In 1966 I had a summer job for the US Army Corps of Engineers doing hydrographic surveying at their Barbours Cut shop. Back then it was a quiet backwater with a few boatyards and homes, and a centuries old rumor of hidden treasure from the pirate Jean Lafitte. At the end of the road was a fireboat and a popular burger place at the tugboat station at the very end of the San Jacinto River.
As a dumb college student, I was introduced to functional alcoholics at work (I was in the bossman's group- we were out on the water surveying all day. The other gang reportedly was sitting at a beer joint on Clinton Drive making up numbers on the depth of the Houston Ship Channel), bureaucratic stupidity, and the concept of "good enough for government work".
A bright spot was Rufus G, sliding into his second government job, freshly out of the US Marine Corps and already (in 1966) "back from Vietnam". Even in the boat, 95 degrees and no shade: he was smiling, squared away, wraparound shades, and dangling cigarette; the rest of us sorry bums. By Christmas, his Momma told me later, he had taken his own life.
Now, Barbours Cut is a huge, noisy, 24/365 container port operating along one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. On the computer aerial views, about 1000 feet south of the port, you can still see the skeletal outlines of the US Coast Guard Station; destroyed by Hurricane Carla in 1961.