A Tale of A Depression

This may be a bit longer than I like but how do I compress a childhood into a short story? I will try to show some brevity but don't anyone plan on it. This will be primarily directed at my grandchildren and may be, more importantly, at my great grandchildren. I don't know who amongst my progeny will ever read this but it is necessary that I recite my happy days as a child for anyone to read who may be curious as to what did Grampa do during the great Depression? That question might be summarily answered by another question, what depression? Oh I remember those days but every one else was living and surviving and we didn't know any better. We had food on the table--sometimes it was oatmeal. I ate a lot of peanut butter sandwiches but so what. Everyone else was in the same boat and so again I say, what depression?? I have previously talked about some of the memories of those days but here I will put in print more of what took place beginning with me being age 7.

One of the things that stands out is the delivery men that came to our door -- some every day. A milkman came every morning and left a couple of quarts of milk. (There were no gallon containers that I remember then.) It was always fun in the winter time to see the frozen cream above the top of the milk bottle. Now, it's homogenized. An ice truck would arrive every couple of days and put a block into our "ice box" to keep our food edible. Whats a refrigerator? It was childhood fun to go out to his truck in the summer time and "steal" ice chips off the floor of his vehicle. There was a bread man that brought bread and pastries almost every day and there was an old man that had a truck and as it passed by, he was shouting "Rags,paper,pipes metal" He was the original recycler and he made his living this way. Now you must also be aware that many of the delivery people that came were in horse drawn vehicles. I can remember stories of Gramma Mary running out to the street with a shovel to collect fertilizer for her garden. Really!!

You might ask how were we entertained. Well, we didn't have TV's or computers but we did listen a lot of storie son the radio. A fire can was great fun. You found a two pound coffee can, punched a few holes in the bottom and added some paper, twigs and bits of wood, lit the paper and watched the flames begin to take affect and with the can already equipped with a strong wire, we would begin to whirl it around our heads to develop the flame. We could then begin to add larger pieces of wood, some small chunks of coal from our coal furnace and then, if you could get one, you would put in a potato to cook as you were whirling. Great fun!! Marbles was another game. Just rolling them along the curb to try to hit your opponent. We also had horse chestnuts trees in Buffalo and we made up games using the chestnuts. Of course in the winter we played a lot of street hockey with sticks that were taped with black electricians tape to prevent breakage (that seldom was effective) and we had pucks that were also taped. There was skates for rollering and skates for the ice. Of course the roller skates were secured to your shoes with a key that tightened clamps to hold them on your shoes. If you lost that key, hopefully your neighbor might have one. I never had any ice skates or a bike for that matter.

Letters were mailed with a .03 stamp, ice cream cones were .05 and bread was about .12 a loaf. Halls Bakery was at the crossing of Fillmore and Main streets and a donut or other pastries could be had for about a nickle if you went to the "yesterdays" counter. I hopped on a street car with a .08 token and rode to the baseball park and sat in the bleachers for about .15. I also was placed on a train to Syracuse at age 10 with no concerns for my safety. There were almost no mortuaries. Your deceased were buried from your home and a large black wreath hung on your door denoting the death of a family menber. There were woods only a short distance where you could go, build fires and have your potato for dinner. You might even find some weed to smoke. No, thats a different weed. Baseball or football were played in the corner lots and glass or rocks or nails were prevalent and you would determine whether to slide or not depending on the surface of the field. In football you always planned your running game over the part of the field less covered with the above deterrents. My first job was at age 13 for a 10 hour week and I was paid $2.25 every 2 weeks. Later I used broken tees to play golf. Every one did!!

In short, you made up your entertainment and there was never a time when you walked by a penny without stooping down to pick it up. I still will put one in my pocket. Yes we were in the midst of a depression but as a child it was all over our heads and all our friends were as unaware as was I. The depression lasted from about 1930 until about 1939. It began to improve about 1936 but did not fully change until 1941 when the war with Japan broke out. Yes, I was a depression child and so were all my friends and yes we all survived and were quite unaware of what all the parents were going through. And yes, those were happy days and it is my contention that we were happier then than are most kids today. It is my hope that my grand kids and greats will read this and be curious enough to ask questions of me while I am still here. There could be a lot more to tell of my days as a child during the great Depression.

It is to laugh

Louise used to say she married me for my sense of humor. I hope I had a couple of other attributes that were sufficiently persuasive to have her say yes but if that is her thinking it's O.K. by me. I like to laugh and smile and do most anything indicative of being happy. So, back to humor and how I acquired an ability to get people to enjoy small instances that were worth at least a smile. I think it began as a sophomore in high school and I used to hang out with a new friend named Bernie Sandler. He was a very funny guy with an uncanny ability to make quips, witticisms or a variety of points of humor that made me laugh---not good old thigh slapping laughs, but most any kind fun type. I began to study this characteristic of Bernies and began to realize that by and large he looked at general conversation and found humor in some point. I began to emulate this and found if I worked at it I could make with the jokes too. Not that I was as good as Bernie, far from it . I was the apprentice to his tutoring. I never saw Bernie after graduation but heard he went on to become a disc jockey at a radio station. He would be great at that.

