My name is Randye Hedgecoke and I am an Ironworker from Local

Thanks to the 2014
Ironworker Women
Calendar for the photos
and article on this page.
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Jeanne Park as well as
the author,
Randye Hedgecoke.
(See center of picture in
patterned shirt with her
sister Ironworkers.)
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My name is Randye Hedgecoke and I am an Ironworker from Local 229 San Diego, Book #1133655.
When Jeanne asked me to write this, I was kind of surprised because she knows I like to talk, and
she knows I have an opinion. I'm an Ironworker, right?
I have always worked in construction. One day while laying a deck, a friend of mine said you work
really hard and I know someplace that will pay you for that hard work. Come with me. The next thing I
know a rebar company sponsors me. Yes, that friend of mine is a Ironworker Brother.
I became a journeyman “01 September 1990.” I was 34 years old. In those days, guys only wanted
women to weld. It's the one thing I never did. I just got my stick papers two years ago, and I'm
working on my wire paper (certs) now. We'll see how that goes. In the old days, everyone had a
specific job: bolt-up, rigger, decker, safety, etc... Then a welder. Not everyone welded. These days,
the brothers have to weld just like the sisters.
Job description: Journeyman Ironworker.
My first job was working on a bridge deck, tying rods. I think they thought that
it would make me go away, that I would quit and go home. I'm a former
Marine. I don't quit or go home.
I remember one of the rod jobs I worked, my rather large foreman looked back
at the crew and said, “If it was easy, they’d have women doing it.” He looked
me right in the eye. I responded, “Then it must be easy, 'cause I'm here!”
We laugh about that now. (Continued on page two.)
That's the thing. We can all attest to it. Ironworking is not easy work.
But it is no longer “man's work”--it is “Our work”! We do Our Work to
feed our families, to provide them health insurance, to put a roof
over our heads and to have a job that pays us well for the “not easy”
work. I was at the grocery store the other day talking to the meat
clerk (a woman) who informed me that they were changing their
marketing strategies because more men were doing the household
shopping. It is not just “man's work” on the job site; it is not just
“women’s work” in the kitchen or on the home front. These are all
equally-shared, equally prized stations in life.
You have to have passion. Sometimes I think we have more of it than the men do. It's said that we have to
work twice as hard. I would like to believe that’s not always going to be the case. Someday, we can just give
that hundred and ten percent and have it be enough.
I am a journeyman in a brotherhood. While it's true I like to receive letters from my local and union that say,
“Dear Sister,” I mostly just want to be recognized as an Ironworker. It is knowing that when push comes to
shove, we have each other’s back. Ironworker to Ironworker. Brother to Brother. Sister to Sister.
In 2011, my local sent me and four other women to our first Women Building California and the Nation
Conference. Ohhhhh, the magic of finding twenty other sisters who felt the same love for this trade all in one
place. We have more female ironworkers every year. At the same time, we're losing them. There are two
thousand women Ironworkers – inactive, retired, apprentices, and journeymen. I know many who have sought
other work, been hurt, or simply left the trade. It saddens me because it's obvious that at some point they felt
the same passion that I do and they've left.
So I call upon those two thousand! I call upon Randy, Joyce, Mary, Fran and Janine; women who have left the
trade, retired, or just faded out to come to next year's conference, where our International President Walter
Wise will be speaking. The highlight of my career so far has been a letter I received from him (addressed to
Sister Hedgecoke!), thanking me for the work I do on the job site. He wrote about wanting more females in the
trade. I want to know how we can keep more of us in the trade. So I call on these women from the past to
come and share their experiences, and see that the trail they blazed is still alive.
On the same note, younger, feistier, driven sisters are coming into the trade. I want to encourage all of us to
reach out and support and mentor them. Even more than that, educate the Brothers why we work in this trade
and about our passions for it. We're not here to take their jobs away – we're here to make a place for
ourselves. Start a conversation with your friends and neighbors. The next women ironworker may be there.
Hell, just talk to them about the Union.
I also want to tell every sister to educate themselves about the union. You need to know about your pension
and how to stay vested in it. After twenty-five years, I am not vested. I lost pension credits because I didn't
know about that system. I take responsibility for that. I had two breaks in service. So even though my twentyfive years were not all good years, I have worked in many aspects of this trade. Rebar, rigging, some
miscellaneous work—but mainly I stuff bolts. I LOVE BOLTS! There’s nothing like swinging an eight-pound
beater and driving a pin. I've had the privilege and honor of being a foreman on several large-scale projects.
