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By Donald M. Gray, Former Trustee, Village of Bronxville

Jun. 1, 2016:  It's the spring of 1965. I had just "gotten out" of Georgia Tech (one is not graduated from Tech but gets out--think prison; it's a tough place). I was supposed to go into artillery officers school but was told not to report for a year. The Army didn't need so many new second lieutenants. That would change quickly. 

I took a job at a plant in Baton Rouge so that I could be near my One True Love (OTL), who was starting her senior year about 100 miles away. 

The plant, Kaiser Aluminum, made alumina. It's basically a one-half-mile-long chemistry set that takes red dirt from Jamaica (bauxite) at the shipping dock and, using high pressure, high temperature, and dangerous caustic chemicals, transforms it into a white powder (alumina), which is made into aluminum. On a good day, it is a very dangerous place to be. 

I started in late June. Three months later, the 11 unions, representing about 1,200 workers, decided to go out on strike. Senior management (in California) decided that the 80 to 90 managers and engineers would stay in the plant and keep it running. 

It was hard, dangerous work. We were locked in the plant, surrounded by a ring of LA state police and pickets. At the previous strike, eight to ten years before, there had been some violence, so the deal was anyone could leave but they couldn't come back. We lost two to three people per week.

Rotations were eight on, eight off, so everyone could see some daylight. We slept on cots by our job. Some of the older engineers were Cajuns, so the food was plentiful and excellent. Two weeks in, we were up to 2/3 production, 80 older guys (except for me, who got all the hard jobs) replacing 1,200 workers. 

One late summer day, we got a call--our sister plant, 50 miles down the Mississippi, had a wind gauge with the needle pegged and bent at 150 mph. A category 4 hurricane was coming. In the middle of the hurricane, we shut down the plant, which had been built during WWII and was never fully shut down. We got it done; we made a mess of it, losing enormous electric motors and, therefore, power, to much of the plant, including the elevators up to the floors 100 feet above grade. I almost lost an arm when a relief valve backed up on me. Fortunately, I only (only?) broke my wrist. 

Two days later, the strike was over. I "got out" (those words again). We had been locked in for 29 days. 

In addition to our normal pay, we got strike pay of $100/per day. A not insubstantial sum in 1965--29 days x $100=$2,900 (almost $22,000 today).  

I got my first professional shave and manicure and exchanged my dirty white cotton sling for a very elegant blue silk one. I then called one of my favorite aunts of my OTL in New Orleans, who took me to the finest jewelers, and, after a long search, we found the perfect stone for my OTL, not too big but flawless--it cost $2,900. 

My OTL was not a June bride--Uncle Sam had not deigned to let me out. However, on July 2 of this year, Kathy and I will have been married 50 years. We're taking everyone--kids, wives, husbands, and grandkids--to Alaska to celebrate this anniversary.

Pictured here:  Donald Gray, soon to be in Alaska with his OTL and family. 

Photo by A. Warner