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Once the Valdez had run aground, however, the Coast Guard says it had no trouble spotting the stricken tanker on radar because it presented a wider profile and was standing higher in water. Many mariners dismiss the Coast Guard's explanation. "That's a ridiculous contention because any way you turn this vessel, it's as big as a building," says Michael Chalos, a maritime attorney who represents Hazelwood. "She has a beam of 166 ft. and a height from the waterline of about 75 ft. when fully loaded. The Coast Guard is trying to cover up for the fact that they were not properly monitoring her movements."
The fatigue of the Valdez crew also appears to have played a role in the grounding. Personnel cutbacks throughout the merchant-marine fleet have resulted in fewer sailors working longer hours. When Hazelwood began with Exxon in 1968, as many as 40 sailors worked on ships smaller than the Valdez. But on the Valdez's maiden voyage in 1986, it sailed with a crew of 24. On Hazelwood's last journey, the crew had been cut to a bare-bones staff of 20 and was going to be trimmed to 15 in order to reduce costs further. As a consequence, twelve-to-14-hour workdays became routine. Exxon maintains that computerized systems enable its vessels to operate with smaller crews.
If Second Mate LeCain had climbed out of bed before the accident to replace Third Mate Cousins, the Valdez might also have got a more competent helmsman. Thanks in part to the high turnover of Exxon crews, Kagan, the helmsman on duty at the time of the accident, had been promoted to able seaman just one year earlier from his job as room steward and food server in the ship's galley. Kagan "does the best he can, but you have to watch him," a deck officer later told Government investigators. Knowing this, LeCain had planned to replace Kagan with another helmsman once he reported for duty.
/ After the spill, Hazelwood became a marked man. He flew home to Huntington Bay, shaved his beard to change his appearance, and was promptly arrested. In court an assistant district attorney called him "the architect of an American tragedy," and a state supreme court judge compared the damage from the spill to the destruction of Hiroshima. Hazelwood was held overnight in a lockup with more than 50 other prisoners, many of them accused or convicted murderers, armed robbers and drug dealers. When his cellmates learned that his bond had been set at $1 million (and bail at $500,000), they broke into laughter and shook their heads in disbelief. The next day another state supreme court justice ruled that the bail was "unconstitutionally excessive," and reduced it to $25,000.
Hazelwood is a free man today, at least until his trial, now scheduled to begin in October. He spends much of his time lobster fishing in Huntington Bay with a friend in order to earn money. The work is filthy, but it helps keep Hazelwood's mind off his new role as America's Environmental Enemy No. 1. It will probably be 1990 before Exxon and the National Transportation Safety Board release their reports on the Valdez spill. Meanwhile, late-night comics continue to rip into the skipper, and several songs about a drunken Hazelwood play on Alaskan radio stations. Not long ago, a businessman called Hazelwood to ask permission to market a novelty item called Ole Hazelwood -- a liquor bottle filled with oil and water.