Day: July 16, 2017

CHAPTER 20

      A lot of things happened about this time. One of them was something very nice. Our little Sandy was born. A little sister to grow up with little brother Joe. And she was a darling. Now a few words about the Dewey ranch.

      Several years ago, Dad had bought out Feldman. He now owned the whole thing. He had gone into politics. Had been elected to the office of State Representative a couple of times. He drove a big Packard. The road coming from the highway to the ranch was paved after him. DEWEY ROAD. Also the road from the ranch to the packing shed at Little Rock was paved. He was a very successful man. And a lonely one. He wasn’t a church goer. He spent a lot of time hanging around the beer joints in Emmett.

      Brother Ray was still taking Mother to church every Sunday. Then one day Dad told Dell and me. “Your mother and I are going to get a divorce. Someone has been telling her that I am out with other women all the time. Which is a damn lie. But I think it is best that we part.” He wanted Dell and me to build him a house up at the old Dewey Grove. Grandpa’s old place. Which we did. When Dad left the ranch, he gave Mother a clear deed to the whole thing. Plus a fat bank account

      Sister Jenny had been sick. She had been hit with an attack of Multiple Sclerosis. But apparently, got over it. At least for a while. Then she got married. To a real nice guy, Joe Patterson. Brother Bob got married and moved into the old Bollinger place. This was now owned by the Dewey orchards. After we finished Dad’s house, he told Dell and me. “I have made out a will.” and he showed it to us. “This lot where you built this house, I have willed to you two. Sixty foot frontage and one hundred feet deep. Also, you will get your share of the rest.” He put the document in the back of a big old safe that he kept in his bedroom. “I don’t usually keep this thing locked.” he said “But it is fire proof.” Then he grinned. “In case something happens to me and the thing is locked.” He pointed down on the side. “The combination is scratched right here.”

      Oh yes. Brother Ray was now in complete charge of the Dewey orchards. There would be some big changes made. Like him a big, beautiful new house. Now back to my family. We moved down to the house down by New Plymouth. The old Club House. We were completely out of business and I had to do something. My back still wouldn’t allow me to do hard work. But I knew that I must find something. Finally I got a job tending bar at a club in New Plymouth. I worked for Jack and Ilene Harwell. It wasn’t hard work, but this sort of life was not for me. I kept looking for something better. It seemed to me like this place had more than it’s share of plumbing troubles. Every few days a sink would plug up or one of the toilets. The old plumbers friend, sure got a workout. Then I began to study this thing. Surely there was a better way. I went to work on it.

      The only action you got out of the plumbers friend, was from the cup itself. I thought I could make a great improvement on this. So I got busy and built one of my own. It was quite an undertaking. First was the rubber cup. I would need a mould. Dell had a little wood lathe, I borrowed it. From a piece of wood, I made a pattern. This cup I made looked like a regular suction cup. Seven inches across the face. In the top of the thing, was a hole an inch and a quarter in diameter. Into this hole, I would put a double action pump made something like a tire pump, only double action.

      I took my wooden model down to the foundry at Weiser and had an aluminum mold made. I bought some raw tire re-sapping rubber, filled the mold, put it in the oven and baked it for a couple of hours. Then I took out my first rubber cup and it was a beauty. I bought a piece of aluminum tubing, an inch and a quarter in diameter and sixteen inches long. I used an O ring on a piston fastened to an aluminum rod. Cemented the barrel of the thing into the cup and I had my first model. And the thing really worked! All you had to do was fit that cup over the hole and pump the handle like a tire pump. It would suck up and blow down. And get the job done in just a few seconds. Of course, I run to show Dell my great new invention. I can still close my eyes and hear his voice. “On this, we will make millions!:

      We still had the ground at the box factory. The four brick walls were still standing. We put a roof over part of it and we once more had a place to work. Before we would invest in machinery to make these things, we thought we had better make some sort of a market survey. We made up several models and headed for San Francisco. To demonstrate the thing, I put a sliding lock on the pump handle. I would put the face of the cup on any smooth surface, pull out the handle and lock it. There wasn’t a man in the world that could pull the darn thing loose. Table tops would come loose, refrigerator doors would come off, sinks would be torn loose, but that thing would hang on!       The first and only place that we stopped was at a place that we picked out of the yellow pages of the telephone book. They were manufacturers agents. We put on a demonstration. They were really excited. “How many you got on hand?” they asked. “And how much a thousand are they going to cost us?” We told them we would come up with some figures, then come back later. We got out of there and headed for home.

