There were several colorful individuals in the group at Wilmington. On the maintenance side there were two people in particular. They were “Shorty” Coe (given first name Douglas) and A.B. Cox. I don’t think I ever knew what the initials stood for. He was always called A.B.
Shorty was the maintenance foreman and thus had more contact with the fledgling engineers. His father had been a political boss in some eastern citiy and Shorty had acquired a dislike for such activity and had gravitated into a rather adventuresome life. In World War I he had spent time in Russia with some kind of Allied force — my knowledge of the history in Russia directly preceding the revolution is kind of vague, anyway it was the period between the armistice that ended the war and the takeover by the red faction.
Shorty, as the name implies, was short in stature, but of a husky build. He was sandy-haired, rather bald and one eye had been injured ( in a barroom brawl?) so he viewed the world at an odd angle. An individual in every sense of the word, he did not deign to wear a hard hay, though that was prescribed attire for persons working in the plant even at that early time.
At the start of the war he tried to enlist but was turned down, I suppose because of his age and his damaged eye. Physically he would have been a match for any draftee or enlistee regardless of age. His vacation pursuit was to go cross-country skiing, I suppose in the Sierra. On these occasions he would often go alone, though I think on one of these trips one of the engineers working up in the office went with him.
He was always needling the young engineers, one of his favorite comments when one of them would come to him with what they considered a problem but which he thought they could easily handle themselves was “Wave your sheepskin at it.” I guess diplomas were on sheepskin in his background.
I always got along well with Shorty. During the war he inveigled me into a wager on when the war would be over. It was one of the few times I have made a bet that way. I did participate in the football pools when working in the San Francisco office and I recall winning $10 once. I bet Shorty that the war would be over by June 1945 and so I lost though not by much.
The last time I saw Shorty was one time when I was on a business trip to the Los Angeles area. I called him up and we had dinner together — I guess he drove in from wherever he resided. About the only thing I recall about that dinner was that he ordered borscht (beet soup); I wonder if this was because of his Russian experience in WWI.
A.B. Cox was a very different kettle of fish. When I knew him he was probably nearing 60 years of age and I think he retired not long after the war ended. He had started out as a machinist, like Jean’s father, and in many ways he resembled her father. He was fairly tall, thin, balding though what remained of his hair was still pretty dark. He also resembled Jean’s father in disposition though he wasn’t quite as crusty and uncivil. But he could be pretty acerbic at times.
When I knew him he was classified as a mechanical engineer having arrived at that designation without any formal training. At work he did such things as design small pumps for laboratory scale pilot plant units capable of outputs of ml/hr with discharge pressures of up to 1000 lb/sq. in.
One thing I remember about Shorty or A.B., I don’t recall which. They had the definition of a machinist as a workman who could make a piece of metal-working correctly the first time — any person reasonably acquainted with metal-working could make it eventually but not necessarily the first time.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Early Days at Shell
The work that the new engineering recruits did at Wilmington was not really chemical engineering, though it did provide an exposure to the refinery environment. A good part of it could have been done by persons of less training and skills — I guess this was the real reason why I decided Shell was “stockpiling” engineering personnel for availability at a later time.
After a week’s orientation a new engineer first spent a year or so as an analyst doing various analyses related to the process being investigation on a pilot plant scale. This was following by a period as a pilot plant operator, and then a gradual transition to report writing, data workup etc.
The work as an analyst and pilot plant operator involved shift work which was a new experience for me. I was through the analyst period and in the pilot plant operator period when I was offered the post of coordinating the analytical work. I accepted but this was a mistake for me I realize now as I wasn’t by temperament, or perhaps more importantly by experience and breadth of outlook suitable at the time for the assignment.
At this time in my career I did not have the background of contact with the world beyond the home, farm, church and school environment that I had grown up on to enable me to estimate my future better. This was in part the result of the community environment and the restricted traveling that our family had done, but it was also influenced un a more subtle way by the lack of a broader experiential background on the part of my parents and the tendency of my mother in particular to shield her children from influences strange or alien to home, church and family. In retrospect I’;m sure that this lack of sociological background influenced my future at Shell — not that I would want to have it any different.
The difficulty for me in supervising the analytical work that the analysts did was that they were of the mind that the character of the work was beneath them. They were graduate engineers and it was not the kind of work they thought they should be doing. In other wordsI did not have the personality and experience to tell them to shape up.
In the work I had done for my uncle Carl I had exerted no independent judgment. I had just done what he told me to do. I certainly had not been in a position where I was responsible for the work of others. Had this not been the case things might have turned out differently and I might have drifted into a management position along the way. Not that I would have wanted in the end for things to have turned out differently, but they could have been quite different.
As a result of my dissatisfaction with the position I was in I decided that I would leave the Shell company and take whatever developed with the draft board. I left a note to that effect on the manager’s desk when I left after finishing my day’s work, but the manager talked me out of quitting. I was given other work to do which was in the area of individual research projects. It was during this phase that I began to use some of the chemical engineering knowledge I had gained in school. I recall purchasing the first copy I had of McGraw-Hill’s Chemical Engineering Handbook. I later disposed of it but it was followed by several subsequent editions of the manual. I believe that I still have the last edition I bought.
After a week’s orientation a new engineer first spent a year or so as an analyst doing various analyses related to the process being investigation on a pilot plant scale. This was following by a period as a pilot plant operator, and then a gradual transition to report writing, data workup etc.
The work as an analyst and pilot plant operator involved shift work which was a new experience for me. I was through the analyst period and in the pilot plant operator period when I was offered the post of coordinating the analytical work. I accepted but this was a mistake for me I realize now as I wasn’t by temperament, or perhaps more importantly by experience and breadth of outlook suitable at the time for the assignment.
At this time in my career I did not have the background of contact with the world beyond the home, farm, church and school environment that I had grown up on to enable me to estimate my future better. This was in part the result of the community environment and the restricted traveling that our family had done, but it was also influenced un a more subtle way by the lack of a broader experiential background on the part of my parents and the tendency of my mother in particular to shield her children from influences strange or alien to home, church and family. In retrospect I’;m sure that this lack of sociological background influenced my future at Shell — not that I would want to have it any different.
The difficulty for me in supervising the analytical work that the analysts did was that they were of the mind that the character of the work was beneath them. They were graduate engineers and it was not the kind of work they thought they should be doing. In other wordsI did not have the personality and experience to tell them to shape up.
In the work I had done for my uncle Carl I had exerted no independent judgment. I had just done what he told me to do. I certainly had not been in a position where I was responsible for the work of others. Had this not been the case things might have turned out differently and I might have drifted into a management position along the way. Not that I would have wanted in the end for things to have turned out differently, but they could have been quite different.
As a result of my dissatisfaction with the position I was in I decided that I would leave the Shell company and take whatever developed with the draft board. I left a note to that effect on the manager’s desk when I left after finishing my day’s work, but the manager talked me out of quitting. I was given other work to do which was in the area of individual research projects. It was during this phase that I began to use some of the chemical engineering knowledge I had gained in school. I recall purchasing the first copy I had of McGraw-Hill’s Chemical Engineering Handbook. I later disposed of it but it was followed by several subsequent editions of the manual. I believe that I still have the last edition I bought.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Draft Deferments
The experimental unit at the refinery served two purposes I think. The ostensible (and certainly a real) reason was to develop a process for producing toluene, which was needed for the war effort. This was done early on in the time I spent in Wilmington. Later on the work was carried out for processes to make high octane gasoline for aircraft.
However a longer range and perhaps more important objective as far as the Shell organization was concerned (this is my opinion in retrospect) was to provide training for a group of young engineers who would be available for more significant engineering activities once the was was over. Both the ostensible objective and the longer range were in large measure achieved. By using the group of young engineers on these projects there was a good possibility that a substantial fraction would be draft-deferred and would still be available when the war was over.
The processes were developed and a considerable number of young engineers who arrived to work at Wilmington did escape the draft. Including me. I was repeatedly classified One-A by the local board in Fort Dodge, the company would appeal the classification and I would be deferred for another six months.
I kept the draft notices and I have them somewhere — there must be a couple of dozen of them. One time I had to appear up in Los Angeles for a pre-induction physical exam. At the end of the war I had received a second notice to have a pre-induction physical, then I got a notice from the draft board to ignore the notice to appear. That was the last I ever heard from the board.
However a longer range and perhaps more important objective as far as the Shell organization was concerned (this is my opinion in retrospect) was to provide training for a group of young engineers who would be available for more significant engineering activities once the was was over. Both the ostensible objective and the longer range were in large measure achieved. By using the group of young engineers on these projects there was a good possibility that a substantial fraction would be draft-deferred and would still be available when the war was over.
The processes were developed and a considerable number of young engineers who arrived to work at Wilmington did escape the draft. Including me. I was repeatedly classified One-A by the local board in Fort Dodge, the company would appeal the classification and I would be deferred for another six months.
I kept the draft notices and I have them somewhere — there must be a couple of dozen of them. One time I had to appear up in Los Angeles for a pre-induction physical exam. At the end of the war I had received a second notice to have a pre-induction physical, then I got a notice from the draft board to ignore the notice to appear. That was the last I ever heard from the board.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Going to California
Well I have sort of strayed back into reminiscences about our life on the farm. So back to where I was.
After two weeks of idling away some time, I boarded the train in Boone for the trip to California. The train I took was called the Challenger, the cheapest of the Pullman trains that the railroad operated. It ran on the Chicago Northwestern tracks as far as Omaha, then on Union Pacific tracks to Ogden, Utah and then I believe on Southern Pacific tracks to Los Angeles.
My belongings I carried in two suitcases — the old-fashioned Gladstone bag (which I think I purchased with some gift money before going off the school at Iowa). And another, somewhat larger, suitcase that had sort of metallic outer surface. They were the same suitcases that I had used going to and from school.
I had never been on a Pullman car before so I had to sort of feel my way as to what the procedure was. Three levels of Pullman service were provided with the lower being the Challenger. It also followed I think the slowest schedule. The Challenger and the next level train ran every day both ways but the top flight City of Los Angeles, San Francisco, Denver, etc. ran only three times a week.
Naturally I took the Challenger because it was the cheapest. Actually getting on the other two was more difficult because of military travel at the time.
The Challenger took 2-1/2 or three days to get from Boone to Los Angeles so it was a long trip. Looking out of the windows of the train, I saw aspects of the country that were completely new to me. Long stretches of plains, mountains, sagebrush country, desert, etc. I sort of remember eating in the dining car with the train swaying as it inevitably did but I have no specific recollection. When I at last arrived in Los Angeles, I had the expectation that California would be a green paradise. Of course it wasn’t as August was the dry part of the year and everything was sort of dun-colored.
I arrived of course at the railroad stations in downtown Los Angeles and that left me still at some distance from my destination which was in the Wilmington area (actually Wilmington was part of the gerrymandered city of Los Angeles). I might point out here that when I was offered employment at Shell it was to have been at the Emeryville laboratory in the San Francisco area. Sometime later I was informed to report instead to the Wilmington refinery where Shell Development had a small experimental operation going on. So I had to find my way from downtown Los Angeles to Wilmington.
