Beginning in 1984, amongst many other things, I operated a Louisiana DEQ Air Analysis TSP high volume air sampling site at Bobby Wentz meat market and cattle farm on River Road along the Mississippi River near Geismar Louisiana. I visited the site at least once a week to calibrate the samplers and replace the sampling filters for the next run. I tried to get there at the end of my work day, so I could spend time with Bobby Wentz. We were old friends me and this old man, like desperados waiting for a train. Bobby was 60 years old when we met in 1984. Bobby was a John Wayne True Grit mountain of a man. He stood 6 ft 7. He looked like he had been rode hard and put away wet. He displayed a large smile and a sun baked bronze tan leathery complexion with brown Red Man Chewing Tobacco stains running down his chin.  He always looked like he needed a shave. He usually wore a long white apron and a white butcher's uniform. If he was not butchering, he wore loose fitting kaki farm clothes and a John Deer cap. He was very strong and I am glad he was on my side. Many times I watched him pick up half a cow to hang on the meat hook above his head.

He was born in the back bedroom of the unpainted rusty looking old wood frame farm house next to his butcher shop. You would never know that Bobby was a multimillionaire. He lived on, butchered on, farmed on, and hunted on over a thousand acres of pasture and timber land on either side of the Mississippi River levee. He took over the land after his parents died and he never lived anywhere else. Before we met he sold all of his land to the Cos-mar Chemical Company. Cos-mar used the land to build a plant and create a buffer zone to limit local competition along the river. This also eliminated any environmental complaints because nobody lived anywhere near the plant except for Bobby and Bobby never complained, not even to me. Cos-mar allowed Bobby and family to live on, butcher on, and farm the land. Bobby said they paid him 9 million dollars. I looked around at his living conditions and asked him what in the Sam Hill did you do with the money. He said he had 10 kids, 10 grand kids, and 10 great grand kids.

He drove an old beat up rusted out Ford pickup truck. Like me, Bobby was a true redneck. The fenders and the doors did not match the rest of the truck. He used an old very large flat blade Craftsman screwdriver for a gearshift lever.  Bobby did not like to change the implements on his tractors, so he kept 4 antique tractors in excellent shape. He used separate tractors for plowing, bush-hogging, and finish mowing. In addition to raising and slaughtering cows, Bobby brought and sold pecans. He said that he had been in the pecan business since he was 7 years old. He used to buy them for a nickel a pound and sell them for 7 cents. Every Christmas I would buy a 40 pound bag of pecans from Bobby and take them to LSU Ag Center to borrow their giant automated nutcracker. I would crack the pecans, then gift wrap them up for Christmas presents, especially for my Yankee in-laws in Indiana. I would save what was left for pecan pies.

I often helped Bobby unload burlap bags of pecans from his customer’s car trunks and put them on his antique scales. Bobby had a kitchen next to the butcher shop. The kitchen was fully equipped with a TV set and a refrigerator full of beer. He was one of my best friends and we spent many hours at the kitchen table telling stories. Bobby would drink a cold Falstaff and run his fingers through 70 years of living. He was one of the heroes of this country. Bobby had a stroke that left him with a slurring stuttering voice and somewhat disabled. The doctors made him stay out of the butcher shop cooling room and quit picking up cows and butchering them. That just gave us more time to chat and drink beer.

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STAGE 4- Where I have been, how I got there, why I went there, where I am going.

Angela and I say it is time to rock and roll.

 I graduated from the School of Hard Knocks. Hindsight is 20/20. I was born in Monroe, Louisiana just across the Ouachita River from this kitchen table at our little house in the woods in 1948. That makes me a Baby Boomer. When World War 2 ended, our daddies came home and said, "I've been overseas fighting a war for 4 years, lets go make a baby."  We Boomers have seen some changes. Back when I was a young Buck, we did not know what an air conditioner was. It was 107 degrees and we had an attic fan with all the windows open full blast. We never even heard the word television. I walked 7 miles to Lida Benton School each day in a blizzard. We lived on the right side of town, but just barely. We lived at 713 Nichols Ave and the railroad track was 2 houses down. I remember watching the Southern Pacific passenger train stop on the track on it's way to the Big Easy, New Orleans. I remember the steam from the engine, the sound of the horn, and seeing the passengers inside wearing their business suits. Everyone going to and fro, not noticing the little boy on the ground watching them.

