Takin’ Care of Business

This is the final installment of the five-part Biddeford After Dark Series I wrote for the Biddeford Saco Courier in October 2001. This installment focuses on third-shift workers in downtown Biddeford.

The city’s streets are unearthly quiet during the pre-dawn darkness. Save for the steady stream of cars on the turnpike, and the occasional customer at Dunkin’ Donuts — there is little activity taking place at 3:40 a.m. on Sunday.

I traverse crooked and uneven sidewalks, noticing the patch jobs and the crumbling pieces of concrete. And I wonder who walked these streets before. Not before the sun set today, but before the sun set more than 100 years ago.

How much different was Biddeford after dark back then? What happened during the night when the city was a bustling hub of commerce in post-Civil War southern Maine?

As I walk along Lincoln Street — past a tired wrought-iron fence that is leaning and lurching in places — I can almost hear the ghosts of the past. They call to each other, unloading bales of cotton, smoking cigarettes and wiping the sweat from their brows.

I can almost see the women lined along the mill’s wooden floors, carefully inspecting the weaving process on the giant iron looms that were manufactured by the Saco-Lowell shops. There is the sound of steam and the rhythms of belt-driven engines roaring along the banks of the Saco River. The smell of gas lamps and late autumn winds flutters and hovers over the city.

During the daytime of that yesteryear, I see children playing on the cannon that faces City Hall from across the street. I think of old politicians and of the back-door deals they struck. The river may have provided the power, but the energy came from the workers. The men unloading hides at the tannery. Driving carriages and loading trains; they kept the city moving and the bankers happy.

But the night, quiet as it may seem, is not only the playground of reminiscent spirits and tortured souls. The night also belongs to the living. The living who work. The men and women who work to keep living.

Welcome back to Biddeford After Dark.

Time to make the donuts —

Joe Duran arrives to work each day at approximately 3:30 p.m. He punches a time card and then ties an apron around his back. The knot is pulled tight.

For Duran, 37, it’s time to make the donuts, and he settles into a familiar rhythm, knowing that he has to mix enough dough in order to make more than 2,800 donuts.

Joe is a baker for Dunkin’ Donuts and tonight — throughout the next eight or nine hours — he will make enough donuts to satisfy the morning rush of bleary-eyed customers at each of his company’s two Biddeford locations.

“I’d rather work days,” Duran admits quickly, pausing from his routine for a short break, his hands covered with flour. “I have a wife and three kids. I think I could have a better life if I worked when most other people are working.”

Being a night baker at Dunkin’ Donuts is not Duran’s only job, however. Tonight, shortly after midnight, Duran will make his way to his Saco home and sleep for only a few hours. The alarm clock will ring, and Duran will rise, shower and head back to work. This time, for his day job — as a mover. Sometimes, in fact, Duran works at his day job right up to the time when he needs to arrive at his night job.

“This can be a pretty stressful job,” he says, leaning against a screen door in the back of the restaurant. “But I’ve been doing it for a while, and I can get done what I need to do pretty quickly. I’m faster than a lot of the other guys.”

Some donuts are easier to prepare than others, Duran explains. For example, the blueberry donuts get done pretty easily. There is no creme filling. It’s simply a matter of mixing the dough, cutting the donuts, proofing the product in a vertical steam proofer, which helps the yeast to rise and then taking the donuts to the fryers. A few minutes of cooling, and those donuts are finished.

Now, it’s time for the next batch.

“Usually, there’s two of us here,” Duran explains. “A baker and a finisher. Tonight, I’m the baker.”

From inside the restaurant’s lobby, I watch Duran work behind a sheet of Plexiglas. He leans over the trays, moving to a rhythm only he knows — one that has been developed over a period of more than two years.

“We don’t leave until the job gets done,” he smiles. “The donuts have to be ready or a lot of people are going to be very unhappy.”

After spending so much time with the donuts, Duran says he doesn’t often indulge in his own work. “It’s like any other job, you know? When I get done moving other people’s stuff all day, the last thing I want to do is go home and move my own furniture.”

According to Duran, Friday and Saturday nights are the busiest shifts for the bakers at Dunkin’ Donuts. “People like their donuts and coffee on the weekends,” he grins. His shift runs Tuesday through Saturday. “What can you do for fun on a Sunday night?” he adds. “Everyone else is at home, getting ready to go to work in the morning.”

Although Duran earns more than his daytime counterparts, that is about the only good thing he can say about working nights. “Sometimes, I get grumpy,” he says. “But I basically can get six or seven hours of sleep each night. I just wish I had more time with my family.”

