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As
a young man, I was perfectly aware of the unrest in our nation
during the 1960s and '70s, but I was fortunate enough to find
a place where men from so many different backgrounds could
come together, work towards a common goal, and be united by
their respect for each other's talent — on the job sites
of my grandfather and father.
The men at these sites
were more than hired help — they were my extended family.
Through them I experienced so many different cultures, tasted
a world of ethnic foods, and learned the time-honored techniques
of their trades.
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Harry Muller was a lead carpenter and a Veteran of
the Korean War, where he built airplane runways as a member
of the Army's Construction Battalion. Even with all he'd witnessed,
Harry always kept the job sites in stitches with his hilarious
stories and impeccable comic timing. He also taught me many
of the tried and true carpentry skills that I use today.
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Vince
Lapa was a fine woodworker and furniture maker from
Calabria, Italy — "The tip of the boot," he
used to say. Vince was a true artisan and had worked with
stains and finishes for so long and the permanent color of
his palms proved it. With a thick Italian accent, he taught
me his detailing, finishing, painting, and restoration secrets.
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"Junior"
was a heavy equipment operator who came from the Georgia Sea
Islands. He spoke the lyrical language of Gullah, a mixture
of English and African dialect. Junior ran some of our heaviest
machinery including backhoes and front-end loaders, and I
was always taken by his peaceful manner, sensitivity, and
wisdom.
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Henry
was a well-digger from the South who didn't know how old he
really was. At least in his late seventies or early eighties,
Henry could dig a hole like no one I'd ever seen, armed with
just a pick, shovel, and bar. He told stories of his well-digging
days when he would dig hundreds of feet down, making small
ledges to stand on along the way. Once he taught me how to
cut a switch from a sapling and turn it into a divining rod
to find water. And it worked.
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Morris Feggans, Therman Feggans, and Nathaniel Ogburn
were a laborer team of father, son, and family friend, respectively.
All three had been born and raised in South Hill, Virginia
and had moved up North during the 1950s. They'd been tobacco
farmers, sharecroppers, and even simonized airplanes. I was
captivated by their incredible work ethic and ability to pace
themselves in order to work steadily and skillfully, without
wearing themselves out. Their larger-than-life personalities
added a richness to our job sites and they've been some of
the best friends I've ever known.
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Johnny Roman was a master carpenter, gentleman, and
ex-paratrooper. His willingness to work hard and hustle was
legendary and his unwavering positive attitude made him someone
to admire. His detail work was so precise — and so fast
– he almost made it look too easy. He taught me how
to do high quality work quickly and expertly so that everyone
wins — the work, the company, and the client. He was
the big brother I never had and a real friend to me.
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