Stories from my Father - The Telephone Company

At the age of 93, my father set out to write down by hand some of the things that he remembered over a long and active life. My brother transcribed these recollections, and I share the last collection in the series with you now.

I began work for the Southwestern Bell Telephone Company on January 5, 1928 [Editors note: retiring 45 years later, in 1973].  The first day's work was with a crosscut saw and an axe.  With three other employees, we were cutting down a large oak tree that was a threat to the telephone wires that ran under its spreading limbs.  A storm could cause the tree to break and fall on the wires.  All intercity lines at that time were of open wire strung on poles and cross arms.  The cross arms were 10 feet long with pins for 10 wires on each arm.  That made a long stretch from the pole to the end pins which were four and a half feet out from the pole.

Most long-distance lines were copper wire...tied to glass insulators that screwed onto the wooden pins.  Many hunters considered the glass insulators good targets to shoot at.  We had to patrol the lines often to replace broken insulators.  Sometimes shooting the insulators also broke the line wire.  Then we had the difficult job of looking for an "open."  Most toll lines [long distance] were along a railroad right of way which did not follow roads often, so a lot of walking could result.  A reply you might hear from a lineman if asked if he had found the trouble.  He would invariably reply " I am back am I not?"  You just did not return from a case of trouble until it was corrected.  Snow, ice, mud and flat tires sometimes made troubleshooting a little more difficult.  I have met all of the above. 

A Lineman's Skill

The first skill I had to learn after becoming a telephone linemen was how to climb a pole with the leg irons called climbers.  Metal stirrups and leg irons which had a sharpened gaff on the inner side buckled on your legs with straps.  Climbing up the pole did not present much difficulty but climbing down required a bit more skill.  And buckling off at the top and leaning out into that safety strap did not feel like the right thing to do at first.  

We were instructed not to bring our knees too near the pole because it would pry the gaffs out of the pole and cause a fall.  And also, not to depend on the sound of a click from the snap on your safety belt,  but to look for sure that it was fastened to the D ring properly.  I still walk a bit bow legged from many years of keeping my knees well out from the pole.  Falling from the pole was called "burning it".  That sure was not the best plan to follow.  If your hooks cut out and you fell, the urge was to hug the pole, but the safer way was to push out and fall free.  Sliding down a pole full of gaff splinters was a good way to lose clothes and hide. 

Some creosoted telephone poles had thin layers of wood on the surface that was separated from the body of the pole.  We linemen called those poles "widow makers". You could also recognize such poles by their appearance or by knocking on the surface with your linesman's pliers.  And the bane of all linemen was a pole on a street corner that had been used for a poster board.  One large headed tack could deflect a climber gaff and cause a fall.  Fortunately most tacks were within 6 feet of the ground so the fall was not often dangerous.  My first belt and safety were made in a harness shop in Cleburne.  Later the company furnished factory made climbing gear.  My old belt and safety are in a telephone museum in Dallas.

Telephone Cable Trouble

At the time I started to work, all outside telephone cables were sheathed in a lead pipe.  The wires in the cable were insulated with a thin strip of paper wound spiraled around each individual wire.  The expansion and contraction of the lead sheath caused by the variation in weather would eventually cause the lead to crack if scratched by tree limbs or bent to any extent.  The next rain after a crack developed permitted water to enter the cable sheath and wet the paper insulation.  The whole cable would become shorted and crossed, knocking out every phone served by that cable whether it was large or small.  Fortunately most lead cable has been replaced by plastic sheath cable enclosing plastic insulated conductors.  That is about as weatherproof as a cable can be made. 

The Failure Of A Show Off

A few weeks after I began to work for the telephone company we had to do some wire stringing not many blocks east of the central office.  The plant superintendent came out to the job to see how the work was going.  I had only been climbing poles a few days at that time.  I thought I would show off my climbing skill before the big boss.  I buckled on my climbers and went up the nearest pole.  However, when I reached the top, sudden fear set in and I was afraid to try to safety off on the pole.  I came promptly back down.  The boss said, "What's wrong Andy?".  I replied, "I came down for my coat."  He knew I was faking because of the cold sweat running down my face.  He did not tease me about it because he knew how rookie lineman were apt to behave.  I became more careful about showing out until I had a few more weeks of practice.  

