Joe Michaels
Diamond
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2004
- Location
- Shandaken, NY, USA
Interesting how some people get around the stigma of drinking early in the day. They drink such things as Mimosas and Bloody Marys. Let a workingman be seen having a beer with breakfast and he is held up as low-brow or similar.
Years ago, I was retained to be an expert witness at a trial in Federal District Court in Casper, Wyoming as well as to act as a consulting engineer for a couple of other Wyoming attorneys on some machinery-related cases. The attorneys pooled their money and I was given first class plane tickets as far as Denver, Colorado. From Denver into Gillette, Wyoming (where the attorneys were located), it was a twin turboprop puddle jumper making all local stops, so no first class. I boarded my flight to Denver at Albany, NY airport at some early morning hour. I'd flown first class before on business, so knew what the service was like. Soon enough, the flight attendants (I am old enough to still call them "Stewardesses") came around asking if I wanted a Mimosa or Bloody Mary. I asked for a good lager beer and some tomato juice. This was a Wyoming thing, tomato juice and beer, often on a summer's morning with breakfast, or on hot days after work was done with. The flight attendant said she'd check, and a few minutes later was back with my 'red eye' and was laughing. She said she asked the senior flight attendant about the mixing of beer and tomato juice, as she'd never seen or heard of it previously. The senior flight attendant told her that the passenger asking for it was probably from Wyoming or thereabouts. We had a good breakfast up in first class, and I had German lager beer with tomato juice to wash it down.
On another case, I was flown out to Lander, Wyoming to take a look at a 100 psig packaged steam boiler in a laundry. A boiler blowdown line was run out the door of the boiler room, temporarily screwed into the blowdown valve, and the boiler was given its blowdowns. The owner of the laundry ran the boiler, and never bothered to pipe up a permanent blowdown line and blowdown tank. One day, as he blew the boiler down, a man having business in the laundry was walking across the parking lot. The owner opened the blowdown valves without checking to see if the discharge path was clear of people. No line of sight from inside the boiler room to the parking lot. The blowdown of hot water flashing to steam caught the man in the parking lot in the legs. The leg nearest the blast had a lot of meat cooked on the calf, and there was quite a burn and many reconstructive surgeries followed. I was there to look at the boiler and the half-assed blowdown piping and then give a deposition to be used at trial. From there, we went to Cody, Wyoming, where I was to be deposed in the matter of a jobsite accident due to misuse of a ladder.
The jury-rigged blowdown pipe and the condition of that boiler room could well have been a scene from one of those Pakistani youtubes. Dangling wires tied together with wire nuts sticking out of junction boxes, pressure switches and the like. Un-insulated piping, piping run using anything handy, so screwed galvanized was used on 100 psi steam. The boiler itself was a packaged dry-back Scotch type boiler, and was permanent plant equipment. No excuse for not having properly piped the blowdown line to a blowdown tank.
After the boiler room visit and deposition, we pushed on to Cody in the attorney's Suburban. It was a working rancher's vehicle, not some cushy wheels as one might suppose. The attorney who retained me was a Mormon, and we'd worked cases before. He had grown up on ranches where his father had been a foreman or ranch hand. As such, he had grown up working cattle until he went to college. Then, he worked as a laborer and mason tender on construction sites while in college. Supper time rolled around, and the attorney took me into a place called "the Proud Cut Saloon" for a steak dinner. He and I sat at a booth, and I remember he pointed to old photos of cowboys and livestock and horses on the walls, naming the men in them and telling me about his growing up and his father. It was summer, and the place was packed with tourists, most of whom wore summer straw cowboy hats. People were bellying up to the bar (probably from seeing one too many western movies), and ordering plenty to drink. Some were already boisterous. We were the only two guys without those hats. The attorney looked at those hats and the photos on the walls, and remarked that he and I were likely the only two men in that place who'd ever worked a roundup or branding. I felt a bit awkward, not wanting to offend my host, but asked if he'd mind if I had a beer. He said he'd buy me a beer, and ordered a lemonade. We ordered our steaks, and before eating, the attorney bowed his head and said grace. I was impressed that he stood by his faith and principals amidst a crowd of tourists and similar types.