I assume that I took the ubiquitous “red” train from Los Angeles to Wilmington but now I have no recollection of the trip. Nor do I have much recollection of my first few days in California. I do recall staying in a hotel in Wilmington for a few days. During those days I appeared at the refinery and found out that I was to reimbursed for the cost of my journey. Did I expect that? I don’t know, inexperienced as I was.
Sometime during those first few days I encountered Dwight Johnston (who had been in my class at Iowa and who had also been hired by Shell). He was working for Shell at Wilmington and through him I found a room for rent in San Pedro which I took. San Pedro was south of Wilmington and the Pacific Electric (the “red” train) ran between San Pedro and the refinery which took care of my commute problem.
I had located a place to stay in Wilmington which I abandoned as the room in San Pedro was much more to my liking. I was half a dozen blocks from the red train terminal in San Pedro which ran near the Wilmington refinery so it was convenient transportation for getting to and from work.
After two weeks of idling away some time, I boarded the train in Boone for the trip to California. The train I took was called the Challenger, the cheapest of the Pullman trains that the railroad operated. It ran on the Chicago Northwestern tracks as far as Omaha, then on Union Pacific tracks to Ogden, Utah and then I believe on Southern Pacific tracks to Los Angeles.
My belongings I carried in two suitcases — the old-fashioned Gladstone bag (which I think I purchased with some gift money before going off the school at Iowa). And another, somewhat larger, suitcase that had sort of metallic outer surface. They were the same suitcases that I had used going to and from school.
I had never been on a Pullman car before so I had to sort of feel my way as to what the procedure was. Three levels of Pullman service were provided with the lower being the Challenger. It also followed I think the slowest schedule. The Challenger and the next level train ran every day both ways but the top flight City of Los Angeles, San Francisco, Denver, etc. ran only three times a week.
Naturally I took the Challenger because it was the cheapest. Actually getting on the other two was more difficult because of military travel at the time.
The Challenger took 2-1/2 or three days to get from Boone to Los Angeles so it was a long trip. Looking out of the windows of the train, I saw aspects of the country that were completely new to me. Long stretches of plains, mountains, sagebrush country, desert, etc. I sort of remember eating in the dining car with the train swaying as it inevitably did but I have no specific recollection. When I at last arrived in Los Angeles, I had the expectation that California would be a green paradise. Of course it wasn’t as August was the dry part of the year and everything was sort of dun-colored.
I arrived of course at the railroad stations in downtown Los Angeles and that left me still at some distance from my destination which was in the Wilmington area (actually Wilmington was part of the gerrymandered city of Los Angeles). I might point out here that when I was offered employment at Shell it was to have been at the Emeryville laboratory in the San Francisco area. Sometime later I was informed to report instead to the Wilmington refinery where Shell Development had a small experimental operation going on. So I had to find my way from downtown Los Angeles to Wilmington.
I assume that I took the ubiquitous “red” train from Los Angeles to Wilmington but now I have no recollection of the trip. Nor do I have much recollection of my first few days in California. I do recall staying in a hotel in Wilmington for a few days. During those days I appeared at the refinery and found out that I was to reimbursed for the cost of my journey. Did I expect that? I don’t know, inexperienced as I was.
Sometime during those first few days I encountered Dwight Johnston (who had been in my class at Iowa and who had also been hired by Shell). He was working for Shell at Wilmington and through him I found a room for rent in San Pedro which I took. San Pedro was south of Wilmington and the Pacific Electric (the “red” train) ran between San Pedro and the refinery which took care of my commute problem.
I had located a place to stay in Wilmington which I abandoned as the room in San Pedro was much more to my liking. I was half a dozen blocks from the red train terminal in San Pedro which ran near the Wilmington refinery so it was convenient transportation for getting to and from work.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Of Cows and Pigs
Before leaving for California, I gave myself a two-week vacation at home. I don’t know just what I did, probably just loafed around. Although it was summer and there was farm work to do, I doubt I did any. Don’t even know if I tried my hand at milking a cow — it was probably the last time there was much likelihood of that happening to me. In fact by that time the number of cows may have dwindled so that only one or two remained, simply as a source of milk for the family.
Originally there were four or more, starting after we moved to the farm, as sort of a supplemental source of income for the family (i.e. from the sale of cream). We had had a cow at the little brown house and she (Spotty) along with the cow uncle Carl had (Brownie, mostly Swiss with some admixture) formed the nucleus of the herd.
Spotty was a Holstein. Other cows were acquired either by calving or purchase. Among the more distinctive cows were Dairy Maid (a daughter of Brownie, by one of the neighbor’s Swiss bulls), Buttercup (a purchased Jersey) and Ruby, sort of scruffy cow of nondescript parentage.
Cows are relatively fractious creatures, at least the ones we milked were, and the use of a kicking chain was fairly common. Brownie and Dairy Maid were most likely to kick when being milked but for me it was only Spotty who ever got her back foot into the milk pail.
Several years ago at an antique show at the Medford armory I spotted an old rusty kicking chain. Since it was priced at only $2 I bought it and I think I gave it to Vincent as a joke. I’m sure he appreciated it.
To get the cream required a cream separator and uncle Carl bought an old small-sized De Laval cream separator. After the milk was strained it was run through the separator (which was operated manually and the cream was accumulated in a 5-gallon cream can. About twice a week this was lugged out to the side of the road where it was picked up by the cream hauler and taken to the creamery in Gowrie. There were two cream routes, one of which was run by Vernoon Telleen, a member of my high school class and who grew up on a farm about a quarter of a mile to the east of the Peterson farm.
For payment for the cream we received butter plus cash for the remainder. Butter was of course a much used staple in our house. The skim milk went several ways, the most of it going to feed one or two hogs (also purchased by uncle Carl for that purpose). My mother used to make cottage cheese, whether it was from skim milk or whole milk I don’t recall. On occasion we would churn some butter by hand — whether this was when there was not enough cream to warrant a stop buy the cream hauler or not I don’t remember. I also don’t know where the hand church came from — it just arrived on the scene. I’m sure my mother did not have it, perhaps it had been used by my grandmother and had been stored away somewhere in the house in town. But I remember sitting on the screened back porch on the farm turning the handle and waiting for the butter to coagulate.
We always had names for the cows and calves. One really superb cow was called Susan —like Dairy Maid an offspring of Brownie by a neighbor’ brown Swiss bull. Then there were the twin calves John Deere and Farmall and such other calves as Edna St. Vincent Millay. Quite a few of the calves were sold for meat and never made it to the milking stage. Of course about half were bull calves.
Sometime after I left the farm for good there was an accident and most of the cows did not survive. Adjacent to the barnyard where the cows roamed freely was the old granary and at one time there were soybeans stored in the side facing the barnyard. The granary was old and decrepit and it developed a leak so that soybeans were spilled into the barnyard. The cows ate them to excess and I guess their digestive systems couldn’t handle the rich fare. My impression was that this accident sort of ended keeping more than just a cow or two to keep a supply of milk for the family.
I’ve often thought about the standards of cleanliness when we were milking cows and selling cream. It certainly wasn’t at a level that would be tolerated nowadays. We would only wash the cows’ udders before milking if they really needed it and I remember seeing little bits of straw etc. floating in the milk before it was strained. Actually with proper cleanliness sit shouldn’t be necessary to strain the milk at all but it was part of the procedure all the time we had a cow or cows, from the time we lived in Gowrie on through the days on the farm.
At least some of the pigs to which the skim milk was fes received names and in particular I recall one old sow whom we called Dracula. I remember her getting loose from the pig pen and the chase to get her corralled again. I suppose that some of these pigs were slaughtered for family use, but I remember only one specific case. Uncle Carl did the butchering. I steered clear of the whole operation because of my innate squeamishness at the sight of blood. I think I was supposed to assist but I just sort of drifted off and as there appeared to be sufficient help from other persons I wasn’t looked for.
I think my friend John Woodard was present (his uncle Will Lines was also there) and John described to me afterward in somewhat graphic terms what had transpired. I was glad that I had not been on the scene. On this occasion I can’t recall my mother canning meat or making salt pork as she had done once in the little brown house (I suppose when the Depression had really affected the family). But it was a time for making such meat items as gryn with the availability of pig’s liver.
I have the impression that the slaughter of a pig periodically was probably the practice in the Peterson household as my mother was growing up. But I also have the impression that the slaughter of a steer was not done though I’m sure that other farmers in the community did. I don’t know for sure though if my impression was correct or not.
Originally there were four or more, starting after we moved to the farm, as sort of a supplemental source of income for the family (i.e. from the sale of cream). We had had a cow at the little brown house and she (Spotty) along with the cow uncle Carl had (Brownie, mostly Swiss with some admixture) formed the nucleus of the herd.
Spotty was a Holstein. Other cows were acquired either by calving or purchase. Among the more distinctive cows were Dairy Maid (a daughter of Brownie, by one of the neighbor’s Swiss bulls), Buttercup (a purchased Jersey) and Ruby, sort of scruffy cow of nondescript parentage.
Cows are relatively fractious creatures, at least the ones we milked were, and the use of a kicking chain was fairly common. Brownie and Dairy Maid were most likely to kick when being milked but for me it was only Spotty who ever got her back foot into the milk pail.
Several years ago at an antique show at the Medford armory I spotted an old rusty kicking chain. Since it was priced at only $2 I bought it and I think I gave it to Vincent as a joke. I’m sure he appreciated it.
To get the cream required a cream separator and uncle Carl bought an old small-sized De Laval cream separator. After the milk was strained it was run through the separator (which was operated manually and the cream was accumulated in a 5-gallon cream can. About twice a week this was lugged out to the side of the road where it was picked up by the cream hauler and taken to the creamery in Gowrie. There were two cream routes, one of which was run by Vernoon Telleen, a member of my high school class and who grew up on a farm about a quarter of a mile to the east of the Peterson farm.
For payment for the cream we received butter plus cash for the remainder. Butter was of course a much used staple in our house. The skim milk went several ways, the most of it going to feed one or two hogs (also purchased by uncle Carl for that purpose). My mother used to make cottage cheese, whether it was from skim milk or whole milk I don’t recall. On occasion we would churn some butter by hand — whether this was when there was not enough cream to warrant a stop buy the cream hauler or not I don’t remember. I also don’t know where the hand church came from — it just arrived on the scene. I’m sure my mother did not have it, perhaps it had been used by my grandmother and had been stored away somewhere in the house in town. But I remember sitting on the screened back porch on the farm turning the handle and waiting for the butter to coagulate.
We always had names for the cows and calves. One really superb cow was called Susan —like Dairy Maid an offspring of Brownie by a neighbor’ brown Swiss bull. Then there were the twin calves John Deere and Farmall and such other calves as Edna St. Vincent Millay. Quite a few of the calves were sold for meat and never made it to the milking stage. Of course about half were bull calves.