Adventures On The Lines

Telephone work was not all technology about wire circuits.  If you were a troubleshooter on long-distance lines, being a good driver was also needed because you might drive many miles to get a case of trouble cleared.  And that driving was often on roads where no automobiles should've been driven, or over territory where there were no roads.  Once I was looking for a break in a line between Fort Stockton and Alpine.  The highway followed the toll line closely for about 20 miles out of Fort Stockton.  Then at Honey siding, the toll lines took off through the ranches where the going was often rough.  

I was about 10 miles west of Honey  when the ranch road I was following went through a low place called a buffalo wallow.  It had the appearance of being a little muddy at about 50 feet from the rim.  I looked it over and then decided that I could back up and get a run at it and drive through the 75 feet of soft dirt.  I acted on that poor judgment and backed up 200 yards and made a hard drive at the mud.  Did fine the first 30 feet until I bogged down to the axle.  No use calling either town for a wrecker because no one that did not know the country could ever find me.  So I called the Bell employee at Marfa, the next town west of Alpine.  He said he had to install a telephone before he could come help me out.  He would have to drive from Marfa to Alpine and then east to Honey to follow my tracks the 10 miles to the mud hole.  It was then about mid morning.  He showed up about 3:00 p.m. and helped me out of the mud hole.  I got an education about buffalo wallows that day. 

One morning, when I went to the store room to get my telephone pickup for work, I found it had five flat tires.  I knew the tire on the spare rack was flat because I had changed the spare tire for it the day before.  The four tires on the ground were also flat.  In trying to reach a location of a remote section of telephone lines the previous day, I had driven through some young mesquite brush.  The brush was not very large but it had tire-puncturing thorns.  I was delayed somewhat going to work that morning. 

One afternoon I went from Fort Stockton to Grand Falls to clear some trouble.  While there a cloud burst storm blew in and caused some other telephone outages.  Before I could get all that cleared up it was too late to go home.  I stayed overnight in Grand Falls, and continued to work there until late afternoon.  When I reached home I learned that the storm the day before had knocked out all circuits between Fort Stockton and McCamey.  

By the time I located the trouble spot a few miles east of Fort Stockton it had become dark night.  The cloudburst had washed out three telephone poles.  It was necessary to string paired insulated wire between the remaining poles to restore the circuits.  The draw where the washout had happened was still somewhat muddy.  In the dark I accidentally dropped my lineman's pliers.  Without those pliers a lineman was almost helpless.  I had to get down on hands and knees in that mud and feel for the pliers until I located them before I could complete the repairs.  The circuits were back in working order a short time after midnight.  I was glad those rain storms were few and months between in that area.  The same kind of washout took two poles out on the Fort Stockton to Sanderson line a few years later.  I never did find one of the poles. 

An old saying is that "lightning never strikes twice in the same place".  That is a gross error.  Lightning is apt to strike in the same place repeatedly.  Our pole records proved it.  A pole on the Sanderson line  was split to splinters by lightning.  A construction crew was in the process of replacing the pole.  They had the pole in place but had not placed the wires on it when a rainstorm ran them to their truck for shelter.  Before the rain ceased, lightning shattered the new pole.  So much for the old saying.  

The Move To Fort Stockton

The move from Eastland to Fort Stockton was very exciting for both Mom and I and our young children, Patsy and Jim.  I was trading jobs with a Mr. Sanders.  The truck that brought his furniture to Eastland, to the very house we were leaving, also took our furniture to Fort Stockton, to the house he was leaving.  A total trade out.  

I was the only telephone man in that town.  Carried the title of Combination Man.  That meant I did it all, whatever had to be done.  Fort Stockton had about 500 telephone customers.  I also maintained Grand Falls, Royalty, Buena Vista and a total of about 250 miles of long-distance toll lines.  That meant logging many miles in the pickup I had for a work car.  Where most towns around Eastland had been 30 miles apart, those around Fort Stockton were 60 miles apart, on average.  Some more than that. 

Narrow Escape

I remember experiencing a narrow escape from a serious injury.  I was patrolling the long-distance telephone lines from Fort Stockton to McCamey.  I was about 30 miles east of Fort Stockton, not far from the Pecos River.  I climbed a pole to replace an insulator.  When I reached the top of the pole, I buckled off my safety and leaned back.  Just then the pole broke in two at a woodpecker hole just below my climbers.  

