Rivethead: Tales From the Assembly Line (1991), by Ben Hamper (Bernard Egan Hamper III).
I came across a hardcover copy of this title, while browsing a used book store in the mid-1990's. From the inner sleeve of the dust jacket:
The product of an automobile-making family... Hamper arrived on the assembly line with long hair, a bad attitude, and nowhere else to go. But he soon discovered that working at G.M. was like "being paid to flunk high school"---a job he could not only do, but also love."
Flint. G.M. Michael Moore? Sure enough, Ben Hamper was the fellow interviewed in the 1989 documentary, Roger and Me, while shooting hoops at an outpatient mental facility.
From Rivethead, p. 211:
I turned on the radio thinking some music might sooth me down. The Beach Boys were singin' "Wouldn't It Be Nice," a great song if you could escape the irony of the title. I began to sing along: "Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true..." Jesus, I started bawlin' like a newborn. Even Brian Wilson was takin' a poke at me. I slapped off the radio.
Born in Flint, MI, Ben was a fourth-generation "shoprat" (automotive industry worker) on his father's side. Most of the text of Rivethead is interwoven with pre-existing articles on the life of a shoprat, which Hamper wrote for the newspaper monthly Flint Voice (later to become the Michigan Voice). At the helm of both outfits was a man named Michael Moore, already known locally as a rabble rouser in print, and in person at town council meetings.
If Henry Hill's lifelong ambition was "to be a gangster," then the inverse applied to Ben Hamper, in his desire to be a shoprat. Having pictured his father's work as identical to building model cars with airplane glue, Ben's illusion was shattered at age seven, when he was brought to the G.M. plant for a visit. Witnessing the drudgery of his father's work on the assembly line, along with alcohol-fueled incidents and months-long disappearances on the home front, young Hamper had decided early in life to avoid following in his dad's footsteps, and instead become an ambulance driver.
After barely graduating high school and becoming a young father involved in a tenacious and already-dissolving marriage, Ben became desperate for steady employment. Having set aside lofty career goals such as "disc jockey" and "ambulance driver" aside, he worked as an apartment painter, while living in close proximity to the Chevrolet Manufacturing and Engine plants, and the G.M. Truck & Bus facility. At times, he would park in front of the plant, drink beer, watch employees exit the plant, and consider alternate career goals:
There weren't any. All I ever came back to was the inevitable admission that I didn't really want to do anything. And around these parts, in the fat chokehold of Papa GM, that was just chickenshit slang for asking "What time does the line start up on Monday?" p.27.
Through the help of family members connected with the auto industry, Ben began his 11-year employment at G.M., in the Cab Shop. The starting wage (1977) was $12.82/hr. To him, this was a king's ransom, during a time where the company itself was in the midst of a prosperous stretch:
(...) and they were enriching us all. Roger Smith was browsing for yachts, my General Foreman was looking at property in the Upper Peninsula, several of my linemates were seen swapping Kessler's for Crown Royal, and I was devoting a miniature fortune to punk records, girlfriends, and bar tabs.
It seemed no matter how many we pushed out the door, we just couldn't assemble those fad-happy recreational vehicles fast enough to suit a slobberin' public who'd gone cold turkey throughout the recession of the embargo years. p.44-45
Throughout Rivethead, Hamper describes his assembly line mates (see glossary below), and learns the tricks of the trade considered to be far-removed from the G.M. operations' manual. One such technique used by shoprats to conquer the slowly moving minute hand of the clock is known as "doubling up." In this practice, two line mates coordinate alternating shifts, to where one undertakes the tasks of both workers, while the other has time to read, browse crossword puzzles, and drink, be it on the line or off company premises. After a predetermined amount of time, usually one to two hours, the worker returns to assume double-work duties, while the other takes his break.