Sometime after I left the farm for good there was an accident and most of the cows did not survive. Adjacent to the barnyard where the cows roamed freely was the old granary and at one time there were soybeans stored in the side facing the barnyard. The granary was old and decrepit and it developed a leak so that soybeans were spilled into the barnyard. The cows ate them to excess and I guess their digestive systems couldn’t handle the rich fare. My impression was that this accident sort of ended keeping more than just a cow or two to keep a supply of milk for the family.
I’ve often thought about the standards of cleanliness when we were milking cows and selling cream. It certainly wasn’t at a level that would be tolerated nowadays. We would only wash the cows’ udders before milking if they really needed it and I remember seeing little bits of straw etc. floating in the milk before it was strained. Actually with proper cleanliness sit shouldn’t be necessary to strain the milk at all but it was part of the procedure all the time we had a cow or cows, from the time we lived in Gowrie on through the days on the farm.
At least some of the pigs to which the skim milk was fes received names and in particular I recall one old sow whom we called Dracula. I remember her getting loose from the pig pen and the chase to get her corralled again. I suppose that some of these pigs were slaughtered for family use, but I remember only one specific case. Uncle Carl did the butchering. I steered clear of the whole operation because of my innate squeamishness at the sight of blood. I think I was supposed to assist but I just sort of drifted off and as there appeared to be sufficient help from other persons I wasn’t looked for.
I think my friend John Woodard was present (his uncle Will Lines was also there) and John described to me afterward in somewhat graphic terms what had transpired. I was glad that I had not been on the scene. On this occasion I can’t recall my mother canning meat or making salt pork as she had done once in the little brown house (I suppose when the Depression had really affected the family). But it was a time for making such meat items as gryn with the availability of pig’s liver.
I have the impression that the slaughter of a pig periodically was probably the practice in the Peterson household as my mother was growing up. But I also have the impression that the slaughter of a steer was not done though I’m sure that other farmers in the community did. I don’t know for sure though if my impression was correct or not.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
College Graduation
The summer I spent at Iowa in 1942 finishing up my college career was like Fort Dodge JC days some of the more pleasant times I spent at school. During summer school there were fewer students around and generally there was a more relaxed tempo on the part of the instructors etc. Added to this feeling was the situation as to my immediate future which was more or less fixed at that point as to its course. So I “could live for the day” as it were.
Summertime in Iowa City was much like it was in Webster county with warm days, thundershowers, and the inimitable feel of a countryside lush with green vegetation, abounding with the sounds of insects and the songs of meadowlarks (though the latter were seldom encountered in a city environment).
The courses I took were to complete such long-delayed requirements as the first semester of physical chemistry, but I also had a math course in differential equations and a course in meteorology (both of which were replacements for various beginning engineering courses I had missed out on). The latter two were chosen on my personal predilections largely — the course of meteorology I’d selected since at the time I had not made a firm commitment between Shell and the navy.
So I came to the end of my school days. Graduation was at the end of July and my parents came to Iowa City for the event. Vincent came along but I think I was not able to get him a ticket. I have the feeling that he had to sit out the hour or so outside the hall in Memorial Union where the graduation exercises were held. After the event we drove back to the farm, along with my belongings — we must have arrived rather late. Vincent drove; my father had developed one of his sick headaches.
I’ve been back to Iowa City perhaps three or four times since, most recently I think in the year of Laurel and Mike’s wedding in 1985. As I’ve mentioned earlier the campus had changed, becoming more congested and to me at least a less lovely place. Next year will be the 50th anniversary of my graduation. I doubt I’ll make the effort to attend. I never established close relations with any of my classmates — perhaps the closest was Dwight Johnston, but this relationship developed not at Iowa but in later years at Shell. This may have been the result of my having spent my first two years at Fort Dodge junior college.
The professors and instructors I knew are probably mostly dead by now and such colorful figures as old Doc Raiford, the organic chemistry prof, exist only in my memory now. Dr. Arnold with his acerbic personality eventually came into conflict with the administration at Iowa and left. He actually moved to Albany, California (near to El Cerrito) and purchased a home there. He worked for Chevron for awhile but after that was apparently unemployed. There must have been some personality defect or quirk that kept him from getting along with people and society in general. It was sad since after I got used to him I thought he was a very good teacher. His marriage fell apart and eventually he was divorced — I don’t know where the family went, there were several children — but Arnold stayed on in Albany.
Somewhere along the line, shortly after his family arrived in California I had a Christmas card from them — really a nice, interesting looking family. Anyway he would probably be the only teacher still to be alive to be at the reunion (and from his experience not likely to be) and he would be the only one I would still be interested in seeing.
I receive from time to time a publication put out by the Iowa engineering department, and I’ve noticed from time to time the obituary of some professor or instructor I had. Not long ago there was an article about Mary Sheedy — a longtime departmental secretary and general factotum. Even when I was in school she was a fixture, and regarded by students and faculty alike with fondness. By now I’d suppose she would be approaching 90 years of age, but the article described her as still alert and active.
Summertime in Iowa City was much like it was in Webster county with warm days, thundershowers, and the inimitable feel of a countryside lush with green vegetation, abounding with the sounds of insects and the songs of meadowlarks (though the latter were seldom encountered in a city environment).
The courses I took were to complete such long-delayed requirements as the first semester of physical chemistry, but I also had a math course in differential equations and a course in meteorology (both of which were replacements for various beginning engineering courses I had missed out on). The latter two were chosen on my personal predilections largely — the course of meteorology I’d selected since at the time I had not made a firm commitment between Shell and the navy.
So I came to the end of my school days. Graduation was at the end of July and my parents came to Iowa City for the event. Vincent came along but I think I was not able to get him a ticket. I have the feeling that he had to sit out the hour or so outside the hall in Memorial Union where the graduation exercises were held. After the event we drove back to the farm, along with my belongings — we must have arrived rather late. Vincent drove; my father had developed one of his sick headaches.
I’ve been back to Iowa City perhaps three or four times since, most recently I think in the year of Laurel and Mike’s wedding in 1985. As I’ve mentioned earlier the campus had changed, becoming more congested and to me at least a less lovely place. Next year will be the 50th anniversary of my graduation. I doubt I’ll make the effort to attend. I never established close relations with any of my classmates — perhaps the closest was Dwight Johnston, but this relationship developed not at Iowa but in later years at Shell. This may have been the result of my having spent my first two years at Fort Dodge junior college.
The professors and instructors I knew are probably mostly dead by now and such colorful figures as old Doc Raiford, the organic chemistry prof, exist only in my memory now. Dr. Arnold with his acerbic personality eventually came into conflict with the administration at Iowa and left. He actually moved to Albany, California (near to El Cerrito) and purchased a home there. He worked for Chevron for awhile but after that was apparently unemployed. There must have been some personality defect or quirk that kept him from getting along with people and society in general. It was sad since after I got used to him I thought he was a very good teacher. His marriage fell apart and eventually he was divorced — I don’t know where the family went, there were several children — but Arnold stayed on in Albany.
Somewhere along the line, shortly after his family arrived in California I had a Christmas card from them — really a nice, interesting looking family. Anyway he would probably be the only teacher still to be alive to be at the reunion (and from his experience not likely to be) and he would be the only one I would still be interested in seeing.
I receive from time to time a publication put out by the Iowa engineering department, and I’ve noticed from time to time the obituary of some professor or instructor I had. Not long ago there was an article about Mary Sheedy — a longtime departmental secretary and general factotum. Even when I was in school she was a fixture, and regarded by students and faculty alike with fondness. By now I’d suppose she would be approaching 90 years of age, but the article described her as still alert and active.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
A Fork in the Road
During the late winter or early spring of my second year at the university, the Shell company came to the university on a recruiting trip. At that time my plan was still to take another complete year at Iowa to complete the requirements for my degree (picking up various introductory freshman and sophomore courses that I had missed), so I did not expect to be looking for work for a year or more.
Perhaps it was Dr. Arnold who suggested that I schedule an appointment and interview with the Shell representative. At any rate I did sign up for an interview and it went very well indeed. This was partly happenstance as the course in chemical engineering principles I was taking at the time happened to had fractionation as an upcoming subject. For some reason I had read ahead so I was, as it were, primed on a unit operation of major importance to any oil company.
The interview did drift to distillation and mostly I was prepared for the questions that were posed. There were two questions that I was relatively unprepared for — one was as to the technique for measuring equilibrium data and my spur of the moment reasoning was satisfactory; the other question was on tray efficiency and when I was asked what tray efficiency I would suggest, I demurred saying that a selection depended too much on the particular service (certainly true). When pressed for a number I said 50% which at that time was an often used value.
In retrospect I think this was a key point in the interview and I suspect at that point the interviewer (a Dr. Millar) had made up his mind to offer me a job. He sort of leaned back as if to say I’m satisfied as to this student. There were two men on the interview team and at this point the second man (a Dr. Vaughan) took over and from that point on the interview was mostly a sales pitch, describing the research establishment at Emeryville.
I received a job offer several days later via a telegram (which I still have somewhere) and (I think) after a discussion with Dr. Arnold decided to accept, noting that it might be over a year before I would appear in California. Actually since the exigency of the draft situation grew steadily more pressing, I decided to go to school the following summer so as to graduate a half year (or more) early. This decision involved getting the university to accept various junior college credits (such as European history which I took the second year I was there) in place of some freshman and sophomore engineering courses (like surveying). The university seemed to accept this quite readily — I suppose it had been urged to speed up their instructional schedule.
I don’t recall if it was prior to the Shell interview, I guess it must have been, that I had been accepted for summer employment with General Electric in Rochester, New York. My memory on this is rather uncertain, I think that was the case but I’m not absolutely sure. GE had quite regularly hired some of the undergraduate Iowa engineers for such employment. Or whether I just intended to apply. This never developed when I decided to go to summer school so I could finish my schooling sooner.
Later on I also explored the possibility of enlisting in the U.S. navy in a meteorological program they were offering. I would have gone in as the lowest officer rank (ensign). I would have gone through a training program. I had the paperwork done but I never submitted it. Had I gone ahead and been accepted for this I don’t know for sure what I would have done. I mentioned the possibility to Dr. Arnold and I can still see him in his office in the chemistry building, stout as he was and projecting sort of an aggressive stance and hear him saying “What would you want to do that for?”
It like the chance interview with Shell, was one of the key moments in my life, since I’m quite sure that Arnold’s comment steered me toward going with Shell. My life would certainly have been different had I gone in the navy. I would have probably ended up in the Pacific theater of operations and been involved in some of the naval encounters there. Maybe I would not have survived. Had I come through the war, would I have used the G.I. bill to get an advanced degree in engineering, or would I have retreated to farming in Iowa? Who knows?
Perhaps it was Dr. Arnold who suggested that I schedule an appointment and interview with the Shell representative. At any rate I did sign up for an interview and it went very well indeed. This was partly happenstance as the course in chemical engineering principles I was taking at the time happened to had fractionation as an upcoming subject. For some reason I had read ahead so I was, as it were, primed on a unit operation of major importance to any oil company.
