Dorsey Plows Through

Honking his horn once, Lynwood Dorsey came to a stop on Frances Hunter Drive and rolled down his truck window. On the other side, a woman with a snow shovel, long skirt, boots and hat took a break and put a hand on her hip.

“Please don’t shovel snow into the street,” Dorsey implored, the slightest edge to his voice. He’s been up since 4 a.m. and on the roads since 5. He needed to clear the street.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she responded, lifting her shovel up for another scoop of snow.

“I don’t wanna create more work for you,” Dorsey said. ​“My guys need to plow, and we plow that snow back from the street.”

“You’re not creating more work for me,” she said, a sour look on her face. She nodded. Dorsey started up his truck, and pushed on into unplowed territory.

After 28 years driving plows in winter storms, Dorsey, the city’s superintendent of streets, is used to such encounters. People get frustrated shoveling out their driveways, and deposit the snow in the streets — especially when they have to shovel a second time because plows push new snow back in the way. With 14 or more inches falling on the city Thursday in the biggest snowstorm yet, plow drivers couldn’t avoid leaving 30-inch high, two-foot wide ​“wind rows” at the edge of people’s driveways as they worked to clear roadways.

Dorsey worked his way from downtown into Dixwell and Newhallville at the storm’s peak around 2 p.m. as the storm peaked. Along the way, he wrestled with the same snow foes as always: snowbanks that strand drivers and public works employees alike, illegally parked cars that need to be towed, and — perhaps most reliably — some downright belligerent members of the public.

Then there’s the occasional colleague who needs a hand.

Miller Is Freed

Just past 2:10 p.m., a call came over Dorsey’s radio: Class 8 truck driver Albert Miller was stuck in a snowbank at Grove and Orange streets. Miller, who began his shift at 5 a.m. and wouldn’t end until 9 p.m., intended to be salting and plowing the roads. Instead, he was looking out onto a partly plowed Orange Street from the front seat of his truck, calling out over the radio for backup.

“I’ve seen it all in 19 years,” Miller said. ​“But every year is new.”

First, that assistance came in the form of Dorsey, driving up with a big grin on his face. Surveying Miller’s truck, Dorsey called out suggestions. Had Miller out his tried his ​“on spots,” the chains that connected to the rear tires of the vehicle? Whom else had he called? What about going a little to the left when he hit the gas pedal?

Miller said he’d test the ​“on spots” again. He got back in the truck, started up the engine, and shook his head. The wheels, squealing and spinning furiously, would not move an inch. The pair was going to need backup.

Domingo Rodgers arrived on the scene with a payloader. Rodgers hopped out from the driver’s seat to connect several chains to the truck’s back wheels, working with a certain care and precision as he crouched in the snow. Getting back into his vehicle, he tried to pull Miller out of the snowbank. No dice.

Rodgers unhooked the chains and began to plow the snow around Miller’s truck, his plow picking up mouthfuls of packed snow as he worked. Then he reattached the chains and began to cautiously back up.

With a great lurch, Miller was again free of the snowbank. He readjusted his car and drove back up Grove, giving Dorsey a nod.

Tow Trouble

Dorsey, who oversees 22 routes and seven arterials (main drags) as streets supervisor, rattles off the memorable blizzard years: 1988, 1992, and 2013.

Always making the job harder, he observed, are people who ignore parking bans, and leave their cars in the way of snow plows. Citywide, New Haveners overall paid attention to the ban, more so than in the past, to the great relief of drivers, according to public works chief Jeff Pescosolido. But compliance wasn’t 100 percent, especially on some tight side streets.

One such street was Adam Clayton Powell Place in Dixwell’s Monterey housing development. Dorsey shook his head as he arrived there to find three cars sat parked on the odd side of the street, buried in snow. The road was unplowed. Dorsey said his truck wouldn’t be able to make it down because of the height of the snow. But even the department’s bigger trucks, which he’d usually call in, wouldn’t be able to squeeze past the parked cars.

Dorsey picked up his phone to dial Parking Enforcement Field Supervisor Velisha Cloud. She informed him that the traffic and parking crew that tags and tows cars weren’t resuming work until 11 p.m. Until then, Dorsey’s best bet for car removal was the police department.

Dorsey took a deep breath in, and dialed city transit chief Doug Hausladen. Adam Clayton Powell Drive is a sore spot for him, he explained as the phone rang; during last year’s single snowstorm, residents took photos of snow-choked street and sent them to the the public works and transit departments, insisting that a plow had never visited their area. Dorsey said he wasn’t going to be responsible for that happening again. ​“This is unbelievable,” he said.

“Hello?,” Hausladen picked up on the other end. ​“Lynwood? What’s going on?”

“It’s at Adam Clayton Powell by Foote Street,” he explained. 

“You’ll just have to get it done with PD,” said Hausladen. ​“I made an arrangement with them that they’d deal with public safety concerns.”

“Listen, PD won’t do it. They will not do it,” said Dorsey.

There was a momentary silence on the other end. ​“All right,” said Hausladen. ​“I’m going to call PD for support and I’ll get it done.”

Dorsey took a deep breath, and hung up. (Later, at the 4 p.m. storm update for department heads at the Emergency Operations Center, the message was conveyed to police Sgt. Steven Teague, who promised to send someone out.

People Trouble

In two years, Dorsey plans to retire. He’s been at the department since he was 19, working his way up to superintendent from a street division laborer, and then supervisor. In that time, he’s seen the good, the bad, and the ugly of snowfall in New Haven.

“The best part of the job is accomplishing what I get paid to do, and doing it well,” he said. ​“But winter’s hard. People get pissed off, and they take it out on us,” he said. ​“Dealing with the public is aggravating.”

He pointed out examples as he drove. On Ivy Street in Newhallville, two boys wouldn’t get out of the road, causing him to slow down and honk until they finally crossed the street. One man asked if he would plow his driveway, to which Dorsey guffawed and kept driving. Homeowners busy with their shovels bristled as he asked them to please not shovel into the street. 

At the same time, Dorsey said, the job carries responsibility — and brings the satisfaction of performing a public service.

He said he used to love city winters and relish the challenge of plowing folks out. He has held on to some of that feeling amid the frustrations of the route. As he coasted down an already-plowed Dixwell, he slowed down to address a busy driveway shoveler on his New England Patriots cap. ​“I like that hat, brother!” he called out as he passed with a wave and a smile. Close to Lincoln-Bassett School, he smiled at a woman who was shoveling out her car to gave her an encouraging nod.

On Winchester Avenue, he radioed one of his workers to congratulate him on a plowing job well done. Then he got back to work, looking at the streets ahead of him. 

“Look at that snow,” he said. ​“We’ve got a lot of work to do.”