On the Job with No-Leak Lenny(Gerald R Gioglio) On the Job with No-Leak Lenny:
Installing the Plumbing
By Gerald R. Gioglio

In the picture my dad, the short and sleek Master Plumber, stands looking somewhat surprised by the intrusion of a photographer. I see him here as I often did in person—on the job, focused and ready for action. His left hand holds a chrome plated sink or “P-trap”; a wooden folding ruler in his right. The “rule,” opened to its shortest length, is poised for a measurement of less than six inches. He’s seen here on his paid job with his helper; I remember him calling helpers and his son “go-fer kids.” Whatever he needed you went and got—parts, equipment, tools or the occasional coffee. On weekend-warrior jobs you might have to travel to the kitchen to fetch him a beer or two, this was a sacred secret held between us.
The “go-fer” in this photo kneels as I often did, ready to screw on a trap to complete the installation. The helper ‘snugs-up’ one end of the trap to a “tailpipe” dropping down from the sink; then he attaches it to a line coming up from the floor that carries waste water away. Meanwhile the Master stands ready to measure the correct distance for the next fitting—no time wasted on this, or as I recall, on any other job.
The image was dated July 26, 1967, probably taken for the Plumbers and Pipefitters Union Newspaper or another trade publication. The names of the men, Leonard Gioglio and Frank Gransky appear on the back as does the label or headline, “Installing Some of the Plumbing.”
Lenny had plied his trade since age nineteen, with time lost due to the Great Depression of the 1930s, the occasional lay-off, and a couple of unsuccessful forays into small business. Other plumbers affectionately nicknamed my dad “No-Leak Lenny” because of his skills. With a wink and a nod, they referred to each other as “Sanitary Engineers.”

Now, some sixty-six years old, he stands on the cusp of full retirement. Soon, my parents will abandon the tired, demographic and economically changing City of New Brunswick, New Jersey to retire at the Jersey shore. Heading, as Jersey boys and girls will say, “Down the Shore,” to live close to the ocean and bay. Little did we know the life-long draw to the sea was in our blood. Indeed, decades later I discovered generations of our Sicilian ancestors who lived and toiled just a short horse-and-cart ride from the ocean.
I was always proud to join my father on some of his jobs, happy to assume the role of “go-fer.” If you were a kid, this was a big deal. Not only did I get to spend time with him, but I felt useful and grown up while learning some of the tricks of the trade.
Those days plumbers traveled in the world of men and despite my childhood intrusion I soon learned I was accepted as a side-kick. Of course, there were dues to pay, my buzz-cut head was tussled, my shoulder punched, and I was graced with various nicknames. “Pumpkin-head” was my least favorite. But that was me. Pumpkin-head, present and accounted for.
I especially enjoyed joining him in our town’s plumbing supply store, a testosterone filled cornucopia with everything a plumber might need. If you were a kid stepping into the supply store meant stepping into another world. Big strong, generally younger men flexed their muscles while joking and foul-mouthing their way through conversations. Powerful, imposing figures laughed and searched among the aisles and rows of wrenches, cool parts, contraptions, tubing, pipes and hand tools. It was all plumbing, all the time. Yeah man, Christmas for adults, Wonderland for kids. It felt different, like walking into church; a special holy place for a plumber and his kid. Well okay, except for the language…except for the bawdy jokes…and well, except for advertisements featuring scantily clad females that hung on the wall.

When I joined him on a sink installation job, I knew it would soon be operational after the installation of water and the P-trap. Once installed the loop in the trap held a bit of waste water that drained from a sink. The loop prevents smelly sewer gases from rising from the drain. No small lesson that.
With much satisfaction No-Leak Lenny said many a spouse was indebted to P-traps because they not only capture hair and debris, but other objects like wedding rings that inadvertently drop into the drain. Thus, the traps sometimes needed to be cleaned out. Because P-traps are always threaded, not permanently soldered in place, they disassemble easily. Many a spouse becomes an instant hero by screwing off the P-trap to recover dropped jewelry. We still do the same, but now mostly with plastic screw-on PVC fixtures.

