THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, April 30, 1995 TAG: 9504260056
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K3 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: MY JOB
SOURCE: BY KRYS STEFANSKY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 73 lines
BO BAUCANT loves everything about Pittsburgh - the Steelers, the Pirates, the Penguins, especially the steel mills.
When he lived there, he worked in a factory forging bolts that kept rock ceilings from caving in on miners.
He moved south and ended up on the assembly line of the machine shop at NKL Industries Ltd. in Chesapeake. The company builds safes.
``This reminded me of home,'' Baucant shouts. For the past nine years he's enjoyed the background din at the plant, the crash and clang of steel on steel, the roar of machinery, the stacks of inch-thick steel plate, the acrid smell of hot metal.
The company makes several sizes of two kinds of safes - the old-fashioned sort that opens with a dial, and a high-tech model with an electronically controlled lock and a computer memory. The safes are shipped to fast-food and convenience stores and retail outlets.
Directly across the factory floor from several room-sized ovens that bake paint on metal, Baucant, 45, works by himself. Bits of his old steel town, team mugs and a yellow-billed Steelers ballcap are tossed on his work station. He runs a pair of computerized drilling machines the size of Volkswagens. They drill the holes in burglar-resistant metal doors that are fitted with dials and electronic control panels.
The Portsmouth resident named the machining centers ``LuLu'' and ``Suzie Q.'' He likes Suzie Q the best. ``She's easy-going,'' he says, laughing.
Baucant is happiest when he's loaded steel plates into both machines and oldies are blaring out of a greasy, dirty radio under his work table. He gets lost in the music, he says. ``I like to work. I like to stay busy. It makes the day go fast.''
His meaty hands fit in 2-by-2-foot, 45-pound steel plates and bars. His blackened fingers jab at a computerized panel.
``Now, if I've got everything punched in here right, we're ready to rock and roll,'' he says. He stands back and folds his arms across his chest with a satisfied smile that stretches the ends of a bushy moustache back toward his ears.
Both sets of drill bits whine and bite into the metal, and both cooling systems send a milky-yellow gush of water over the drill bits.
Baucant has a love of steel that extends to its cast-off bits. He reaches a hand into the open door of one of the machining units and carefully scoops up a handful of sharp-edged, curly metal shavings.
``They're pretty,'' he says, holding up a trio of spirals to catch the glint of factory lights. ``They look like pine cones. I make flowers out of them.''
He knows that sounds odd. He doesn't care, even seems to like being a puzzle. A button pinned to his safety harness strap reads, ``Remain Insane No Drain on the Brain.''
His head squeezed by a red sweatband that keeps a shaggy haircut and rattail out of the way, the bearded Baucant bobs and weaves between LuLu and Suzie Q in a steel-toed ballet, his boots tapping a soundless tattoo lost in the roar of the equipment. Even so, he says he can hear if one of the machines isn't working right.
And he's got another hobby. He keeps a digital stopwatch on his work table.
``I don't have anybody to work with in this shop, so I time myself. I like to set records and knock off time by cutting down on my moves,'' he bellows, grinning sheepishly. ``Sounds crazy, doesn't it?'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo
STEVE EARLEY
Bo Baucant runs a pair of computerized drilling machines at NKL
Industries Ltd., a Chesapeake company that builds safes. ``This
reminded me of home,'' says the former Pittsburgh resident.
by CNB