Page 11 of The Women of Oak Ridge
CHAPTER FOUR:MAE
MY FIRST WEEKat Clinton Engineer Works was uneventful. I couldn’t start my job at K-25 until my security clearance was approved, so I filled the days becoming familiar with Townsite.
Townsite, or Oak Ridge, as it had officially been named last summer, had most everything any other American city offered. Grocery markets, drug stores, department stores, shoe shops, barbers, restaurants. There was a movie theater, tennis courts where dances were held in the evenings, and a bowling alley. The difference was every business in Oak Ridge was brand-new and stayed open twenty-four hours a day. Even the cafeteria where we took our meals never closed. Because everyone at CEW worked in shifts, Townsite remained a bustling place day and night. Only on Sundays were things a bit quieter.
Although Sissy and I had fun exploring our new home and getting to know the girls in our dormitory, I was anxious to begin work and find out what all the secrecy was about. Many of the young women I’d arrived with were assigned to Y-12, like Sissy,who’d started her new job the previous day but hadn’t come home that evening with any information she was willing to share. Some of the other girls from our group were hired to work as clerks, telephone operators, teachers, and other jobs I couldn’t remember. But according to Prudence Thorpe, a girl from the dorm whom Sissy and I dubbed “the knower of all things,” I was the only newbie assigned to K-25.
Prudence worked at the main administration building, nicknamed Castle on the Hill, where we’d gone that first day for our orientation. She had a way of revealing information that led you to believe you were simply sharing an innocent conversation with the chatty redhead, rather than treading into dangerous gossip-infested waters where you ought not go. She’d been at CEW for six months, which made her an old-timer compared to the rest of us. I had a suspicion I’d need to keep on my toes whenever she was around. I wouldn’t want to be caught talking about things that were off-limits.
When my security clearance was finally approved, I was required to have a physical examination and a blood test at the medical clinic. The results were apparently acceptable, because I was given a schedule and told to be at the plant the following morning. It surprised me to learn I had to travel eleven miles outside of town by bus to get to K-25. The plant where Sissy worked was only three or so miles away.
Like everything else in town, buses ran twenty-four hours a day. The terminal, a fair trek along wooden walkways and muddy streets from our dormitory, was a madhouse of people and bulky vehicles, but I’d managed to find a bus going to K-25. I’d enjoyed the thirty-minute drive, taking me west out of town into the green, tree-covered hills that reminded me of Kentucky.
However, the first time I saw the enormous structure where I was to work, my mouth gaped. Rising up from rich Tennesseefarmland like an ancient behemoth, the giant creature Job writes about in the Old Testament, K-25 was like nothing I’d ever seen or even imagined. It was impossible to believe construction on the massive four-story, U-shaped building had begun just two years prior, a fact I’d learned from Prudence.
Upon arrival at the enormous complex, the guard at the entrance portal checked my ID badge, then directed me to K-1024, the maintenance shop, a building located in the open U area of the plant, known as the courtyard. Once there, I met Mr. Colby, the foreman. He informed me my main job would be as a maintenance clerk, but I would also run errands throughout the plant that included transporting tools and small parts to crews making repairs. He handed me a thick instruction and operations manual and told me to familiarize myself with thousands and thousands of mechanical parts and tools listed within the pages.
That was three days ago. I hadn’t seen Mr. Colby again until he appeared in the doorway to the small office where I sat.
“Miss Willett, are you ready to get to work?”
I stood, nervous excitement swirling through my belly. “Yes, sir.”
He led the way outside where we crossed a sort of alley between the primary maintenance shop and the main building. As we went through a door and entered the behemoth, I found myself in a world as foreign to me as Wonderland was to Alice.
Mr. Colby offered a running monologue of what I was seeing while we toured the huge building. The first level housed auxiliary equipment such as transformers, switch gears, and air handling systems. The second floor contained hundreds of what he referred to as converters and compressors. The third level was filled with thousands of pipes, big and small, where groups of women worked, doing what, I couldn’t say. The operating floor on the fourth level housed rows of instrument panels, as well as a control room whereoperators monitored hordes of gauges and dials. I couldn’t fathom what any of it was for, especially since Mr. Colby neglected to show me the product that was being manufactured at the plant.
Back at the maintenance shop, he gave me a tour of it too, introducing me to men and women along the way. The whole thing was overwhelming, and I felt utterly inadequate when we returned to the small office where we’d started. I wasn’t sure why I’d been hired to work in such a place, and I feared I’d be fired before I had a chance to send any money home to my family.
“I imagine you have questions about what you just saw,” Mr. Colby said, “but for now, keep them to yourself. As you become accustomed to your job and the layout of the plant, many of them will be answered.”
I must have looked like a frightened squirrel, frozen as I was, because he offered a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Willett. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of things quickly.”
He was about my pa’s age and had a fatherly way about him. I hoped he was right in saying I’d get used to things.
“Can you ride a bicycle?”
The question seemed odd. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’ll use a bicycle to get around. K-25 is one mile long, from end to end, with four levels. That’s a lot of walking.”
He instructed me to utilize a map of the facility tacked to the wall in his office to help find my way around. Because some areas of the plant were restricted, I was given special security clearance on my badge to access them on an as-needed basis.
“But,” Mr. Colby said, a firmness to his tone, “you are only allowed in areas where you’ve been assigned. And remember, what happens at K-25 needs to stay at K-25.”
Cleanliness, he went on, was of utmost importance at the plant. I was to take care not to track in mud and dust, two of the most available and bothersome commodities on the Reservation.He recommended I purchase a pair of rubber galoshes from one of the shops in town. I didn’t tell him I couldn’t afford such an extravagance, at least not until I received my first paycheck. I would need to remember to clean my shoes before entering the plant every morning.
The most surprising advice he gave, however, was regarding my attire.
“It would be best if you wore trousers rather than a skirt,” he said, indicating Mama’s made-over dress I’d worn. “You’ll be riding a bicycle and sometimes carrying machine parts that may be greasy. If you don’t own any trousers, we can put in a requisition with Union Carbide for some coveralls. You’ll notice many of the women wearing them.”
I couldn’t help but grin. I’d never worn trousers before. The prospect seemed quite daring.
Within an hour, I found myself on a bike equipped with a basket, zipping around what surely must be the biggest building on the planet. It surprised me to see that many other employees utilized bicycles to get around too. I became lost multiple times, but people were kind and offered directions. By lunchtime my legs were tired, but I found I’d enjoyed the experience.
The cafeteria was a lengthy walk from the main building. A long line of hungry employees was already there when I arrived. The sight was nothing new at CEW. Everywhere you went—market, movie theater, dormitory bathroom—you were likely to encounter lines. Just yesterday I’d seen a string of people that stretched half a block near Town Center Number 1, the main shopping area. Someone said they were waiting to purchase cigarettes from a newly arrived shipment. As I skirted around them, I was very glad I’d never taken up the habit.
I stood outside the cafeteria waiting my turn. A second line formed on the opposite side of the building, but it consisted onlyof Black employees. I’d grown up in a small Kentucky town that had as many Black families as white, but we were all poor coal mining people, living in company-owned shanties. Other than segregated bathrooms at the local café, I hadn’t paid much attention to the separation of races that was common in other parts of the country.