The pole stub, with a 10 foot cross arm attached and the four wires on it, and I, all cart wheeled to the ground.  The end of the cross arm struck the ground one foot from where my head hit the ground. One foot is too close for a sixty pound cross arm to fall near your head, but that time it was far enough.  I unsnapped my safety strap and scrambled to untie the wires and get them in the clear.  

I do not know whether any of the three circuits were busy or not when they were wrapped together.  Never did hear of an outage that day.  Propped the pole top against the stump and lashed it with wire and then replaced the insulators and tied the wires back in place and drove off, very thankful not to be injured.  A construction crew would replace the pole later. 

Ingenuity

A long distance telephone line ran north out of Fort Davis to Pecos, Texas.  It became necessary to replace two defective poles on that line.  I, from Fort Stockton, and patrol lineman Boyd from Pecos were to do that work.  I had the two 20 foot poles on the ladder rack of my truck. We met at Balmorhea and started to the work site.  Boyd was driving ahead of me.  All at once, he stopped and went out across the field to where some Mexican children were leading a donkey.  Soon he returned to the truck leading the donkey.  "Bought him for five dollars," he said. " What do you want with that thing?" I asked.  "This donkey is going to pull those poles to the top of that mountain where we need them," he said.  And we went on to the foot of the small mountain over which the line passed.  

Using our linesman's belts and safety belts, we rigged the harness on the donkey.  Strapped a pole top on each side of the beast with the ground end of each pole dragging.  Led the little donkey up the hill and installed our poles.  Boyd wanted to ride him back down the hill but I talked him out of that.  We put the donkey back in Boyd’s truck and he took him home to his small cantaloupe farm.  He turned in a bill to the company for "pole transportation" and was reimbursed for the price of his donkey.

Like A Good Boy Scout

Once en route home from spending the night at Presidio, where I had gone to clear some telephone trouble, I was caught between two creeks.  There had been a cloud burst back in the mountains and the creeks were running deep over the water crossings.  It was some two miles east of Alpine.  I used my portable test set to call home on the toll line that ran parallel with the highway, to tell Mom I could not get in that night. 

There were several other travelers caught between creeks also.  One was to lecture at Sul Ross College in Alpine that evening.  We called the college and explained he would be delayed.  I had my emergency grub box with me.  There was bread, eggs, bacon and canned meats in the box.  Using  my axe, we cut enough brush to make a fire to warm by.  The creeks did not run down until about daybreak next morning.  I cooked breakfast for the group from my supplies. The water was low enough to cross by then and every one went on their way.  I failed to mention I had my bed roll along and slept good, as I had the night before in Presidio.

The Missing Motel Manager

Spent part of a night in Sierra Blanca  in a hotel once, without ever seeing any person.  Went into the hotel about 11:00 p.m., found no one at the desk so went upstairs and found a vacant room and went to bed.  About six next morning, went back down to the lobby.  No one there, so rang a small bell on the desk.  A voice from the next room asked what I wanted.  I said, "I stayed here last night but must get on back to work early." The voice said, "Just leave $2 on the desk." I did and went on out to the toll lines I was patrolling.  

The evening and early night before, I had been following that line trying to locate some trouble.  Every time I came out from a ranch road to the highway, I met a lawman in a car.  They flashed a spotlight on me for a moment but never did stop me or challenge me.  I learned later they were on a manhunt looking for a murderer they believed to be in the area.  I was also on a hunt out there but for a shorted telephone circuit.  Had I known why all the lawmen were out there I would have gone to town a bit earlier.  Followed the toll lines on as far as the El Paso county line.  There our jurisdiction ended.  The Mountain States Bell Telephone Co. maintained a line from there on west.  Then I made the long drive back to Fort Stockton at 35 miles per hour.  Our trucks had a governor on them during wartime.

Monday Meanderings - 11.25.2013

Well, the news around these parts is the weather, of course. That's probably true where you are, as well. Our poor HVAC system didn't know what to do; when we went to bed Friday night the air conditioning was running; When we got up, the heat was on. It's interesting to note that some fans at the Formula One race last weekend had to be treated for overheating. I'm pretty sure the Circuit of the Americas people are really happy their race was last weekend and not this.

