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To the Editor

I was resident engineer in Edinburg for the Virginia Department of Highways (now VDOT). My state force’s bridge crew was replacing an inadequate, derelict bridge. The deck on our new bridge would consist of prestressed concrete box girders. Two flat-bed tractor trailers hauled the heavy box girders to our job site from the Staunton District Office. I watched as the crane hoisted the first box girder. The operator of the flat-bed jumped out of his cab, grabbed a guide rope, and waded into the stream to help guide the girder into position on the abutments. He did this with each of the girders he delivered. Then he jumped in his truck and headed back to Staunton to pick up our final load of girders.

The second operator sat in the cab of his flat-bed smoking while my small crew struggled to guide each beam he delivered.
My crew told me when the first operator returned he pitched in again and was a huge help.

I sent that first operator a thank you letter on official department letterhead. I wrote exactly what I saw him do. I told him how much we appreciated him going way above and beyond his job description. He helped the project go so much smoother when he didn’t have to. I signed it “John Hancock style” in big, blue ink letters.

I thought his boss and my bosses should know what a good man he is. I sent a copy to Jim Dunkum, his immediate boss, who was our district shop superintendent. I also sent copies to our two assistant district engineers and our district engineer. And that was that.

Many years later after I left VDOT, Clyde Shipp, my Edinburg shop superintendent, retired. I thought a lot of Clyde and drove from Fairfax for his retirement luncheon. As I visited during the luncheon, I approached a booth where four men I didn’t recognize were sitting. I introduced myself. One of the men said, “Yes sir. I know you.” He pulled his wallet out and unfolded a yellowing, worn thin letter with a large blue signature. “You sent me this.”

Then I recognized him and said, “That route six-seventy-five bridge was our first one using box girders. I should have added a few more men to our bridge crew that day. You got down in the stream and helped guide and set your whole load of girders.”

He was pinned in the booth and couldn’t stand up, so we shook hands across their table. I said, “I still appreciate what you did.”

He smiled, nodded and said, “I worked for the Department for thirty-five years. This is the only thank you letter I ever got. I always carry it with me.”

I had to move away from their booth. My allergies were kicking in or something, because my eyes started watering.

John Chiles Jr.

Southern Shores

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