The interview did drift to distillation and mostly I was prepared for the questions that were posed. There were two questions that I was relatively unprepared for — one was as to the technique for measuring equilibrium data and my spur of the moment reasoning was satisfactory; the other question was on tray efficiency and when I was asked what tray efficiency I would suggest, I demurred saying that a selection depended too much on the particular service (certainly true). When pressed for a number I said 50% which at that time was an often used value.
In retrospect I think this was a key point in the interview and I suspect at that point the interviewer (a Dr. Millar) had made up his mind to offer me a job. He sort of leaned back as if to say I’m satisfied as to this student. There were two men on the interview team and at this point the second man (a Dr. Vaughan) took over and from that point on the interview was mostly a sales pitch, describing the research establishment at Emeryville.
I received a job offer several days later via a telegram (which I still have somewhere) and (I think) after a discussion with Dr. Arnold decided to accept, noting that it might be over a year before I would appear in California. Actually since the exigency of the draft situation grew steadily more pressing, I decided to go to school the following summer so as to graduate a half year (or more) early. This decision involved getting the university to accept various junior college credits (such as European history which I took the second year I was there) in place of some freshman and sophomore engineering courses (like surveying). The university seemed to accept this quite readily — I suppose it had been urged to speed up their instructional schedule.
I don’t recall if it was prior to the Shell interview, I guess it must have been, that I had been accepted for summer employment with General Electric in Rochester, New York. My memory on this is rather uncertain, I think that was the case but I’m not absolutely sure. GE had quite regularly hired some of the undergraduate Iowa engineers for such employment. Or whether I just intended to apply. This never developed when I decided to go to summer school so I could finish my schooling sooner.
Later on I also explored the possibility of enlisting in the U.S. navy in a meteorological program they were offering. I would have gone in as the lowest officer rank (ensign). I would have gone through a training program. I had the paperwork done but I never submitted it. Had I gone ahead and been accepted for this I don’t know for sure what I would have done. I mentioned the possibility to Dr. Arnold and I can still see him in his office in the chemistry building, stout as he was and projecting sort of an aggressive stance and hear him saying “What would you want to do that for?”
It like the chance interview with Shell, was one of the key moments in my life, since I’m quite sure that Arnold’s comment steered me toward going with Shell. My life would certainly have been different had I gone in the navy. I would have probably ended up in the Pacific theater of operations and been involved in some of the naval encounters there. Maybe I would not have survived. Had I come through the war, would I have used the G.I. bill to get an advanced degree in engineering, or would I have retreated to farming in Iowa? Who knows?
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
More College Memories
I have some very vivid memories from my days at the university. One of these was being in the cafeteria line at the Quadrangle on Pearl Harbor day — it must have been at lunch time, although normally I’d have my one large cafeteria meal in the evening. I overheard some other people in the line talking about the attack, and the locale at the time remains etched in my memory.
It wasn’t long after that that the Quadrangle was commandeered and Robert and I found lodgings with this elderly lady who had a house east of the capitol on Iowa Avenue. We found a small restaurant close to the university, also on Iowa Avenue, that we tended to frequent for meals — a dinner was priced at about 25 cents as I seem to recall.
Another memory is of the time I had walked from the Quadrangle in the morning to my classes in the chemistry building (which also contained the chemical engineering department). The day had started out somewhat cloudy and the temperature was quite mild. But when I walked back to the Quadrangle at noon there was an icy wind from the west and the walk across the foot bridge over the Iowa river was cold indeed. I had not dressed for the change in the weather.
This was the memorable Armistice Day blizzard in Iowa. Back at Gowrie a large number of turkeys froze in the storm and a neighbor of my parents obtained some of the turkey which I guess were edible. This neighbor gave my mother some of the turkey meat — whether my mother used it or not I can’t really recall. Certainly if she used it it would have been with some reluctance; turkey to my recollection had never been used by the family (chicken was the Christmas and Thanksgiving staple). This unfamiliarity coupled with the source would have been major drawbacks to its use.
The lady who provided the turkey to my mother was Mrs. Voss. The Voss family were renting the small house that Annie and Will Lines had used until Annie took over the farming of the old Woodard place and the family moved to the larger house there. Mrs. Voss I seem to remember was an amiable, reasonably normal woman. Her husband was a rather backward individual and I think he worked mostly as a common laborer. I believe they also had a daughter.
During my second year at Iowa I was invited to join Tau Beta Pi, the scholastic engineering fraternity and Phi Lambda Upsilon, for chemistry. The initiation cost was $25 for Tau Beta Pi and $15 for Phi Lambda Upsilon and at first I was reluctant to spend this sum for either. When I conveyed my reluctance to the local president of Tau Beta Pi he responded that some arrangement could be made to accommodate my lack of ready funds. In the end I found the funds to join both fraternities. I think my father may have helped out.
The engineering society had an all-night initiation ceremony which included answering engineering type questions from members of the group and carving out the society symbol from a block of soft white pine, using only a pen knife. I can recall lugging along my technical books to the initiation and wearily carting them back to the Quadrangle in the early morning hours.
The procedure for the chemistry group was much simpler and stylized. I still have the wooden symbols we initiates had to make for both societies someplace, as well as the jeweled symbols (suitable for a tie chain, watch fob, etc.). I haven’t worn them for years and they are presently in the safe deposit box, along with my two pocket watches and the Shell anniversary pins. Two of the latter (the 10- and 15-year pins) Jean had had converted into cuff links but these were lost when our car was stolen in Golden Gate park in 1978. But the 20-, 25-, and 30-year pins are still there. After the theft I investigated with Shell if I could replace them, but the design had changed in the meantime and I decided against it.
One of the satisfactions I have had in later years is that both Muriel and Palma were asked to be members of Tau Beta Pi. Some years ago I was approached by Tau Beta Pi to contribute to their scholarship fund and have done so since. I had had no contact with them over the intervening years.
It wasn’t long after that that the Quadrangle was commandeered and Robert and I found lodgings with this elderly lady who had a house east of the capitol on Iowa Avenue. We found a small restaurant close to the university, also on Iowa Avenue, that we tended to frequent for meals — a dinner was priced at about 25 cents as I seem to recall.
Another memory is of the time I had walked from the Quadrangle in the morning to my classes in the chemistry building (which also contained the chemical engineering department). The day had started out somewhat cloudy and the temperature was quite mild. But when I walked back to the Quadrangle at noon there was an icy wind from the west and the walk across the foot bridge over the Iowa river was cold indeed. I had not dressed for the change in the weather.
This was the memorable Armistice Day blizzard in Iowa. Back at Gowrie a large number of turkeys froze in the storm and a neighbor of my parents obtained some of the turkey which I guess were edible. This neighbor gave my mother some of the turkey meat — whether my mother used it or not I can’t really recall. Certainly if she used it it would have been with some reluctance; turkey to my recollection had never been used by the family (chicken was the Christmas and Thanksgiving staple). This unfamiliarity coupled with the source would have been major drawbacks to its use.
The lady who provided the turkey to my mother was Mrs. Voss. The Voss family were renting the small house that Annie and Will Lines had used until Annie took over the farming of the old Woodard place and the family moved to the larger house there. Mrs. Voss I seem to remember was an amiable, reasonably normal woman. Her husband was a rather backward individual and I think he worked mostly as a common laborer. I believe they also had a daughter.
During my second year at Iowa I was invited to join Tau Beta Pi, the scholastic engineering fraternity and Phi Lambda Upsilon, for chemistry. The initiation cost was $25 for Tau Beta Pi and $15 for Phi Lambda Upsilon and at first I was reluctant to spend this sum for either. When I conveyed my reluctance to the local president of Tau Beta Pi he responded that some arrangement could be made to accommodate my lack of ready funds. In the end I found the funds to join both fraternities. I think my father may have helped out.
The engineering society had an all-night initiation ceremony which included answering engineering type questions from members of the group and carving out the society symbol from a block of soft white pine, using only a pen knife. I can recall lugging along my technical books to the initiation and wearily carting them back to the Quadrangle in the early morning hours.
The procedure for the chemistry group was much simpler and stylized. I still have the wooden symbols we initiates had to make for both societies someplace, as well as the jeweled symbols (suitable for a tie chain, watch fob, etc.). I haven’t worn them for years and they are presently in the safe deposit box, along with my two pocket watches and the Shell anniversary pins. Two of the latter (the 10- and 15-year pins) Jean had had converted into cuff links but these were lost when our car was stolen in Golden Gate park in 1978. But the 20-, 25-, and 30-year pins are still there. After the theft I investigated with Shell if I could replace them, but the design had changed in the meantime and I decided against it.
One of the satisfactions I have had in later years is that both Muriel and Palma were asked to be members of Tau Beta Pi. Some years ago I was approached by Tau Beta Pi to contribute to their scholarship fund and have done so since. I had had no contact with them over the intervening years.
Monday, March 19, 2012
College Memories
Rooming at the Quadrangle were a couple of transfer students from Fort Dodge Junior College. Though I had not known them well then (both were headed toward the business school at Iowa) I spent a fair amount of my leisure time with them. James Cross and Robert Lloyd, I wonder what happened to them. I completely lost contact with the, once I finished at Iowa.
The second year I roomed with Robert, first at the Quadrangle until the military took over the buildings and later on in a private home on Iowa Avenue. After Pearl Harbor, the navy took over the Quadrangle on which it had some prior claim and the residents all had to locate other lodgings.
My second year at Iowa was easier for me financially as I secured work at the power plant running water analyses. Actually I had lined up a summer job between my two years at Iowa, working at the hospital run by the university — I think it would have provided me with room and board during the school year without any further work. But my mother talked me into spending that summer at home on the farm.
When I applied for work at the power plant, the school employment was a little unhappy that I had backed out of the summer job but in the end it was overlooked. I was paid by the hour and I guess I averaged $25/month or so. For me it was more than ample to eat on and I think it covered my room rent and it covered incidental needs.
During the two years I was at Iowa I continued to attend church regularly — the church I attended was at some distance on the other side of the river from the Quadrangle, so it was a long hike for me. In addition to the Sunday morning service, I usually attended a youth meeting on Sunday evenings. This, plus te contacts with my acquaintances from FDJC constituted for the most part my social contacts.
During my first year at Iowa, purchase (as a student) of tickets for athletic events, plays, etc. was optional and so I did not go to them. The second year there was an added charge to the tuition for these that was mandatory and I guess I went to most of these events although I have little recollection of any of them.
During my two years at Iowa the campus seemed quite open, with large vistas between the buildings, particularly on the west side of the river. Indeed between the Quadrangle and the athletic facilities (fieldhouse, stadium, etc.) there was a broad, totally unoccupied field.
Ensuing years have brought a mushrooming of hospital buildings on the west side, near the Quadrangle. The whole area now seems quite cluttered to me, on the few ties I have been back since my graduation. There is less of this feel on the east side with the spacing around the old capitol and the four adjoining buildings has been largely preserved. But here the business section seems much more congested and even rundown than when I was a student. While I was at Iowa the enrollment was 7,000; I suppose it is double that now.