I speak to you not only about educating, but also being safe. My local has lost too many Brothers this year, and
too many have gotten hurt. Take care of your body when you're young. Wear those knee pads. A connector
turned me on to those softball shin pads. Wow. I wish I would have worn them all along. Use those ice packs
when you get home. Get a massage every now and then. So watch out for yourself, your Brothers, and your
Sisters. No job is worth our lives.
Our trade is tough, but so are our women. Push for equality. Stand up. Be heard and be seen at your union
meetings. Stand tall and be counted. Use your Union voice. Work proud. Work safe. I WILL see you at the
2104 conference in Sacramento. Feel free to drop me a line: randyesd@gmail.com
These work pieces were written at 2013 Women Building CA and the Nation Conference,
Blue Jean Pocket Writers Workshop. Be sure to participate in the next workshop at the
2014 conference on Saturday April 26th. The conference is in Sacramento CA at the
Sheraton Grand Hotel April 25-27. To register online go to www.sbctc.org
I STARTED IN THE CARPENTERS APPRENTICESHIP
WHEN I WAS 17 YEARS OLD
I had no clue what I was getting into.
I’m now 27 and have been on the same job the whole time.
I’ve grown so much and love what I do.
Foreman now. Scaffold crew and I’m not going to stop there.
The women at these conferences inspire me.
They show me that the sky is the limit.
I started out as a young scared girl
and a lot of amazing men have given me opportunities.
They showed me how to do the work.
Now my goal on the job is to be a good leader.
Showing the other young females that it’s possible.
Women can do just as much and if not more.
I’m truly grateful for this conference
And all the men and women who have helped me along the way.
WHAT MY
MALE CO-WORKERS
THINK OF ME
It doesn’t matter.
Eight for eight.
Code of excellence.
I laugh
To the bank!
Copyright 2014, Isabelle Moon,
LU 398, Steamfitters
Retired…Southern California
Copyright 2014 Aleena Meise, Richmond WA.
Carpenter Washington State Local 59
“This haiku expresses the surge of emotion I felt today while watching the (conference) slide show showing so
many women in the trades. I feel honored to be a part of the group. For all the times I felt like the only woman
in the industry, now I am a part of a whole…and it feels so great to know I’m not alone.” Dana Cross
Watching a slide show
Profound, simply a photo
I am not alone
IN STITCHES….
Building a concrete tilt-up in the Milpitas sun. Work that day on the foundation and slab.
We put 2’ pieces of rebar all along the edge to stitch section to section as each is poured.
Our heavy armloads of rebar became lighter slowly as we walk the long length
of the building’s perimeter distributing our material.
Each bar gets inserted into its drilled-out hole in the 2x8, every couple of feet.
Armload after armload, we travel the length as a team.
Then…Joe E. to me: Julie, you spread ‘em and I’ll stuff ‘em.”
We all fall to the ground with laughter.
Even more precious is the look on Joe’s face, slowly realizing what he’d said.
All of us, putting in our day’s sweat.
This day we stitch together our slab….in stitches!
The public perception of professional drivers has often been based on misunderstanding due to the media and movie
industry’s portrayal of these hard working men and women. Although there are numerous image campaigns in the
trucking industry, most of them focus on the importance of the industry itself instead of trying to change the image of the
person behind the wheel.
Your neighbor might not understand what your life is like as a professional driver and more importantly, how your job
affects their lifestyle. Here are eight things your neighbor probably doesn’t know about you, but should. This list isn’t
comprehensive and I’m sure you can think of many more things you’d like your friends to know about your career, but this
is a start.
#1. Driving a truck for a living is not an easy job. You can’t just hop into a tractor-trailer and take it out on the highway
without extensive training. It’s not an unskilled job that just anyone can do. It takes time and effort to learn how to shift and
how to turn corners and how to back into a dock. It’s not easy!
#2. Being a professional driver isn’t just a job, it’s a lifestyle. When your neighbor goes to work each morning and returns
home at night, his or her kids might not even know if their mom or dad changes jobs or careers because it doesn’t affect
them in the same way it will affect the child of a professional driver. It was years before my daughter learned that some
daddies were home every Wednesday!