Of course, there is a picture behind the picture. I’m talking about the hard work that has to be done before installing the sink trap, like running the water and waste pipes from the basement or crawl space through the floor. Dad always said when it came to doing a job of work, “Nothin’ is easy!” That bit of working-class wisdom was one of No-Leak Lenny’s favorite mantras. When a job was through and we were admiring the work, he’d let loose with another gem; it went something like, “Kid, I taught you everything I know….and you don’t know nothin’ yet.” Ahh, hold on, think about this for a minute….
Because we operated in tight quarters, connecting the water lines to the sink was not an easy task. The previously installed water lines probably came up 2-3 inches from the floor. Early on I learned hot water is always installed on the left, cold water on the right. [Note to “do it yourselfers:” reread the last sentence.]
In those days most connections needed to be soldered. Fittings known as ‘couplings’ had to be soldered onto these pipes; then, other pipes leading to the sink were fitted into the top part of the coupling to affect a hot or cold-water connection. Finally, all copper joints under the sink were soldered in place.
For this job I would grab a large acetylene gas tank with a long hose and nozzle to provide a steady hot flame. Then I’d dig into his heavy wooden toolbox to bring him any number of things including a flint striker to light the acetylene torch, a roll of coiled, metal solder and a roll of 1 ½ inch emery cloth to sand or ‘score’ the ends of the pipe. Scoring cleaned the copper pipe and helped the solder adhere. I also brought flux paste to be swabbed around the scored portion of the “joints,” this too helped the solder to seal or “fit” the tubing and fixtures together.
After providing “go-fer” duties helpers would climb under the sink to assist the master in the process of cleaning, fluxing and fitting portions together. At that point the torch is lit emitting both high heat and a mild, gaseous smell. Heat is applied with great care around the circumference at the center of a coupling or when affixing an elbow or “El.” Sheets of asbestos paper meant to prevent scorching or fires, were often tacked on the wall where joints were to be sweated. After accompanying him on many a job I noticed he used asbestos paper only when things were extremely tight. Hey, when No-Leak Lenny was on the job walls or floors rarely got scorched given the precision of his touch.
Once heat was applied and the flux started to sizzle, the end of the coiled solder was bent into an inverted J-shape. As time went on I got to hold and guide it around a joint. With the flame lowered and concentrated at the center of a fixture one would touch the end of the solder to the end of the fitting. The solder would flow around the circumference and into the joint. The tops of the connections were done first, then the bottoms—and as if by wizardry--the solder flowed up! What!!!? My old man said the “sweated” or melted flux pulled the solder up to adhere and eventually harden. As a kid, I found that particularly mystifying…I mean, come on, melted metal flowing up? Having done many a joint over the years, I guess I’m still in awe.
Dad’s soldered joints were always neat, nary a drip beyond the joint or down the pipe. This, I had to master even as I suffered well-deserved paternal impatience and the unwavering demands of a proud and precise professional. Never, not once, when the water was turned on, did his soldered joints leak. He was that good. “No-Leak Lenny” indeed.
Beyond fire, other occupational hazards included: having hot solder drip on the hands; or, if a plumber had to get up close and personal to sweat a joint, inadvertently touching a hot pipe searing one’s face or head. Lenny’s go-to expletive during mad minutes like these was an immediate “Son of a *****!” I must admit this particular exasperated invective lives on. Some family members might claim it is all too frequently bellowed by, shall we say, a certain “apple” that fell much too close to his tree.

I also remember this first-generation American, the son of Sicilian immigrants, loved God, his family, America, his Union, beer, rye, home-rolled cigarettes and Franklin Delano Roosevelt—mostly in that order. I was always impressed with the pride and dedication he had for his work and what he and his fellow plumbers accomplished. You could drive around the city with him and he’d point out residential developments, dormitories, or houses of worship and proudly exclaim, “I put the plumbing in those places!” Even a kid could appreciate the great pride he had in this work. Later, I learned this work not only had great dignity but also contributed to overall public health as much as any other modern advance in medicine and technology. You can look it up.

At age 80, then a self-described “Broken Down Plumber” and undergoing chemotherapy for lung cancer, Lenny did his last installation for a friend—connecting a sink much like the one depicted in this image. Sadly, I was not there that day to help with this particular job of work. I so wish I had been. I wish I did not miss this opportunity to “go-fer” one more time. I sigh and imagine being with him in this place-- what issues would we encounter? How would we approach it? I foolishly punish myself thinking, if only I had been Down the Shore with him that day. Still, chance and nature must have their way. Time must pass despite our fervent wish to revisit or slow it down. Thankfully, we have our memories and stories. More, we benefit from all the good work left behind by those hard-working Sanitary Engineers like No-Leak Lenny who helped “put the plumbing in those places.”

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