Plant layoffs are also a fact of life in the shop. Much of the joy that Hamper describes in collecting his unemployment benefits ("being paid to do nothing") is dampened by the bi-weekly visit to the Michigan Employment Security Commission office. All unemployed workers, whether on layoff status or otherwise, were required to seek work, and return with four completed job applications. Ben's tack was to:
"(...) reach for the yellow pages and randomly select some of the most bizarre places of business I could find. On a given week I may have "applied" for work at a taxidermy shop, a porno theater, a limousine service, and a funeral home. They had a spot on the job form where you were required to write in the name of the individual you had spoken with. I'd call up the business and ask who answered the owner's name. I'd jot it down and hang up. The form also had a line asking "Outcome of Job Interview." I put down phrases like "enormously unqualified," "lacking sufficient training," and "a stalemate of mutual disgust." p. 72-73
Hamper spends much of his time at the Rusty Nail bar, and later in his career, at Mark's Lounge. Though enjoying his stretch of unemployment steeped in music, revelry, and endless quantities of booze, Ben gets bored with being unemployed, describing it as an extra-long summer vacation from school: "When every day is Saturday, Saturday is suddenly no big deal." (p. 83) Compounding this unease is the grief that Hamper receives from his grandfather at family gatherings. Ben describes these confrontations as coming down to "an uncomfortable stalemate" of feelings; respect held for his grandfather's heroic participation in the sit-down strikes of 1937, and disdain of his elder's condescending attitute towards the union of the current day ("Back then a foreman could run you right out the door, with no reason at all. The next day his brother-in-law would be doing your job." p.75).
In addition to drinking heavily and listening to Lou Christie and Black Flag at high volume, Hamper began writing during his shifts, submitting music reviews to the Flint Voice, a paper that he browsed while waiting in line at the liquor store.
The Flint Voice was the brainchild and squawkin' brat of a long-haired live wire named Michael Moore. I was familiar with the guy. So was anyone in Flint with one eye half open. Moore was constantly hurling himself into the midst of some trenchant uproar. You would see him on television, hear him raisin' hell on the radio, reading about him causin' a ruckus down at a meeting of the City Council. (p. 84)
In attempting to keep the Flint Voice financially solvent, Moore enlists the aid of singer/international recording star Harry Chapin ("Taxi," "Cat's in the Cradle"), who headlines a total of eleven benefit shows on behalf of the struggling newspaper. Tragically, Chapin died on June 16, 1981. Also at this time, Moore tried (at this time, unsuccessfully) to talk Hamper into writing a regular column about life as a shoprat at General Motors.
A few weeks later, Hamper is called back to work at the plant. His new supervisor is Henry Jackson, a mean, ornery "Muhammad Ali look-a-like," and Ben's nemesis through many of his years at G.M. Jackson introduces Hamper and others to the Rivet Line. Unlike the Cab Shop, the Rivet Line is an area where it is nearly impossible to double up work, as the line activity is constant, and the work more individualized. After an unsuccessful attempt to get transferred out of what is widely regarded as among the worst jobs in the plant, Hamper tackles the pinup job, and masters it. To pass the time, he plays brain games, imagining himself as an Olympics gold metal Rivethead champion. Here, Ben meets and befriends Dave Steel, his ideal cynical match and best friend with other commonalities (shoprat heritage, love of booze and rebel music, disdain for common enemy Henry Jackson).
Hamper is laid off again, and at the continuing behest of Michael Moore, submits a wider-ranging array of articles for the Flint Voice. Such articles included (in jest, or otherwise) an interview with the ghost of Buddy Holly, a personal account of a drunken ejection from an Osmonds concert, and live reporting of Flint's bruising and often-bloody "Toughman Contest." After being summoned to appear in court for libel of an establishment called the Good Times Lounge ("What this place lacks in ambience it makes up in ambulance"), Hamper concedes to Moore after the case is unceremoniously dropped, and agrees to begin working on a column about life in the G.M. shop.
After reassignment to a failed temporary stint on the Axle Line, Hamper's union rep is able to get him back into the familiar environs of the pinup area:
All I knew was that there was something about those rivets that had gotten into my blood. I loved the way they looked jammed into those old rusty bins. I loved the way they felt rollin' around my palm like dice. I loved to see their little round heads squashed beneath the incredible force of the rivet guns. I loved everything about those gray metal mushrooms. I was quite possibly a very sick man. (p. 109)
Examples of GM's inefficient management are noted by Hamper:
* Jackson assigns him to the Axle Line, a job that makes "thumping rivets look like a day at the Playboy mansion" (
p.106), and requires an "advantage in height" that Ben lacks. Hamper, with the help of his union committee man, battles corporate bureaucracy, convinces them of the simple fact that he is too short for the Axle Line job, and reattains his position on the Rivet Line.