Daddy was a cop and Mama delivered Sears and Roebuck catalogs door to door. We had a maid named Suzie Q. You can say what you want to about racial inequality in the south. But in the Whitlow house, Suzie Q ruled the house. When Daddy came home from work at Dinner time on his tricycle Harley police motorcycle, Suzie Q  had the table set with black-eyed peas, turnip greens, Southern fried fish, Sothern fried chicken, and rice and gravy, and hot water cornbread.  Suzie Q announced that it was time to sit and eat, and we all sit as she expected.

Suzie Q was not just the maid, she was my Nanny. She was with me all day. She kept me company during week-end camping trips for fishing and hunting. She went on vacation with us. When we traveled, Suzie packed us sandwiches and other lunches. I now realize that she did this because she was not allowed to be served in the Cafe. She never liked making a fuss and she never complained. Some days on special occasions Suzie and I would take a bus trip downtown to the Red Onion Cafe. Back in the 50's The Red Onion Cafe was a soul food restaurant on De Seard Street in Monroe, Louisiana. Since it was a black restaurant, Suzie and I had to sit in the back room. Whenever she and I took a bus trip downtown, we always sit at the back of the buss. I had always thought she just liked sitting at the back of the bus. Suzie Q was my bestest friend. Back when I was a young little Buck, Suzie Q would take me fishing. We walked a few blocks down to the Ouachita River and fished with cane poles on the riverbank. We used worms that Suzie Q dug up from under the mimosa tree. We caught catfish as big as your finger. Suzie Q fried them whole and we ate them for a snack. Susie Q taught me the truth about racism and that all God's creatures should be treated with dignity and respect. My personal opinion is that most Baby Boomers grew up with maids. Women entered the workforce during World War 2, and many continued working to improve family living conditions. The unique relationship between the Baby Boomers and their maids led to the civil rights movement. That is just my humble opinion.

We used our imagination and made forts out of big ole cardboard boxes that lasted until it rained. We played football and baseball all day outside, even during a hurricane. We played chase, kick the can, and spin the bottle. At night our family listened to Harry Cary and the St. Louis Cardinals on the radio  and played Monopoly and family card games like Rook and Penny Ante Poker with all of the neighbors and friends.

In 1986 we moved to The Old Goodwood neighborhood near Independence Park in Baton Rouge. The old quiet peaceful neighborhood was built quickly after World War 2 to accommodate the returning veterans and their Baby Boomer children. We moved there to be close to my oldest and most dearest family friend, Duke Andrepont. We quickly made friends with the neighbors who lived in the neighborhood since the beginning. I rarely saw the other neighbors until the day after the eye of Hurricane Andrew passed over our house. We had to spend a week without television, air conditioning, or electricity. Everyone sit out on the front porches. We all had deer meat, and fish ruining in the freezer. We barbecued the deer, and fried the fish out in the front yard. We had hurricane parties and we all got to know our neighbors. A week later, my front porch light came on and I haven't seen most of the neighbors since.

I attended Neville High School from 1962 to 1966. I had to dress in style. Suzie Q had to wash my jeans and soak them in starch. Then she slid wire stretchers down the legs of the jeans and hung them out on the clothesline. When I put the jeans on, I had to force the legs open, because they were as stiff as a board. I wore saddle oxfords or wingtips.