#3. Just because you are away from home a lot doesn’t mean you are unfaithful or that your marriage is in trouble. Your
neighbor will judge your family situation based on their own. So, if they think you stay away because you’re unhappy, it’s
their perception. Many folks still assume that you’re unfaithful because you travel often and have the opportunity to cheat
on your spouse. Remind them that cheating relates to values, not time apart.
#4. You can’t just make plans for a week from Thursday because you don’t know if you’ll be home or not. This one was
always one of the most difficult aspects of the trucking lifestyle to explain. No, I cannot RSVP to your daughter’s wedding
next June, so it’s easier to decline the invitation. People just don’t understand how unpredictable your job can be when
you’re delivering loads around the country.
#5. Remember who is the professional! If I had the choice of driving alongside a family in an SUV in a snowstorm, or
running alongside an eighteen-wheeler, I would chose the big rig. I just don’t trust non-commercial drivers as much as I do
those professionals who are well trained and more observant. When people complain about big trucks sharing the
highway, I remind them that the professional is the one who is more capable and trustworthy on the road than those
drivers with less training.
#6. Yes, trucks do own the road! Without trucks paying for the taxes that fund road projects, the highways wouldn’t be the
same. From fuel taxes to IRS taxes, to tolls to mileage taxes, the trucking industry pays for the roads and their upkeep.
Those four wheelers just don’t realize how little they pay, and don’t even think about how little those electric vehicles are
paying for our roads.
#7. If your neighbor only understood that your job keeps his kitchen stocked, his car’s tank filled, and his children clothed.
He doesn’t always understand the supply chain and how you and your truck allow him to enjoy the products he uses every
day. Maybe he needs a lesson in the importance of the trucking industry and its effect on the economy.
#8. You’re not driving a truck until you find something better. For some, being a
professional driver is the job of last resort, but for most of you, it’s your career. Sure,
there are people who are always looking for something that pays better and allows you
to have a different lifestyle, but not all drivers are seeking a way out.
Trucker sisters: Feel free to show this article
to your neighbor the next time you feel
misunderstood. You just might change his or
her opinion of you, one neighbor at a time.
© 2014, Ellen Voie CAE, President/CEO,
Women In Trucking, Inc.
P O Box 400, Plover, WI 54467-0400
Ellen@WomenInTrucking.org
888-464-9482
920-312-1350
Freddy Storwitz and the King Mill
One morning right after I got to work, Ray the nice foreman walks up and says, “Go see Freddy. He’s gonna’ show you how to run the King
Mill.”
Freddy Storwitz was an old timer whose daily uniform consisted of bib overalls and a clean blue denim short sleeve Sears Roebuck work
shirt. A tall 200 plus pound man, he was never in a hurry. He was up in years, but there was still a whole head of thick gray hair under his
green machinist hard hat.
Freddy worked the King Mill rescuing salvaged diesel engine gears all the time I’d been at the railroad. They called it “King” because that was
the manufacturer’s name, differentiated it from other milling machines in the shop which were all “Cincinnati’” brand.
The machine stood by itself, away from the others because the gears that waited next to it needed a lot of room. They were basically a
dangerous bunch; lined up like a pack of life savers back to back against the wheel shop wall on each side of the mill. Their blue-gray bodies
were topped off with sharp pointy gear teeth. At two and a half feet in diameter, nearly 100 pounds each, people took a wide birth around the
gear area so as not to disturb the line up and send the bunch teetering and rolling to where they shouldn’t be.
It was a strange and unsafe set up and I never could figure out why it was the way it was. Just another railroad management
question…never answered.
The gears came to our shop after being recovered from train wrecks. An inspector somewhere crawling around among the mashed box cars
and derailed engine had determined that these gears could be re-used. After all, their teeth weren’t broken and the nicks, cuts and gouges on
their flat sides could be machined down; still keeping within safe measurement tolerances.
Until I was asked to run the King Mill, it was Freddy’s and only Freddy’s domain. No one was exactly standing in line for the job.
This is why: in order to load one onto the bed of the King Mill, the operator had to have a lot of patience. As already mentioned, Freddy was a
slow mover. I always wondered: did the job turn him into one…or was he slow and patient to begin with?
