Night People

Your doors are locked, the lights are turned off, and you've settled into bed for another night of sleep. The long day is finally over--you've nothing more to think about other than soaking up the quiet and letting dreamtime arrive. But for some Knoxvillians, this particularly late hour is just the beginning of another work day, one conducted under the glare of fluorescent lights. As you nod off into slumberland, they are minding the city, making sure things get done and the system still works. Here are just a few of the people who make the city ready for your return the next morning.

Photo Essay by Torre Redford, Text by Coury Turczyn

Jerry T. Winther, street musician, and Arrow, dog, the Old City--12:45 a.m.

Although our city leaders seem to frown upon the existence of street musicians, they're actually a vital sign of life and culture in any urban setting. (Just ask Jack Neely about the roots of country music in Knoxville--dare you.) Jerry T. Winther plays and practices his guitar on the Old City's sidewalks to appreciative strollers, hoping to gather enough change for gas money or some breakfast. Surprisingly, he says he hasn't seen too much late night weirdness.

"I've seen enough strangeness in my lifetime," he says, "and Knoxville is just normal enough."

Dr. Hilrey H. Randolph, veterinarian, Knoxville Academy Emergency Pet Clinic--2:20 a.m.

Humans aren't the only ones who experience medical emergencies late at night--pets, too, face life or death situations when no regular vet clinic is open. Where do concerned owners turn? The Emergency Pet Clinic on Ailor Avenue, where Dr. Hilrey H Randolph and assistant Barbara Dieffenderfer handle those sudden emergencies.

"To my knowledge, the strangest occurrence here was when a pot-bellied pig was brought in that had eaten rat poison," says Dr. Randolph. "It took an hour to appreciate the extent of the rat poison he had ingested and to satisfy that our treatment had taken effect. All the while, the pig was screeching at the top of its lungs."

Robert M. Rogers, Greyhound ticket agent, and J. Thomas, Greyhound bus driver, Greyhound Bus Station--1:50 a.m.

Got a pal coming in on the red-eye from Chicago? Have to get outta Dodge in a hurry? These are the gentleman you might deal with in order to purchase some affordable transportation. Robert M. Rogers sells tickets, dispenses information, announces buses, and enters package express bills into the computer at night. J. Thomas, meanwhile, drives buses, loads passengers, helps out with the baggage, and "deals with the people from point A to point B." In order to adapt to a nocturnal lifestyle, Rogers has darkened his bedroom with cardboard and plastic, and uses appliances to lull himself to sleep.

"I have an air freshener that makes a steady hum, which I use in the winter time, and during the summer I use the air conditioner," Rogers says. "The best thing I did to guarantee sleep was to invest in an answering machine. I turn my ringer off and the machine volume down."

David E. Whitson, donut maker, Dunkin' Donuts on Kingston Pike--3:34 a.m.

For some, donuts are the primary catalyst for starting the work day. And somebody's got to make them--Bavarian cream, apple-filled, chocolate-dipped, peanut. That somebody is David E. Whitson, who mans the Dunkin' Donuts night shift, making sure orders get loaded up for truck delivery to UT Hospital, Fort Sanders Health Center, and "a few places in Clinton."

What's the strangest thing that's ever happened to him on his donut rounds?

"Getting stopped by cops for speeding," he reports.

Christy Roth, Patient Care Assistant, neo-natal intensive care nursery, Fort Sanders Children's Hospital--12:36 a.m.

After the miracle of birth occurs, someone must watch over these newborns 'round the clock. At Fort Sanders Children's Hospital, one of those people is Christy Roth, who cares for the children as the new parents recover themselves--from feeding to diaper changing. As someone on the front lines of birth, Roth attests that--yes--more babies are born during full moons.

Rebecca L. DeMonbron and Bonnie Grant, waitresses, Waffle House on Papermill Rd.--3:10 a.m.

After a long, hard night of listening to Metallica tribute bands, exhausted westside nightclubbers swarm to that lone, shining beacon of coffee hope, Waffle House. Within its bright yellow confines comes physical redemption in the form of burgers, fries, eggs, and waffles. Manning the lines are waitresses such as Rebecca L. DeMonbron, Bonnie Grant, and Kathy A. Ritter, and cooks like James Edwards and James Willoughby.

"I enjoy the third shift," insists DeMonbron. "Waffle House at night is almost like a safe haven for people to stop over to."

Terry Womack, disc jockey, WIVK FM--4:05 a.m.

In this age of complete broadcast automation, it might be expected that your favorite radio station simply turns on the CD player at midnight and lets the staff go home. Not so at WIVK, where Terry Womack plays country music, commercials, and weather reports until 5 a.m. He also answers the phones, taking requests all night long from other night shift people for the tunes that keep them going. Does this lonely time slot ever get boring? Not for Womack.

"I always wanted to be in radio since the 6th grade, and have been in this business for 30 years--and it's always exciting, always new," says Womack. "I'm just living a dream."

Mickey Harp, night manager, Knox Plaza Kroger--2:58 a.m.

Working from 9:30 p.m. to 6 a.m., Monday through Friday, Mickey Harp is the fellow who keeps those Kroger floors cleaned and buffed--when he isn't waiting on people, too. And all sorts are attracted to the store in the wee hours: people passing out in the aisles, fraternity pledges demanding giant cucumbers, women making promises they can't keep in a vain attempt to get around the 3 a.m. beer restriction. And that's not all.

"People will sometimes try to steal stuff by coming up to the front claiming that they have been rung up already in the back, even though I'm the only one here," says Harp. "We also get a lot of guys in here obviously trying to make up with their girlfriends, buying balloons, cards, candy--anything they can get at five in the morning. Makes you wonder what they did."

Will Gouch and Rick Jones, master control technicians, WKXT Channel 8--12:33 a.m.

It's one o'clock in the morning, you can't sleep, and the warm milk isn't kicking in--so what can you do? Flick on Night Court. That just might work. And the fellows making sure the proper buttons are being pushed to safeguard your 1 a.m. viewing of that seminal sit-com are Will Gouch and Rick Jones. They are in charge of ensuring that all the shows and commercials run on the air correctly.

"The worst thing is when something happens during a show and you have to hurry and replace it with something else," says Jones.

"One time they were getting ready to do a live feed from a satellite and everything was fine--until all of a sudden the satellite was gone and we didn't know where it went," says Gouch. "So you're always left wondering if the set will actually be there."

Tim Wheeler, mortician, Steven's Mortuary--5:24 a.m.

Death, it seems, often strikes at night. As general manager, funeral director, and embalmer at Steven's Mortuary, Tim Wheeler is on call seven days a week, 24 hours a day. He makes the removals at the institutions or homes where deaths have occurred, then places the deceased on the preparation room table. Once he has obtained verbal or written permission by the family, the embalming is done. It's a job one has to get used to.

"I had just begun work here for a couple of months and I had someone who had died in the hospital," relates Wheeler. "When we went to remove the body from the bed to our cot, the lung collapsed and the air escaped through the mouth, causing a moaning sound. That's probably the worst experience of my life, but now I've become accustomed to it."