The forecast calls for a wintery mix of freezing precipitation; rain, sleet, and dare I say it, snow. We assured our waitstaff friend at Chuy's (who moved to Texas to get away from snowy winters) that it seldom snows here. Hope I didn't jinx it for her.

Speaking of snow, I once had an employee who had moved here from Rochester Minnesota and she was really curious about the traffic delineaters glued to the roadways here - those reflective blocks and rubber buttons stuck down to mark lanes and such. She wondered what happened to them when the snow plows came along. I assured her that it was not a problem.

We have enjoyed a very colorful Fall this year - the leaves have been as pretty as we have seen them in some time; lots of golds and yellows and some reds. However, after this last front blew through it looks like they are all brown and down at this point. Interestingly, we still had a half-dozen green tomatoes on the one remaining vine. They are now ripening on the window sill.

Speaking Southern

I mentioned that we have been trying to help a young lady at Chuy's to "speak Southern" and rid herself of terms and pronunciations common to upstate New York, her former home. You know, little things like saying "pah chan'" instead of "pee' can. And "y'all" instead of  "youse."

I came across a number of Southern terms, along with some information about how these terms might have originated. As a Southerner, most of the definitions seem unneeded, but I think I'll see if I can work some of the phrases into the conversation the next time we are at Chuy's.

“We’re living in tall cotton.” Tall cotton bushes are easier to pick by hand and yield higher returns. If you’re living in tall or high cotton, it means that you are feeling particularly successful or wealthy. However, we noticed on our last trip to the high plains that all the cotton plants were low to the ground - thus easier to pick by machine.

"Madder than a wet hen." Hens sometimes enter a phase of “broodiness” — they'll stop at nothing to incubate their eggs and get agitated when farmers try to collect them. Farmers used to dunk hens in cold water to “break” their broodiness. Huh. I've never actually seen a wet hen, but I have no doubt that such a hen would be mad.

“He could eat corn through a picket fence.” This describes someone with an unfortunate set of buck teeth. They tend to stick up and outward, like a horse’s teeth.

“You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” A pig’s ear may look soft, pink, and shiny, but you’re not fooling anyone by calling it your new Marc Jacobs bag. Can you actually make a purse with a pig's ear?

“You look rode hard and put up wet.”  The phrase refers to a key step in horse grooming —  A good rider knows to walk the horse around so it can dry off before going back to the stable. A horse will look sick and tired if you forget this step, much like a person who misses sleep or drinks too much.

“He’s as drunk as Cooter Brown.” Cooter Brown is an infamous character in Southern lore. Legend tells that he lived on the Mason-Dixon line — the border between the North and South — during the Civil War. To avoid the draft on either side, Cooter decided to stay drunk throughout the entire war, making him ineligible for battle. Inebriated Southerners have measured their drunkenness by him ever since. Wikipedia confirms that this is a tale told mostly by Southerners.

“She's got more _____ than Carter's got Liver Pills.” Carters Products started as a pill-peddling company in the latter part of the 19th century. Specifically, Carters repped its “Little Liver Pills” so hard a Southern saying spawned from the omnipresent advertisements. Alas, the Federal Trade Commission forced the drug-group to drop the “liver” portion of the ad, claiming it was deceptive. Carter's “Little Liver Pills” became Carter's “Little Pills” in 1951. Nobody noticed. Senator Robert Byrd, after winning re-election in 2000, is quoted as saying, "West Virginia has always had four friends, God Almighty, Sears Roebuck, Carter's Liver Pills and Robert C. Byrd."

“I'm finer than frog hair split four ways.” Southerners mostly use this phrase to answer, “How are you?” Even those below the Mason-Dixon know frogs don't have hair, and the irony means to highlight just how dandy you feel. The phrase reportedly originated in C. Davis’ “Diary of 1865.”

“He thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.” On farms (not just in the South) roosters usually crow when the sun rises. Their vociferous habit wakes up the house, signaling time to work. An extremely cocky rooster might think the sun rises simply because he crows. Similarly, an extremely cocky man might think the same when he speaks — and also that everyone should listen to him.

“That thing is all catawampus.” Catawampus adj: askew, awry, cater-cornered. Lexicographers don't really know how it evolved, though. They speculate it's a colloquial perversion of “cater-corner.” Variations include: catawampous, cattywampus, catty wonkus. The South isn't really big on details.