Taking care of business—

Beyond the politics and the controversy, there is still work to do and the workers at the Maine Energy Recovery Company (MERC) are on the job seven days a week, 24 hours a day, making sure that their waste-incineration plant is running as efficiently as possible.

The work shifts at Maine Energy involve a rotating 24-hour schedule. Two weeks of working 12-hours at night, and then two weeks of working 12 hours during the day.

Sometimes, the workers forget which is which because they work inside of a building without windows.

Eric Lagerstrom is the control room operator. He sits in a swivel chair, surrounded by a plethora of closed-circuit monitors and computer terminals. The room is lit by stark fluorescent lights, and Eric offers me a Swiss roll and a cup of coffee: “Hey, we have to have our perks at night, you know.”

Including the shift supervisor, the plant is run during the 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. shift by nine people, significantly fewer than the dozens who work during the day shift. The difference between the shifts is remarkable. There are no administrators or cleaners working at night.

“Things are generally quieter at night,” Lagerstrom says. “But the basic process remains the same. We process trash, we then burn it and generate electricity with steam.”

This is Lagerstom’s long week. He will work Tuesday and Wednesday and then Saturday and Sunday for a total of 48 hours this week. Next week, he will work on Monday, Thursday and Friday evenings. At the end of a 28-day cycle, he will switch back over to the day shift.

So, how does he adjust to changing sleep patterns?

“I don’t find it difficult,” he says. “I’m one of those people who can sleep during the day. For those who can’t, I don’t recommend working this job.”

Lagerstrom says working nights requires a good support system, such as an understanding spouse and an environment that can remain reasonably quiet when the sun is shining.

“You have to remain sensible,” Lagerstrom says. “Whatever system works for you, stick to it. Don’t try to burn the candle at both ends.”

As Lagerstrom and I chat, I glance over at the rows of monitors. The black and white screens depict an image of a fiery hell, where conveyors feed monstrous and insatiable boilers. There are dozens of switches, gauges and dials.

The control room, in fact, resembles the cockpit of something like the USS Starship Enterprise. Any moment now, I half expect Captain James T. Kirk to walk inside, asking Spock for a readout about some unknown planet.

My daydream (or rather nightdream) is interrupted. Jeff walks into the control room, removing his hard hat and taking a seat nearby. He is in his mid-40s and he looks tired. His blue coveralls are dirty and his hands are calloused.

Are things more relaxed at night? After all, the boss is at home and sleeping. So, can employees goof off a bit? Can they get away with things they could not during the day shift?

“I think most people can be more productive at night,” Lagerstrom counters. “I think with all of the daytime distractions missing, most people can be more productive.”

Jeff nods his head in agreement, sipping from a cup of coffee.

But still, the night takes its toll.

Even as I talk with these workers, the winter solstice is drawing closer — that time when the earth is further away from the sun than at any other time. During this time of year, it becomes especially difficult for this crew of workers, who both arrive and leave their workplace under the cover of darkened skies.

“I know people who have gone through divorces because of working at night,” Jeff says. “Your relationship has to be solid if you are going to work different shifts. It’s easy to become depressed or lose energy. There’s good camaraderie here, and that helps a lot.”

The darkness before dawn

So, this is the conclusion of Biddeford After Dark; a closer and more intimate look at the nighttime activities of the city. A southbound train rattles over the Elm Street trestle. A hunched-over woman is pushing an abandoned shopping cart that is stuffed with plastic bags along Pine Street.

Paul Easton, replete with his “Buchannan For President” signs and banners, is searching the dumpsters for returnable bottles. Joe Duran is making donuts. Eric Lagerstrom is watching the trash burn. Peter Schimek is patrolling the city’s streets. Karen Stewart is sweeping the tiled floors at the 7-Eleven store.

The parties are over, and a truck lumbers along Jefferson Street, waiting to pick up its next load of trash. The waves are crashing at Fortunes Rocks, but the beach is empty. A toll booth worker offers a friendly smile and change for a $5 bill. Rick and Jo Bernier are just arriving to work at the Palace Diner.

The coffee begins to drip, and the eggs are stacked and waiting. Slowly, but surely, the city rises from its slumber, wiping the proverbial seeds of sleep from its eyes.

A new day has dawned, and the city faces this morning like it has faced the others before this particular sunrise. The city is ready, and the first glimpse of sunlight appears over Wood Island.

Bring on the daylight. For me, it’s time to go to bed.

Thank you for reading Biddeford After Dark. I’ve learned a lot, and I hope you enjoyed a different perspective of our community.