Turtle Rock

My career at Mare Island Naval Shipyard spanned 18 years, first hiring on as a Machine Tool Opetator and later, promoted to Journeyman Machinist. Sometime afterwards, I was invited to join the nuclear program, manufacturing parts for nuclear reactors on the submarines being overhauled on the shipyard because I still wasn’t smart enough to be a lawyer.

Newly hired apprentices received instruction in trade theory and hands-on training in the vestibule before being allowed to gain real shop experience in the production machine shop. Once in the machine shop, there was no one to provide them assistance except the section supervisor and other employees who we busy performing their duties as assigned. That led to problems and inconsistencies in their training. When a position was established to resolve that problem, I saw an opportunity to do something about all the rework that the shop had been plagued with. I applied and was subsequently promoted to Work Leader, providing hands-on training to apprentices in the sometimes stressful environment of production. Not only did that position benefit the apprentices, but it also allowed supervisors more freedom to do their job.

Without ever learning how it happened, I was later encouraged to apply for a position teaching apprentices in the vestibule by the program director, Mr. Pitcher. When I told him that I had no trade theory background, he nevertheless still encouraged me to apply. I didn’t really know Mr. Pitcher prior to that and I suspected that he may have only been trying to get as many applicants in the pool before filling the vacancy with a predetermined applicant. After all, I had seen that happen time and again over the years in the name of upward mobility and I had a bad taste in my mouth for that program, believing that was the origins of a lot of problems in the shop.

Astonishingly, I was the one selected and soon found myself writing curriculums and teaching newly hired apprentices in the vestibule. After completing my innaugural class of apprentices, we were informed that the shipyard was slated for closure. Thus, ending the apprenticeship program. Returning to the machine shop, I continued working as a Work Leader, assisting apprentices and the section supervisor.

To record their progress, each apprentice was required to maintain their own personal daily log. At the end of each week, a journeyman machinist graded and commented on those entries before it became an official document. My greatest achievement as a Work Leader was developing an objective method of grading apprentices while performing in the sometimes chaotic production environment. Too often, I witnessed journeymen machinists signing off those logs, relying on the integrity of the apprentice and not really taking it seriously. Now, they could be graded objectively on their accomplishments by the Work Leader who had personally witnessed the apprentice’s work and more importantly, their achievements. Unfortunately, it came too late to make an impact.

When the section supervisor had to take three months off for surgery, I accepted a temporary appointment to fill the vacancy. After all, as the section Work Leader, I was the best one to step in with the least amount of disruption to the shop. Unfortunately ensuing complications extended his time off well beyond the 90 days he had planned.

Immediately after lunch on Fridays, no one could return to work before cleanup was complete. While in my office, I was bent down, sweeping the dust into the dustpan when I suddenly sneezed and suffered a debilitating on-the-job injury. Unable to stand up without help, I managed to use my desk to pull myself up, then hobble to my car about a quarter mile away, just outside the industrial area. I probably should have gone to the ER, but I drove directly home where I collapsed from the pain as soon as I walked through the door. Eventually making my way to bed, there I stayed for three months until the Department of Labor approved my back surgery.

Returning to work, part-time and on light duty, six months or so later, I continued to draw Workers’ Compensation to make up the pay lost due to my working part-time. Like everyone else in the shop at that time, I was encouraged to participate in the relocation program offered to assist employees in relocating while losing the least amount of time between jobs.

Job fairs were held frequently, on the shipyard to allow employees to attend without taking time off. It was during one of those job fairs that I was offered a supervisor’s position at another shipyard before being abruptly removed from the program. Apparently, employees who were receiving workers compensation benefits were ineligible to participate in the relocation program.

Post shipyard closure, I was placed into a vocational rehabilitation program. Participating in a 30-day testing process in Sacramento, administered by a company subcontracted by the U.S. Department of Labor, it was determined that I was best suited for a career in healthcare. Because of my achievements in television production, I asked if that was a viable option. Much to my surprise and disappointment, I was informed that research revealed there was no future in that field. Fast forward 30 years, I’m still watching television. Television has a broader reach than ever before thanks to cable and internet services. As it expands, so too an increased demand for production. I might also add that the very same company is now a physical therapy provider and is officially “temporarily closed” as of this writing. Nevertheless, I soon found myself enrolled in the Respiratory Therapy program at Napa Valley College, a two year program, that required me to complete a few prerequisite classes at Solano Community College first.

I lost my mom to lung cancer a number of years before and soon after enrolling in the in the RT program, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer as well. Given only three months to live, I moved in with him in his Vallejo home to care for him while continuing my classes in Napa. Three months became six months. Dad became impatient and began asking me to contact Doctor Kavorkian, however, assisted suicide was not legal in California. I was torn as six months turned into twelve. Dad now required around the clock care as I continued my clssses even though they too had become increasingly demanding. As soon as the third semester started, Dad passed. I lost a significant amount of crucial time at school as we had begun interning in hospitals throughout Northern California while still going to class two or three times a week. Working in hospitals were particularly difficult for me at that time as those situations kept bringing up disturbing memories of my mom suffering with her cancer and now, losing my dad only compounded those issues. Nightmares made me restless, resulting in too much time lost from work and studies. I eventually had to give up the RT program for my own peace of mind, not to mention the safety of those around me in the clinical situations.

Returning to Solano Communty College, I changed my major from Respiratory Therapy to Television Production. The Department of Labor didn’t support my decision which resulted in the termination of my financial assistance. Continuing to pursue a degree in television production on my own dime, I felt confident in my chances to succeed because of my past successes as a volunteer producer. Among them were recognition by the Bay Area Cable Excellence (BACE) Awards for three consecutive years as well as the California State Legislature and the United States Congress.