* An even worse management decision is that of placing an older woman on the Rivet Line. On her second day of work in this department, she is knocked unconscious by the rivet gun, a tool that is in its own right heavy and unwieldy in the hands of a physically capable specimen. A worker stops the assembly line, which prompts a red-alert, middle management freak out: "KEEP THE LINE RUNNING!!!":
Meanwhile, the old woman was coming to. With the assistance of a couple supervisors, they got her up on her feet and sat her down at her bench. She began to cry---partly terrorized, partly humiliated. Jesus Christ, this was probably somebody's grandmother. It was awful. I thought about my own grandmother slumped on that oily woodblock floor. I thought about all the banners and coffee cups urging SAFETY FIRST and similar lies. (p.110-111)
* Less hazardous and nearly as ridiculous is G.M.'s introduction of live mascot Quality Cat to the shop environment. This costumed mascot, also dubbed "Howie Makem" (losing names included Wanda Kwit, Roger's Pussy, and Tuna Meowt), roamed the plant to the cheers and jeers of its workers. Upon hearing about this, Moore howled with laughter over the notion of a 5'9" G.M. cat mascot, and pestered Ben to get an interview with Howie Makem. Hamper planned to heist the giant cat costume with the goal of becoming Quantity Cat, a.k.a. "Howie Rakem." Due to an unfortunate theft of the cat's arms and torso, Hamper's ruse was thwarted, as management responded to the burglary by keeping the remainder of the costume under lock-and-key.
After an 11-month layoff in the early years of the Reagan presidency, Hamper is called back to the plant, as G.M., thanks to Caspar Weinberger, is now the beneficiary of a few billions' worth of government money to build a line of Army trucks. Also at this time, and in the face of extreme debt, Michael Moore expands his newspaper, under the newly titled Michigan Voice (circulation=60,000 readers). Though long-time staffers are let go, Hamper retains his job as the "blue-collar voice" of the paper, garnering more fan (and hate) mail than the rest of the remaining accumulative staff with his column, entitled "Revenge of the Rivethead."
The Army contracts draw a fresh infusion of workers into the Flint G.M. plant. Among them is a young, attractive woman, thrust by Jackson into the frenetic activity of the Rivet Line. Spurred by his hatred of the supervisor and an honest desire to help, Hamper assists the new employee:
I could sense that a visit from Dr. Rivethead was in order. I let her mangle a few more rivets before wandering over and introducing myself.
"My name's Ben. For better or worse, I am the local guru regarding the defiant nature of the rivet gun."
This brought a smile. "My name's Janice, and for better or worse, I'm a total klutz."
"Believe me, so is everyone when they first get a hold of one of these guns." (p. 145)
Gallantly, Ben demonstrates to her the proper techniques involved in handling a rivet gun, and adopts a platonic relationship with Janice, amidst the "oohs and ahhs" of his libidinous male line mates.
Into Reagan's second term as president, Ben watches on TV G.M.'s announced intent to lay off 30,000 workers (3,500 in Flint). A tangible soutward flow of workers is established. Plants in northern Michigan (Saginaw, Bay City) close, and its workers reestablish southward to Flint, where existing employees are urged to transfer 35 miles southward, to Pontiac. Next stop, Shreveport, Louisiana... and then Mexico, Hamper notes presciently. With regret, Ben signs the contract for Pontiac, transfer effective two years upon signing.
During this period, Hamper and Dave Steel collaborate in their free time to compose a rock opera of life at G.M., or a "shopera." The two also form a grunge quartet that engages in recording at radio station WFBE, where Ben co-hosted "Take No Prisoners," a weekly radio show. There were no assumptions of aspiration in their compositions. Rather, their music was birthed from the frustrations of shop life, and a dissatisfaction with the representation of the blue-collar worker through multi-platinum rock stars (Billy Joel, Bob Seger, John Cougar Mellenkamp, Bruce Springsteen):
All right, maybe it's true these rock stars have dandy intentions, but it just doesn't wash. For instance, you wouldn't call a heart surgeon to your house to steam-vac your carpet. Why entrust the blues to a bunch of off-whites? These fickle chameleons oughtta clear out and take their lousy method acting with 'em. We don't need them to serenade us on how tedious and deprived our lives are. If need be, we can do it ourselves. (p.197)
The summer of 1986 was of high consequence to Ben Hamper. On the one hand, his writings had proved him to be worthy of a slot on Esquire's yearly register of "the best and brightest minds." Additionally, Michael Moore was preparing to take a job in San Francisco at Mother Jones, in an effort to boost slagging sales by injecting more of a "blue-collar perspective" into the magazine. In doing this, Moore contracted Hamper to write an article, possibly of front cover variety, for his first issue as lead editor.