The second year I roomed with Robert, first at the Quadrangle until the military took over the buildings and later on in a private home on Iowa Avenue. After Pearl Harbor, the navy took over the Quadrangle on which it had some prior claim and the residents all had to locate other lodgings.
My second year at Iowa was easier for me financially as I secured work at the power plant running water analyses. Actually I had lined up a summer job between my two years at Iowa, working at the hospital run by the university — I think it would have provided me with room and board during the school year without any further work. But my mother talked me into spending that summer at home on the farm.
When I applied for work at the power plant, the school employment was a little unhappy that I had backed out of the summer job but in the end it was overlooked. I was paid by the hour and I guess I averaged $25/month or so. For me it was more than ample to eat on and I think it covered my room rent and it covered incidental needs.
During the two years I was at Iowa I continued to attend church regularly — the church I attended was at some distance on the other side of the river from the Quadrangle, so it was a long hike for me. In addition to the Sunday morning service, I usually attended a youth meeting on Sunday evenings. This, plus te contacts with my acquaintances from FDJC constituted for the most part my social contacts.
During my first year at Iowa, purchase (as a student) of tickets for athletic events, plays, etc. was optional and so I did not go to them. The second year there was an added charge to the tuition for these that was mandatory and I guess I went to most of these events although I have little recollection of any of them.
During my two years at Iowa the campus seemed quite open, with large vistas between the buildings, particularly on the west side of the river. Indeed between the Quadrangle and the athletic facilities (fieldhouse, stadium, etc.) there was a broad, totally unoccupied field.
Ensuing years have brought a mushrooming of hospital buildings on the west side, near the Quadrangle. The whole area now seems quite cluttered to me, on the few ties I have been back since my graduation. There is less of this feel on the east side with the spacing around the old capitol and the four adjoining buildings has been largely preserved. But here the business section seems much more congested and even rundown than when I was a student. While I was at Iowa the enrollment was 7,000; I suppose it is double that now.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Junior Year at the University of Iowa
My first year at the university was probably the least satisfying of my school years. I had never been away from my parental home for any lengthy period of time, and being in an unfamiliar environment without the family and community contacts that I was accustomed to made me rather homesick at times. I was certainly in contact via letters etc. which helped a lot. Also I would send my laundry home for my mother to do, and with its return she would invariably include some cookies or other goodies. This practice of mailing laundry home was a rather usual one for the students — one could purchase a reusable fabric-covered box for the purpose (as I recall at one of the school supply stores east of the college).
I lived the first year at the Quadrangle dormitory which was on the west side of the Iowa river that ran through the campus. Most of the classes (all of mine) were in buildings on the east side of the river, so there was a regular series of walks each day between the dorm and my classes. The Quadrangle had been constructed by the Navy for use by the military in World War I and was the older of the two men’s dorms. The newer one, Hillcrest, was more expensive to stay in.
During my first year I had a single room — I guess I was hesitant about getting a roommate “out of the blue.” I ate at the Quadrangle cafeteria — having a good-sized dinner and then eating sandwiches in my room for breakfast and lunch. You were not supposed to eat in your room but students, such as I, who were on a restricted budget, did.
For meals and food I paid cash from the checks I cashed at the cafeteria cashier, drawn on my father’s account. I think my father used my savings from the work I did for my uncle Carl during summers etc. to offset these checks. I was never really sure as to what he did, but the bonds or whatever form the savings were in had disappeared by the time I finished school so I guess that is what came of them. It’s curious I suppose but I never felt like asking him about the situation.
A couple of times when I needed money, as for transportation home at Christmas, I tried cashing a chec at one of the banks in Iowa City and was rebuffed. I don’t know what I finally did, perhaps went back and tried the cafeteria cashier.
I sort of recall going through the registration process the first time, and since I was transferring in with an odd assortment of credits my schedule was really a makeshift one and included such courses as freshman drawing and various junior courses in chemical engineering. I remember meeting crusty old Dr. Olin for the first time. He was the chairman of the department of chemical engineering. In his day I’m sure he was quite competent in his field but he was in my opinion well past his prime at the time,
As sort of a sideline he was in charge of the coal lab which did analyses on the coal that the university used in the power plant and he had spent a good part of his career in coal-related projects. When I say he was in charge of the coal lab, I do not mean day-to-day operation, but as its nominal head.
Several of the students doing the analyses later turned up as Shell employees — Ed Fisch and Mel Oldfather. Actually Mel was a graduated student and the individual in practical charge. Dr. Olin was a good acquaintance of one Sydney Kirkpatrick, who was editor of the magazine Chemical Engineering. So he used this magazine quite a bit in the Chemical Industries class he taught. Even then this magazine, though historically important in the field, was rapidly taking a back seat to the publications that the American Institute of Chemical Engineers and other engineering societies were publishing and Dr. Olin did not realize what was happening.
The real intellectual power in the department was Dr. Arnold, in his way another odd person, who was technically competent but flawed as to temperament in personal relations. He had a broader outlook on how engineering departments in industry functioned.
In a way I was amused by Dr. Olin’s opinion of me. In his Chemical Industries class I got a “B” ad his demeanor to me reflected this level of scholastic standing. His attitude changed subtly but markedly when I received an “A” in Arnold’s Industrial Stoichiometry class — which required much more in the way of calculation and analysis than did the Chemical Industries class which was largely descriptive in nature.
Because my first semester schedule was sort of odd, there was an oversight and the first semester of physical chemistry was somehow not included when it should have been. But when I registered for the second semester I took the second semester of physical chemistry out of order.
I enjoyed engineering drawing, perhaps it was the genesis of my later drawing and painting skills. I also had first-year German — not my favorite class — though the teacher was an interesting figure.
I lived the first year at the Quadrangle dormitory which was on the west side of the Iowa river that ran through the campus. Most of the classes (all of mine) were in buildings on the east side of the river, so there was a regular series of walks each day between the dorm and my classes. The Quadrangle had been constructed by the Navy for use by the military in World War I and was the older of the two men’s dorms. The newer one, Hillcrest, was more expensive to stay in.
During my first year I had a single room — I guess I was hesitant about getting a roommate “out of the blue.” I ate at the Quadrangle cafeteria — having a good-sized dinner and then eating sandwiches in my room for breakfast and lunch. You were not supposed to eat in your room but students, such as I, who were on a restricted budget, did.
For meals and food I paid cash from the checks I cashed at the cafeteria cashier, drawn on my father’s account. I think my father used my savings from the work I did for my uncle Carl during summers etc. to offset these checks. I was never really sure as to what he did, but the bonds or whatever form the savings were in had disappeared by the time I finished school so I guess that is what came of them. It’s curious I suppose but I never felt like asking him about the situation.
A couple of times when I needed money, as for transportation home at Christmas, I tried cashing a chec at one of the banks in Iowa City and was rebuffed. I don’t know what I finally did, perhaps went back and tried the cafeteria cashier.
I sort of recall going through the registration process the first time, and since I was transferring in with an odd assortment of credits my schedule was really a makeshift one and included such courses as freshman drawing and various junior courses in chemical engineering. I remember meeting crusty old Dr. Olin for the first time. He was the chairman of the department of chemical engineering. In his day I’m sure he was quite competent in his field but he was in my opinion well past his prime at the time,
As sort of a sideline he was in charge of the coal lab which did analyses on the coal that the university used in the power plant and he had spent a good part of his career in coal-related projects. When I say he was in charge of the coal lab, I do not mean day-to-day operation, but as its nominal head.
Several of the students doing the analyses later turned up as Shell employees — Ed Fisch and Mel Oldfather. Actually Mel was a graduated student and the individual in practical charge. Dr. Olin was a good acquaintance of one Sydney Kirkpatrick, who was editor of the magazine Chemical Engineering. So he used this magazine quite a bit in the Chemical Industries class he taught. Even then this magazine, though historically important in the field, was rapidly taking a back seat to the publications that the American Institute of Chemical Engineers and other engineering societies were publishing and Dr. Olin did not realize what was happening.
The real intellectual power in the department was Dr. Arnold, in his way another odd person, who was technically competent but flawed as to temperament in personal relations. He had a broader outlook on how engineering departments in industry functioned.
In a way I was amused by Dr. Olin’s opinion of me. In his Chemical Industries class I got a “B” ad his demeanor to me reflected this level of scholastic standing. His attitude changed subtly but markedly when I received an “A” in Arnold’s Industrial Stoichiometry class — which required much more in the way of calculation and analysis than did the Chemical Industries class which was largely descriptive in nature.
Because my first semester schedule was sort of odd, there was an oversight and the first semester of physical chemistry was somehow not included when it should have been. But when I registered for the second semester I took the second semester of physical chemistry out of order.
I enjoyed engineering drawing, perhaps it was the genesis of my later drawing and painting skills. I also had first-year German — not my favorite class — though the teacher was an interesting figure.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
College Tuition
Since I lived at home during my two years at junior college, and had no expense for the ride to and from school each day, my expenses were quite low — being just the tuition (which was quite modest) and my books. During the first year I think my parents provided the tuition and perhaps the books. During the second year I worked under a New Deal program and I think I earned enough for the tuition.
I recall doing typing work for Harris Dickey who was the dean of the junior college staff. The college itself was an integral part of the Fort Dodge school system. Later on the county formed a community college district and I presume the college as I knew it went out of existence. It was due to Mr. Dickey I am convinced that after I finished the second year of junior college that I was awarded the small scholarship that enabled me to continue at the university of Iowa.
I had taken a course in history from Mr. Dickey so he was familiar with me from that angle also. That may have influenced his recommendation. The scholarship was specifically for the university of Iowa — for me it would have been preferable had it been applicable to Iowa State college at Ames, which was the main state-supported engineering school in the state. But the engineering department at SUI did include chemical engineering and it was accredited so it served me well.
The scholarship was $125/school year — this was sufficient tuition with a little left over. It was awarded for one year initially but was renewed for the second year (perhaps based on satisfactory scholastic performance). In later years I have been quite cognizant of the importance of the scholarship I received as to my opportunity for schooling.
Several years ago I contacted the Fort Dodge school district and ascertained that the Alice Granger Scholarship Fund still existed. I decided that what I should do to acknowledge the help I received was to contribute to the fund, for two years, an amount which was the current tuition at the university. I did this and it is one of the few contributions of this type I’ve made over the years that was really personally satisfying and meaningful to me. I have ever since the 40th anniversary of my graduation made a contribution to the engineering department at the university, perhaps motivated by the fact that Shell would more than match my contribution. I have at least that much loyalty to my alma mater.
As a result of my contributions I have been made a member of the dean’s club in the engineering department and a member of the President’s club of the university at large. Currently I receive mailings from the university to allocate part of my estate to the school but these have fallen on deaf ears as far as I am concerned. I may contribute when I am still alive but when I am dead that ends it.