I Played football for Buck Stewart, Bill Ruple, and Charlie Brown. I had to run though a team beltline so Mr. Robinson, my math teacher, would change an F to a D to keep me from flunking off the team. Years later when Governor Edwin Edwards married Candy, I drove from Baton Rouge back to Monroe to inform Mr. Robinson that I was right in the math class. I told you that 79 could go into 18. Back in the 60's, I was big, mean, and very aggressive. My number was 71. I played defensive  nose tackle and I ate the quarterback's lunch. We did not win very many games, because during a practice scrimmage, I broke Terry Joe Warrick's leg in 3 places. Terry Joe was our star quarterback.   From time to time the other team kept me honest just to remind me they could. Two elephants ran over me. Is was hard to make the tackle when I was flat on my back with two elephants laying on top of me. When I came to, out of the corner of my eye, I saw their quarterback's numbers upside down and fading, getting smaller and smaller as he crossed the end zone.

I remember exactly where I was when they shot John F Kennedy. I was standing at the pencil sharpener in the Neville High School study hall when Walter Cronkite came on the loud speaker above my head and announced the President has been shot.

After I grew up as a Boomer, the job competition was something fierce. I was unemployed 3 times for a year each time from my 1969 enlistment in the USAF until today. With today's economic conditions, many people have joined the ranks of the unemployed. I have been there, done that, and took a picture of it. Therefore we offer free smoke school certification and training to the unemployed. Mama always used to say, "You have to give back."There are a lot of us Baby Boomers; we make up 29% of America's population. Like many Boomers before me, I finally retired from my day job with Louisiana DEQ. I took a leap of faith and decided to become an entrepreneur of sorts doing exactly what I did as a state employee. I blow smoke and conduct smoke school. Now instead of working 8 to 5, I work 24-7 planning, directing, and conducting the best Smoke School in the nation.

I would never have chosen this path without faith in the good Lord, the internet, Google Maps, and the simple life with the GPS,  "Make a U-turn... Recalculating...Recalculating... You have arrived at your destination. You are in Kalamazoo, Michigan. " Now I am on vacation all of the time, because I am doing exactly what I love. I love seeing old friends, meeting new friends, and touring all of the beautiful places in this great nation. My good fortune has not changed me one iota, except I threw away my watch, got old-timers, and forget what day it is. As you can see from the webpage I am still a redneck. I spent more hours in my truck than I did in the classroom. Thank all of you for choosing Whitlow and making this great life possible. I could not have done it without all of you.

Somehow I managed to graduate in 1966 from Neville High School in Monroe, Louisiana. I had my distractions in my old stomping grounds- girls, fast cars, hunting, fishing, baseball and football. You have to set your prerogatives. I had 3 years of college and got credit for 1 at Northeast State University, now ULM. I should have gone to some of my classes, brought the books, and read them.  In May of 1969 our nation was involved in the Vietnam War. My college dean warned me that my academic probation was about to expire and I was about to be drafted. My Daddy a World War 2 Marine Corp Veteran always used to say, "War is like a turkey shoot, but you are the turkey." This is where my life began to change.

Then they sent me to back to Altus AFB, Oklahoma where I served with Don as an Bioenvironmental Health Technician. Later the Air Force transferred me to RAF Alconbury England, and Eglin AFB, Florida where I served as a Technical Sergeant E-6 NCOIC Environmental Medicine. I stayed extremely busy. I worked in occupational medicine, sanitary and public health, communicable diseases, industrial hygiene, environmental protection, conducted inspections, conducted audiology tests, administered physical exams for exposure to toxic substances and radiation, and continued my training instructor career by conducting many training classes in public health, environmental, hazardous noise, hazardous materials, radiation, and Nuclear/Biological/Chemical Warfare Defense.  

