"Mi Gallo": The Man Behind the Torch
For more than four decades, Carmen Olvera was part of Comal Iron & Metals. Around here, his job was torch cutter. But he was much more than the man behind the torch.
The day Carmen came to pick up his last official check, he wore a shirt covered in roosters. I had bought it for him a year ago, and he told me he wore it just for me.
Mi Gallo. I was the only one who called him that. Others called him Carmen and those who went way way back with him called him Mario. He answerd to all of them.
Mi Gallo literally means “my rooster.” In Mexican culture, gallo can also carry the sense of a champion—someone proud, steadfast, and quietly commanding respect. Carmen had that rooster swagger. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, we all listened.
Carmen is 80 years young and worked at Comal Iron & Metals from the early 1980s until his retirement. Years ago, he asked to work part time. For Carmen, that meant working in the spring and fall, then visiting his kids and grandkids in the United States and Mexico during the hottest and coldest months.
Twice a year, Roger would walk in and say, “Carmen says he’s leaving tomorrow.” No return date. Months later, Carmen would show up and get right back to work. He had earned the right to come and go as he pleased. I’d joke that he was the boss, and whatever he wanted, we’d make it work.
Last week, he came back with different news after his haitus. He hadn’t been feeling well, and he knew it was time to retire. He had come for his last check before heading to Houston with his daughter.
I knew this day would come. I just wasn’t ready for it.
Carmen had a place here for as long as he wanted one. We say we “hire to retire” at Comal Iron. Our people aren’t tools. They’re heartbeats we’re called to steward, whether they’ve been here a day or forty years.
The Work He Loved
Carmen was our torch cutter. He loved the work.
A thick steel plate, a long beam, or a large piece of machinery was his bread and butter. He cut heavy steel down to pieces under three feet so it could move on to the next stage of recycling. Even with today's equipment, some pieces still call for someone who knows where to put a torch and how to make the cut safely and efficiently. This is a role fundamental to the metal recycling industry. Torch cutting is one of the oldest crafts in modern metal recycling—and it still has a place in the industry today.
Want to know why? Read: The Torch Cutter: Why This Century-Old Skill Still Matters in Metal Recycling
Picture doing that in a Texas summer. The steel is hot before you light the torch. Add the heat of the cut, falling sparks, and the need to stay focused. Carmen never wanted to move to a machine or another department. He was a torch cutter, and one of the best we’ve had in our 57 years.
We have a newspaper photo of him cutting steel in the 1990s. More than thirty years later, he still took pride in knowing nobody in the yard could outcut him.
He worked beside my father-in-law as the company grew. He remembered Roger and Johnnie Jr. running around the yard as boys, then watched them grow up, have children, and lead the business. For a man of few words, he sure smiled when he saw our kids. The way a grandfather smiles at his own.
To me, Carmen had a hand in raising my husband. That makes him family.
One Last Morning Together
With so little notice, we asked if he would come back for a company dinner so we could celebrate him. He declined. His family was in Houston now, and New Braunfels was too far to make the trip back. We offered lunch instead, but his daughter was waiting and he was ready to get on the road.
So we took him around the yard on the golf cart to say goodbye to his friends. When my father-in-law, Johnnie Sr., arrived, we sat together in the office. The two of them shared stories from the past. Some had us laughing; others showed just how much the recycling industry had changed. Leadership at Comal Iron had changed, too, but Carmen said he had always felt cared for here. He had no family in New Braunfels, he told us.
Just us. Comal Iron was why he had stayed so long.
Then he told us he didn’t need a thank-you. He was grateful for his years at Comal Iron. That work had helped him build a two-story home for his family in Mexico and buy the fancy truck he was so proud of. Given where he grew up and how little schooling he’d had, he said he never imagined he’d be able to do so much for his family.
I thought about how much he had done for ours. As he and my father-in-law shared memories, I saw my father-in-law get teary.
When we walked outside, the whole team was waiting by the front gate. Some shook Carmen’s hand; others hugged him. As he went from person to person, his face began to quiver. We took one last group picture. There he is in his rooster shirt, surrounded by the people who had worked beside him for so many years.
His daughter was expecting him, but my father-in-law talked him into one more stop. He took Carmen to pick out a cowboy hat as a retirement gift. Carmen had it shaped just the way he liked and declared that it would give him another fifteen years of life. He said he would wear it proudly.
That sounds like Mi Gallo.
For years, Carmen could leave without a return date and we knew we would see him again. This goodbye was different. After more than forty years, a chapter of Comal Iron's story was closing with him.
I am grateful for the time we shared. For the hard work. For the pride he took in his craft. For helping build this company and being part of our family’s life across generations.
Enjoy your family, Carmen. Enjoy that cowboy hat. And I hope you get every one of those fifteen years you promised us.
¡Que Dios te acompañe, Mi Gallo!
57 years. Three generations. A lot of metal—and even more stories.
Follow along as we share the people, history and work behind metal recycling at Comal Iron & Metals.
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