I've been in the powerplant industry (and related heavy construction during the earlier years) for over 50 years. I can remember when disputes or problems were sometimes settled with a fist fight. I can also remember, in the era before political correctness took over, when someone was out of line and made some insulting remarks, it was 'give as good as you got'. Ethnic slurs, comments about a person's physical build, wife, mother, and much else was all used in trading insults.
My own father was normally a very sweet, even tempered family man who was always a real gentleman. He made sure I knew what correct behavior was. If I was walking down a street and a lady was coming out of a store with packages, if I did not get the door for her, the old man would. He'd tip his hat (in the days when men wore felt hats) and stomp my instep in a less than obvious manner. Between his teeth, he'd growl that I should have gotten the door for the lady. On the other hand, if someone was out of line, particularly if they were abusive to another person (such as waitstaff in restaurants), Dad would often get up from the table and confront that person. Dad raised us boys not to take any lip, but he'd also say: "Most often, silence is the answer to a fool". Dad had a few quick moves to put loudmouths and out of line people back into line. Dad was a WWII veteran, on 50% veteran's disability, but he did not suffer fools, obscene language around his family or other women and children, or rudeness or abusive behavior. One of my memories of my father was the time he and I were walking on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. We each had a glass jug of Passover wine, and were walking to Katz's delicatessen to have lunch and meet Mom (who had been shopping for 'yardgoods' as material for sewing projects was known). As we walked along, a tall individual popped out and got into our path and accosted us. Dad, with one good arm, swung his glass jug of Passover wine attempting to nail the bottom of the jug against the would-be mugger's head. Dad simultaneously growled out: "No way, you bastard !" The would be mugger with two jugs of Passover wine at the ready. I was never much of a runner, and the guy was a lot taller, longer of leg, and faster. He ran away hollering: "You mother--rs are crazy". When I got back to Dad, he growled at me: "I was born down in this neighborhood, and we didn't take crap off anyone...who'd that guy think he was ?"
In another incident, on a jobsite out in Wyoming, we were in our office trailer when a site inspector /representative from the client (a power cooperative) came in. He began to make sarcastic comments and remarked that he'd just bought himself a Cadillac Eldorado (remember those cars ?). He went on as to how none of us would ever be doing well enough to own an Eldorado and similar remarks. Someone remarked an Eldorado was a 'pimp's car'. Someone else remarked that all he needed was a wide brimmed hat and leopardskin hubcaps (as we called 'wheel covers' back then). The guy went wild, sputtering mad, and said he was going out to his car to get his "hogleg" (a large caliber single-action revolver). The millwright superintendent, a tough guy and quick on his feet verbally, hollered for someone to toss him a tube of grease (as you put into a grease gun), and grabbed a half-round welder's file. He told the Eldorado owner: "you best take these with you, you're gonna need 'em if you come back in here with that piece (another term for a firearm)." The Eldorado owner was stupid enough to ask why he needed the grease and a file. The millwright super told him: "You best file the front sight off and grease up the barrel of your piece.... it'll hurt a whole lot less when we stick it up your a---". The guy left in a huff.
Another jobsite, this time in NY State. We had some linemen welders on the job, welding 10" pipe for a submarine cable crossing. These guys had their own 'rig trucks' with engine driven welders, cutting outfits and tools aboard. We were in a local bar, a normally quiet place that served a good Italian-American menu, so was popular for the fellows from out of town to have suppers there. One of the linemen-welders was a small, wiry fellow nicknamed "Mouse". Aside from his size matching his name, all resemblances ended there. The man was as mean as a snake to everyone, and had a confrontational manner most of the time. That particular evening, Mouse, probably fired up with alcohol, started an argument with one of the other lineman welders in the bar. The other fellow was a very quiet man of considerably larger build than Mouse. This other fellow was a real gentleman, kindly and had done nothing on the job or off site, to get Mouse going. Mouse did not need much, if any reason. If the other guys welded pipe joints faster, Mouse would accuse them of getting the easier joints to weld and try to start something. This particular night, Mouse was spitting mad at this other lineman welder, and challenged him to 'take it outside'. The fellow whom Mouse had called out did like arguments, obscene language or fist fights. He picked Mouse up by his shirt and shook him as a parent might shake a child to get the child to settle down (back before such things were known as 'child abuse'). Mouse did not settle down and as soon as he was free from the other man's grasp, ran out the door. He soon came back in, waving a shotgun. No one hit the floor or freaked out. No one called the law. Two local men, employees of a local excavating company and Italian immigrants, grabbed Mouse and his shotgun. Back out the door they went. A few minutes later they returned, having collared Mouse and marching him in. They threw his shotgun at him. The barrel was bent over double, hairpinned. The local guys had taken Mouse's shotgun and put it in the vise on one of the rig trucks and bent the barrel 180 degrees or close to it. They hollered at Mouse: "The next-a time you come in here waving a shotgun, you gonna need-a blacksmith to catch you breath. Now get the hell outta here and don't come back". Next morning on the jobsite and until Mouse moved on to some other site, he never had a good day. It was: "Hey Mouse.... hear you got a shotgun that shoots around corners... " "Hey Mouse.... you gonna bring a blacksmith with you if you go back to that bar ?"
Both these incidents and the way we traded insults, good naturedly or otherwise, was the time we lived and worked in. Now, the mere mention of a firearm, let alone making threats or bringing one into a jobsite or restaurant, would be a major incident. Modern firearms policies in many workplaces forbid employees from even having firearms or even fired brass cartridges in their personal vehicles, let alone inside the jobsite or buildings. Mention settling a beef by calling someone out and you likely get referred to HT, sent to 'anger management' classes, and the whole crew winds up having to sit through some presentations by HR from corporate about 'peaceful conflict resolution'. The modern day workplaces have become proverbial minefields where saying the wrong word, or making the wrong remark or offhand joke can get a person into real trouble with notations in their personal file, disciplinary action, and get them held back for promotions, raises, and similar. Plainly, I am glad I 'came up' when I did, when the workplace world was simpler, direct, and admittedly rougher. We got a lot more done with a lot less layers of complication and extraneous BS. I am glad I am 'retired' as I would not survive in the modern workplaces. We were expected to take a lot more responsibility as there was no internet and instant electronic communication between jobsites and corporate engineering. We were expected to do our jobs, and if we couldn't, there was the gate. If we did not like whom we were assigned to work with or did not like jobsite conditions, the saying was: "Don't let the gate hit you in the a--- on the way out..." Now, it seems people are coddled and less is expected of them as responsibility is spread widely and extremely thinly. So much so it is an endless ordeal to get what should be simple things decided upon and done with.
Getting back to this original thread: On a beam in my basement machine shop, there is a line of calendars which hung on my office walls in the powerplant. The first, from 1989, given me by the crew when I first came to work there, features naked ladies. As policy tightened on that sort of thing, most of the calendars featured steam locomotives, tractors, or motorcycles. One calendar that I did get and hung on the office wall (and now on that beam in my basement shop) is the last Snapon calendar with nice young ladies, clothed, holding Snapon tools. I believe this calendar may be 'collectable' as we were told by the Snapon industrial sales rep that Snapon was stopping the use of any advertising showing ladies posing with their tools. I also have a plastic mug from the Snapon tool rep, also with a nice looking young lady holding one of their wrenches. I never got any of the Ridgid calendars which also featured nice looking young ladies, clothed, holding or standing by Ridgid pipe tools. The first calendar the crew gave me was from "Binzel", a maker of welding guns for GMAW and GFCAW. It brings a smile when I look at that progression of calendars on the beam in the basement, no one to call the 'political correctness police' or HR on me.