I recall doing typing work for Harris Dickey who was the dean of the junior college staff. The college itself was an integral part of the Fort Dodge school system. Later on the county formed a community college district and I presume the college as I knew it went out of existence. It was due to Mr. Dickey I am convinced that after I finished the second year of junior college that I was awarded the small scholarship that enabled me to continue at the university of Iowa.
I had taken a course in history from Mr. Dickey so he was familiar with me from that angle also. That may have influenced his recommendation. The scholarship was specifically for the university of Iowa — for me it would have been preferable had it been applicable to Iowa State college at Ames, which was the main state-supported engineering school in the state. But the engineering department at SUI did include chemical engineering and it was accredited so it served me well.
The scholarship was $125/school year — this was sufficient tuition with a little left over. It was awarded for one year initially but was renewed for the second year (perhaps based on satisfactory scholastic performance). In later years I have been quite cognizant of the importance of the scholarship I received as to my opportunity for schooling.
Several years ago I contacted the Fort Dodge school district and ascertained that the Alice Granger Scholarship Fund still existed. I decided that what I should do to acknowledge the help I received was to contribute to the fund, for two years, an amount which was the current tuition at the university. I did this and it is one of the few contributions of this type I’ve made over the years that was really personally satisfying and meaningful to me. I have ever since the 40th anniversary of my graduation made a contribution to the engineering department at the university, perhaps motivated by the fact that Shell would more than match my contribution. I have at least that much loyalty to my alma mater.
As a result of my contributions I have been made a member of the dean’s club in the engineering department and a member of the President’s club of the university at large. Currently I receive mailings from the university to allocate part of my estate to the school but these have fallen on deaf ears as far as I am concerned. I may contribute when I am still alive but when I am dead that ends it.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Junior College Instructors
So I’ll turn to my college days. I think I’ve written fairly completely about my days at Fort Dodge junior college. As I look back on them, those two years were the happiest and most relaxed of my college years — particularly the second year which was just sort of a “marking time” year.
During the first year I took courses which would be fully accepted toward a engineering degree (at least at the two state-supported Iowa engineering schools). The courses included physics, English, chemistry and math (algebra, trigonometry, analytic geometry). Physics was not normally taken as a freshman course, but since it was within the capability of the Fort Dodge J.C. while such courses as engineering drawing were not, it was included.
The teachers at the junior college were sort of a mixed lot. The physics and chemistry teacher was Chapman, an able enough individual but I think sort of a frustrated man. Like my uncle Carl he had the tendency of looking down at the floor instead of at you, or at the class when he was talking — although his tendency in this regard was not as marked as my uncle’s. Chapman was a radio ham and I recall him following this hobby on occasion, using a little set he had in his classroom.
The math teacher was an elderly spinster whose teaching was weak on theory, but strong on the solute of problems. It wasn’t until years later that I grasped the reasoning behind both differential and integral calculus (she taught calculus the second year I was at the junior college).
The English teacher was Goodrich and she was better quality. Actually she had been a teacher at Iowa State University (College in those days) and had been let go because of the Depression and had found employment at the J.C.
While on the subject of teachers I should not omit the physical education instructor at Fort Dodge J.C. He was Thiele, and was customarily called behind his back “Horseface” Thiele. The origin of this sobriquet I have no idea of as his face was not horselike in character — actually he was a rather short plump man both in face and body. Phys Ed was twice a week — one session of gym and one of swimming.
I had never been subjected to swimming before and it was not an experience that I look back on with any degree of pleasure. Presumably there was some sort of test of proficiency in swimming in order to pass the course — I seem to recall that one had to traverse the pool the short way. I was able to do this by holding my breath the whole distance (I never did master the art of breathing while “swimming”). I also, as I recall kept my eyes shit whenever submerged or nearly submerged.
One big dividend from taking a second year at junior college was that I completed the two years of physical education that were required for graduation with an engineering degree, under the rather lax tutelage of Mr. Thiele — I’m sure that the phys ed department at the university would have required a much higher degree of proficiency in swimming than I ended up with.
The day we spent in gym each week was largely spent idling around, maybe shooting the basketball a little; in fact my memory of what we did to fill the time is surprisingly vague (at least compared to the swimming class). I heard later on, after I started to work in California that Mr. Thiele had suffered an early demise.
During the first year I took courses which would be fully accepted toward a engineering degree (at least at the two state-supported Iowa engineering schools). The courses included physics, English, chemistry and math (algebra, trigonometry, analytic geometry). Physics was not normally taken as a freshman course, but since it was within the capability of the Fort Dodge J.C. while such courses as engineering drawing were not, it was included.
The teachers at the junior college were sort of a mixed lot. The physics and chemistry teacher was Chapman, an able enough individual but I think sort of a frustrated man. Like my uncle Carl he had the tendency of looking down at the floor instead of at you, or at the class when he was talking — although his tendency in this regard was not as marked as my uncle’s. Chapman was a radio ham and I recall him following this hobby on occasion, using a little set he had in his classroom.
The math teacher was an elderly spinster whose teaching was weak on theory, but strong on the solute of problems. It wasn’t until years later that I grasped the reasoning behind both differential and integral calculus (she taught calculus the second year I was at the junior college).
The English teacher was Goodrich and she was better quality. Actually she had been a teacher at Iowa State University (College in those days) and had been let go because of the Depression and had found employment at the J.C.
While on the subject of teachers I should not omit the physical education instructor at Fort Dodge J.C. He was Thiele, and was customarily called behind his back “Horseface” Thiele. The origin of this sobriquet I have no idea of as his face was not horselike in character — actually he was a rather short plump man both in face and body. Phys Ed was twice a week — one session of gym and one of swimming.
I had never been subjected to swimming before and it was not an experience that I look back on with any degree of pleasure. Presumably there was some sort of test of proficiency in swimming in order to pass the course — I seem to recall that one had to traverse the pool the short way. I was able to do this by holding my breath the whole distance (I never did master the art of breathing while “swimming”). I also, as I recall kept my eyes shit whenever submerged or nearly submerged.
One big dividend from taking a second year at junior college was that I completed the two years of physical education that were required for graduation with an engineering degree, under the rather lax tutelage of Mr. Thiele — I’m sure that the phys ed department at the university would have required a much higher degree of proficiency in swimming than I ended up with.
The day we spent in gym each week was largely spent idling around, maybe shooting the basketball a little; in fact my memory of what we did to fill the time is surprisingly vague (at least compared to the swimming class). I heard later on, after I started to work in California that Mr. Thiele had suffered an early demise.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The Old Church, the New Church, and the Organ
My memory of the old church in Gowrie is rather vague. Externally it resembled a little the usual picture of a New England church structure with a high pointed spire over the front entrance to the building. The altar end of the church was at the far end from the entrance. There was a rather elaborate carved wooden decorative structure at the altar end of the sanctuary. It featured a statue of Christ, sort of as the good shepherd.
When the church was razed before the construction of the new church this was one of the parts that was preserved — I believe it was donated to some other Swedish Lutheran church that had a use for it. The pews from the old church were also kept and used in the balcony of the new church.
Structurally the old church was in rather poor condition. I recall hearing the comment of someone who participated in tearing down the balcony that the supporting structure for the balcony would not have lasted much longer. Maybe the new church prevented a collapse of the balcony with people occupying it.
As a family we typically would sit in the balcony of the old church for Sunday morning services — perhaps it was that my parents, with their brood of young children, found it easier to care for them there. In the new church the family came to use a pew on the left side of the sanctuary, fairly near the back. Mostly habit I think. Generally people would sit in the same general area Sunday after Sunday. I can still see my uncle Carl in his invariable location on the right side of the church, next to the side aisle, close to the front of the church with my grandmother and aunt Esther in the same pew but sitting toward the center of the church. Here as at meals he always kept his gaze averted. Maybe to him it was an attitude of reverence.
I have an indelible memory of Sunday morning services that consists of a warm, sunny somewhat somnolent day in the summertime. The openings at the bottom of the windows along the sides of the sanctuary would be open for circulation and the noises of summertime would come into the church. During the lulling cadence of the preacher giving the sermon, the assembled farmers, resting from a week of vigorous physical activity, would slowly nod and not a few would catch a few winks. A peaceful scene, untouched by many of the present day concerns and government and the world scene that seem so troubling. A simpler time in which the relationship between people and the elemental aspects of providing food directly for themselves and coping with the vagaries of nature was more evident and personal.
I recall the day that the cornerstone for the new church was laid. It was a Sunday, a warm pleasant summer day and the service was held (I suppose) on the newly complete rough flooring for the sanctuary. About the only thing I remember of the proceedings was that an offering toward the cost of the new edifice was received. Doubtless only a small increment toward the cost which at the time was $75,000.
When the church was completed there was still a substantial indebtedness — the figure of $20,000 sticks in my mind. This was paid off with difficulty in the ensuing Depression years. As their contribution to the new building the Ladies Aid took on the cost of the new organ some $10,000. They had paid this off considerably before the debt for the church structure was finally retired. My mother used to comment that the ladies of the church did what they had agreed to do before the men did. The organ was really a superb instrument. I recall at the dedication the individual who supervised the installation played Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in [D]? minor. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FXoyr_FyFw I’d never heard it before and it attracted me at the time as much as it has on later occasions.
While I am on the subject of the church organ I must note an incident that occurred in the old church. At some Sunday morning service the power went off so the organ wouldn’t operate. Apparently there was an alternate method for operating the bellows — a manual one. My uncle Carl went up to the front of the church, opened and went through a small door to the left side of the organ (the keyboard side faced the congregation) and operated the bellows by hand, permitting the organ music and the service to proceed as scheduled. How he happened to know about this I don’t know. Since my Ruth was the organist he may have been aware of it because of that. Although he never had any position as deacon or trustee in later years, he may have had duties as a trustee at some earlier time and could have know about it from that time.
I’m sure that there are memories about church doing that I have not mentioned. Maybe as I reread what I’ve written they will surface and I’ll write about them.
When the church was razed before the construction of the new church this was one of the parts that was preserved — I believe it was donated to some other Swedish Lutheran church that had a use for it. The pews from the old church were also kept and used in the balcony of the new church.
Structurally the old church was in rather poor condition. I recall hearing the comment of someone who participated in tearing down the balcony that the supporting structure for the balcony would not have lasted much longer. Maybe the new church prevented a collapse of the balcony with people occupying it.
As a family we typically would sit in the balcony of the old church for Sunday morning services — perhaps it was that my parents, with their brood of young children, found it easier to care for them there. In the new church the family came to use a pew on the left side of the sanctuary, fairly near the back. Mostly habit I think. Generally people would sit in the same general area Sunday after Sunday. I can still see my uncle Carl in his invariable location on the right side of the church, next to the side aisle, close to the front of the church with my grandmother and aunt Esther in the same pew but sitting toward the center of the church. Here as at meals he always kept his gaze averted. Maybe to him it was an attitude of reverence.