      By now the war had been over with for about a year. Hundreds of small defense factories were closed down. There was a lot of government surplus machinery that was for sale. Somehow or another, Dell got hold of a big list being sold back in Detroit, Michigan. All kinds of lathes, welders, etc. People that come representing schools would be given a very special price. We still had our Ford truck left over from the box factory days. Dell and Lillian got in it and they were on their way.

      I believe that Dell is the most amazing fellow I ever met. In about ten days, they returned. And on the truck was a big piece of equipment. A huge Warner Swasey, turret lathe. It looked like new and must have weighed at least five ton. I had never seen one like it. I was amazed. “How much did you pay for that thing?” I asked. He grinned. “Fifty bucks. They were practically giving them away to the schools. I bought two of them. The other one is being shipped by railroad.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “How in the world did you manage all this?” “That was easy. I called the super here. He is an old friend of mine. Through him, I bought the two of them. Then I bought them back. Had to give the school fifty bucks profit. So they really cost a hundred each. Then there will be the freight.” I think the original cost of these lathes was about $20,000 each.

      We were rearing’ to go! We bought drill and punch presses. Also an electric oven for baking rubber. We made a trip to Portland, Oregon and bought enough material to make up ten thousand of the things. Then we went to work. Those new lathes were really something. We finally figured out how to run them. They were almost automatic. In a short time, we had them all made up. But to conserve space, we did not cement the rubber cup on to the barrel. This was a simple operation and could be done anywhere. Now we knew exactly what it cost to make the things. 45 cents each. We bought a Dodge panel job, loaded it up and headed back to San Francisco.

      Oh yes. On the barrel of each was a stick on label. THE HANDY GEM. In smaller words below, sink and toilet cleaner. We figured if we could get a dollar fifty each for the things, we would be sitting pretty. At least that was what we would ask. Then we got our first disappointment. The brokers that we had contacted before had gone out of business. At least they were gone. We contacted another, put on a demonstration. They were quite impressed. They asked our price. Then we began to learn a little bit about marketing a new product. First, there was the transportation charge. Then the brokers fee. Then a certain amount for advertising. Then a markup of about forty five percent for the retailer. When it was all added up, the thing would have to bring about five dollars. A plumber’s friend could be bought for around sixty cents. Quite a difference. One of the guys explained. “Suppose your sink got plugged up. You go to a store looking for a tool to unplug it. There is a tool for sixty cents and one for five dollars. Which one would you buy?” Of course there was only one answer. And we couldn’t figure out any way to make the darn thing for less money. Boy were we disappointed. But we didn’t give up. We contacted Sears, Western Auto and others. They all come up with the same answer. We finally give up and headed for home.

      We had ten thousand of those darn things on hand. Surely there was some way of getting rid of them at a profit. I was not going to give up. Not just yet any how. I told Dell. “Maybe we can peddle them. Most any business place should buy one. Hotels, barber shops, restaurants, clubs, service stations and a lot of other places. They should have one.” Dell had lost all interest. Our million dollars had flown out the window. “You go ahead.” he said. “I am going to build myself a new house. Also one for Roy Arnstedt. I can make more money at that than I can peddling those darn things.” So I loaded up a bunch and headed for Boise. I hit all the above mentioned places. By the end of a long day, I sold about ten of them at two dollars each. This was about the limit. This was all they would bring. I worked around there for two or three more days. By the time I bought all my meals in restaurants and paid for a hotel room, plus the car expenses, there wasn’t much left by the end of the day. I was very discouraged. I would be better off holding down a good job.

      I was just about to give up. Then I wandered into a garage. As usual, I was carrying one of those things in my hand. I knew one of the fellows working there. Paul Parks, a body and fender man. He was standing there, looking at a caved in door on a Cadillac that had been rolled. He spoke to me “Hello Ted, what are you doing over here? And what the devil have you got in your hand?” As I stood there staring at that caved in door, some cogs in my head fell into place. Why hadn’t I thought of it before! I grinned. “Paul.” I said. “I have here a great new invention. Bring the other guys around and I will demonstrate.” And that he did. I put that suction cup in the middle of that caved in door and pulled out the handle. It was on thigh. I took a firm grip on the barrel and gave it a mighty pull. With a bang, the dent turned inside out. Outside of a few scratches, the door was like new again. The fellows were amazed. Paul took the thing from my hand and looked it over. “How much?” he asked. “A special price for you.” I said. “Three bucks.” He handed me five. “Here, keep the change. And thanks for fixing that door.” The other guys dug into their pockets. Each bought one.