We had the deposition about the ladder case the next day, and we had the other side's expert to question and depose. We were pretty tired by day's end, and started back to Gillette from Cody. The attorney asked if I'd be OK driving the Suburban as he was exhausted. I drove out of Cody and we came to an area with some irrigation canals. It reminded me of a book I'd read as a kid in Brooklyn called "Little Britches". I asked the attorney if he'd read "Little Britches" as a kid and he had. We both agreed we'd been pretty torn up when the author, as a boy, lost his father and became man of the household. As I drove us over the Big Horn Pass and through an area with some woods and a slough, I had to brake for three moose. I remarked it was a good thing it was daylight and I had had nothing to drink. We both laughed about it. I will always remember that attorney as a friend, an earnest and dedicated man of the highest principals, who took on cases representing working people that the bigger firms would not touch. We made an unlikely pair, a Wyoming Mormon and Jewish boy from Brooklyn, but we found a common ground and a great mutual respect. I will always remember that dinner in Cody, Wyoming. Not for the steak, but for what my friend showed me in how he carried himself.
My batting average as an expert witness was all wins. I never went looking for the work, and never wanted to make a habit out of expert witnessing. An occasional case or two for attorneys who were friends and a good trip back to Wyoming and some mental jousting were all good times. I've reviewed a number of cases involving machinery, piping, and construction accidents over the years. The unsafe conditions and accidents resulting from them are about one shade better than the conditions in those Pakistani youtubes. I've done engineering reviews in cases that resulted in men being horribly maimed and disabled for life due to people using the wrong fittings, or deadheading a plunger pump. I've done engineering review on a wrongful death case in which the victim was dismembered by a shop-made piece of equipment ( a device for spooling up extruded plastic tubing for telecommunications). There was no means of blocking the hydraulic oil supply to a drive motor. The victim was doing some production run on this piece of equipment, needing to tie off the tubing so he could take the reel off the machine. A piece of the tubing being wound up happened to bump the control valve for the hydraulic motor while the man was near the reel. He got wound up and the control valve went wide open. His remains were thrown around the inside of the plant. The attorney handling the case said it was best that I not see the coroner's photos, just review the design of the machine. It was a place and piece of equipment that would have been right at home in Pakistan. I think in the Pakistani youtubes, we do not see th men who are disabled by accidents in those shops. If a man is disabled, there likely is no such thing as "Workman's Comp." The poor bastard is lucky to be given a pittance and cut loose by the employer. That puts the disabled man's son(s) in the workplace sooner rather than later. It would explain the young boys we see in ther Pakistani youtubes working in the shops instead of being in school.
Years ago, I was retained to be an expert witness at a trial in Federal District Court in Casper, Wyoming as well as to act as a consulting engineer for a couple of other Wyoming attorneys on some machinery-related cases. The attorneys pooled their money and I was given first class plane tickets as far as Denver, Colorado. From Denver into Gillette, Wyoming (where the attorneys were located), it was a twin turboprop puddle jumper making all local stops, so no first class. I boarded my flight to Denver at Albany, NY airport at some early morning hour. I'd flown first class before on business, so knew what the service was like. Soon enough, the flight attendants (I am old enough to still call them "Stewardesses") came around asking if I wanted a Mimosa or Bloody Mary. I asked for a good lager beer and some tomato juice. This was a Wyoming thing, tomato juice and beer, often on a summer's morning with breakfast, or on hot days after work was done with. The flight attendant said she'd check, and a few minutes later was back with my 'red eye' and was laughing. She said she asked the senior flight attendant about the mixing of beer and tomato juice, as she'd never seen or heard of it previously. The senior flight attendant told her that the passenger asking for it was probably from Wyoming or thereabouts. We had a good breakfast up in first class, and I had German lager beer with tomato juice to wash it down.
On another case, I was flown out to Lander, Wyoming to take a look at a 100 psig packaged steam boiler in a laundry. A boiler blowdown line was run out the door of the boiler room, temporarily screwed into the blowdown valve, and the boiler was given its blowdowns. The owner of the laundry ran the boiler, and never bothered to pipe up a permanent blowdown line and blowdown tank. One day, as he blew the boiler down, a man having business in the laundry was walking across the parking lot. The owner opened the blowdown valves without checking to see if the discharge path was clear of people. No line of sight from inside the boiler room to the parking lot. The blowdown of hot water flashing to steam caught the man in the parking lot in the legs. The leg nearest the blast had a lot of meat cooked on the calf, and there was quite a burn and many reconstructive surgeries followed. I was there to look at the boiler and the half-assed blowdown piping and then give a deposition to be used at trial. From there, we went to Cody, Wyoming, where I was to be deposed in the matter of a jobsite accident due to misuse of a ladder.