“He's got enough money to burn a wet mule.” In 1929, then-Governor of Louisiana Huey Long, nicknamed “The Kingfish,” tried to enact a five-cent tax on each barrel of refined oil to fund welfare programs. Naturally, Standard Oil threw a hissy fit (oh, there's another good phrase) and tried to impeach him on some fairly erroneous charges (including attending a drunken party with a stripper).

But Long, a good ole' boy, fought back. He reportedly said the company had offered legislators as much as $25,000 for their votes to kick him out of office — what he called “enough money to burn a wet mule.”
We may not know exactly how much money that is, but at least we know where it comes from.

"Bless Your Heart" Almost everyone knows Southern women drop this phrase constantly. But it might not mean what you think it means. In reality, the phrase has little to do with religion and more to do with a passive-aggressive way to call you not-so-bright.

Any phrase you want to add to the list? This girl needs a lot of help.

Monday Meanderings - 11.18.2013

Big weekend in Austin. The geniuses that brought Formula One racing to Austin weren't smart enough to schedule it on a weekend that the Longhorns did NOT play here in town. Turns out this town is big enough for both of them; if you block off 12 city blocks downtown for the festivities and charge $1000 a night for a motel room. Who knew?

All the treadmills at Silver's Gym have little TVs on each console; I normally turn the TV off when I walk, but the other day there was a soccer game on, so I watched for a while. Did I mention that the TVs are little? Most camera perspectives during a soccer game are wide-angled, encompassing large swaths of the pitch, as we futbol aficionados call it. As a result, on a fuzzy little 9 or 10 inch screen, unless the action is on the sideline nearest the camera, YOU CAN'T SEE THE BALL!

This leads to some interesting observations about watching an invisible-ball soccer match. For one thing, you often have to guess where the action is. Sometimes it is obvious; see that one guy streaking like mad down the sideline? Or that clump of players gathered in front of the goal, waiting for a corner kick? Other times it is anybody's guess - you just have to wait until somebody knocks somebody else over to bring things into focus.

I did notice that every time a foul was called, the camera focused on the referee. And you can be pretty sure which team the foul was called on because they would then show a bunch of disgusted coaches. I also noticed, while searching for the ball, that much of the time most of the players just kind of wander around out there. I could see the score, however, and it was 5 to 1, so I finally turned the TV off and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

If it is popularity and attention you seek, I have a suggestion for you. Retire. When you get our age everybody wants to talk to you, or send you something in the mail. You get calls and mailings about hearing aids, burglar alarms, credit card debt, reverse mortgage plans, replacement windows, walk-in bathtubs, financial seminars, and cruises (cruises to Alaska, cruises to the Mediterranean, cruises up the Mississippi, cruises on the Volga River) to mention just a few.

And then there's the Medicare-related contacts. If it is not our actual provider calling daily with "important medical information," or calling to see if we are checking our blood pressure regularly, or asking for Barb's log of blood sugar readings, or mailing each of us Prescription Drug Summaries and Explanations of Benefits, it's other providers wanting us to switch to their plans, so they can call us daily, etc.

At the Learning Ally studios, I am currently reading a 900 page volume entitled Blood and Soil: A World History of Genocide and Extermination from Sparta to Darfur. Talk about depressing! I tell the other readers to periodically peek through the window and check on me, just to make sure I haven't hung myself from the microphone cord or something! I've only just reached the late 1400's when the Spanish decimated the Indian population in the Caribbean, so there's a lot of mayhem to go.

Stories from my Father - Working

At the age of 93, my father set out to write down by hand some of the things that he remembered over a long and active life. My brother transcribed these recollections, and I share some of them with you now.

Early Days

When I was about 17 years old I often worked with a hay bailing crew.  I made the boast that I could tie out and stack back the bales from any horse power press, and I could.  But I had to have help when I got with a crew that had a gasoline engine press.  That hay would really slide through that press.  Worked with grain threshers a little but more with hay bailing.  Often drove a team hitched to a buck rake which pushed the piles of hay to the side of the baler. My job in the grain harvest was to follow the binder and set the bundles of grain into shocks which looked like small teepees.  There the grain and straw dried out to be ready for the thresher to come around.  Then pitchers would go into the field and toss the bundles into a bundle wagon, which hauled the grain to the thresher.