I just went on developing a small ability to make people smile. I did have a good memory to recall a joke and where they would fit into a conversation. I had the reputation and was mentioned as the "Wittiest" in our school magazine. I thought I knew other guys that deserved that title more but I'll accept it. I do feel that I had worked at this subject sufficiently hard to be almost as good as my mentor, Bernie. I never reached the point to be able to challenge Jim Moynihan. At 5:30 in the morning, he was the funniest guy I ever met. If I stayed over at his house or a motel or such, I began to laugh at him the minute his foot hit the floor and it was all a riot! Later in the day he was still making the laughable comments but not as hilarious as in the early morning.

I never liked most dirty jokes. I liked the quick and cutesy ones. My old standby that my kids have come to know is about the fellow that was half Jewish and half Japanese and on December 7 he would attack Pearl Goldstein. Most people alive today don't remember that Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7, 1941 so I must be careful where I tell that joke and to whom. It ain't funny unless you know history!! One of my problems was that in various conversations if I heard any comments, it became an opportunity to make some quip which sometimes wasn't appreciated. I had created a monster that had control over me.

I could go on a long time throwing out jokes and such but space precludes my doing so but I can't close with out giving a greater example of what I mean by the above. When Louise was near the end, Marcie and Linda were cleaning her up and I was holding her against my chest, The girls were laughing about something and Louise weakly remarked "It sounds like you are having a party back there" at which point I said "Yes, Louise and you are the party poop" Here I am with my dear, sweet Louise on the verge of death and I have to make a comment like that. Could it be at a worse moment ? But what does Louise say? Muffled against my chest, hardly able to utter a sound, she faintly said,"Oh Jim, that's funny!!

Try To Laugh

The Case of the Missing Crabs

One of the best vacations we could ever have was on the waters of Puget Sound. We were with Marcie and Mike and had left their home in Issaquah to head north for a boat Mike had leased for a week of water wrest and wrelaxation. (How else can you achieve alliteration if you don't cheat?) The boat was about 35-40 feet long and Mike, although not an intrepid sailor, was at the helm and doing a very nice job of playing captain. We were heading out to visit the various island that had small villages on them and were a very interesting diversion from our mundane lives ashore. Docking at different piers that dotted those islands or finding a quiet bay in which to anchor for a peaceful night made for a peace unattainable in our normal mundane lives on shore. And while this was pure joy to me, this is about our grandson Logan who was about 14 at that time and had discovered a crab trap and was excited to try his luck. Logan was an inquisitive boy, living with Marcie at that time, and was into every moment spent ashore when ever we docked. On one of the islands he discovered a bait shop and returned to the boat with the vilest, most unbelieveably smelly stuff he had found. "Its for the trap" he exclaimed and at the first anchoring, he put this stuff in the crab trap and lowered it over the side. It was late that evening and I suggested he check the trap to see if he had had any success. It was amazing to see several crabs already in the trap with others clinging to it, but dropping off as we lifted it out of the water. Because it was late, I thought it would be a good idea to leave the crabs in the water and worry about cleaning them the next morning. That was acceptable and the trap was brought on deck and I tied, with a stout string, each entry, assuring Logan they would be put to good use the following morning He reluctantly agreed and having prepared the trap to be sure to hold the crabs captive, it was lowered back into the bay.with the 5 or 6 creatures balefully staring at us. He could hadly wait to observe his successful attempt at crab trapping and the following day we brought the trap back on board. It was empty!!! We checked to determine that all the entries were still tied and it was mystery for the ages. Thinking as hard as we could, we had no explanation as to the disappearance of Logans crabs.He was sure some of those fisherman that were in the bay had pilfered his prize and was greatly disappointed that his crabs were gone. How did it happen? What was the explanation? It was a puzzle of huge proportions and Logan was inconsolable. But he recovered quickly and set about resolving to try that night after we were again anchored. We did enjoy some of his adventures into the crab world but it was a story to never be explained. On our return to the city, I purchased a large crab, froze it, carried it back to Minnesota and gave it to Logan at Christmas time. He was delighted and took that opportunity to relive the adventure of the case of the missing crabs..

In Search of a Sea Bass

Fishing has always been one of my greatest delights--well maybe not always. I used to go with Uncle Chuck when I was a child and then for many years abandoned it to make more time for girl chasing. Usually unsuccessfully, I might add. However, I finally caught the one I wanted and can now return to my theme. When I moved to Appleton my friend George got me interested and I was again acquainted with my former passion. Carrying this thought on I moved to Minneapolis where my friend Bob Johnson and I used to try to find the wiley walleye. Then I found another Bob who shared this passion. His name was Bob Flandreau and having a home on Cape Cod, he was able to exploit that passion.