 An interesting part of my air force environmental job involved hearing conservation. Back when I enlisted in 69, I was exposed to hazardous noise from jet engines on a daily basis. At times the noise from the engines was so loud that it would change your heartbeat. When I transferred into environmental in 76, audiology test revealed that I was already past the first stage of loosing my hearing. My high frequency hearing levels had already decreased significantly. The rule of thumb is that if the noise is so loud that you cannot carry on a conversation with someone near you, then it is above 84 decibels. This is hazardous because it will wipe out your hearing over a period of time. Wear your ear protection- ear muffs or ear plugs. If the noise is real loud wear both. Sound travels in waves much like the rippling waves generated when you throw a flat river rock into a pond. The high frequency sound waves bulldoze over tiny hair like nerves in the cochlea of your inner ear. These nerves transfer sound to your brain. Ear protection reduces the impact of the sound waves. By the time I discovered my hearing loss it was too late. By the time I was 40, the hearing loss had progressed from high frequency into the speaking level frequencies. I really missed not being able to hear the sweet sound of the female voice.  I purchased the first hearing aids when I was 50, and they cost about $5,000. I don't like to wear them because they are rather uncomfortable. Also certain sounds are unwanted, such as dishes in a restaurant. To me the worst thing about a noise induced hearing loss is the constant roar of a thousand locusts and crickets. It would be better if your ears bled when you damaged them. Then you would be more protective. If you work around noise, wear hearing protection. You should have annual hearing tests to watch for the first signs of overexposure. Remember that hazardous noise does not just happen at work. Shooting firearms and loud music will also ruin your hearing.

Please do not think that you can put off hearing protection until you are old. Hearing loss is progressive. It starts the day you are born. Most young people feel like they will live forever and nothing ever changes. I felt the same way. Now I have been  breathing air for over half a century. I have seen many Presidents and many national crises. Guess what? I may have another 20 years to live. That is 20 more years reading lips and asking people "Huh!?", "What's That?", "Excuse me?", "Please repeat that- I am hard of hearing." Being deaf does not bother me half as much as it bothers other people, especially the little wife or the kids trying to sleep when the TV is blaring. This is God's little payback. Ole man Earl lived in an 18 wheeler truck trailer at our fishing camp on the mill pond when I was a boy. Earl was deaf. My best friend Bill Beasley and I took a 10 gauge shotgun, crawled under the trailer under his bed as Earl was sleeping. We fired both barrels and Earl could not hear the bang. We laughed so hard. Who is laughing now? Earl was a logger. He could have prevented his hearing loss if he knew about ear protection and used ear protection when he was using his chain saw. Earl worked for my grandfather Roddy White. Roddy owned the logging company. Roddy was deaf over half of his life. Roddy was 83 when he died. I remember from when I was 12 years old, Roddy literally dragged me through the woods to listen to his squirrel dogs bark and tell him which direction to walk in. Roddy knew nothing about hearing protection either. I did not know about ear protection until it was too late. Your ears and your teeth were designed to function 80 years or more. Take care of them and protect them. It is your responsibility to yourself and your family. I still remember the words of my second father-in-law before he died of lung cancer. "You spend all of your young life taking care of the old folks. Turn around and you are the old folks."

Services other than smoke school offered by Whitlow Enterprises

For 10 years in the USAF I conducted surveys and inspections in Environmental Protection and Occupational Safety and Health (OSHA), such as hazardous noise, hazardous materials, radiation protection, respiratory protection, industrial ventilation exhaust hoods, office illumination lighting, and industrial illumination lighting.  I also ordered or performed physical exam screening and hearing test for early warning and treatment for industrial occupational illnesses. Each Air Force base consisted of a small community with an average population on 20,000 people. Each community included day care centers, banks, theaters, bowling alleys, restaurants, schools, and churches. Each Air Force base also included several small diverse factories that worked together as a team to support the Air Force mission, which was to fly and maintain airplanes. I considered it my personal responsibility to help insure the public health of the citizens of the community and the occupational safety and occupational health of the military and civil service employees working under my jurisdiction. Whitlow is here to serve you with any of your OSHA industrial hygiene surveys or audits. The Whitlow staff includes 3 retired LDEQ employees and we are here to serve you with any environmental protection audits or any related services. Email us at smokeschool@yahoo.com . I truly consider you and your employees part of my responsibility as well. It is my nature.