Sometimes, accidentally a pitcher would throw a snake on to the wagon, along with a bundle.  The man on the wagon placing the bundles in order might yell at the pitcher,  “You knew that snake was in that bundle.”  He usually was angry about it but the pitcher had a pitch fork and that was a weapon hard to face.

I have had a full circle with wheat, from plowing the ground to planting it to cooking and eating it.  I helped sow the seed, harvested the wheat, including working at the thresher that separated the grain,  hauled it to market and helped store it in the mill bins.  When I was 18 years old I went to work in a flour mill that ground the wheat into flour and bran.  The master miller that operated the mill taught me how to operate it and set it to make the right grade of flour.  One test to determine if the grain was ground to the proper fineness was to take a pinch of the flour and roll it between your thumb and forefinger.  If it felt like you were rolling a small worm you knew it was the proper consistency.

That mill also had a pair of large circular stones on which we ground corn for meal.  The Miller said the best corn meal was that ground just a tad course.  He said to grind it finer killed the life of the meal.  I think he was right.  The course meal made a better cornbread.  Wheat ground on the stone mill made real good whole wheat flour.  That too was best ground a little course.  I worked in the mill two summers before I became one of Ma Bell's telephone men.

Hazardous Duty

The flour mill at Godley also had a medium-size hammer mill that we used to grind oats and bundle maize for stock feed.  There was no clutch for that machine.  When one needed to run it, they placed the belt on the hammer mill then hand fed the other loop of the belt on the running driving wheel.  A very dangerous job if not handled very carefully.  One could easily have lost fingers or a whole hand.  When stopping, we pushed the belt off the drive pulley with a stick.  A little safer.  But you had to stand where that spinning belt did not slap you because it leaped off that pulley like a giant snake and could have slapped one down easily.  We did not have OSHA inspectors in those days.  A broken belt would writhe around at first like a fire hose.  One slapped me on the side of the face once and almost got my left eye.  Lucky boy.  But we did not consider that mill work dangerous.  “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

Once I went to the Hardcastle gin to go to work.  Tom Reynolds was poking around one of the gin stands and fussing and cussing.  I asked what trouble was.  He said, "I started the gin up early to check everything out and I ginned a cat in this stand."  Now, how to get all the cat parts out of that stand was a problem.  It took a lot of picking and wiping.  Completely ruined the cat.

More Mill Mishaps

In a mill and elevator complex all products are moved vertically by elevator belt.  Those belts were woven web belts about 8 inches wide, with metal cups pointing in the same direction, fastened about 1 foot apart.  Those belts ran over powered pulleys to whatever height in the mill they were needed.  Horizontal movement of products was made by continuous augurs rotating in close fitting troughs.  Downward movement was by gravity fall through chutes. I am explaining all this to show how easy it was to make a mistake in setting the discharge chute from any elevator belt to the wrong storage bin.  Some bins of course, contained wheat and others contained corn.  As you have suspected, I made some wrong settings and mixed wheat with corn a few times.  The mill had a machine that could separate the two grains, but it was slow.  Five minutes worth of mixing required five days of separating.  Needless to say, I kept the separator running most of the time.

Noises At The Mill

Possibly you have heard that someone can become so accustomed to even noisy machinery that they can sleep in proximity to such until the sound changes.  Any change in the noise will awaken them.  It is true.  I know of an example.  We had gotten behind on orders at the flour mill and Tom, the boss man had the mill operating at night also.  I was the in-charge operator at night with a man as helper.  About midnight an elevator belt broke.  My helper said, "Oh, let us not wake Tom because we can repair that belt ourselves".  I replied, "We cannot avoid waking Tom.  His house is just across the road.  We will have to shut the mill down to repair the belt and changing the engine rhythm to idle will wake him."  Sure enough, as soon as I went to the engine room to open the clutch, the sound of the diesel engine slowed.  Before I got back up to the mill floor, Tom was coming in the door asking, "What is wrong boys?"