He and I became business associates in New York city and during the course of our first meeting, we found out that fishing was the reason grown men giggle. We both loved talking on that subject. He used to travel from an apartment in NY to the Cape almost every weekend-- a one way trip of around 200 miles. That will possibly draw into perspective how he surrendered to his love of the water, his boat and the Cape in general. Then come Monday morning he would rise early to be back in the city by about 11:00. Almost every weekend!! His boat was a 25 footer and it was not a pleasure craft. It was geared to catch fish. I was a complete novice having only desire but little or no experience with water such as was surrounding Cape Cod. When I first went aboard his boat, (thats marine talk for getting on), I couldn't believe the number of poles he had. There must have been over 40 fishing rods and if I had looked in various areas of the boat would have found all the accountrements needed for catching fish. I was astonished. I owned 3 rods and a small tackle box.

I traveled with him on one of my trips from Minneapolis and joined him and his very pleasant and friendly wife, Beth, in their cottage and became enchanted with the aura of the Cape--its smell was unlike any atmosphere I had ever known. I couldn't wait for the next day. We rose early in the morning as dawn was breaking and proceeded down to the harbor. I noticed how the timbers to which the boat was tied rose about 10 feet above my head and wondered about that. When we returned those same timbers were now only level with my head and thus I learned about the tide. I was on my way to becoming a seaman and this from a guy that had spent 3 years in the Navy--although as a land based pilot.

It took Bob only a minute to cast off and we were headed for the deep. He was a very expansive guy although radical in some of his beliefs. (That means they were the opposite of mine.)" But we were there to talk fishing not politics and we were to have a great day on the water. We cruised along with our gear running behind. We watched for birds and when we spotted some white ones diving at the water, he explained about Terns were feeding off the small fish near the surface because the big fish were driving them up from the deep. See, some more I could file away and talk about later. I really liked this man. He was friendly and we had already formed a good business relationship but now that was expanded to a friendship I came to enjoy greatly.

Did we catch that which we were seeking? Not even close and I learned that sea fishing was no different than lake fishing. Fish only wanted to bite when it was their decision to do so. It was out of our control. But Bob was undaunted. He knew that tomorrow would be different. That's another thing about Bob and fishing. It would be better next time and there would always be another next time! I returned to the Cape with him several times and he explained to me the care needed to remove Blue fish from the hook just as the fish being demonstrated, bit his fingers and drew blood. Ouch !! We enjoyed our trips a lot. They were days spent with two guys speaking with wisdom about various philosophies of man and loving the sea and whatever fish we might catch but in truth I was there 3 times and nary a denizen of the deep joined our expedition. How unkind. But again, Bob would always say "we'll get em tomorrow". And we finally did!

It happened one grey morning with our gear following our wake that I felt a tug on my rod. That tug became an armshocking pull and I knew I had something BIG at the end of my line. Bob had shut down the engine to reduce the drag and I began cranking and the line was slipping out at about the same speed with which I was cranking. I knew there was not a lot of success involved but gradually by tightening the drag on my reel a bit of progress was being made.About 20 minutes later we landed a sizeable Sea Bass that boated out at a neat 50 pounds. It is still the largest fish I ever caught and although I fished a number of times at the Cape I never again equaled the size of my first Sea Bass.

The thing I want to emphasize is that while most of my fishing was ultimately done in Minnesota, in every instance, good weather, miserable weather, weather that sane men would not be caught dead in, fishing was the name of the game and when the game was afoot, I was excited to play. I have sat many times without a nibble. I could see them lying on the bottom and would wave a lure in front of their nose with no resultant tug on my line. Frustrating? Yes! But should anyone ask "Wanna go fishing" I'm gone!! C'mon along! You'll love it!!

Herbie,continued

Some time back, I wrote an article in which I told of my menswear associations with a number of Jews who became my very good friends. Was it because I was a buyer and in a position to give them some business? Yes, initially. But as time passed by they became more than those seeking to exploit me, they became friends and the chief among them was Herbie. I gave an example of when my store announced it was closing, I received a call from Herbie and he stated I should not worry. I had a job at my current salary and I would become a neckwear salesman and he meant it. I knew I could get another job but it was these words that allowed me to have a semblance of comfort--just in case.

And so I would like to speak more on the personality of my friend. I can't describe him in this one page. Oh no, he was much more than that. Over the years he has continued to call periodically and would always announce his name by saying "Hi, Its Hoybie" That's New Yorkese for Herbie and I have always welcomed these calls because the conversations would always be dynamic with much laughter and points of interest. He could be a philosopher, a merchant, a family man or have several other identities that made him very charismatic.

