EARLY JOBS SHAPED ME

Before I was old enough to “work” I mowed yards (for a negotiated set price) with a reel push mower (no engine), sold and delivered ladies magazines door-to-door, delivered milk--running from Shepherd’s truck to each person’s door with one to four quart milk bottles and bringing back the empties to be refilled – and other odd jobs. Of course, this was in addition to chores and earning “points” for digging dandelions, painting, etc., which determined my allowance. This training prepared me for my first real job.

My first job that produced a check from which Social Security was deducted was at 13, and paid 35 cents per hour. I was “stock boy” at C.R. Anthony’s dry goods store. This involved putting price tags on clothes and stocking shelves. On busy Saturdays I filled in as a salesperson in the men’s area, selling khakis and pre-tailored “dress” pants. Farmers were the predominant customers. After the receipt was written, it and the cash were placed in a carrier (about the size of a 12 ounce can). A pull on the rope sent it along a tight wire to the assistant manager sitting at a desk on the edge of the mezzanine. She returned the customer’s copy and any change due. She could keep an eye on the whole store.

Dry mopping the wood floors with a push broom and cleaning the rest rooms was also my job. There was a sign in the women’s rest room (which seemed always dirtier than the men’s) about please wrapping your Kotex before disposing in the waste basket, but it was ignored by some who apparently just banked them off the wall, which of course required extra cleaning effort.

Sometimes I was called on to sell shoes. Your hands acquire a certain offensive odor (which I can still smell) by the end of the day. The men’s shoe box wall was easy to figure and find the right shoe, but I was never able to ascertain the women’s system. One day a woman said she was interested in some “pumps.” Since I had little, if any, training, I had no idea what she meant, so I said that I didn’t think we had such a style. The boss who had been eavesdropping on my salesmanship style immediately removed me from women’s shoe sales. A valuable lesson was learned – if you don’t know something, it is best to admit being dumb and ask for help.

I folded and delivered about 210 papers – tossed from my bike on the sidewalk. My route was about 30 city blocks on 11th and 12th streets from Main to Monroe. I had that route from the 8th grade into Junior College. The Hutchinson News Herald evening paper (Saturday and Sunday were a.m.) cost 25 cents per week, of which 5 cents was the paper boy’s. This required about one hour of folding and another hour to deliver after school. For awhile I had a girlfriend, Jackie Noyes, who lived on the route; and I often stopped to talk to her while customers were kept waiting for their paper, and it made me late getting home. I collected about three hours each Saturday, though I encouraged paying ahead monthly. Mr. Atkinson was my boss. I dreaded receiving “kicks,” the name given to complaints which he received from our customers, so I asked them to call me directly at home. The job required punctuality and reliability 365 days per year, in rain, sleet, and snow. I had to pay the paper 20 cents per week for each paper whether I collected or not. During the war sailors from the Hutchinson Naval Air Station were hard to catch at home. Some, not only sailors, moved out owing a week to several weeks, which of course came out of my pocket. I suppose they had more important things on their minds. The paper route experience perpetuated and firmly implanted some tendency for frugality, which we were also taught at home.

I bought War Bond stamps. Once one had $18 worth you could buy a $25 War Bond, maturing in 10 years. It was the patriotic thing to do to support the war. Inflation turned out to be more than the $7 dividend. But with all my earnings and savings I bought all my own entertainment and clothes, and paid my own way through college until the final semester. Dad and Mom loaned me the money for it, though they eventually forgave the debt when I married. Going to Junior College across the street from our house at 512 E. 14th of course saved considerable, and the instruction was as good as Kansas State.

During my high school freshman and sophomore summers I worked for Burt & Binford Water & Sewer Construction. This was hot, dirty work. Most of our jobs were new lines in areas with no sewer. On one occasion we were replacing an old sewer line and the homes along the line were asked not to use their sewers. On one connection we were making, the line from the house started flowing. I don’t know were that lady thought her wash water, etc., output was going? On one job about one block of open trench was un-shored with the tile already laid at about eight feet deep. Shoring was at the foreman’s discretion; if he thought, by looking at the soil type, that a cave-in was a probable safety issue. As was customary, we relieved ourselves standing out of sight in the bottom of the trench, which I had done when everything shut down for lunch. I had climbed from the trench, retrieved my lunch bucket, and joined the crew under a tree. We heard a “whumph.” The whole block of open trench had caved in. We quietly looked at one another and re-counted noses, relieved that we wouldn’t have to start the impossible task of locating and digging out a friend’s body. I remember one cave-in covering a man up to his chest. He took the afternoon off after we dug him out. An important lesson – always go the extra step to do things the safe way, even if it takes more effort and time.

