40 years after Ocean Ranger disaster, families recall lethal storm that changed them forever
Newfoundland tragedy killed 84 men after storm demolished offshore oil rig
Seven-year-old Galliehue Blevins did not understand at the time the significance of a conversation between his neighbour and his mother.
"He had mentioned to my mom, 'Hey, is Tommy still out on the rig? There's a huge storm coming.'"
That storm did come, and it unleashed winds raging at 190 kilometres an hour and waves topping 20 metres. It took the lives of 84 men, including Thomas Blevins, 35, on the Grand Banks of Newfoundland.
One of those monster waves lashed the Ocean Ranger, knocking out a porthole window and allowing water to infiltrate the ballast control room. That caused the rig to subsequently topple into the Atlantic Ocean.
At 12:52 a.m. on Feb. 15, 1982, the crew sent a mayday, saying the rig was listing to the port side. It was the last communication heard from the Ocean Ranger.
A 2½-year inquiry into the disaster later blamed the rig's American owner, the Ocean Drilling and Exploration Company. It concluded that many of the men might have survived had they been properly trained and supplied with adequate survival gear.
At the time, the company described the Ocean Ranger as the largest semi-submersible oil rig in the world.
'Like peas in a pod'
In the Blevins' home in Plainfield, Conn., Galliehue remembers a lot of friends and relatives started coming the next morning.
"I kept hearing people talking about searching, looking for survivors. No one had told me but I could pick up tones."
Blevins, 47, is the eldest child, the only son of Thomas and Martine Blevins. His sister Rachel was five and Amanda three when their father died.
"We were like peas in a pod. When he was home from the rig we always did stuff together. We went fishing.… We played baseball in the yard, we played football in the yard, and basketball," said Blevins.
In the days leading up to Valentine's Day, Blevins remembers his mom getting the children to sit at the kitchen table and make valentines for their father when he came home. Because he often missed holidays, Blevins said, his mom tried to make up for it by celebrating when he returned.
Thomas and Martine had just purchased a new house the week before. All of Blevins' toys and clothes were in boxes, packed and ready for the move to another town.
But within days, it was confirmed that his father would not be coming home ever again.
"That really set the tone for my life, right there," he said.
'I think he'd be proud'
Losing her father on the Ocean Ranger when she was 10 years old would also have a huge impact on how Tina Putt's life unfolded.
Douglas Putt, 33, had accepted a two-week stint on the oil rig after he got laid off from his regular welding job.
"He wanted to get some extra money and to hopefully take us to Toronto to see his sister that summer. That was the reason he was out there," Putt said.
Putt, 50, recollects watching television on the morning of the sinking, thinking how unusual it seemed for so many people to be in the kitchen with her mother.
"On the TV, a news clip came up about the Ocean Ranger, and I knew Dad was on there," said Putt.
"I hung onto the belief that Dad was coming home for a long time."
Putt's memory of her father is that he was always present in the lives of her and her two brothers, Sean, 8, and Jeff, 4.
"Sunday was family day. We always took us camping, he took us swimming, skating, movies, out to dinner. We always did something, supposing it was on Topsail Beach picking rocks."
Among Putt's favourite memories of her dad is the effort he put into one of her school science projects: building a circuit board.
"I was so proud. Everyone else had a little Red Green project done up with duct tape, and here I was with this perfect little circuit board."
Putt says her father influenced even her career path. She holds a master's degree in safety and risk engineering from Memorial University and has worked in the oil industry.
"Because of what happened to Dad I was always interested in safety," said Putt. "I think he'd be proud. I think he'd also be surprised."
Both Blevins and Putt also watched their mothers deal with the pain of losing a husband, and having to raise a family alone.
"My mom was the strongest person I know. She had a vision for how she wanted to raise us. She wanted to make sure that the dreams and the goals that her and my dad had come up with were followed through … and she filled every gap of not having a dad," said Blevins.
After his mother died in April, at 67, the family discovered journals she had kept, evidence of how profoundly losing their father had affected her.
"For years … well into the late '80s, early '90s, she wrote to him … her observations. It was her way of processing," said Blevins.
Putt's mother never totally recovered from losing her husband, she said.
"Mom did her best and educated the three of us and did everything she could for us."
She's grateful, still, that her father's remains were among the 22 recovered from the sinking.
Most families, she says, didn't get to say goodbye.
Safety improvements
From the tragedy of the Ocean Ranger, improved safety culture and training has emerged, says Max Ruelokke, a diver and partial owner of Hydro Space Marine Services in 1982. One of his contracts was on the Ocean Ranger.
At that time, safety on offshore oil rigs wasn't given much thought, said Ruelokke.
"I spent many, many, many days on the Ocean Ranger," he said. "The lifeboat drill was something that we did every Sunday after lunch. You went out and stood by your lifeboat station and basically had a cigarette and yarned with the rest of the crew. Nobody went into the lifeboat, nobody started it."
The feeling at the time was that the Ocean Ranger was unsinkable, said Ruelokke.
"In the words of the people that were responsible for the rig.… This rig can't sink, and that was the mindset," he said. "Why should we be worried about safety?"
Ruelokke's company lost five employees on the Ocean Ranger.
At the time the Ocean Ranger sank, there was no safety or basic survival training, said Ruelokke. Nor did the crew have survival suits.
Ruelokke's company won the contract to do the diving survey of the Ocean Ranger for the inquiry.
"We've come such a long, long way since and a lot of the credit has to go to the [inquiry] for the recommendations that they made, and obviously to the governments that acted on them."
One of those recommendations was the formation of the federal provincial offshore safety regulator, the Canada-Newfoundland and Labrador Offshore Petroleum Board, in 1986, where Ruelokke served as board chair and CEO from 2006 to 2012.
"We have four grandchildren and if either of them wanted to go offshore, they'd go with my full blessing, because I know they'd be going to work in a place that is much safer than it was," said Ruelokke.
Putt is also convinced that the offshore is a safer place today than when she lost her father because of lax systems and regulations.
"The lessons that we've learned and the improvements that have been made in safety management systems and culture … a lot of that can be directly attributed to this tragic event," said Putt.
But it is not the tragedy of the Ocean Ranger that occupies her thoughts now, 40 years later, said Putt. Instead she prefers to focus on the memories of her father left behind.
"His love and his sense of humour, his work ethic, everything kind of helped me become the person I am."
When he became a father himself, Blevins said he was determined to honour his father's memory by being a good father to his two sons.
"It's almost become my obligation in life to live the life my dad didn't get to live.… So I'm making sure I'm at all the practices, attending the parent-teacher conferences, making sure I'm involved in their lives," he said.
"It is not lost on me that my dad didn't get to do that stuff."
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