I have an indelible memory of Sunday morning services that consists of a warm, sunny somewhat somnolent day in the summertime. The openings at the bottom of the windows along the sides of the sanctuary would be open for circulation and the noises of summertime would come into the church. During the lulling cadence of the preacher giving the sermon, the assembled farmers, resting from a week of vigorous physical activity, would slowly nod and not a few would catch a few winks. A peaceful scene, untouched by many of the present day concerns and government and the world scene that seem so troubling. A simpler time in which the relationship between people and the elemental aspects of providing food directly for themselves and coping with the vagaries of nature was more evident and personal.
I recall the day that the cornerstone for the new church was laid. It was a Sunday, a warm pleasant summer day and the service was held (I suppose) on the newly complete rough flooring for the sanctuary. About the only thing I remember of the proceedings was that an offering toward the cost of the new edifice was received. Doubtless only a small increment toward the cost which at the time was $75,000.
When the church was completed there was still a substantial indebtedness — the figure of $20,000 sticks in my mind. This was paid off with difficulty in the ensuing Depression years. As their contribution to the new building the Ladies Aid took on the cost of the new organ some $10,000. They had paid this off considerably before the debt for the church structure was finally retired. My mother used to comment that the ladies of the church did what they had agreed to do before the men did. The organ was really a superb instrument. I recall at the dedication the individual who supervised the installation played Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in [D]? minor. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FXoyr_FyFw I’d never heard it before and it attracted me at the time as much as it has on later occasions.
While I am on the subject of the church organ I must note an incident that occurred in the old church. At some Sunday morning service the power went off so the organ wouldn’t operate. Apparently there was an alternate method for operating the bellows — a manual one. My uncle Carl went up to the front of the church, opened and went through a small door to the left side of the organ (the keyboard side faced the congregation) and operated the bellows by hand, permitting the organ music and the service to proceed as scheduled. How he happened to know about this I don’t know. Since my Ruth was the organist he may have been aware of it because of that. Although he never had any position as deacon or trustee in later years, he may have had duties as a trustee at some earlier time and could have know about it from that time.
I’m sure that there are memories about church doing that I have not mentioned. Maybe as I reread what I’ve written they will surface and I’ll write about them.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The Swedish Language
I regret that I didn’t pick up Swedish as a second language, at least on a conversational level, as I was growing up. The various intonations have nostalgic memories for me and I still delight in hearing it spoken. The only other language that has by sound and cadence appealed to me is Spanish, but I have made no attempt to learn the language.
German was required in the curriculum for chemical engineering at the time I was at SUI. I think it was there because of the mistaken impression that the literature in that language was pertinent to the profession. It may have been at one time but when I was in school it had long since become obsolete as to the information in the field. German as I experienced it at school did not appeal to me as also did not French.
During my work at Shell I came into contact, as a matter of course, with Dutch-speaking engineers, etc. During the three months I spent in Holland in 1954 I was exposed to a fair amount of oral Dutch. I rather liked the sound of Dutch. I had a small Dutch/English dictionary which I tried to use on occasion, but since English was so well known by almost everyone that I came in contact with there was little incentive to learn any Dutch. About the only individual who wasn’t conversant in English with whom I had any regular contact during my stay in Holland was the lady who owned the place I stayed in during my assignment. With her I usually communicated via one of the other roomers who knew both languages. They were as a recall all employees of Shell.
German was required in the curriculum for chemical engineering at the time I was at SUI. I think it was there because of the mistaken impression that the literature in that language was pertinent to the profession. It may have been at one time but when I was in school it had long since become obsolete as to the information in the field. German as I experienced it at school did not appeal to me as also did not French.
During my work at Shell I came into contact, as a matter of course, with Dutch-speaking engineers, etc. During the three months I spent in Holland in 1954 I was exposed to a fair amount of oral Dutch. I rather liked the sound of Dutch. I had a small Dutch/English dictionary which I tried to use on occasion, but since English was so well known by almost everyone that I came in contact with there was little incentive to learn any Dutch. About the only individual who wasn’t conversant in English with whom I had any regular contact during my stay in Holland was the lady who owned the place I stayed in during my assignment. With her I usually communicated via one of the other roomers who knew both languages. They were as a recall all employees of Shell.
The Swedish Language
I regret that I didn’t pick up Swedish as a second language, at least on a conversational level, as I was growing up. The various intonations have nostalgic memories for me and I still delight in hearing it spoken. The only other language that has by sound and cadence appealed to me is Spanish, but I have made no attempt to learn the language.
German was required in the curriculum for chemical engineering at the time I was at SUI. I think it was there because of the mistaken impression that the literature in that language was pertinent to the profession. It may have been at one time but when I was in school it had long since become obsolete as to the information in the field. German as I experienced it at school did not appeal to me as also did not French.
During my work at Shell I cam into contact, as a matter of course, with Dutch-speaking engineers, etc. During the three months I spent in Holland in 1954 I was exposed to a fair amount of oral Dutch. I rather liked the sound of Dutch. I had a small Dutch/English dictionary which I tried to use on occasion, but since English was so well known by almost everyone that I cam in contact with there was little incentive to learn any Dutch. About the only individual who wasn’t conversant in English with whom I had any regular contact during my stay in Holland was the lady who owned the place I stayed in during my assignment. With her I usually communicated via one of the other roomers who knew both languages. They were as a recall all employees of Shell.
German was required in the curriculum for chemical engineering at the time I was at SUI. I think it was there because of the mistaken impression that the literature in that language was pertinent to the profession. It may have been at one time but when I was in school it had long since become obsolete as to the information in the field. German as I experienced it at school did not appeal to me as also did not French.
During my work at Shell I cam into contact, as a matter of course, with Dutch-speaking engineers, etc. During the three months I spent in Holland in 1954 I was exposed to a fair amount of oral Dutch. I rather liked the sound of Dutch. I had a small Dutch/English dictionary which I tried to use on occasion, but since English was so well known by almost everyone that I cam in contact with there was little incentive to learn any Dutch. About the only individual who wasn’t conversant in English with whom I had any regular contact during my stay in Holland was the lady who owned the place I stayed in during my assignment. With her I usually communicated via one of the other roomers who knew both languages. They were as a recall all employees of Shell.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Church Services
In later years the annual meeting was transformed into an evening meeting, perhaps the attendance and interest in the all-day “stemma” had declined (the latter as the older members of the congregation died off probably). I seem to recall going to one of these — it was not held in the main sanctuary of the church (as the meetings of the stemma always were) but in the social hall behind the main sanctuary (this was in the new church). The smaller hall doubtless reflected the lower level of congregational interest in the doings of the church.
I should mention that when the old church was still in use, there was a long low shed to the north of the church where rural members of the congregation arriving by horse and buggy could stable the horses during the time of the Sunday services or in the case of the stemma. I never saw it used this way but I was told about it and the use was obvious. My mother described graphically the cold ride to the church, as on Christmas morning for the early morning service.
My recollection of this early morning service (which was in Swedish) was that it would be held at about 5:30 a.m. which meant that the ride from the Peterson farm would have to have started by 4:30 a.m. at least. My recollection is that there was an English service beginning at about 6 a.m. or so. The dual use of Swedish and English was well established when I first became aware of the Sunday morning service. At that time, I suppose in the mid-’20s, the morning service alternated week to week between Swedish and English and I recall sitting through the services in Swedish when I could understand nothing of what was being said or sung.
When the first introduction of English first occurred I don’t know. As time went on, the use of Swedish declined, first I guess to one Sunday a month, and then to an occasional additional service, preceding the normal service in English. One of the qualifications for the pastor who served the congregation during my confirmation days was that he was fluent in Swedish — when this was dropped I don’t know but I’d guess that after WWII that such bilingual preachers would have been hard to find.
I should mention that when the old church was still in use, there was a long low shed to the north of the church where rural members of the congregation arriving by horse and buggy could stable the horses during the time of the Sunday services or in the case of the stemma. I never saw it used this way but I was told about it and the use was obvious. My mother described graphically the cold ride to the church, as on Christmas morning for the early morning service.
My recollection of this early morning service (which was in Swedish) was that it would be held at about 5:30 a.m. which meant that the ride from the Peterson farm would have to have started by 4:30 a.m. at least. My recollection is that there was an English service beginning at about 6 a.m. or so. The dual use of Swedish and English was well established when I first became aware of the Sunday morning service. At that time, I suppose in the mid-’20s, the morning service alternated week to week between Swedish and English and I recall sitting through the services in Swedish when I could understand nothing of what was being said or sung.
When the first introduction of English first occurred I don’t know. As time went on, the use of Swedish declined, first I guess to one Sunday a month, and then to an occasional additional service, preceding the normal service in English. One of the qualifications for the pastor who served the congregation during my confirmation days was that he was fluent in Swedish — when this was dropped I don’t know but I’d guess that after WWII that such bilingual preachers would have been hard to find.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Ushering at the Church
One of the features of the Gowrie congregation, and I suppose of other Swedish Lutheran congregations of the area at the time was the annual meeting or “stemma” (sp?) as it was originally called. In the earlier days of the congregation and indeed during my early childhood (say during the 1920s maybe extending into the early 1930s) this was an all-day affair with some sort of meal prepared by the women of the church and served at noon. I’d guess that there was some late afternoon refreshments.
It was held sometime in the early part of the year, when farm work was light and the rural members could attend without it interfering with their livelihood. At the morning and afternoon sessions there were reports of the various church boards and groups — these may have been coalesced into the report prepared and presented bu the minister. There were also the election of church officials such as deasons and trustees, and discussion of the church finances.
My impressions is that all aspects of church functions, even rather minor details, were looked at with careful attention. For example, I think that the ushers for the Sunday morning services were elected at the annual meeting. These would include the younger members of the congregation, often directly after confirmation. I think it was in this way that I came to serve several years as usher during my high school years. Diffident as I was, my ushering was mostly limited to handing out the bulletins and helping take up the collection — I seldom helped anyone find a seat. Actually most members of the congregation knew pretty well where they were used to sitting and wanted to sit and regarded the services of an usher as unwanted and superfluous. There were a couple of ushers of amore gregarious and extrovert-ish nature who took care of this part of the ushering duties (as for visitors, etc.).
Although quite a few of the ushers were quite young like I was, some had been on the ushering staff for a number of years and had come to regard their participation in a more “worldly-wise” attitude than I did for example.Two ushers that I remember fell definitely into this category — Russell Franzeen and Rupert Sandgren. Both were farmers (Russell may have just been working on his father’s farm). A third (also a farmer) in the group may have been one Leroy Nelson.
These three after the service had begun and the handing out of the bulletins completed, and the doors to the sanctuary closed, would repair to the furnace room in the basement of the church for a surreptitious cigarette or two. The instructions for the ushers were that after the service had begun they should seat themselves at the rear of the church (bringing in the chairs from the social room at the rear of the sanctuary). I guess the minister noticed the absence of these three members of the ushering crew and it was brought to their attention that they were supposed to comply with the rules — how effectivelythe admonition was in correcting the situation I don’t recall.