One short job was out of town at Ellsworth, so the company put us up at the hotel – double beds. Being the youngest with no voice, I was relegated to the one who no one else wanted to sleep with – the oldest, dirtiest guy who I don’t recall showering the several days the job lasted. In water and sewer work you are below ground level much of the time: sweating, no breeze, dirt and dust falling and blowing from the trench edge, etc. On returning to the room, he flopped on our bed and let his arm drop over the edge to the floor where he could grab a bottle of wine he had pre-positioned. He brought it up, uncapped it, propped it vertically and glug, glugged it to empty without removing it from his lips. He slept a lot better than me. Always be judicious in selecting a bed partner or sleep on the floor.

Five of us in high school had a job from 11:30 p.m. to 2:30 a.m. each Saturday night at the Hutchinson News Herald. We were “Inserters” and it paid $5 cash. We stood on 8” boxes and put 50 papers on an 8” riser with a stack of funny papers to the right. Wearing homemade 4” rubber “flippers” on our thumbs we would flip up the front section of the main paper with our left hand, flip the funnies into the upturned section with our right hand, then flip the completed package off the pile. I could do 50 in one minute. We did 50,000 in the three hour run of the noisy presses. There was always a fine paper dust in the air. I then would fold and deliver my 210 papers before going home to bed. This got me out of going to church. The city was really dark and asleep at 2 to 4 a.m.

My senior and freshman Junior College years I worked at the R.C. Buckles 21 section (640 acres/section) wheat ranch, seven miles south of Stratford, Texas. We harvested the first two weeks and plowed the remainder of the summer with International WD9 diesel tractors pulling Krause 13 foot one-way plows. With seven of us in a row in one section, cars often stopped on the highway to watch. The job was 13 hours, sun-up to sun-down, six days a week; $8 per day and room (bunkhouse) and board. Mickey McGuire, Jerry Kerr, Bob Hettinger, Johnny Robinson and I hitchhiked the 300 miles from Hutchinson to Stratford, Texas. Having no transportation, we hitchhiked seven miles to town on Sundays for an ice cream sundae and a show. Mr. Buckles paid each of us at the end of the three month summer with a check for the whole summer. Needless to say, we hadn’t spent much money, so we had saved it all! No matter how ripe the wheat or threatening the storms and hail in the forecast, Mr. Buckles didn’t turn a wheel on Sundays. A practice I’ve always maintained—the day belongs to our Lord for worship, and for our rest and recuperation. This was the way of my parents, and of their parents. After a big rain prevented working we hitchhiked to Amarillo -- caught a ride in a Cadillac convertible. The guy in a cowboy hat didn’t say a word the whole 80 miles. Creepy. We went to Palo Dura canyon and slept on the ground.

Another big rain we hitched the 300 miles home to Hutch. The folks had gone on a trip, shutting everything off. The neighbors called the police when the lights went on and I had a hard time proving I belonged there.

For three weeks prior to going to Texas, I worked as a grain inspector. This involved climbing into a box car filled to within four feet of the top with wheat or maize, running a 6’ brass tube into the grain, turning and opening windows the full length, closing and withdrawing, emptying onto a cloth, then into a bag. This was done at five places in the stifling heat; the car had been opened only enough to allow entering just prior to our sampling. Since outside the car it was 100 degrees in the sun, you didn’t dare let your back contact the roof. Again, hot, dirty work and it’s difficult to walk in grain crouched over. What a relief to exit a box car!

My college sophomore year I rented a room in Kingman, Kansas, and was instrument man (level and transit) on a surveying crew for the Kansas Highway Department. After reporting for work out in the hot sun after a bachelor party for Cliff Palmer, I would look through the level for a while, and then throw up. The crew chief gave me no sympathy or relief. One should always report for work if it is possible, as people are counting on you.

My junior year I ran aggregate tests, and inspected and measured for payment the concrete patching for the Highway Department between Wichita and Newton, and roomed in Wichita. One job was to “chain,” with a 100’ steel tape, the 18 miles between the two cities and set a stake every 100 feet. That’s a bunch of stakes--9504. But most jobs are just one step at a time.

After college is another story.