I was a sergeant in the USAF. I always have been an extreme workaholic. The word sergeant is translated from the Medieval Latin word serviens which means to serve.  I was born to serve you. We here at Whitlow Smoke School Nation strive to serve you with perfection. By the early 1980s Daddy had retired from the Monroe Police Department and was traveling to every police and sheriff department in Louisiana, teaching for LSU Law Enforcement Institute. I am like my Daddy, a traveling teacher. By then Daddy had open heart surgery and several heart attacks so I asked Daddy to talk to his friend and boss, Governor Edwin Edwards about getting me a job with Louisiana DEQ. I got out of the Air Force in April 1983 after my enlistment was up. Unfortunately Governor Edwards had just implemented a state wide hiring freeze, so I had to wait a year to get the state job. I lived out in the woods you see. I learned how to skin a buck and run a trotline. A Country Boy Can Survive. I lived in my parents one room fishing camp on the old Louisiana Central Lumber Company mill pond in Clarks Louisiana. I drew food stamps and unemployment and worked part time in Mama's second hand junk store NU-TA-U where they brought junk and sold antiques. I also worked part time as a substitute science and math teacher at Caldwell Parish High School in Columbia Louisiana. Born to serve, teach and born to train.  

Mama on Mt Nebo Arkansas (left)

In May 1984 (Although I took a $35 a month cut from my unemployment pay) I gladly accepted a job as air quality inspector, smoke school provider, and chief of maintenance for the Louisiana Department of Environmental Quality (LDEQ) in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  The maintenance job occupied most of my time, driving old beat up state trucks back and forth clear across the state listening to WWL New Orleans Talk Radio, singing along on the radio with Merle, Hank, George, Willey, Johnny, and Lefty, and creating a novel in my head. 

Perhaps the most productive thing I ever did in my life was coach Little League Baseball for 20 years. I never made a dime at it, but nothing was ever better than teaching a boy how to bat and see their smiles when they got a hit. This story The Potato Play is about my coaching days. Baseball has been velly velly good to me. I wrote a novel Blue Bayou Days- The Summer of 61 on a truckstop napkin about when I played Little League.  

Monroe Police Dept Baseball Team The Summer of 1961- Daddy- George Wesley Whitlow Left/ Me George Artie Whitlow- second from right. Email me if you know someone who played on this team.

In 1999 Uncle George (middle top) coached T-Ball for Our Lady of Mercy Catholic Church Astros team. Daughter Heather Lois Whitlow (bottom-third from right)

WORST CASE OPACITY SENERIO, NIGHTMARE AT THE INCINERATOR

LDEQ placing me into this maintenance job and smoke school operator job was actually a process of elimination. At the time I hired on, LDEQ was gearing up to be more professional with employees with real college degrees in science or engineering. Since I was more or less appointed by the Governor, I guess I was grandfathered in. I started out making inspections but my unique personality got in the way. It all began in the middle of the night when my boss Chris Roberie, Pat Norton, Secretary of LDEQ, and I made a surprise midnight inspection at a local hazardous waste incinerator. The midnight inspection and the consequences led to a controversy about nighttime visible emissions certification. Pat, Chris, and I were surprised that the nighttime opacity reading would stand up in court, but it did. Reading that incinerator stack at night was easy. The wet scrubber was not working and there was not any water vapor or steam in the plume. Sometimes at night, the water vapor lingers near ground level and you can not get a clear view of the actual particulate emissions from the smokestack. Water vapor is not pollution. Read the opacity before the steam starts or after the steam ends. If you read the opacity too high, the chances are that you are reading water vapor. We simply told the judge that opacity of the black smoke was 100% because it blacked out the moon and the stars. The New York City lawyers did not argue this point.

Notice the steam plume in the right. Read the opacity. If you read 0% you would be correct, because zero emissions are visible at the end of the steam. Remember when steam or water vapor exits the smokestack, it is as hot as Granny Harp's teakettle. The steam cools down with distance from the smokestack. When the steam cools off it evaporates. Any tail of emissions at the end of the steam gets airborne and may travel to the next state. I have heard EPA reports about a West Virginia smokestack that burned the eyes of tourists at the Trump Taj Mahal Casino 500 miles away in Atlantic City. You read the opacity of the tail of emissions the densest part of the tail at the end of the steam. This particular device was working very well at the time the picture was taken. This is your goal. The other 2 smokestacks would present a problem to me. I don't see any emissions. My fist impression is that the sources are not operating. As an inspector, I would have to ask the operator to find out. Some people try to make a mountain out of a mole hill. Reading opacity is simple if you know and follow the basic fundamentals. Ray Charles could see that. That is where Whitlow comes in. We are the experts. Come to Whitlow and you will be the experts.

