This is a story about doodlebuggers.  You won't see this stuff happen any more.  Times have surely changed.  But this story is about men doing what they have to do when they have to do it.

Father Murphy

 By David Marks 1

We had just left Red Lodge, so it must have been fall, 1981.  This portable Petty Ray Crew was broken up and its members scattered across the Rockies and Northern Plains.  My survey crew along with a few others from the recording crew were sent to Ken Dickinson's vibrator crew in Stanley North Dakota.  The weather was getting nasty, and this vibe crew was lucky to get some experienced help.  Of course, all of us portable crew "heathens" were sent to the jug line.

One such heathen was Father Murphy.  I can't remember his real first name.  Kind soul, and good worker.  This vibe crew stuff was a vacation for him, as Father Murphy and the rest of us just finished up one of the toughest Rocky Mountain jobs I had ever seen to date.  Father Murphy was no slacker, to be sure.  He was responsible and a good man.  He had just come from a crew that had tackled the ups and downs of Bear tooth Pass.  Anyone who lasted that job was alright in the Doodlebugger Bible.  But portable heathens and vibe crew Mormons don't mix well all the time.  This was such a time.

Now I have no ax to grind with religious folks, but I feel you have to leave that stuff back at home - or the motel room as it were in this case - when it comes to doodlebugging.  Well, Father Murphy decided to twist one up during a break.  And this didn't sit well with one of the jug truck drivers.  He turned Father Murphy in to the party manager, who was compelled to fire him.  We were shocked.  Hell, we were pissed - and not the Canadian kind.  We were seasoned surveyors and LZ managers helping a vibe crew pick up jugs at night on frozen turf in blowing snow.  Jim Howard came to work one morning with a flashlight strapped to his hat to make his point about what this was all about.  And these idiots have one of us fired!

Next day Ken had to go to Dickinson for something and I led the safety meeting.  When the meeting was over I dismissed the crew but I told the jug truck driver to stand by, I wanted a word with him.  The Red Lodge boys stuck around too, and the rest of the crew left the office to gas up.

I told the driver to sit down in the party manager's chair at the party manager's desk, and he complied immediately.  He must have seen the seriousness in my eyes.  The rest of the boys gathered around nice and close.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked.  He nodded yes.

"Heard you were the one that turned in Father Murphy and got him fired," I said.  He nodded again and he seemed to be getting nervous.

I pulled out a big fat one and said, "That will never happen again.  Light this up right here right now."  And he did, because if he wasn't shitting his pants, he was getting ready to.  We all burned that number right there in the office.  Then I told him he was excused. 

Jimmy grabbed his flashlight-mounted hat, I grabbed my gloves, and that Mormon boy went to the field stoned and we never had a problem with that shit anymore.  But we missed Father Murphy.  I hope he reads this some day to learn that, even if justice wasn't completely served, we did the best we could under these circumstances.

My thanks to the Red Lodge crew.  We did what we had to do when we had to do it.