him bring back a closed fist, about to strike again. Wearing my black steel-toed shoes, I kicked him hard with my right foot. It landed - a direct hit.

           He bent down slightly.

           I lunged and flipped him across my right leg. As he fell, he grabbed my shirt and held on. He hit the ground with me on top of him.

           Immediately, I smashed my right fist into his nose, followed by a left to the side of his face, and another hard punch to his nose.

           He grabbed my hands and shifted his weight. Suddenly, he was sitting on me.

           I grabbed his thick wrists and held on tight.

           Blood poured out of his nose, all over my shirt and jacket.

           "Let go of me,” he demanded.

           “You gotta be kidding,” I said, showing him a half-smile.

           At least a dozen of my union brothers came out of the club. Archie Granados, tall with a big handle bar moustache, rushed over to Cyclops.

           Archie bent down and said, “Let him go, John. You could lose your job.”

           Cyclops glared down at me, blood still flowing. “Let’s leave this here. You got in few good punches.”

           I stared back, still holding onto his wrists. I let go as he got off me. After we got up, he headed towards the entrance without saying a word.  

           Dumaine walked up to me.

           “I saw you throw the first punch, Ron. I saw you throw the first punch.”

           Gladue stood a few feet away, grinning.

           I looked at them, one at a time. I thought about shoving Dumaine. He was about my height, at least ten pounds lighter, and maybe ten years younger.  

           I said, “Merry Christmas, Brothers.”

           I returned to the card game. Nobody seemed surprised - not one question or comment about the swelling by my eye or my missing glasses. After playing cards for about five minutes, I noticed Bo Miller, another union steward, coming towards me.

           "Ron, I think you should leave."

           "Shouldn't you be asking the supervisor to leave our union Christmas Party?"

           "John was brought to the hospital. You broke his nose. His adopted son is looking for you. We don't want anymore trouble."

           "Send him home," I replied. "I'm not looking for trouble."

           "Play cards or get out of here. You're holding up the game," one of the card players shouted at me.

           That hurt. The hostility prompted me to leave and go to the Groton police station.

           The desk sergeant I spoke to declined to initiate an investigation after I attempted to file a complaint. The only explanation that sergeant gave me was, "It appears all the witnesses are on his side."

           Later I learned that desk sergeant was Mike Ohar's father-in-law. Mike, an electrical worker, helped prepare that Christmas Party. I suspect that sergeant discussed the planned assault with Mike before it happened.

           The following workday, Archie Granados told me John's plan to beat me up at the party was discussed inside the union office. There was talk about not giving John a free ticket. I don't recall Cyclops ever attending a union Christmas Party prior to Dec 1979.       

           Our chief, Tony Ballato, who worked on Cyclops' crew, warned that if John isn't allowed to go, then he isn't going to cook the food.

           Willie Kenyon, another electrician, said to me at work, "He shouldn't have hit you from behind like that."

           Willie witnessed the attack from his car parked behind the club.

           My general foreman said, "What do we care? It happened outside the gate."

           Inside the security office, an investigator said the same words to me.

           I replied, "Really? So, if the union has a problem with a supervisor, you won't get involved if we handle the matter outside the shipyard?"

           He didn't respond to my question and ordered me to leave his office.

           I contacted our chief steward, Pinky. He arranged a meeting with Cyclops in his boss's office. Pinky and I arrived before Cyclops.

           Big Ed Scott was Cyclops's boss. I suspect Cyclops got a green light from Ed to assault and threaten me. Either with or without Ed's approval, it made no sense that Cyclops would risk being fired.

           Ed came up to me, bent forward, and examined my black eye. Then, he pointed at it.

           "How come he didn't get the other eye?"

           "I didn't let him," I replied.

           Cyclops, wearing sunglasses to hide his two black eyes, entered Ed's office.

           Ed smiled. "Here's Rocky!" Then he asked me, "Ya wanna rematch?"

           I ignored Ed and didn't mince words with Cyclops. "Give me 78 dollars for the glasses you broke or I'll take you to court for a lot more."

           "What about my emergency room bill?"

           "Take me to court. Have my money by tomorrow." I left Ed's office.

           Cyclops gave me the money the next day.

           Pinky refused to write a grievance pertaining to the assault and threat by a supervisor. I didn't speak to our union president about writing that grievance, mainly due to his leaving the Christmas Party prior to the fight. I wonder why.  Normally, he played poker with us until the end. More surprisingly to me, he resigned and left Electric Boat.

           Our seven-member Executive Board appointed Pinky to be our president until the election in June 1980.

           The IBEW monthly journal had an article about that Christmas Party. Nothing was mentioned about a supervisor sucker-punching a union steward.

           It did thank three of Cyclops' coconspirators for helping to make the party a successful event. It also stated, "The event was opened by our president, who said our local will stay as strong and united in the future as it has in the past." United? I thought that meant working together in an orderly way without conflict.

           Tony Ballaro and Mike Ohar taking part in that wrongdoing surprised me. Both of them had been friendly toward me for many years.

           Tony died at age 60, less than two years after that party.

           Mike became a supervisor shortly after the assault and was fired in 1984 for malpractice. He had signed off on work that wasn't actually performed, similar to what Cyclops got away with. Mike later died from cancer in 2007 at the age of 59.

           I imagine Cyclops got a green light from his boss, Ed Scott, to assault and threaten me at a union Christmas party. However, either with or without Ed's approval, it made no sense that Cyclops would risk being fired and arrested—especially after I tried to do him a favor that he mindlessly ignored. I can't even guess why those three unsats weren't fixed after I showed them to him. They were simple jobs that should have taken less than an hour to fix.

           Looking back, the electrical workmanship at Electric Boat was at an all-time low over the two years prior to the assault. Eliminating many of the inspections had a lot to do with this extremely poor quality.