Reflections: Remembering My Friend, Capt. Toby Wattigney

Life is sometimes fleeting and hard to predict, and there are occasionally pairings in time that you will never forget where you were when you learned something. Often this is due to a tragic event. As a young man of 15, I will never forget where I was when Elvis Presley died. My mom, as did most Southern women of her age, absolutely loved Elvis. I will never forget where I was when 9/11 happened. I was working a ship in the Port of Mobile and ran home at lunchtime just to hug my son.

I had one such moment just last month.

On October 13, my wife, Michele, and I were traveling to Lyon, France, for the International Propeller Club Conference and Award Celebration. As we began our ride to Lyon, I was just able to connect my phone, and the first text I received told me my friend Capt. Toby Wattigney passed away unexpectedly on October 12, a Sunday.

I had just spoken to him that Friday, and he was full of praise for me, making plans for D.C. Mardi Gras and discussing upcoming navigation projects. I could not hold back a guttural scream that scared both my wife and our driver, who found himself with a man from another country broken down in tears in his vehicle.

I met Toby when I was still in high school, some 45 years ago. I was working as a linesman for T. Smith Mooring, and Toby was working on the Rebecca Smith. 

We became friends right away. One of his deckhands and I would often do sit-ups and push-ups on the dock and run the levees. Toby coached us and always made sure to feed us. I, too, split time between the mooring and tugs, including after the purchase that formed Cooper/T. Smith. Often, Toby would be upriver from St. James, La., to Baton Rouge, and this was at a time when there were few stores, and a meal was always important to workouts.

I enjoyed being a deckhand with Toby as he was forever teaching and showing me how to run the tug and always reminded me to “work on your future, College Boy.” Eventually, Toby and I realized we were both coaches, him a boxing coach and I the rugby coach for the University of Alabama. We shared a fighter’s spirit in different ways. I always had an admiration and appreciation for Toby and did not always realize he was mentoring me, but he truly was a mentor to me and to countless others. In some ways, it is a warrior’s code. To most, it is someone who has your back, but to me as a “rugger,” it is “With You.”

Have no doubt, if you were Toby’s friend, he made you want to do better. He made you want to win, and he would be right there with you to push you harder.

I have been reflecting on our early morning calls when there was a complicated river closure, tricky revetment impact or issue that required coordination. Calling Toby before 0600 hours often meant he was in the gym, coaching his fighters. It’s hard to explain how hearing boxers hitting the heavy and speed bags, jumping rope or sparring in the background of a call over coffee helps motivate you. In some ways, it was like a scene from “Goodfellas,” but there were never any threats or pain. It was always about taking care of the Big River.

Losing Toby hurt me in ways that are hard to describe, and it is ongoing. There are dredging calls or situations that, once I got word of, for years the first thing I would do was call Toby. I had tears in my eyes when I had to force myself to delete his contact information. Toby had an impact on my life like few others. He was almost exactly five years older than me, but he was years ahead of me in so many ways. I can tell you, I loved Toby Wattigney. In the warrior’s code, I have told his amazing wife, Cathy Wattigney, that, just as Toby always had my back, both I and the Real Sean Duffy Jr. will always have her back. It’s the “With You” of life and the only way I know to honor Toby. 

I spoke with his fighter, Jeremy “Zereaux” Hill, at Toby’s funeral service and then again at his Celebration of Life. Michele and I first met Zereaux on a business trip to New York City with Cathy and Toby, and we were joined by his manager, Adam Glenn. In Zereaux’s heart and eyes, the message was that he had lost a father, someone who believed in him and who pushed him, but who also loved him. In true Toby style, Toby always had what was best for him in the game plan.

Toby was easy to understand. Clearly, he loved his family, life, friends and the river, and he praised God every day. To know Toby was to be inspired by him and to love him.

With You, Toby.

Editor’s note: The Waterways Journal’s occasional Reflections column offers space for first-person accounts from those in and around the maritime industry. Have an idea for a Reflections column? Contact the editor at frank@wjinc.net.