Port of Calling

As seafarers' chaplain, he offers practical help, spiritual comfort, and trips to the mall

Port of Calling

By Joel Brown, Globe Correspondent  |  October 2, 2006

CHELSEA -- The Rev. William J. Fleming navigated the rattling van through the rough industrial backstreets with a smile unshaken by the most jarring pothole. ``We have these roads to keep the sea legs on the seafarers," he said with a chuckle, bouncing over a grade crossing.

Finally he pulled to the side of Route 1A in East Boston, across from Suffolk Downs, with tank farms and oil terminals all around. Looming at the other end of a long, narrow drive bounded by tall chain-link fencing was the 600-foot tanker New England, on its regular run down from New Brunswick, unloading a cargo of petroleum products. And marching down the drive toward the van were three rawboned Latvian crewmen with bristly haircuts and a few tattoos.

As they climbed into the van, one of them couldn't wait to double-check: ``You can take us to the mall?"

We'll drop you off and bring you back too, Fleming assured them. Round trips to the CambridgeSide Galleria are among the many services provided by the Seafarer's Friend, a 183-year-old mission that Fleming directs from the shadow of the Tobin Bridge in Chelsea. It's one of two faith-based efforts that provide for the physical, emotional, and spiritual needs of crews docking in Boston, and it serves about 70 ships a month. In the post-9/11 era of heightened security -- and increased suspicion of foreigners -- those services have become even more needed.

White-bearded, talkative, and solicitous, Fleming, 58, seemed like a missionary straight out of central casting as he asked the men about their trip while steering down Route 1A toward the Sumner Tunnel. They were tired-looking and reticent. Alex Velenteiciks , 31, admitted to missing his wife back home. He and Pavel Gorelikov , 24, had been working the St. John-Boston run for three months straight, while Jevgenijs Sarts, 22, had been on board only a month.

They said they were most grateful for the inexpensive phone cards that Fleming and other mission ``ship visitors" provide on behalf of the Seafarer's Friend, allowing them to talk to their loved ones back home.

 ``It is not the same when you hear the voice and when you are just reading [letters] ," Gorelikov said, and the others nodded.

 But the mission's most important offering may be a chance to see faces that don't belong to the same 20 or so shipmates.

 ``It is just really nice to feel in the crowd, to look at people," Gorelikov said, ``to walk around and enjoy the sunny afternoon."

Down to the sea

Fleming grew up in New London, Conn. His father was a Navy submariner, his mother the daughter of a ship's chandler. He fell in love with ships early on. By the time he was in seminary at Boston University, Fleming was building ship models from kits. Working at churches in San Diego, he joined the local ship-model guild and began sailing as a volunteer on local square-riggers as firsthand research to better his modeling skills.

``Then they found out I was a minister, so I started doing their wedding charters," he said with a smile.

Before long he got involved with the local port ministry and found an avocation that brought him back to Boston more than 20 years ago. He worked with the New England Seafarers Mission for 15 years before joining Seafarer's Friend four years ago. His models now share office shelves with his white ``Port Chaplain" hardhat.

The Seafarer's Friend headquarters offers everything from foosball and pool tables to a commissary selling personal items such as mouthwash and candy. (The Seafarer's Friend, which is affiliated with the United Church of Christ, has an annual budget of $440,000 that comes mostly from donations by churches, individuals, and trusts.) Fleming also conducts the occasional service in the basement chapel. But whether the seamen head there or to the Galleria, getting away from the ship requires them to run a daunting gantlet of logistics, visa requirements, corporate regulations, and homeland security enforcement.

Access on and off the ships and the docks has tightened ``drastically" since 9/11, Fleming says. ``I'm very conscious of the security thing, because it is a privilege to be on the docks, not a right, even though the seafarers really depend on us. So trying to make sure we keep that invitation open is a major task."

Not least because gas, oil, and liquid natural gas tankers are perceived to be terrorist targets.

``Over 70 percent of what we deal with are tankers. When we first started dropping bombs on Iraq and I went out on the docks, I realized by the end of the day that I'd been chaplain in a war zone without leaving my city," he said. ``There was very much a sense that everyone was nervous."

In addition to fear of being targets, the seafarers face another concern. They are from places like the Philippines, India, Korea, and Eastern Europe. To Americans on high alert, they sometimes look like terrorists themselves.

``The people that work on these ships are on the same side as us -- they're the most vulnerable -- and yet often we are doing things in the name of security that deprive them of what we might even call their human rights," Fleming said. ``Things that we take for granted, like making a phone call." That's why Seafarer's Friend has two cellphones that it brings to ships along with the phone cards, loaning them to seafarers who can't get to shore.

Only a lucky few have e-mail at sea, and use of a ship's satellite phone to call home can cost as much as $10 a minute, Fleming said. So by the time they reach port, after days or weeks at sea, anything that keeps them from reaching a pay phone outside the gates of the fuel terminal can be a major problem. And even if they can leave, a cab ride or a shared van to the nearest phone can take a significant chunk out of their $400 to $450 monthly paychecks.

For those from Islamic countries, the frustration can be particularly acute. Most of the time these days they don't have visas or face other roadblocks.

Their reaction is, `` `What's wrong with you? You're treating us like criminals!' And we're trying to calm them down, appease them a little bit," Fleming said.

Cruise control

Fleming's comments were echoed by Stephen Cushing , executive director and chaplain of the New England Seafarers Mission. ``Since 9/11 it's been a whole different ballgame," said Cushing. ``They're foreign, they know they're going to be looked at suspiciously, depending on what they look like and how well-spoken they are. So there's that guardedness about them."

While the Seafarer's Friend handles the gritty industrial precincts around the north side of Boston Harbor, as well as Salem, Portsmouth, and Portland, the New England Seafarers Mission, which is supported by the Evangelical Covenant Church, has a different clientele.

Based at the Black Falcon Cruise Terminal, the Seafarers Mission organizes many volunteers on the much larger crews coming off busy cruise ships. While a tanker crew might number two dozen, the cruise ships often have several hundred, even a thousand crew members, half of whom may come ashore.

New England Seafarers Mission provides them with phone and Internet, financial services, coffee, and a chapel, all right at the terminal.

``Ninety-nine percent of them are married and have families," Cushing said. ``That is why they are doing the job. They come from countries where employment is difficult to obtain. . . . They want to know that everyone at home is all right, and home wants to know that they're all right."

Ultimately the task of the seafarer's missions is less about phone cards or mouthwash than it is about their spirits.

``One of the thrusts we're working at this year is to really hone this term `hospitality,' " Cushing said. ``As you and I think of it, we think of the Sheraton or the Ritz. . . . We're looking at a larger picture of hospitality, even as Christian scripture looks at it, which is you take in the stranger who asks for help as he's on his travels or on her travels through this world. When they cross your path, you provide kind of a safety zone where they can receive help, receive comfort, receive rest, and then you send them on their way to continue their journey."

(Correction: Because of a reporting error, a story about the Seafarer's Friend in Monday's Living/Arts section misstated the organization's church affiliation. It is a multidenominational ministry that receives support from several churches, including those in the United Church of Christ and the National Association of Congregational Churches.)

© Copyright 2006 Globe Newspaper Company.

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