Making Moonshine

While working in the flour mill I delivered large purchases to the customers with a Model A Ford truck.  There was a small country store near Acton that ordered a truckload of corn meal about every other week. Another country store at a community called Mambrino did the same.  Mambrino was about midway from Granbury to Glenrose.  Those stores were out in the boondocks.  Now that much corn meal would have given everyone in those areas cornbread for every meal including breakfast, and some left over.  I, naive as any 19 year-old would be, did not realize for years what they were doing with so much corn meal.  The stores were selling it to moonshiners to make corn whiskey.  My boss, no doubt, knew where it was going, but he was selling to stores and not to moonshiners.

Filling Station Flunky

 I once worked as a flunky in a garage in Itasca, Texas, for about nine months.  Sold gasoline at the pumps, passed tools to the mechanics, swept the floors and such odd jobs.  Sometimes a youth, or a black customer, would buy as small a purchase of gasoline as two gallons. Spent most Sunday afternoons picking up wrecks on the main highway that went through town.  It was only a two-lane road then.  The firm had an old Cadillac converted into a wrecker.  The a-frame pick-up device was powered by a hand powered winch.  The old Cadillac was a powerful smooth runner though.  Several of our best customers at the garage were black land owners who had large farms, well improved, in the community.  Also had customers from the cotton spinning mill that operated at Itasca. Where did I stay when not at work? I boarded with a step-uncle who owned the garage.  Washed my clothes at a laundromat. 

Monday Meandering - 11.11.2013

Flipping through the mid-week TV football games, featuring some of the less well-known schools, I came across a game pitting the University of Buffalo against Ohio. I was reminded that I once attended a week-long seminar at UB, or technically, State University of New York at Buffalo - SUNYAB.

Wally Bullington, once coach of the Abilene Eagles and ACU Wildcats (and later ACU Athletic Director and currently AD Emeritus), a gentleman named Tom Hudgins and I shuffled off to Buffalo to attend a "Creative Thinking" workshop, where we were instructed on numerous methods to "think outside the box." Wally and Tom worked for the Herald of Truth at the time and wanted to attend the workshop. I was sent along as a representative from the company that produced the HOT programs and materials at the time.

It was a good workshop; I used some of the concepts for a number of years, and even taught some of the methods in training sessions for others. It was also a memorable trip, since it also included a really nice tour of Niagara Falls from both the U.S. and the Canadian sides of the Falls. That trip marked my first visit to a foreign country. Crossing the border was a big deal - an immigration official stuck his head in the bus and yelled, "Anybody here not born in the USA?" Assured that we all citizens, since no one spoke up, he waved the bus across the border.

I later made a trip to Canada when the rules were somewhat more stringent, but I forgot to bring along any proof of citizenship. I conned the airline here in Austin into stamping my ticket "Papers OK" and got into Canada with no hassles. Coming back was even easier; no one asked for any ID of any kind. Try that today.

Speaking of Tom Hudgins, he and I made several trips together; one was to a Direct Mail seminar in New York City. That was the trip when Barb stashed the Playboy in my luggage. Tom and I checked into the hotel, I popped open my suitcase to unpack - and there on the top of my clothes was a shiny new Playboy magazine. I slammed the suitcase shut and later surreptitiously stuck it under everything else.

What I did not know at the time was that that magazine had been carefully excised. Acting on the popular argument that "I only read it for the articles," Barb had very carefully removed every single vestige of the female form from the magazine; no centerfold, no features, not even any advertisements that depicted females!

I later baited fellow office-workers with that issue: they would casually pick it up, flip through it, then flip backwards, and then give me a very puzzled look. I told them it was the new "Christian version" of Playboy - the result of the then-recent debate between Bill Banowsky (soon to be named President of Pepperdine College) and Anson Mount, the religion/philosophy editor for the magazine at that time.

Wow. All that from one minor-league football game!

And in the spirit of Keeping Austin Weird, I call your attention to this highway sign placed on IH-35, near downtown, warning of "Dry Paint Ahead." Yes, dry paint.

It turns out that a recent mishap dumped hundreds of gallons of bright yellow highway paint on the roadway. You know, the stuff they paint yellow lines with. It seems that big, bright, shiny patch of paint is startling to unsuspecting drivers, who tend to slam on the brakes. Thus the sign, assuring drivers that it's OK to cross over that newly-decorated piece of roadway with no fear of turning their cars bright yellow.

I love this town.

