I'll bet that Peter, Paul, and Mary song dates me. There is a tendency to look back to the "good old days" of OSM. If not good, they were fun and if not fun, they were certainly busy. According to the photo taken on April 20, 1978, there were 46 of us - field staff, lawyers, the Director, and other headquarters staff. Even the Director looks young in the picture. The field people were put on salary 24 years ago this past April 9. There were actually 29 field people that stood for a photograph that day. Now there are 4 of us in Kentucky: Bill Kovacic, Joe Blackburn, Pat Angel, and Mike Vaughn; 2 in West Virginia: Mike Superfesky and Rod Moore; 1 in Tenneessee: Ron McDowell; and 1 in Oklahoma: Mike Wolfrom. I guess that means there are 8 of us left. There is a very special kinship that we 29 shared. We did everything imaginable to make OSM successful. So much was uncharted territory. The first inspections were made, the first violations were written, the first court cases were defended, and the first policies were decided by field people and sent up the short chain of command to a deputy or to the Director himself. What became of us? Well, we are either dead, retired, working at another job, or in the case of the 8 - plowing ahead toward the horizon. Here's a quick look back at the early days...

From Madisonville KY where the illustrious Patrick Angel conducted boot camp (OSM inspector training), we scattered to the four winds: Charleston, Knoxville, Indianapolis, Kansas City and Denver. At Knoxville we gathered at an office building on Papermill Road and waited. And waited. There were comments about "hurry up and wait" from the vets. The door was locked and we just waited outside. Finally someone who shall remain nameless pulled out a pocket knife and opened the door. We had to break in on the first day.

We divided into teams of two and very shortly began "going to the woods." Gordon Wofford and I were teamed up, not exactly a team made in heaven. Gordy was a profane, opinionated, ugly Viet Nam vet for whom I have the highest regard. But not exactly from the start! We left most mornings very early and if we went north, we left Gordy's POV near Powell where he lived and went on in the leased vehicle. Many an evening we got back to Powell way past supper. (It will help you to remember that in this part of the country, dinner is at noon and supper is when you come in from working in the field all day.) Pam, Gordy's guardian angel, always had two plates fixed for the microwave. We devoured the food while we rehashed the day's events.

I think we were all admonished to "be nice, this is a learning period." In early May, Gordy and I arrived at a mine near Caryville, Tennessee. We parked our truck and headed for the dozer to check in with the only living soul we could see, the dozer operator. "The boss has gone to town, could y'all come back later?" he asked. "We'll just mosey around and take a look, and maybe he'll be back before we need to leave," we replied. "Is the truck OK where we parked it?" I asked. "That's right where I aim to start grading," he quipped. So we moved the truck and for the rest of the time we cast a nervous look over our shoulders to make sure he didn't begin pushing the truck over the hill.

You don't have to be too bright to see that this feller wasn't exactly throwing out the welcome mat for us. Moseying, we found plenty to write home about on that job. It just seemed time for the school marm to bring out the paddle. There was spoil on the down slope. A drain, locally known as a "winder," had been cut through the outcrop barrier. Bad water was running off the permit through the winder. We found us a not so comfortable rock to sit on while we composed what we thought was the first CO written by OSM. Pat Angel will argue that point but then he'd argue that the sun wasn't up while standing in its glare at midday. We carried the CO back to the dozer operator, explained it to him, and left him with a copy to give to the boss. He whined a little (no - he whined a lot) and then said "I druther you come back and give it to the boss yourself." We knew if we carried it back to Knoxville that we'd end up tearing it up so it was our turn to quip "sometimes you don't get your druthers!" Looking back on it, we certainly wouldn't have gotten any award for tact but it did seem like it was time to smack the old mule with a 2x4 to get his attention and that we did.

It happened that way, movin' west!!!

Note
A good historical reference is LandMarc Magazine Vol 1 no. 1 of June 1978 which printed the class photo along with bio's on most of the participants in the April 1978 class. The magazine also contains a lengthy interview with Paul Reeves, head of the implementation task force formed in March 1977.