      For the rest of the day, I called on nothing but the places that did body and fender work. I didn’t miss a sale. And each time, I raised the price about fifty cents. When it got up to around seven fifty, I quit. They were still buying but kicking about the price. By the end of the day, I had quite a sizeable roll in my pocket. I knew that I had found a way out of this mess. I went home. There was several things that I must do to help the cause. Number one, the label must be changed. Over the bottom part where it said; sink and toilet cleaner, I put another. It was now : THE HANDY GEM… dent remover. And there was something else that I did. I caved in both doors of the panel delivery. I worked on them until I had them perfectly trained. With my shoulder, I could cave them in. With the tool, I could pop them out. Now I was ready. I loaded up the thing and took off. I had never been a salesman before. But I must of been good at this. I rarely missed a sale.

      It took me most part of two years before I got rid of them all. I was in every town west of the Mississippi river. And a lot on the other side. I wholesaled a lot of them to specialty salesman. Guys that called on garages and body shops. One time I traded a bunch for a Hudson straight eight. Near the last, in Cicero Illinois, I traded a whole bunch for an almost new, Chevrolet sedan.

      I only had a few left when I ended up in the town of Ottawa Ill. The sand capitol of the world. A big sign said as you entered town. There was a huge sand processing plant there. The one that set the standard for all sands. Sand for making glass, foundry casting sands, sand for making sodium silicate, a widely used glue and many other uses. Train loads of it left there every day. The name of the company was Ottawa Silica Co. This place was of great interest to me. I knew where there was a whole mountain of sand near Emmett Idaho that looked better than this when it come out of the ground. I spent a couple of weeks there. They gave me guided tours of the place. I took them all in. I looked that place over from one end to the other. And the more I looked, the more I wondered about that big mountain of sand back in Idaho. I could hardly wait until I got back.

      I could write a whole book on my experiences while I was traveling around selling those Dent Removers. But I won’t. However, there is one that I think I should write about. It was on that last trip home. When I had traded that car dealer in Cicero, my old Dodge panel delivery, plus a bunch of machines for that Chevy, I had one problem. It had no license on it. There you must pay your sales tax, then buy a license for the car. The car was valued at about a couple of thousand dollars. This meant, that I would have to pay about a hundred and fifty tax, then buy a license. Then when I arrived back in Idaho, I would be stuck buying another. This seemed like a waste of money to me. I took the Idaho license off the Dodge and put it on the Chevy. I figured I could make it home alright. There was just one problem. In Idaho, they issued a special license to people who lived on farms. That is, for trucks, pickups, panels, etc. Also they are much cheaper. On. the Dodge I had one of them. And they were different. On them was no potato. And over in one corner, were printed letters. F. R. Which meant this was a farm vehicle. I was headed for home, anxious to get back. I was coming through the state of Iowa when suddenly I was caught in a long line of cars. All of them being run through a checking station. Making sure everything was in order. I took out my pocket book. My driver’s license was for Idaho and up to date. I also had the title for the car. But it was an Illinois title. I began to sweat. And there were those Idaho plates with no potato and that F.R. in the corner. I could be in a lot of trouble. But there was no way out. I didn’t dare turn around and run. I just sat there and slowly moved along with the rest. Then an officer in uniform was there beside me. “Your driver’s license please.” he said. I handed it to him. He took a look and passed it back. Then once more, he walked to the front of the car and for a moment stood staring down at that license plate. Then once more he come back to my window. “Hey Bud.” he said “Where is your potato? And what does the F.R. mean?” My mind was in a turmoil. But I blurted out. “The F.R. is for Forest Ranger.” Then I gave him a big grin. “We state officials don’t have a potato on our plates.” I held my breath. Suddenly he grinned, then saluted. “Yes Sir. That will be all Sir. Go right ahead.” Talk about lucking out. And after I crossed the border into Idaho, I stopped at the first courthouse and bought an Idaho license with a potato on it! What a relief!

CHAPTER 19

      Before fruit harvest time in the fall of 1945, we moved into our new building. Dewey’s Box Factory at little rock. We bought a nice little home in Emmett and moved in. Everything was going great. There were lots of orders coming in and we were making lots of money.

