“american upbeat”(fire safety)

Craig and I had been about three weeks, ripping up and putting back. The 70s were horrible for remodeling materials, the finishes were ugly. It seems the contractor would go into these old houses with old plaster walls, and glue crap to them. Removing these surfaces, to say the least, was tedious. The object is to save the plaster. When we were a bit younger, we’d go in, and just rip it all apart. Dry wall was easy, just through it up,and “muck it”. As some wisdom set in, we realized, that by saving the old plaster, the end product was a more quality product. It took paint better, it was SOLID. We had these trick little washers we’d run a dry wall screw through, that would re attach, and hold the sagging plaster. It could seem to take a lot of time getting the walls finished, ready for paint, but if you were to add all the hours it would take to demo the plaster, clean the mess, and hang the rock, you’d see, your way ahead of the game. Mo and I learned years before how to patch this stuff, that patching and taping, by far, a better job than hanging rock. ——— ——————————- We had started this company, because it was a good idea for people to see us busy. We were sub contracting ceilings and walls for this outfit that was building chain convenience stores. We got through the walls, three layers, the first two, fire taped and the third layer finished, ready for paint. Sixteen feet off the ground, 5/8″, twelve foot sheets, The two of us and a rolling scaffold, the First day on that ceiling we were getting killed. Craig said he knew this “BIG”Biker that might need some money. He calls him, and the next morning, this guy shows up, with two friends. Mo’s friend, stayed on the ground feeding sheets, and the other two guys stayed up top all day. Watching those guys struggle, with those sheets, was about the time, Mo and I, figured out that slinging mud, is by far the better job. That day those boys got a lot done. The next day, Mo told his buddy, he’d get an extra $1 an hour if they got 20 sheets more. We kept that guy in work for some time. The last time we saw him he had not been showing up over about a three week period. Craig, George, and I, already had decided, we were done, we didn’t need him. So he calls, he’s pleading, he needs the money. Well we figured we had a really special task for him. The basement at Murphy’s was just a little short, just another one of those things. We had that boy, busting slab, and hauling dirt all day. We never saw him again.———————————– So back to Aunt Pegs kitchen! The putting back was pretty tricky. We had set the counters, placed the sink, hooked up the drain, leaving only to solder the connections for the water supply. George had seized his back and through most of this work, he’d spent up on the 3rd floor, I guess he figured to add his 2cents to this operation. Ya know, in hind site, probably good that he was there. I grabbed my Fathers mapp gas torch from his garage, along with flux, solder, and even a stash of old 50-50, just in case, in the morning on my way to Aunt Pegs. So I climb under the sink, torch in hand, ready to work. Sinks can be tough, Watching my father under ours, hot solder dripping on his cheek, cursing at my Mother”damn it Sally is the first image that flashes, when I hear talk about sinks. I fire up the torch, I don’t figure its gonna be easy, they never seem to be. So this fires burning, I’m fumbling around a little, I tell George and Mo, it sure smells a lot like mapp gas. From the peanut gallery I hear,”are you sure you know what your doing”? So I come flying, out from under the sink,ready to fight, but I’m followed by a ball of fire. Didn’t even singed an eye lash! That torch had been spewing gas?duh?The smell? I tell you it exploded, it moved the sink, and that ball of fire went right up to the ceiling. I’m holding this torch, and fire is shooting out all over, and I think its gonna EXPLODE, I run outside, looking for a place to get rid of it. When I toss it under a 50 foot evergreen, things are looking worse. We were lucky in the kitchen. If this tree goes up, as evergreens are prone, we could loose the house. Thinking quick, I go under the tree, now remember, I’m still waiting for this thing to blow up, grab the torch again, burying it in a snow bank. The fire goes out, the excitement is over for the day! George and I laugh a lot about this story. We lost a lot, loosing Mo in 1997