Port/25″/dt1st/mark2nd

By HOWARD FINE

Staff Reporter

Driving south along the Harbor or Long Beach freeways, those huge cranes can be seen by the water’s edge cranes that are the very symbol of the region’s trade prowess.

But nothing prepares you for an up-close look. Towering almost 150 feet into the air, the giant blue contraptions lift 40-foot, 20-ton containers like they were Tinkertoys, loading and unloading them onto massive containerships.

Today, a particularly large vessel, the Cho Yang Ark, is docked at the Hanjin Shipping Co. terminal at the Port of Long Beach, the largest container terminal on the West Coast. The ship had arrived in port on Thursday after completing a 12-day voyage from Japan.

The night before, most of the 4,000 containers stacked 12 layers deep had been taken off, and at 10 a.m. three cranes are loading another 4,000 or so containers back onto the ship. Many of them are empty, because U.S. imports are not selling well in Asia these days. It will take another 36 hours to finish the job and send the ship to its next port of call: Oakland, where the rest of the containers will be dropped off.

Richard Rodriguez is at the controls of the middle crane, in a cab suspended by cables 130 feet off the ground. Every two minutes he gets into position above a truck that is carrying a container. He then gently lowers the grappling hooks. After a quick but delicate dance, the hooks catch the holes at the corner of each container and lock into place.

Then the crane lifts the container and swings it over the ship, stopping above one of the cargo-bay holds. The moment the container is lifted off the truck, the driver shoots off and the next truck rolls into position.

Meanwhile, Rodriguez maneuvers the container over the correct slot in the Cho Yang Ark’s cargo bay and lets it down, until it clangs securely into place. Then the cables swing back out toward the dock, and the whole process begins again.

From the ground, it looks easy. But 130 feet up in the crane’s cab, where you can see Rodriguez’s maneuverings, it’s another story. The 52-year-old crane operator sits hunched over a glass pane in the bottom of the cab. His hands and feet operate furiously on levers and pedals as he maneuvers the grappling hooks. Then he pushes on the pedal and the crane speeds along the cables to the ship.

It’s a job that requires precise coordination and a mix of patience and speed. The job is so intense, in fact, that crane operators work no more than one, four-hour shift per day and typically three or four shifts per week, depending on the amount of traffic passing through the ports. The pay for crane operators for their 12 to 16 hours a week is princely about $100,000 making it the most sought-after position among the thousands of union workers on the docks.

It’s not just the money, either. Rodriguez says he enjoys the time off. With what is essentially the schedule of a part-timer, he has enough time to pursue his other business: owning and operating a Long Beach bar called The 3636 Club.

In explaining why he keeps coming back after 21 years, Rodriguez says, “There’s a little ego thing here. I like being on the front lines.”

He is experienced enough that he no longer has to lift the containers straight up and then over to the ship. “The rookies do that, right out of training,” he says. “But it takes too long and it slows down the production.”

Instead, he moves the containers toward the ship, cutting a graceful arc.

“It’s all in the confidence level you have in what you are doing,” Rodriguez says. “Right now, I’m moving 35 cans (containers) an hour, compared to about 20 or so for the rookies.”

Just then, he abruptly cuts off the conversation.

“I’ve lost my hoist, here!” he shouts into a microphone. “Get a mechanic over here!”

He tries to get the hooks onto the container, but they don’t catch.

“I don’t have a hoist when I’m picking the can up,” he says again.

The longshoremen on the ground claim that the container weighs 16 tons, but Rodriguez says the scale readout shows 22. If the container weighs too much to be safely picked up, the crane automatically shuts down.

“Is someone cheating here?” someone asks over the loudspeaker. There’s no answer.

While the confusion continues, trucks waiting to unload their containers stack up. Normally two or three deep, the line grows to seven, then nine.

The mechanics arrive and, within 10 minutes, diagnose the problem. They tell Rodriguez to proceed in “slowdown mode.” He gently lowers the crane’s grappling hooks and secures them in place. Then, very slowly, he lifts up the container and moves it toward the ship, taking about twice as long as he usually does.

The container goes in smoothly.

“We’re back in business again,” Rodriguez says.