I Was a Woman on a Tugboat — Live in Everett

Editor’s note: Originally published September 30, 2017. Republished March 26, 2020.

My name is Mary Jamieson and this is my story.

I had just put my curlers in when the phone rang.

It was seven AM. I had been up for two hours, winterizing the house.

I picked up the phone. It was my husband Floyd.

“The cook and the deckhand quit,” he said abruptly. “Gotta make a run to Ballard and back today, pick up an oil barge. Can you come down to the tugboat and work the galley?”

"Good to hear your sweet voice, too," I said.

"Huh?" said Floyd.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be down. Hold your horses.”

I unwound the curlers and threw a Seattle Rainiers ball cap over my hair.

We lived on Nassau. I lit an Old Gold as I left the house. It was a glowing stub by the time I arrived at Pier 2 at the foot of Hewitt.

I boarded the Irene and started peeling potatoes and chopping onions. I lit the oil stove.

Lunch would be at noon and there were six men to feed.

Floyd walked into the galley with a new deckhand, a skinny kid named Gibbons. The kid sneered at me.

“I'm not gonna work on a tug with a lady cook,” he said.

Well, that was a rotten thing to say. Who was this guy?

He pointed at me. “I ain’t gonna do her job when she gets seasick. I have yet to see a woman cook who doesn't get sick on rough water.”

My husband looked at me, then he looked at Gibbons. “She’ll do her job,” he said.

"Oh! My name's Mary, by the way," I said, extending my hand. "Nice to meet you." Sweet as pie.

Gibbons sized me up like a round steak in the supermarket. He declined the handshake.

They walked out.

The Irene set out, heading south from Everett.

I cooked the soup, scrubbed down the galley, cleaned the oil stove, and mopped the floors. I checked the requisition book, then started washing the cabinets.

Lunchtime. I ladled up the potato chowder and brought it to the boys. I made sure to serve Gibbons with extra care.

“Eat up,” I smiled.

He snorted.

We got to Ballard and hooked up the barge.

It was evening by the time we started northbound.

We were near Edmonds when terrible swells came westward off Whidbey. Big waves. The tug reeled, the floor tilted up and dropped away.

Cooking dinner was a balancing act. The tomatoes kept rolling away.

I looked out the window to check on the crew. I saw Gibbons, hanging over the rail. He was sick alright. Sick everywhere.

What a waste of good potato chowder.

When we got back to Everett I tied off the barge for Gibbons. Poor sad fella.

It was I who got the bridles off and hauled in the gear that evening. Deckhand work.

We got to Pier 2 and my husband sent Gibbons home. The kid limped away, looking sick as a puppy.

I coiled the ropes and mopped the deck. Gave the galley another scrub.

When I hung up the mop for the evening Floyd said, “Go up to the office. Tell them to pay you decking and cook’s wages. You earned it.”

So I did.

That day I got paid extra and bought a jar full of gladiolas on my way home. Because they’re nice to look at.

My name is Mary Jamieson and I work hard as any man.

Mary and Floyd Jamieson worked in Everett for the American Tugboat Company from 1930 to the 1950s. They worked on the following boats: the Irene, Chickaloon, Gwylan, Elmore, Mary D. Hume, Madeline, and the Margaret S.

Mary Jamieson had this to say about tugboat workers: "They weren't the fancies, they were there to get the work done."

The Floyds had five children.