He had to roll the gear over by hand very carefully. Wearing padded work gloves, Freddy handled the gears easily but respectfully. His hands
were as big as the nearly ten inch spread of gear teeth so it wasn’t difficult for him to get a good grip on the sides as it traveled along. This
was necessary because these creatures had a nasty tendency to tip over unexpectedly, especially since the wheel shop floor was a mix of
uneven cement and wood bricks set into dirt.
Freddy had to separate a gear from its buddies by rolling the first one in line towards his own feet, legs spread apart, then slowly turning it as
if it were a tire ready to travel forward…methodically and in one smooth motion; at the same time watching the ground ahead trying to avoid
any terrain that could cause it to tilt.
When arms felt the gear begin to wobble and it couldn’t be corrected, the trick was to anticipate its trajectory and jump the other direction so
that it didn’t scrap knees or land on feet (which no steel toed boot or blue jeaned pants leg could protect at that point.) Freddy didn’t like to
jump but no matter how large Freddy’s hands were or how strong his muscled arms were, when a gear decided to start tipping he didn’t try to
stop it and he got out of its way.
The problem with a splat-flat-on-the-ground-gear, of course…was righting it to continue the journey. There was no crane in the area between
where the gears were stored and their final destination but with the help of a friendly fork lift driver, it could be done.
Now, no matter which job I was assigned, new leather gloves never fit my smaller sized hands. So I’d have to dig around in the used glove
bin to find a left and right that had been washed over and over; shrinking to a size that suit me best. I knew that if I was going to be rolling
these monsters, my most important tools would be gloves that fit, so my hand wouldn’t get caught on a gear tooth and take me and an arm
with it on its trip to the floor…especially since I weighed about one half of one Freddy.
When Freddy finally got to the King mill he’d push the gear over with one foot on purpose to land on the wood floor right next to the machine.
Then he hoisted it onto the bed of the machine with a crane hanging above the mill and clamped the gear down tightly to begin the process
of removing the damaged metal. Kind of like slicing sideways across the top of a flattened bagel to get the poppy and sesame seeds off! Only
this bagel was made out of deep blue heat-treated steel.
Understand something: when a gear was born…shiny and new in some factory somewhere, (not in this shop), it would have been taken to an
industrial oven and baked in a super high temperature. It was a process called heat treating and it made the items real real hard!
Supposedly never to be monkeyed with by re-machining. (Continued next page)
Freddy Storwitz and the King Mill continued…
Hah!
Dirty white coolant sprayed on the gear face during each few thousandth of inches thin cut. The revolutions were slower than “normal” too
or the cutting tool insert would shatter; pieces flying in the air, making the operator glad about the invention of safety glasses!
But Freddy had years of experience as well as a box of special diamond tipped tool inserts he’d get from the foremen’s office. He’d stop
the machine and let the tool post cool a bit before he’d change the insert. His skilled eyes watched and timed the change just between
becoming dull…and breaking off in the bit.
The gear rotated in the bed of the mill. The cutting tool sliced off the metal little by little by little.
Freddy would stop between these horizontal slices and use a special micrometer to check the progress, making sure the surface continued
to be even and the machine wasn’t taking too much off at each sweep across. He just wanted enough off to clean up the gouges. Not
enough to ruin the gear and send it to the scrap heap.
I saw Freddy rolling and loading gears for years when I’d visit the foremen’s office across the shop from the King Mill. It was a clear shot
from the office door to Freddy. Just in-house train tracks between. I had to go to the office to use the toilet. Three foremen and a supervisor
called it their own before I came on the scene. My locker was one of six smashed up against the wall of this hole in the wall bathroom
giving new meaning to the term water closet.
If Freddy wasn’t rolling gears I’d wave “hi” and sometimes he’d wave “hi” back.
That morning, gloves and I actually walked right up to Freddy.
“Ray wants you to show me how to run the King Mill,” I shouted over the noise of the machine.
Freddy answered, “Yah. I know.”
But he just stood there staring at the gear going round and round and not talking to me…until.
“A girl shouldn’t be here. My boy wanted a job and you took it. He’s got kids to support.”
His words were like a slap in the face and I automatically took a step back.
This was a complete surprise. Freddy had always been friendly with me. Even though we’d never talked about anything except the
weather, there were smiles sometimes and then those waves of hello from across the way.