My cousin, Floyd Strand, was one of the ushers. A genial wise-cracking extrovert, he had an eye for the pecadillos of the congregation and he was amused by one Ross Plotner. Ross was not a Lutheran originally but he had joined the church when he married a Lutheran woman. Ross liked liquor but was inhibited by family pressure. It was Lutheran practice to serve actual wine at Communion so Ross was eager to participate. Floyd laughed when Ross would come running in near the end of the service to get his little bit of wine — not more than a thimbleful. Ross seldom came to the Sunday morning services as a rule.
Although for several years I functioned as an usher, later one along with Harold Lundblad, I served as sort of the financial secretary for the Sunday school. This function may have been in the hour preceding the morning worship so would not have interfered with my position as usher. Harold and I would take the little offering envelopes, go to the kitchen in the basement of the church, open the envelopes, count the money. At that time, sometime in the mid-’30s there were still occasional Indian head pennies in circulation and Harold and I used to vie for finding these. This was the source of most of the Indian head pennies I have (recompensed the offering naturally).
Harold was a stocky, agreeable fellow who went into farming as a career. Whenever we have met over the years he has recalled our money-counting chore and we have reminisced about the Indian head pennies. As I type away right now (May 2005) I recall that he died some time ago.
It was held sometime in the early part of the year, when farm work was light and the rural members could attend without it interfering with their livelihood. At the morning and afternoon sessions there were reports of the various church boards and groups — these may have been coalesced into the report prepared and presented bu the minister. There were also the election of church officials such as deasons and trustees, and discussion of the church finances.
My impressions is that all aspects of church functions, even rather minor details, were looked at with careful attention. For example, I think that the ushers for the Sunday morning services were elected at the annual meeting. These would include the younger members of the congregation, often directly after confirmation. I think it was in this way that I came to serve several years as usher during my high school years. Diffident as I was, my ushering was mostly limited to handing out the bulletins and helping take up the collection — I seldom helped anyone find a seat. Actually most members of the congregation knew pretty well where they were used to sitting and wanted to sit and regarded the services of an usher as unwanted and superfluous. There were a couple of ushers of amore gregarious and extrovert-ish nature who took care of this part of the ushering duties (as for visitors, etc.).
Although quite a few of the ushers were quite young like I was, some had been on the ushering staff for a number of years and had come to regard their participation in a more “worldly-wise” attitude than I did for example.Two ushers that I remember fell definitely into this category — Russell Franzeen and Rupert Sandgren. Both were farmers (Russell may have just been working on his father’s farm). A third (also a farmer) in the group may have been one Leroy Nelson.
These three after the service had begun and the handing out of the bulletins completed, and the doors to the sanctuary closed, would repair to the furnace room in the basement of the church for a surreptitious cigarette or two. The instructions for the ushers were that after the service had begun they should seat themselves at the rear of the church (bringing in the chairs from the social room at the rear of the sanctuary). I guess the minister noticed the absence of these three members of the ushering crew and it was brought to their attention that they were supposed to comply with the rules — how effectivelythe admonition was in correcting the situation I don’t recall.
My cousin, Floyd Strand, was one of the ushers. A genial wise-cracking extrovert, he had an eye for the pecadillos of the congregation and he was amused by one Ross Plotner. Ross was not a Lutheran originally but he had joined the church when he married a Lutheran woman. Ross liked liquor but was inhibited by family pressure. It was Lutheran practice to serve actual wine at Communion so Ross was eager to participate. Floyd laughed when Ross would come running in near the end of the service to get his little bit of wine — not more than a thimbleful. Ross seldom came to the Sunday morning services as a rule.
Although for several years I functioned as an usher, later one along with Harold Lundblad, I served as sort of the financial secretary for the Sunday school. This function may have been in the hour preceding the morning worship so would not have interfered with my position as usher. Harold and I would take the little offering envelopes, go to the kitchen in the basement of the church, open the envelopes, count the money. At that time, sometime in the mid-’30s there were still occasional Indian head pennies in circulation and Harold and I used to vie for finding these. This was the source of most of the Indian head pennies I have (recompensed the offering naturally).
Harold was a stocky, agreeable fellow who went into farming as a career. Whenever we have met over the years he has recalled our money-counting chore and we have reminisced about the Indian head pennies. As I type away right now (May 2005) I recall that he died some time ago.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Church Activities for Youth
After confirmation I was nominally a full-fledged member of the congregation, but of course my role was that of a young immature adolescent. I was naturally a member of the Luther League, the church organization for young persons of high school age, and I suppose with a few beyond that age who had remained in the community after completing high school.
The Luther League met twice a month, in the evening. There was always some sort of program (generally religious in nature but of which I have no specific recollection). This was followed by some sort of business session and then the inevitable refreshments. I was president of the group for at least one term and I remember presiding at the business sessions.
The Luther League would sponsor some fund-raising events, although I am sure there were membership dues. On one occasion while I was the president there was an ice cream social as such an event. It was to be held on the grounds of an old Standard Oil gas station located just kitty-corner across the block (but in the same block) as the church property. I announced the forthcoming event but a mental lapse caused me to refer to it as a strawberry festival, why I haven’t the remotest idea. I recall being corrected by the assembled group and being kidded about it afterward.
For young church members of high school age there was also the possibility of attendance at a church camp somewhere in the vicinity of Boone, Iowa. I suppose the camp was located in the wooded area adjacent the Des Moines river; to whom the facility actually belonged I don’t know. I never attended the camp (I was not in any way attracted to the experience) but my sister Clarice did, at least once.
Clarice always wanted to have what the others did, I couldn’t care less. So she wanted to go to the camp because others were going, I did not. She wanted to buy a class ring, I opted for a wrist watch from my parents. She disliked going to junior college because others were leaving the community for college somewhere else, I enjoyed the two years I had at junior college. Doubtless the camp included a substantial amount of religious instruction but there was also recreational activity of one kind or another.
As I mentioned I think that Clarice felt much more keenly than I the desire to do what her peers would and were doing and attendance at this church camp was one of the things she yearned for. I can’t recall my specific attitude towards possible attendance but it certainly was not high on the things I wanted to do. Perhaps even then I was starting to react negatively to anything to do with conventional religion and Lutheranism in particular.
The Luther League met twice a month, in the evening. There was always some sort of program (generally religious in nature but of which I have no specific recollection). This was followed by some sort of business session and then the inevitable refreshments. I was president of the group for at least one term and I remember presiding at the business sessions.
The Luther League would sponsor some fund-raising events, although I am sure there were membership dues. On one occasion while I was the president there was an ice cream social as such an event. It was to be held on the grounds of an old Standard Oil gas station located just kitty-corner across the block (but in the same block) as the church property. I announced the forthcoming event but a mental lapse caused me to refer to it as a strawberry festival, why I haven’t the remotest idea. I recall being corrected by the assembled group and being kidded about it afterward.
For young church members of high school age there was also the possibility of attendance at a church camp somewhere in the vicinity of Boone, Iowa. I suppose the camp was located in the wooded area adjacent the Des Moines river; to whom the facility actually belonged I don’t know. I never attended the camp (I was not in any way attracted to the experience) but my sister Clarice did, at least once.
Clarice always wanted to have what the others did, I couldn’t care less. So she wanted to go to the camp because others were going, I did not. She wanted to buy a class ring, I opted for a wrist watch from my parents. She disliked going to junior college because others were leaving the community for college somewhere else, I enjoyed the two years I had at junior college. Doubtless the camp included a substantial amount of religious instruction but there was also recreational activity of one kind or another.
As I mentioned I think that Clarice felt much more keenly than I the desire to do what her peers would and were doing and attendance at this church camp was one of the things she yearned for. I can’t recall my specific attitude towards possible attendance but it certainly was not high on the things I wanted to do. Perhaps even then I was starting to react negatively to anything to do with conventional religion and Lutheranism in particular.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Confirmation Class
Church activities were an important part of my high school years. During my freshman year I went through the usual confirmation procedure. This involved the Saturday confirmation class instruction which lasted for two hours (10 a.m. to noon). The class was conducted by the minister, D. Verner Swanson. Included in the instruction were Luther’s catechism, Bible study (probably one or more of the gospels and some of the various Pauline epistles) and church history.
Swanson was more or less of a fundamentalistic bent in his approach and this attitude on his part introduced some discordant notes in my mind. Generally though I accepted what I was being taught, learned by memory the required catechism material and in the spring of my freshman year went through the confirmation rite. This was preceded by a public examination of the confirmands as to their mastery of church teaching and history
In retrospect my impression of my participation in the instruction, the examination and the rite itself was simply one of going along with what was expected of me and quite customaru. I suppose I was suitable involved and impressed at the time but it seems to me now that there was never any really significant long-time effect of the whole matter. There never was, for example,any real discussion of the scientific, theological and historical problems associated with Christianity as a way of life. Had there been perhaps my thinking later on would have been different. This evasion of the crux of the problems with Christianity led eventually and inevitably to the erosion of all the teaching I received and any commitment that I voiced at the time.
When the weather was clement, transportation to the Saturday morning confirmation class might be by bicycle and on such occasions I might be accompanied by John Woodard who went through the process the same time as I did. John’s participation was largely the result of the influence of Annie Lines, John’s aunt. Annie and her husband Will remained drunkards, I guess to their dying days, but Annie attended church in Gowrie, either at the Methodist or the Lutheran churches and she chose the Lutheran church for her nephews. I think the younger Woodard boys, Harold and Lloyd, also followed the same path. Annie usually went to the Lutheran church but since in those days communion there was restricted to the members, she went to the Methodist for that. I suppose Will also attended; I really can’t remember.
Swanson was more or less of a fundamentalistic bent in his approach and this attitude on his part introduced some discordant notes in my mind. Generally though I accepted what I was being taught, learned by memory the required catechism material and in the spring of my freshman year went through the confirmation rite. This was preceded by a public examination of the confirmands as to their mastery of church teaching and history
In retrospect my impression of my participation in the instruction, the examination and the rite itself was simply one of going along with what was expected of me and quite customaru. I suppose I was suitable involved and impressed at the time but it seems to me now that there was never any really significant long-time effect of the whole matter. There never was, for example,any real discussion of the scientific, theological and historical problems associated with Christianity as a way of life. Had there been perhaps my thinking later on would have been different. This evasion of the crux of the problems with Christianity led eventually and inevitably to the erosion of all the teaching I received and any commitment that I voiced at the time.
When the weather was clement, transportation to the Saturday morning confirmation class might be by bicycle and on such occasions I might be accompanied by John Woodard who went through the process the same time as I did. John’s participation was largely the result of the influence of Annie Lines, John’s aunt. Annie and her husband Will remained drunkards, I guess to their dying days, but Annie attended church in Gowrie, either at the Methodist or the Lutheran churches and she chose the Lutheran church for her nephews. I think the younger Woodard boys, Harold and Lloyd, also followed the same path. Annie usually went to the Lutheran church but since in those days communion there was restricted to the members, she went to the Methodist for that. I suppose Will also attended; I really can’t remember.
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