By: Robert Nicolson

Robert Nicolson — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 06:25:00 +0000

I helped build these in 1980-1984. They were made in La Mesa, California (San Diego area) by the Survival Systems Division of Whittaker Corporation, and saw service all over the world. They used a special, patented “Rottmer Hook Assembly” – you can see it on the top – that released itself from the winch cable once it went slack when the capsule started floating. Generally they were waaaaaay off the water when they were on the rig. They came in 14, 28, 34, and 54 man versions, with the largest being built in nearby Santee. They closed the division in 1988 or so, I think, with a downturn in the oil industry and competition from Cuban labor in Florida. I believe the rights were sold to the former fiberglass shop foreman, who was Native American and moved production to the Pala Indian Reservation in north San Diego County. Fewer environmental regulations there, I suspect, and certainly no union (IAM) to make a living wage. Labor’s race to the bottom. I believe I also heard they had a big fire at the Pala facility at some point. In any case, I’ve spent plenty of hours in a these as a marine installation mechanic. I think it’s a 28 man capsule pictured here, if not, it’s a 14 man, and 30 year’s time. The chrome rail around the top is a handrail to hold if you’re walking around the flange, but also its full of holes and they pump water through it and create a huge fountain that keeps the laminate cool – if you happen to be lowered into a burning sea of fire. They had diesel engines, and several tanks of breathing air – both for the people and the engine. The engine as started hydraulically, with either an air operated hydraulic pump or a human pumped accumulator. Being able to start the engine and get away from the rig was paramount. They had seat belts, which were essential to keep the people in the bottom and make the capsule self righting if it flipped over in heavy seas. In other words, these things were built to go through hell – and come out the other side. They were very serious pieces of machinery, and we took great pride in building them. Occasionally if there’d been a big save in the North Sea or wherever, they’d bring a guy out in a manlift on a forklift. There was a sign at the end of the main shop area above the doors into the fiberglass shop that said, “People are alive today because of the work you’re doing. To date, ___ people have been saved in Whittaker Survival Capsules.” There were nails holding numerals before the word people, and they guy would change the numbers. Everyone would walk into the center aisle of the shop and watch and then we’d all cheer. Still makes me tear up thinking about it. Sad to see disco balls in them, but at least they’re still around. That gelcoat needs a good polish and waxing, by the way.

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By: Robert Nicolson