I went to work for him after being terminated from Munsingwear even though I had many times previously denied any interest in joining him in business. I always said "If I go to work for you, I won't be able to continue to be your friend" But to shorten this tale, I did because he pleaded with me on the basis that his CEO had walked away and he was in need. I went to N.Y. and actually lived in his home for several months during which time I learned that I had a BIG job on my hands. My predecessor had left with a two year supply of inventory and the loans at the bank were huge. Herbie was in the depths of a serious depression and every morning I would become a cheerleader telling him "Don't show that depression to your co-workers in the mill or office--Smile!" He had invested about $250,000 of his own money and continually would tell me we were going under. He was an intense worrier and I had to continually try to pull him out of it. One example was his obsession with me learning how to make a tie. I tried to explain I had much more to do in trying to keep his company afloat than worrying about the mechanics of tie making. He wasn't happy until I walked in and told him I had learned how to make a tie. Another time involved 2400 dozen ties in our warehouse that had been ordered by Sears the previous season. The question was what to do with them. Do we insist they take them? They owned them but we did not want to damage our relationship with a huge customer like Sears. With a meeting to go over the purchases for the upcoming season I prepared a inventory of them and. against Herbie's wishes, waited for the correct time to express the problem to the buyer. He was immediately rceptive to taking them in to his warehouse except he didn't want the green colors. When Herbie and I left the office following that interchange, he said "What are we going to do with the green ties?" I exploded quietly and said "I just got rid of 2200 dozen and your only thought is what are we going to do with green! Why do you only think in negative terms?

Those are only two of several minor arguements we shared. In the 6 months I was with his company, I can't even describe the number of challenges we faced or the way we overcame them. I say "we" because in truth Herbie was such a soft hearted guy, he could never involve himself in things that might offend others. I had to terminate 46 employees that had been years with him in his factory because we had agreed to move the factory to North Cariolina. Dismissing them was something he could not handle and it fell to me to be the bad guy.

I would like to have more time to further illustrate the width and depth of Herbie's character but space prohibits this. I had 6 of the most demanding months I had ever spent being the cheerleader to lift my friend and trying to bring his business into the black. It took 7 months to bring it to a point where it was reasonably on its feet and I was gone by that time. He and I parted on very good terms but things had reached a point where my job was accomplished. We had a new sales manager. I had fired two of his main salesmen because they did nothing but sit around his N. Y. office waiting for business to walk in and in general, things were pretty healthy again. Herbie brought his son, a very bright young man, into the business and I explained, "Herbie I can work for one of you but not two of you". So, I was gone on to different things He is an atheist and a liberal Democrat while I am neither but our conversations always are lively and interesting. He came to Louise' funeral and he will most likely come to mine but isn't it nice to know that even though there are so many differences in our respective values and philosophies the point to be made clear is that through all this evolution of time, friendship is all that is important. He was practically a kid when he sold me ties those eons ago and in some ways he is still that enthusiastic kid trying to sell ties. He heads up a very successful neckwear business now and today, my life is more complete when the phone rings and I say "Hello" and a voice replies "Hi, it's Herbie!

MY FRIEND BOB

I have had a penchant of writing about people whom I respected, admired or just genuinely liked. Bob Johnson was one of the above --maybe all of the above. He was married to my cousin, Barb and our family came to know them when we came to Minnesota in 1963. They opened their arms to us and our kids and we spent many very enjoyable times with them at their home but mostly at their lake place in a northern part of the state. Bob was a very interesting man-sometimes sullen or grumpy but when you knew him, this was all a sham. For some reason, he would pretend to be characterised as a uncooperative person but the minute you asked him for some form of help, he was immediately ready with his tool belt. He had been a gymnast for the University of Minnesota and there was still a semblance of his athletic body but as is the case in many of us, as his hair disappeared, his stomach seem to compensate. He might be leaning toward portly but again it meant nothing when it came to being of service for someone--possibly even a stranger. I can't tell you the many time he came to my assistance maybe in the construction of my back yard shed, my family room and sundry other things. When I needed help, he was the first one I called, no, the only one. And I was not unique! Was it his ego that propelled him to be of assistance to others? I doubt it. Under that gruff exterior he was a people person and he would always find time to be a friend. What a wonderful accolade that was. He died about two years ago and I miss him a lot! He was my fishing buddy and we managed to get in a trip to some nether region to try to catch fish for the 40 years of our relationship. He had spent about three years building the cabin I spoke of and I mean building. He was a most handy person and it didn't matter the problem, he would find a way to take care of it Carpentry, plumbing, electricity were all a part of his talents and we were the recipients of all of those at some time or other. I could go on a long time extolling his virtues or his talents but suffice it to say Minnesota will never be what it once was. In many ways Bob was the catalyst that enlightened our lives in those days that have past. Sleep well Robert, I know you are carrying your tool belt around even now.