Back to the nightmare incinerator

The plant had been a target of a year long class action lawsuit that was covered by every television news station in America. When we arrived at the plant, the operator had mistakenly  left the incinerator control on manual controls rather than on automatic.  He was out washing a truck. A giant plume of black smoke 100% opacity was barreling out of the smokestack. Normally the plant produced a nice white cloud of fluffy steam. Unfortunately for the plant, we were there and the next court date was in 3 days. Make sure you check your opacity daily. You never know who may pull in the driveway. You should keep a daily log book for each potential source and each pollution control device. Include entries for all maintenance and at least daily opacity readings. Keep a record of all corrective actions. Keep your log book, EPA Method 9 Forms, and your smoke school certificates handy. You never know when the inspector may show up or when you may end up in court. Your job is to build evidence just in case you need it. Be prepared like a Boy Scout. Read more about the surprise inspection and the consequences. 

Unfortunately my personality dominated the court case. I asked Chris for advice on making a testimony. Chris said to tell the truth and be myself. That was his mistake. We were serquested (locked in a sound proof room) during the trial so I could not hear Chris or Pat's testimony. My testimony went something like this:

Defense Lawyer: "How high was the smokestack height?"

George: "30 Feet"

Judge: Laughter (Chris and Pat had already testified the stack was 100 feet) Hint read your blueprint to see how high your smokestack is.

Defense Lawyer: "Have you been certified to read opacity at night?"

George: "No sir, EPA does not require nighttime certification"

Defense Lawyer: "How can you be certain that the opacity of the plume was 100%?"

George: "The black smoke blackened out the moon and the stars. Ray Charles could see that. "

Judge: Falls on the floor laughing.

Defense Lawyer: " According to your vehicle log, you also inspected a rabbit processing plant that same day. Both of your inspections were the result of odor complaints. Which plant smelled worse? (I had inspected 5 plants that week. My memory has never been that great. I had to depend on my notes and logbooks. Always maintain a logbook for each emission source to keep track of your maintenance and visible emissions observations. These and your smoke school certificates are the first thing the inspector wants to see. Keep good records because you never know when you may end up in court. Your job is to prove that you are in compliance.)

George: "The rabbit plant by far. "

Defense Lawyer: "Then why are you trying to revoke the hazardous waste plant's operating permit?"

George: "Rabbit poop ain't toxic and the rabbit plant has not been on national news for a year."

Judge: Laughter

Defense Lawyer: "Were you afraid when you were in the hazardous waste incinerator control room?"

George: "I was as scared as hell. Have you ever seen the movie China Syndrome when that nuclear plant melted down and killed all of those people? I knew we were in a dangerous situation. The operator had left the room, 100% black smoke was a coming out, and I smelled something awful. I knew it had to be something toxic. But it could have been something trapped in my mustache from what I ate for supper. "

Judge: Fell out of his chair again laughing. The entire courtroom busted out laughing. Everything the lawyer said backfired and ended up with laughter. He was embarrassed. I was embarrassed. The judge was having fun. All in a day's work I guess.

Defense Lawyer: "No further questions your honor."

I did not intend to make them laugh. I was horrified. I was sweating profusely and my heart was racing. My girdle was too tight so my belly couldn't flop around. The buttons on my Salvation Army suit were bulging to the max. I am huge and fat like Hoss Cartwright. I always try to keep a low profile, but it is impossible. It is hard to be a wallflower. By nature I am an extremely shy and withdrawn person. It may be hard for you to believe that, but I an sitting here at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of fresh ground Community Coffee, and talking to you like we were face to face, heart to heart. You can't see me. At smoke school I am hidden by the control box. So there I was friends and neighbors in all of my radiant beauty in front of the judge, jury, a house full of New York City lawyers, all of the television cameras, and a house full of witnesses. Everyone was laughing and they were laughing at me. I just wanted to melt, run away and cry.