I loved the creative freedom of shooting, editing, and producing the weekly sports program I had created and developed, called HEROES -youth sports television. Going to school to earn a degree in television production required that I give up my successful TV show, however, I was happy to see many others like it being produced on television following my absence. Television Production was a two year program in which I excelled. I was so far advanced over my classmates that I became the teacher’s assistant in the actual studio classes and practically sailed through those two years.

During my third semester, I began interning at the local Comcast Cable facility where I had previously been a Public Access Producer. At the beginning of my fourth semester, I applied for an internship at KCRA-TV, the Sacramento NBC television affiliate then owned by its founders, the Kelly brothers. Sharing my portfolio during my interview, certainly increased my odds of getting the position. The person interviewing me seemed genuinely interested in my experience and achievements. Then I was told that all the intern positions had already been filled for that semester. My heart sank! There was no measuring my disappointment. This was the best television station in the area and I really wanted that intern spot. Much to my surprise, my ego got a shot of adrenaline when he offered me a job as a news editor. As proud as I was by the offer, I however, thanked him for his time and gathered my things, more determined to stay in school that final semester and earn my AA degree. Before I could get out of my chair, the interviewer said he was so impressed with my work and determination that he was going to see if he could make a place there for me to intern. He immediately got on the phone and with a single internal call and I became the new intern in the commercial production department of the pinnacle of television stations in that market.

Coming from a career where apprentices got paid while they learned, I became an intern in an industry that didn’t pay one to learn. I couldn’t let that deter me. I was learning from the best in the business under the two directors and the tutelage of the departments only Commercial Photographer who also doubled as the lighting technician in the news studio. When we weren’t out on location, shooting television commercials, we were usually in the news studio maintaining the light grid for the broadcast news. Of course there were times that we shot commercials in the adjacent studio from time to time. It couldn’t get any better than that!

Still not smart enough to be a lawyer, I eventually graduated, at the top of my class with honors, I might add – a far cry better than barely graduating high school. I was then hired by KCRA-TV as a Commercial Photographer. That itself was a rare achievement, as most people they tended to hire, were experienced in the business, rarely ever hiring their own interns. Because it was a part-time position, I also bought my own equipment and started my own business, producing videos.

Seven years later, the Kelly brothers sold the TV station to the Hearst-Argyle Media Corporation. They made a number of changes over the following year after which I became one of their victims in a corporate downsizing. I started working my own business full time at that point. As a freelancer, I worked 8 seasons on the Comedy Central Network’s “Battlebots” TV show. Additionally, I produced the Jelly Belly Candy Company’s international marketing videos for 8 years as well as working for a few celebrities and producing corporate videos.

When an opening on the Downtown Vacaville Business Improvement District Board of Directors’ came up, with reservations, I accepted the President’s invitation to fill the position. At the end of that year, I was elected to the Board, eventually serving as Vice President and President over 2 three-year terms before limiting out. Dare I say it? Because I still wasn’t smart enough to be a lawyer.

My most memorable jobs came early in my career. It was in fact while interning at Comcast Cable Company in Vacaville. While at home, I had been online, in a chat room talking with a woman who asked what line of work I was in. I told her I was a video producer and she immediately asked if I would make a video of her husband. In an uh-oh moment, Red flags went up immediately. I was afraid to ask, but I had to know what she had in mind. She said her husband was Mark Lindsay and I wasn’t sure if I heard anything she said after that. It had something to do with needing someone to video his upcoming concert. I thought she was putting me on at first.

Mark Lindsay! Are you kidding me? Geno and I had idolized him when we were teenagers. I would have been nuts to turn that down! The date of the concert was September 6, my birthday. What a birthday that was! I soon found myself in Santa Maria, videotaping Mark Lindsay and the Mighty Band at a local outdoor venue. The only thing that would have made it better was if he had still been with Paul Revere and the Raiders. His was the voice on all their hits during the ’60s and early ’70s. During those years, 1966-1969, they ranked just behind the Beatles and The Rolling Stones in record sales. Mark and his wife, Deb were two of the most amiable people I ever met in show business. Still performing occasionally, he also hosts a weekly radio show called American Revolution in Little Steven’s Underground Garage on SiriusXM.

During the early 2000s while watching the Michael Caine film, The Cider House Rules, it struck me that women spent time in the hospital when having a baby during the ’50s. Why then was my mom, a woman who had a history of problems during prior pregnancies – she even had lost a baby – be traveling so far from home, into the back hills when she could deliver at any time, risking the loss of another baby they both so badly wanted? It made no sense to me, and it became rather troublesome.

Attempting to make sense of it, I ended up dwelling on it for a long time. One thing led to another until I later pondered the possibility that someone may have been looking for me. Someone like a sister, but I knew better than that, even though the now intrinsic feeling had become overbearing at times. Were these the thoughts of a crazy person? I didn’t dare tell anyone what was going on in my head for fear that I might be committed. But the fact remained – something just did not feel right! ESP maybe or was the Lord preparing me for something to come?

A few years passed and those emotions simmered. Then, a few days before Christmas, 2008, I was in my office. Business was usually very good during that time of year, the economy, however, had been pretty bad and business was quite slow when the phone rang, breaking the silence. Caller ID indicated it was long distance. Picking up the receiver, a man identified himself as Wayne Tonker before asking me a series of questions about my parents. After explaining what he knew about my dad, he continued with what he had learned about my mom, Bobbie. Telling me that he was told by a number of others that she was born in Alaska but he couldn’t find any records of a Bobbie or Roberta there. Asking me if I could explain that, I declined, becoming defensive at that point. He then said that he believed that I was the person he was really looking for and that he was a private investigator, hired to find his client’s brother.

More to come