I retook the spot I’d been standing in originally; looked up into Freddy’s face and said, “Freddy, I’ve been here for five years now. You
never said anything like that to me before. What’s the matter?”
Freddy said, “My kid can’t get work.”
I said, “Freddy, I’m sorry about your boy and his family but other people got hired at the same time I did. Men. Why do you say I’m the one
that took his job? And I got kids to support too. Five of ‘em. Are you gonna’ train me on this King Mill? Or should I just stand here and
watch?”
“I don’t care what you do” Freddy answered.
So for the rest of that day I stood and watched and
wrote stuff down in my little pocket notebook.
The next morning I went to the King Mill and waited for Freddy
but he didn’t show up.
Ray walked over and said, “Freddy’s going to be out for a while.
Some kind of operation. You know what to do?”
I did.
Copyright 2014 Sue Doro…From “Shop Rags”
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Women In Work Boots is a Calgary network of
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PRIDE AND A PAYCHECK 484 Lake Park
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Sue Doro, Editor. Email us at
tradesis@aol.com SEND ARTICLES AND
POETRY FOR CONSIDERATION. JOIN
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OTHER TRADESWOMEN AROUND THE
WORLD. The Editor is a retired Railroad Machinist
and member of the National Writers Union, Local
1981 (UAW Affiliate) as well as the United
Association of Labor Education, Local 189 (Affiliate
of CWA), & Working Class Studies Assoc., and
www.railroadworkersunited.org, Tradeswomen, Inc.
and NAWIC (National Assoc. of Women in
Construction), the Coalition of Labor Union Women
(CLUW), retired member of the American
Federation of Government Employees (AFGE) and
International Association of Machinists (IAM). Pride
and a Paycheck is produced by the Editor who is
responsible for content. Special thanks to the
ongoing support of Larry Robbin, Joycelyn
Robbinson-Hughes, Madeline Mixer, Jeanne Park,
Joanna Perry-Kujala, Sisters in the Building Trades,
Sister Rails, Women in Trucking, Rita Magner, Pat
Williams, Vivian Price, Ellen Voie, Penny Artis, Pat
Burnham and Donna De Graaf-Smith and all the
international tradeswomen writers and poets like
Stella Cheng and Kate Braid who share their work
lives with us and inspire other sisters to write from
their hearts and hard hats!
Thanks to Mike Rowe’s (Dirty Jobs TV show fame!) new website “Profoundly Disconnected” for listing
Pride and a Paycheck in its State Resources/Women section. This is the link to use. Then scroll down
to “Women”. http://profoundlydisconnected.com/trade-resource-center/state-resources/california/

And thanks Rebuilding Together Oakland for email blast to their constituents about Pride and a
Paycheck advertising campaign! Great organization. Always can use volunteers. Good way to
keep up your construction skills when/if you are laid off. Go to: http://www.rtoakland.org
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Help grow Pride and a Paycheck. New issue out monthly now! Help us get advertisers. Type in
www.prideandapaycheck.com and spread the words of tradeswomen to your friends.
And MANY THANKS to folks that donated in this past month:
Randall Rude, (Ironworkergear.com) Ozark MO; Donna De Graff-Smith, Gary IN;
Patti Kreitner, Plainfield NJ; Isabelle Narayana, Montreal Quebec Canada.
We continue because of supporters like these!
2014 IRONWORKER WOMEN CALENDARS WERE SENT AS A DONATION GIFT.
THANKS TO JEANNE PARK!
Canadian sisters and friends
in the Vancouver BC area:
Sue Doro, Editor of Pride
and a Paycheck will be one
of four tradeswomen
authors participating in a
panel at the Vancouver
Central Library, March 8th.
Canadians Sylvia Taylor,
Kate Braid and Jane Hall are
the other authors.
What a great way to
celebrate International
Women’s Day 2014!
Stone Mason Stella Chen of Rodez France suggests
that we have a Letters to the Editor Section in Pride and
a Paycheck. She says (among other things) it could give
feedback to articles and/or generate support for the
women going through rough times. She also says it
would also be a means of expression without the need
to write an entire article for those who want to contribute
but think that an article’s length is just too much for them
to write. Contributing to Pride and a Paycheck takes
many forms…not just donations. Great idea Stella!
Email letters to tradesis@aol.com
Quoting Stella: “Bridges are built when
communication comes from many different places!”
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