I felt guilty about the outcome of the case. The company received 9 million dollars in fines and penalties. The national and local media had a field day and a circus. Oprah Winfrey filmed an episode about it. The New Jersey based company stock market bottomed out and they went out of business. The plant manager, all the environmental managers, and all of the New York City lawyers were fired. I especially felt guilty about the plant operator, who was instantly fired after 20 years of service with the plant. I felt sorry for all of these people. Either they had an attitude that they would not get caught or they were just ignorant of the laws. The court says that ignorance is not an excuse. Ever since than, I have strived to teach my fiends about the importance of knowing the law and the consequences of being out of compliance. I started doing this with my very first smoke school. I had a great audience, many times I trained 500 people at a time every October and April. Back in those days I did it at a regular state employee salary. It was just part of the job and I was happy to do it. Nowadays I own a commercial smoke school company and the money comes out of your pockets. I pledge to the best of my ability to keep you trained and informed. That is the very least I can do.

The next morning I was shocked when I saw the headlines in the Baton Rouge Advocate. My entire testimony was on the front page- word for word. The judge stated that my testimony differed significantly form Chris and Pat, but mine was very much more believable. Although my testimony won the defender's class action suit I had tried to remain neutral- just the facts mam. When I got to work Chris was fuming. "You are out of the Shrine Club. You are an embarrassment to the entire department.  I checked and you are civil service and you were more or less appointed by the Governor, so I can't fire you. You are like an old shotgun, you want work and I can't fire you. I order you to keep a low profile. Do not talk to the press or to television. You are banned from inspections and you are definitely banned from court. Is that perfectly clear?"

I literally cried right there in his office. I loved being an inspector. I asked if I could help James Gipson with maintenance and smoke school. The Good Lord works in mysterious ways. Chris did me a big favor. For the rest of my career I made a living driving trucks and driving nails. Jesus was a carpenter and so was I. Driving nails was a rare talent for the professionals at LDEQ. I set up and maintained air sampling equipment, portable buildings, and wooden sampling platforms that made up the LDEQ Air Analysis Ambient Air Sampling Stations clear across Louisiana. Click this link to see what monitoring station is keeping track of your emissions. Don't worry, be happy. These air sampling stations form a network all across the USA.

The aftermath of the lawsuit went on for several years. The local media made an overnight celebrity out of Pat Norton, the secretary of DEQ that accompanied me on the inspection. The media and the public had Pat all lined up to be the next Governor of Louisiana. She would have been the first female governor. Pat was not satisfied with the 9 million dollars in fines and penalties; she wanted their permit to operate in the state. Governor Edwards called a press conference and asked Pat to back up on the plant. Pat refused and Edwards fired her. The US Marshall Office became suspicious that Edwards may be involved in suspicious activity with the New Jersey company. They sent in the Louisiana National Guard with tanks to break down the gates of the plant. They seized every piece of paper in every file cabinet at the plant. One of the entries in the operator log book stated, " Louisiana DEQ will be here for an inspection Wednesday. Do not burn anything but water on Wednesday. " Prior to this, LDEQ would call ahead of time for an inspection. It was a convenience call and it saved us a lot of time waiting at the gate for the plant EHS to show up. After discovering the log book entry, EPA discouraged pre-announced inspections.

Eventually they convicted Edwards on corruption related to casinos in New Orleans. I was sad when Edwards went to prison. He may have been corrupt, but he was good for the poor people in Louisiana. He got me a job and he wrote a nice personal letter to my Mama when Daddy died. Mama always cherished that letter. Pat Norton would have been governor, but she made a political mistake months later, when the media approached her about announcing her candidacy. She said she saw a shooting star over my head during the inspection and her Guru informed her that the shooting star was an indication that she should revoke the plant's permit. Most Louisiana people don't cotton to much to Gurus. I have not heard anything about Pat ever since.  

