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Rock
throwing happened during
the 1st summer. The gang was
spread out into groups, and if the group ahead of you
was experiencing some difficulty you just stood around
until they got going again. This could be bad, since if
the foreman saw you standing around too much you could be
fired (sent "down the grade") come Friday. Some of the crew
made fun of me by calling me Franco Harris (then the premier
running back in the NFL) because rather than stand around
I would "gain yardage" by walking to another, non-idle group and
work there. "How many yards do you have today, Franco"
one guy would always ask me.
Those less inclined to roam started throwing rocks at
the groups of men who were stalled. Go figure. The word
was put out quickly that anyone throwing rocks would be
fired. One day the group ahead of us was stalled, so I
left my small group and walked up to see what was up.
I was standing next to a blond haired kid two years younger
than me from my hometown nicknamed "Andy". Suddenly
a rock nailed him in the back of the head just under his
hard hat. He collapsed and was knocked out for about 10
seconds. He hit the roadbed hard and just lay there. The
Road Master was called and he walked back to the group of
four guys I had just left. Two were brothers from my
grade school. "Did you throw that rock?", he asked the
four men in succession. When nobody owned up, he fired
all four on the spot.
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