Memories From the Bridge

I retired three years ago in July after 38 years as a working member of IBEW Local 58 in Detroit. Shortly after retirement, my wife and I moved to northern Michigan.

I remain tethered to metro Detroit: having family, friends, doctor’s appointments and an occasional show with my band downstate. I was recently passing over the I-75 Rouge bridge heading back up north when I was hit with a sense of melancholy.

Anyone familiar with this bridge knows it crosses over a vast industrial landscape. The view from the bridge is exactly what many people envision for Detroit: a mecca of factories and industry. To my immediate left, I see the Marathon refinery with its many stacks shooting flames and billowing smoke into the sky. Just beyond it, I can see the historic Ford Rouge industrial complex and the old Dearborn assembly complex in the distance. On the opposite side (the river side), I see the landscape filled with foundries, including the renowned Zug Island.

Between the bridge and the river lay steel mills, powerhouses, shipping canals and rail yards. As I crest the bridge, I see the new Gordie Howe and long-standing Ambassador bridges traversing across the Detroit River to Windsor, Ontario. The Detroit skyline lies before me, with the Renaissance Center towering above the river’s edge.

I am struck by the realization that throughout my career (especially as an apprentice and young journeyman), I worked in so many of the places I see as I pass over this bridge. It seems long ago and yet, in some ways, like yesterday.

I remember the many fellow electricians I worked alongside, some long gone from this world and others who became and have remained lifelong friends. We had a great deal of pride in our work and a strong sense of camaraderie among the tradesmen working in these facilities under and around this bridge.

These were harsh and dangerous environments, and there was a shared sense of toughness and earned respect in our ability to cope with and remain productive despite the challenges of these worksites.

I recall working a night shift at Zug Island in the mid-’90s, and it reminded me of a strange scene from a science-fiction movie: smoke rising, intense heat and the dancing orange light of molten metal. All around us, there was floating graphite dust like sparkling snowflakes, slowly falling to the ground, ankle-deep in places.

I learned many valuable skills on these worksites along the river, and it gave me confidence in my abilities when I had to travel outside Michigan to work in other local jurisdictions during the difficult economic downturn in the 2000s. I see the many faces, hear the voices, and remember the laughter.

As I continue my drive north on I-75, memories run through my mind like a movie reel of a life and time long ago.

Jay Fiondella Lupton, Mich. Detroit Local 58, retired

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