My good friend Raymond gave he the nickname "Lightening" at DEQ. When he came to audit my wooden platform sights for the TSP hi volume air samplers, he always found about 20 bent nails sticking in the treated lumber. He said I was like lightening because I never stuck the same spot on a nail more than once. Raymond told me that last week at a retirement party. I always thought he gave me the name because I was too slow at everything I do. In all my years of working, I have never taken a job that paid by the hour, because I felt like I was cheating my employer. I am slow but sometimes slower is better. And that is how it is. Take time to smell the roses. My being slow at smoke school is good for you, because it keeps you on track and you will mark your answer correctly. I display a bumper sticker that says "I may be slow but I am ahead of you." I know that I am slow, so I tell you stories between opacity readings to keep you from going to sleep. I apologize if you laugh, but humor is my nature. The judge knows this and so does Chris. Before I retired in 2001, Chris gave me his only compliment. He said that he always got phone calls from the plant managers saying that they loved coming to my smoke schools because I made it fun. Coming from Chris, that says a lot. Now I know that some of you scientists and engineers may be offended by the humor on this web page and the apparent lack of professionalism. I am me and I can't be nobody else. My mamma always used to say, "Stupid  is Stupid does. " Come to a Whitlow smoke school and you will find it a lot more fun than sitting in a yard chair 3 days listening to somebody else. If you are lucky, you might even learn how to read opacity correctly, stay in compliance, and avoid being in court. Just think of all the money and wasted man-hours you will save your company. They may even give you a nickel an hour raise.

After 20 years of night school, in 1988 I finally managed to pull my 1.27 GPA into a 2.0 and graduated BS Liberal Arts from Regents College, Albany New York. I ended up with about 900 semester hours that just did not jell. This included night classes at The Sacramento Community College, Western Oklahoma State College, Southern Illinois University at Carbondale, Southern University in Baton Rouge, LSU, and CLEP tests. I graduated in Liberal Arts with concentrations in social studies and environmental protection. I guess that makes me a person who knows people and the environmental. How appropriate.

I retired from LDEQ on September 11, 2001- 9/11 the day that changed the world. On this memorial date, I founded Whitlow Smoke School Nation and that is the rest of the story. I am very happy that you walked with me in my shoes for a while. Now we ain't strangers anymore.

 Howdy Pilgrim, say hello to a fat ole man.  We have been to Whitlow Smoke School and we passed. Yippy!

Barney Fife Freddy the Freeloader

"If don't like talking to a one-eyed fat man or if you say something bad about Whitlow Smoke School..... Fill your hands! Dagnabbit- Hollywood is making a new True Grit movie opening December 24. Jeff Bridges is going to be Rooster. Click here to read all about it. "

Do you feel LUCKY

The Whitlow Family 1940s: From Left to right- My Grandfather Artie Whitlow, Eloise Whitlow- Daddy's sister, Artie JR Whitlow- B-21 pilot killed shortly after picture taken in WW2, Mother Whit- my Grandmother, Daddy George Wesley Whitlow, Maurice Whitlow- Daddy's Little Brother- the only survivor living today in Arab Alabama

The Whitlow Family Late 1960s: Left to Right- Uncle Maurice Whitlow, Mother Whit, Eloise Whitlow, Daddy- George Wesley Whitlow (with the apron- now you see why I like to cook at smoke School. WW 2 cost the family both my Grandfather and my Uncle Artie JR. Artie JR was a B-21 Pilot killed in action over Germany. My Grandfather had a massive heart attack when they delivered the telegram about Artie Jr. That is Daddy (George Wesley Whitlow) with the Big Chef Apron. Daddy taught me how to live, how to have fun, how to play baseball, how to teach, how to make people laugh, and how to cook. I am what I am because of my Daddy.

This is all that is left of the original Whitlow family. We originated in Hope Arkansas with lots of hope. Now we are in Louisiana and Alabama. Notice the family beer gut. Left to right Uncle George, Stewart, Uncle Maurice, & Mark

Whitlow is American Gothic. We love Whitlow. We passed. That is our story and we are sticking to it. Green Acres is the place for me.