The jury-rigged blowdown pipe and the condition of that boiler room could well have been a scene from one of those Pakistani youtubes. Dangling wires tied together with wire nuts sticking out of junction boxes, pressure switches and the like. Un-insulated piping, piping run using anything handy, so screwed galvanized was used on 100 psi steam. The boiler itself was a packaged dry-back Scotch type boiler, and was permanent plant equipment. No excuse for not having properly piped the blowdown line to a blowdown tank.
After the boiler room visit and deposition, we pushed on to Cody in the attorney's Suburban. It was a working rancher's vehicle, not some cushy wheels as one might suppose. The attorney who retained me was a Mormon, and we'd worked cases before. He had grown up on ranches where his father had been a foreman or ranch hand. As such, he had grown up working cattle until he went to college. Then, he worked as a laborer and mason tender on construction sites while in college. Supper time rolled around, and the attorney took me into a place called "the Proud Cut Saloon" for a steak dinner. He and I sat at a booth, and I remember he pointed to old photos of cowboys and livestock and horses on the walls, naming the men in them and telling me about his growing up and his father. It was summer, and the place was packed with tourists, most of whom wore summer straw cowboy hats. People were bellying up to the bar (probably from seeing one too many western movies), and ordering plenty to drink. Some were already boisterous. We were the only two guys without those hats. The attorney looked at those hats and the photos on the walls, and remarked that he and I were likely the only two men in that place who'd ever worked a roundup or branding. I felt a bit awkward, not wanting to offend my host, but asked if he'd mind if I had a beer. He said he'd buy me a beer, and ordered a lemonade. We ordered our steaks, and before eating, the attorney bowed his head and said grace. I was impressed that he stood by his faith and principals amidst a crowd of tourists and similar types.
We had the deposition about the ladder case the next day, and we had the other side's expert to question and depose. We were pretty tired by day's end, and started back to Gillette from Cody. The attorney asked if I'd be OK driving the Suburban as he was exhausted. I drove out of Cody and we came to an area with some irrigation canals. It reminded me of a book I'd read as a kid in Brooklyn called "Little Britches". I asked the attorney if he'd read "Little Britches" as a kid and he had. We both agreed we'd been pretty torn up when the author, as a boy, lost his father and became man of the household. As I drove us over the Big Horn Pass and through an area with some woods and a slough, I had to brake for three moose. I remarked it was a good thing it was daylight and I had had nothing to drink. We both laughed about it. I will always remember that attorney as a friend, an earnest and dedicated man of the highest principals, who took on cases representing working people that the bigger firms would not touch. We made an unlikely pair, a Wyoming Mormon and Jewish boy from Brooklyn, but we found a common ground and a great mutual respect. I will always remember that dinner in Cody, Wyoming. Not for the steak, but for what my friend showed me in how he carried himself.
My batting average as an expert witness was all wins. I never went looking for the work, and never wanted to make a habit out of expert witnessing. An occasional case or two for attorneys who were friends and a good trip back to Wyoming and some mental jousting were all good times. I've reviewed a number of cases involving machinery, piping, and construction accidents over the years. The unsafe conditions and accidents resulting from them are about one shade better than the conditions in those Pakistani youtubes. I've done engineering reviews in cases that resulted in men being horribly maimed and disabled for life due to people using the wrong fittings, or deadheading a plunger pump. I've done engineering review on a wrongful death case in which the victim was dismembered by a shop-made piece of equipment ( a device for spooling up extruded plastic tubing for telecommunications). There was no means of blocking the hydraulic oil supply to a drive motor. The victim was doing some production run on this piece of equipment, needing to tie off the tubing so he could take the reel off the machine. A piece of the tubing being wound up happened to bump the control valve for the hydraulic motor while the man was near the reel. He got wound up and the control valve went wide open. His remains were thrown around the inside of the plant. The attorney handling the case said it was best that I not see the coroner's photos, just review the design of the machine. It was a place and piece of equipment that would have been right at home in Pakistan. I think in the Pakistani youtubes, we do not see th men who are disabled by accidents in those shops. If a man is disabled, there likely is no such thing as "Workman's Comp." The poor bastard is lucky to be given a pittance and cut loose by the employer. That puts the disabled man's son(s) in the workplace sooner rather than later. It would explain the young boys we see in ther Pakistani youtubes working in the shops instead of being in school.
Probably best after a few drinks. "Stroh" has an equivalent in Australia, Bundaberg OP (Over Proof) not sure its as strong but it definitely packs a punch.
