JOURNEY MAN
A Carpenter’s Story
By Daniel Foster

FOLLOW THAT TRUCK

Deanna and I were married in April.  I remember some people thinking it a strange time to be married.  It was mud season in Vermont, when the melting snow from 5 months of winter turns the back roads into a morass of deep, wet ruts and travel becomes a very dicey affair.  But it was a wonderful time to marry.  Early spring.  And we were able to flee the weather of Vermont for an idyllic honeymoon on the south coast of Puerto Rico.

When we returned we spent several weeks in South Hampton on the east end of Long Island, where I constructed a deck on the home of a friend of a friend.  My friend – Jerry – lived next door and cooked us great food and gave us great company.  It was a wonderful extension to our honeymoon.

On our return to Vermont I left Woodstock Builders to work for Gil Theriault who was a new builder with a number of jobs, including a large one in South Woodstock.  The job encompassed several different projects scattered around a large property recently bought by a real estate impresario from Portland, Maine, named Pritam Singh.  Pritam was a white guy from Massachusetts who had embraced the Sikh religion and who had made a lot of money as a real estate developer in Portland.  While I was with Gil we started or completed a number of projects on the property, including the renovation of an old barn into an art gallery and offices, building a round Sikh temple, constructing a tea-house in the middle of a pond, building a large horse barn, and constructing a caretaker apartment above the wood shop.  I worked on several other projects for Gil as well in Woodstock and South Woodstock.

A lot of the work on Pritam’s place consisted of looking like we were being productive.  Gil was always at risk of Pritam being displeased, and we would sometimes do stuff just to look like a lot was getting done.  I couldn’t stand this and my attitude towards working for Gil’s company began to slide.  I did not keep my feelings to myself.

One day Gil handed me a check and said I was through with Theriault Construction.  At first I was stunned, but then I began to feel elated.  I drove into Woodstock to see Deanna, who was working in a lawyer’s office and told her the news.  She also was pleased.  It was a very odd thing.  I’d just been fired and we both felt good about it!  This seemed like a chance for us to make a change.

Deanna and I were interested in moving to a less isolated part of the world, and she was interested in becoming certified as a Montessori teacher.  The Washington D.C. area looked like a good possibility.  I contacted an architect friend in the Washington D.C. area to see if he had any projects that were in need of a contractor.  He did and I agreed to drive down and meet with him to discuss working together.

I drove to Virginia and met with Halim and talked about the project he had.  I studied the plans in his office, met with the clients at their home and put together a bid, which would be one of several to be considered.  I thought it would make sense to pick up some work while I was there.  The DC area was booming, as it would several times over the next 20 years.  I asked Halim where he would suggest I look and he recommended Great Falls.

I spent some time driving around Great Falls and nothing seemed to gel.  I didn’t see any of the work Halim had said was there and I was feeling awkward about walking up to people and asking about work.  I began to think I should just dismiss the whole idea, throw in the towel and head back up to Vermont.  Then I noticed the truck in front of me.

It was a concrete truck in front of me.  It was either going to or coming from a job.  I looked for water dripping from it, which would indicate it had just come from a job, as the last thing the driver does on a job is to wash down the chutes, leaving a lot of dripping water.  I saw none, so I concluded it was heading toward a job.  I decided to follow it.  It turned to the left and I followed, then we turned right onto a dirt road and wound through the forest, coming to a stop a half-mile later at a construction site.

There was a large, newly poured foundation.  I parked my van and went to find the job superintendent.  I found him and asked if he needed any help.

“Can you lead?” he asked me.

“Absolutely”, I replied.  I had been a lead carpenter with Gil Theriault.  It was simply a position of slightly higher responsibility in the crew.

“We have a timber-frame coming here on Monday and we’re going to be erecting next week.  We could use the help”.

And so I signed on.  I negotiated a wage that was approximately twice what I had been earning in Vermont and I went to work for Joseph Klockner and Company.  I thought it would be for a week, but it ended up lasting nearly a year, until I went out on my own in the Virginia suburbs of Washington D.C., where we would spend the next 20 years.  The work with Halim became a possibility, but I stayed with Joseph Klockner, working on several interesting residential and commercial projects until the time was right and I was more ready to go out on my own.