A travel guide - for South of the Border

 Some friends and acquaintances are on an extensive trip south of the border. Knowing that I traveled extensively in countries that fit this description, before leaving they turned to me for some assistance with phrases essential for such a trip. I can assure you that the phrases they teach you in travel guides, such as "Will Hortensia watch television on Wednesday." are not sufficient. Trust me on this.

I share with you the English portion of some of the essential phrases that I have found very helpful during my travels, broken out by major category, in case you also are contemplating such a trip. I know that my guide has proven useful to my friends and they are really enjoying their trip, for I have not heard from them in some time.

Speaking to Airport Taxi Drivers: 
How much do you charge?
Let us negotiate a price before you take my luggage.
Your Uncle's hotel sounds very nice, but I have reservations at the Holiday Inn.
Please slow down.
At high speeds I get car sick.
This window doesn't work. May I break it?
My gosh, pigs!
Yes, the crazy animal deserved to die. But must he ride beside me?
I will change the tire, but don't expect a tip.

At the hotel desk:
I would like your least expensive room.
I would like a better room.
Please explain the rope's function.
I would like any room not damaged by the recent earthquake.
The river is lovely, but I prefer a room with a shower.

At local markets:
I would like to change my American dollars.
Your currency is very pretty. Who is the guy with the top hat?
No chicken hearts today, madam. Do you sell peanut butter?
No thanks. The sombrero impairs my vision.
Will you throw in a couple of mangoes?

A night on the town:
My compliments to the chef. What did you say the main course was?
The rum is good, but I prefer the local beer.
You do what to cause fermentation?
I don't question your abilities, but I am already married.
My apologies. I thought you asked me to dance.
My friend is drunk and I am lost.
My friend is lost and I am drunk.

At the hospital:
I am sick.
Everything was working fine when I left Texas.
I was never asked to do that in the US, and I'm not going to do it here.
If you've got the medicine, I've got the cash.

In a fix with guerrillas, thugs, or the transit police:
Have I broken a law?
May I offer you a gift of money?
I love your uniforms.
How do you keep your automatic weapons so clean?
Did I say American? I meant Canadian.
You can have our women, but leave the plane tickets.
Don't shoot. We are rock stars.

Over the river and into the woods:
I would like to rent a canoe.
Sharks ate most of the crocodiles? How reassuring.
I would like to rent a gun.
What is the name of that snake?
A hamburger for me and some anti-venom for my friend.

At border crossings/at customs/in jail:
Yes, I have a receipt.
I have a prescription for that. Really!
Did I say $20? I meant $50.
I have a powerful friend at the American embassy.
Assassinated? Then my work here is done. The capitalist pig deserved to die.
Nice jail you got here. Better than my hotel room.

Monday Meanderings - 11.4.2013

Halloween has come and gone, and once again I dressed up as a grumpy old man.

We were served at Chuy's the other evening by a young woman who, it turns out, emigrated here from up-state New York. We knew she wasn't from around here when she asked if we wanted a "pee-can" fudge brownie for dessert.  We worked with her for a while and I think she has the "puh-khan" pronunciation down pat now. We're still working on the "y'all."

I have mentioned the panhandler on a nearby corner with the long white beard. The other day he saw me and asked, "Is that a beard you have, or a 5 o'clock shadow?" I offered to bring him a razor, but he declined. Said it would make him too attractive; some woman would would want to take him home with her. Dubious.

From time to time, I hear a yappy dog coming up our street. It passes by the house, yapping away, and goes up the street, barking all the way. The other day I went to the window to see what was going on and there was a man walking two small collies. One was yapping away, and the other had his head down, as if ashamed to be seen with his boisterous partner. Reminds me of some married couples.

If you read this blog with Feedly or some other reader, you might not get to see the banner photo. Take a minute and go to the web site and check the photo by Reagan Hackleman. That's Stevie Ray, waist deep as a result of the "Halloween Floods" here in Austin. If you listen closely, you can hear him singing a song he recorded in 1983:

Well there's floodin' down in Texas
All of the telephone lines are down
Well there's floodin' down in Texas
All of the telephone lines are down
And I've been tryin' to call my baby
Lord and I can't get a single sound
Well dark clouds are rollin' in
Man I'm standin' out in the rain
Well dark clouds are rollin' in
Man I'm standin' out in the rain
Yeah flood water keep a rollin'
Man it's about to drive poor me insane