Several months after I left Warner Brothers working three months on the Sean Connery film “Just Cause,” I got a phone call from a friend who had been hired by the art department at Universal Studios in Orlando. He was assigned to the fairly new TV show “Seaquest.”

The show was a futuristic tale about a giant submarine captained by Roy Scheider (“Capt. Nathan Bridger”) who was best known for his role in “Jaws.”

It was set in the far away future of 2018. You have to giggle a bit at that.

It predicted that by then, we would ride around in super huge submarines, dressed in Star Trek looking uniforms and communicate with dolphins through headphones. And lots of other stuff so I’ve heard. Never watched it.

I had been offered a job when they first started the filming of the show, but I was working on something else at the time. Plus, no way I was moving to Orlando, the South Side of Chicago of the South. A horrible gawdy ghetto of a town. Dirty, noisy and crime ridden.

Disney World is not Orlando, and Orlando is not Disney World. I turned it down.

I had hoped to take six months or so off after Warner Brothers and just recuperate, rest up, have some fun. I had banked some pretty good money during that run, but apparently we had burnt cash like a Somalia day care center.

My friend called to let me know that they were sending what’s called a second unit to Ft. Lauderdale to shoot some open water shots at a distance. I still have no idea how or if they used them, but there were also some graphics needed.

They were basically sending a camera crew, some grips and a second unit director, so they needed some crew to fill in the gaps.

A second unit is sent out to shoot scenes, usually at a distance and without actors. Those scenes – usually action scenes – would be spliced in between close shots of the actors. They usually showed a car or train traveling, a sunset, an explosion, etc.

So I headed down to work with them for three days.

Turns out that I was “drafted” as a grunt. There was a bit of graphic work to be done, but mainly I was brought in as another pair of hands. Union hands.

Even though Florida is a “right to work” state, technically you can’t be forced to join a union to be on a crew. The big motion picture conglomerates headquartered out of Los Angeles and New York have union contracts. You can’t sweep the floors without having a union card from IATSE (International Alliance of Stage Employees). Mine was with Local 477 Miami, Studio Mechanics.

So my job was… whatever they needed me to do.

My second day, I had to ride out into the Gulfstream and help with filming the coastline and water. They were shy one camera assistant, so I spent the day handing the cinematographer pieces of equipment and carrying stuff.

We were riding in an old fashioned wooden fishing boat that had seen its better days. I doubt anyone would even fish on this thing.

It was “captained” by an old, disheveled, half shaved local guy they hired off a dock somewhere. Everyone called him “Barnacle Bob” behind his back of course, I guess because he looked like a Barnacle Bob. Never heard his real name, but his boat was named “The Overdue.” That’s how the Coast Guard refers to a missing or lost boat. Very confidence inspiring.

I noticed that as he would walk by, the distinct odor of alcohol and other delightful smells would emanate. His eyes were more red than white. Like his face.

When we would stand still for long periods of time to set up the camera, he would be slumped over the wheel, often snoring. When he would dock the boat it was rare if he didn’t slam it into the pilings. And he was sailing us out three or four miles into a very fast moving ocean, rolling and creaking. Let this job be over!

On my third day I arrived at the dock at 7 a.m. I was confronted by lots of yellow police tape and a multitude of official vehicles and police cars with lights on. Filming had been canceled for the day.

Julie, a young and brand new production assistant, had come in early to set up coffee and snacks for us all. Poor girl.

She arrived to find Barnacle Bob, or what there was of him, where he shouldn’t have been: Face down – half under the boat and half not – with many little fishies making friends with his dirty coveralls. (Sorry for the mental image.)

They drove her back to Universal Studios immediately. I doubt she would ever be the same again. Yes, PTSD exists outside the military. Glad I got there after it was all over with.

I knew there was something fishy about that job.

Thom Caraccio ([email protected]) is a retired musician and retired motion picture scenic artist living in West Palm Beach, Florida who hails from Columbus. He graduated from S.D. Lee High in 1968 and still considers Columbus his real hometown.