On the other hand, Ben's health began to show signs of strain. On Wednesday, July 16, 1986, before the start of his shift, Hamper suffered disorientation, shortness of breath, and numbness in his arms and legs. In a panic from feeling what appeared to be the signs of a stroke, Hamper contacted Moore, and was urged by his supervisor to take the day off. It is during his drive home that Hamper recounts his breakdown upon hearing the Beach Boys' song. After a few more days of suffering similar attacks, Ben is diagnosed; though declared to be sane, the doctor terms his stress as "panic anxiety syndrome," and issues him a prescription for Xanax.
Hamper takes the next two weeks off from the plant, and spends some time making Mother Jones-sponsored media appearances. At one such event in Chicago, Ben is drunkenly accompanied by an equally stuporous Dave Steel. Despite this, the appearance is successfully free of profanity, and rife with camera-shaking laughter.
Moore's stint with Mother Jones ended after just three issues. Out of loyalty to the former editor, Ben discontinues his column with MJ, which is subsequently picked up by the Detroit Free Press. Hamper continues to see a doctor for his panic anxiety, and is advised in early 1987 to take three months off from work, and attend a mental outpatient clinic. During this year, Ben is reassigned to the G.M. plant in Pontiac, and marries Jan, a then-resident of Ann Arbor, MI, and (oddly) a non-smoker/drinker.
On April 7, 1988, Ben suffered his last anxiety attack as a G.M. employee. Coupling with the 70 mile round-trip commute from Flint to Fenton, made extremely dangerous by his intake of alcohol and prescribed medication, Ben Hamper left General Motors.
***** ***** ***** *****
Links:
Rivethead: Tales From the Assembly Line, at amazon.com, and at powells.com
Betty Rollin interviews Ben Hamper on NBC's Today show (November 12, 1986):
Entire Mire (Ben Hamper's grunge band):
Take No Prisoners (radio show archives w/co-hosts Ben Hamper and Jim McDonald)
"Soul Possession" (Ben Hamper's weekly radio show, on WNMC 90.7, Traverse City, MI)
Rivethead: character glossary
Baba Lou: Big, amiable, and sadly without a girlfriend in his early 30's. Known to have never uttered a profanity more harsh than the phrase "dumb trollop."
Dale: A workaholic shoprat/pig farmer from Twining (115 miles north of Flint). Teamed with Ben, the two scaled the dangerous summit of doubling up 1/2 day on, 1/2 day off.
Dave Steel: Earned Hamper's endearment with his criticism of the world, all things G.M., and even Ben's own Rivethead persona.
Franklin: Outwardly violent, while being secretly poetic. Received a thirty-day suspension for assaulting the line quality control employee.
Gino Donlan: Benevolent supervisor on the Rivet Line, who shed concerns of worker shenanigans in favor of a straightforward policy: "Just get the work done."
Hank: Hamper's neighbor on the Rivet Line; a schizoid from one week to the next, alternating between excessive drooling over the female figure, and "extolling the virtues of celibacy and the cleansed soul" (p. 94).
Henry Jackson: Too mean for Jim Croce.
Jack: Crazy GM conspiracy theorist and excessive drug abuser, who crushed a cigarette machine in an act of revenge against The Man.
Janice: Protege of the Rivethead, and fellow afficianado of the Dead Kennedys.
Jerry the Polish Sex God: the "player" of the Rivet Department, and one of Ben's handful of drinking buddies.
Lightnin': No one really knew what he did. Often seen sleeping in the mens' bathroom, leaning against the wall near the last urinal.
Same-O: Answers every question with the response, "same old thing."
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Update: JekyllnHyde posted this cartoon to tonight's Top Commentsthread. I find it pretty relevant to Ben Hamper's story:
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Update 2: I just received an email reply from Ben Hamper on this diary, along with his permission to repost it at will:
Interesting piece. I rarely think about those days anymore so it served as quite a nostalgic stroll. I appreciate you recommending the book & giving it exposure. It's nice that it still sells after all these years.
I enjoyed the poll, too. Half of those people I'd forgotten about. I gave my vote to Same-o.
Much appreciated. Many thanks to you, Ben.