Friday, May 19, 2000

Welder puts life back together

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12 years ago, a dare started big trouble for Ted Clifton, but he's past that and enjoying life again

By John Johnston
The Cincinnati Enquirer

        Everyone has a story worth telling. At least, that's the theory. To test it, Tempo is throwing darts at the phone book. When a dart hits a name, a reporter dials the phone number and asks if someone in the home will be interviewed. Stories appear on Fridays.

Everyone has a story worth telling. At least, that's the theory. To test it, Tempo is throwing darts at the phone book. When a dart hits a name, a reporter dials the phone number and asks if someone in the home will be interviewed. Stories appear on Fridays.

        Ted Clifton sits at a picnic table not far from the pond on his property. Bullfrogs have begun a chorus of croaks.

        Mr. Clifton, 46, with reddish hair and mustache, has been working hard this day, welding railroad cars. He wears a dirty T-shirt with a pack of Marlboros in the pocket. His left arm sports a bloody sore.

        On this secluded patch of land, about a mile from Melbourne, Ky., he can relax. Mr. Clifton loves it here, built his home here. But he could have lost this place.

        Twelve years ago, Mr. Clifton made what he calls a “stupid” mistake. It cost him his job. It nearly cost him his marriage. It almost cost him his life.

        All because of a practical joke gone sour.

        In the fall of 1988, he was 34, a married father of two young children. But he looks back now and admits he still had a lot of growing up to do. He liked to play pranks, even at Queen City Metro, where he was making $12.88 an hour as a welder.

        On Oct. 19 that year, a co-worker dared him to set fire to a bag containing acetylene and oxygen at the Metro garage on Bank Street.

        Mr. Clifton says he never intended to hurt anyone or cause damage. He used toilet paper as a fuse, lighted it, then ran.

        “It was like two sticks of dynamite inside that building,” he says. “I was in another department behind a 12-inch wall, and it scared the hell out of me because it was so loud.”

        The explosion didn't damage the building, he says, but several workers in the immediate area temporarily lost their hearing.

        Police began an investigation. Within a week, officers returned with a warrant. And Mr. Clifton heard and felt handcuffs closing around his wrists.

        As he was being strip searched at the police station, he thought to himself: “What have I done? I've got myself in big trouble.”

        He had a 10-year-old daughter and 7-year-old son at home. He and his wife, Linda, had recently bought their Melbourne property and were building their home.

        More than 100 Metro employees petitioned the court and Metro to give Mr. Clifton his job back, to no avail. Mr. Clifton, who had no criminal record, was charged with aggravated arson and six counts of felonious assault.

        He was released on his own recognizance and began to concentrate on his upcoming trial.

        “(Prosecutors) wanted me to take a plea bargain and serve time. I told 'em, by God I'll take my chances with 12 peers. Because there ain't 12 people gonna hang me over something as stupid as this.”

        The stakes were high. There was talk that if he was convicted, he might face 25 years in prison.

        As the pressure mounted, Mr. Clifton almost cracked. One day at home, he tied his hands behind his back and stood on a bucket.

        “I literally put a rope around my neck, and decided, this is it, I'm outta here.”

        As he started to commit the act, two things popped into his mind. One, this is gonna hurt. And two, I've got more to live for. Trying to untie his hands, with the noose still around his neck, he almost fell off the bucket.

        A few days later, jurors deliberated his fate. After 45 minutes they returned a verdict: not guilty on all charges.

        “I broke down and wept,” Mr. Clifton says.

        But his problems were not over. He had no job. Legal bills were piling up.

        To make ends meet, he had to sell his “toys” — a 1962 Corvette and a 19-foot boat. He also tapped his Metro retirement fund, eventually depleting it.

        In the meantime, his marriage suffered.

        “It got pretty bad,” Linda Clifton says. “We almost got divorced. He wouldn't find a job, was depressed and down, and I kept (nagging) every day.”

        When he applied for jobs, Mr. Clifton told prospective employers how he'd been fired, tried, and acquitted. They quickly lost interest.

        He finally got a break on March 12, 1991, when Progress Rail Services Corp. hired him as a welder. Aside from odd jobs, he had been out of work almost 2¹/₂ years.

        “I started at the bottom, making $8 an hour,” he says. “Worked harder in my life than I ever have.”

        He was often outdoors, in all kinds of weather. Some days, at the end of a shift, he couldn't straighten his back.

        “But I was feedin' my family, and I kept my farm,” he says.

        In 1997, another setback. He was fired, after what he says was a “misunderstanding” with the general manager. He was off work 220 days. Then he called and asked for another chance. By then, the company had a new general manager.

        Mr. Clifton got his job back on a trial basis. “You talk about putting the nose to the grindstone,” he says.

        In 1998, he was promoted twice; the second time, to supervisor. Recently the company's business slowed, and he was asked to temporarily return to welding.

        After all he has weathered, Mr. Clifton says he feels he can face whatever challenges lie ahead.

        His wife says his experience “made him grow up and ... appreciate what he has. Some people have to learn the hard way. I think he's one of them.”

        These days, he spends his spare time working on his home. And he's begun collecting “toys” again, including a 1941 Chevy.

        He works hard, he says, but he's not complaining.

        “I love my job. Some people say they hate their job when they go to work? I love to get up in the morning because I know where I'm going.”

        He knows it's a far better place than where he might have gone.

       

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