      Then come another memorable day, Sept.2, 1945. The United States dropped the first atom bomb. Soon that long terrible war would come to an end.

      Then along toward spring, one cold, dark night, the box factory caught on fire and burned down. Only cinder brick walls were left standing. All the saws and everything was burned beyond repair. We had taken out some insurance on the building but not nearly enough for us to rebuild. Dell and I were both out of a job and had to figure out something. Close to the main box factory, we had built another building, a cabinet shop. It had not burned. After cleaning up the mess, we decided to see what we could do in there. We had small saws, shaper jointers, sanders and a lot more things. This had been more or less, our play house. In this we went to work.

      We built knotty pine furniture. Our best sellers was a hope chest and a gun cabinet. We built a lot of them. But we were hardly making enough money to survive. Dell was a very ambitious guy. Always dreamed of making millions. And Lillian was just like him in that way. She loved that money. One day, Dell said to me; “We got to do something. Every day we are going behind.” Finally we come up with what sounded like a great idea. Turn this cabinet shop into a night club. Everywhere they were opening up and doing a big business. This is how they operated. In Idaho at that time, liquor could be bought only at State owned liquor stores. Selling it by the drink, was illegal. To get around this, you formed a corporation. For members only. The member would bring in their own bottle and you mixed their drinks and charged for the service. Of course if the guy’s bottle went dry, you could always pour him one out of your own. Dell really went for this idea. “Why don’t we open up two of them.” he said. “You run one and I will run the other.” We decided to do just that. We would call them PINK ELEPHANT. No. 1 and 2. This location was ten miles west of Emmett, the other one should be the other side of town. We bought a lot out beyond the cemetery and started building. We would build the thing where it could easily be transformed into a regular house. Just in case something happened.

      Then we had our grand opening. The one at Little Rock was first. The other one would open a week later. That was one hectic night. One that I will never forget. There was hundreds of people showed up that night. We couldn’t get them all in the building. Among them, was a group of trouble makers. Toughs, that worked at the Emmett sawmill. They decided to wreck the place. One of them kicked a hole in the wall. Another, upset a table covered with drinks. We threw out the trouble makers. Then outside, all hell broke loose. A big fight started. Women were screaming. We run everyone out of the building and locked the doors. The big concrete slab where the box factory had been was in a turmoil. A regular mad house.

      There was a light switch on the pole that had the yard light on it. I decided to turn that light out. Put them in the dark. I opened the door and made a run for it. But I had not been quick enough. A man in front of me, come stumbling backwards and landed on the back of his head on that concrete slab. It sounded like dropping a ripe watermelon. Several women screamed. Inside of a minute, the place was vacant. Cars pulling out in every direction. Dell and I picked the guy up and rushed him to the hospital in Emmett. He was pronounced dead when we arrived.

      So our career as night club operators lasted exactly one night. We never opened again and the other one, we began changing it into a house the very next day. We had all of this that we wanted. I made a deal with brother Dell. He would keep the house, I would take the club house at Little Rock. I bought ten acres of ground down close to New Plymouth and moved it down there. I remodeled it and it turned out to be a nice place. One that we would move into later.

CHAPTER 18

      We stayed there for three years. Every fall, we would lock the place up and go down to Idaho for a visit. We would leave Old Jack home to guard everything. The back door of the shop, leading up to the stairway was his home. Through the main door, I had cut a small one. Hinged from the top, it would swing either way. He could come and go as he pleased. When we would get ready to leave, we would make sure there was plenty of dog food in there. Also a faucet of water was left dripping into a bucket. When we were already to go, I would set down beside him and tell him.. “Wait here, Jack. Wait right here until we come back.” Then he would thump the porch with his tail and lick me on the side of the face. Then I knew that he understood. Usually we were gone about ten days. But when we returned, he would come bounding off that porch barking with joy. I believe he would of stayed there until he starved to death if we had not come home.

      Then one day late in the afternoon, a car drove up in front of the shop. And tied to the back bumper, sticking straight up, was a great big sage brush. I wondered what the devil was going on. But soon I found out. The grinning face of brother Dell was behind the wheel. Beside him was Lillian. Dell had completely recovered from the ‘bug’ or whatever it was that he had caught in nodded. “Don’t it make you homesick for good old Idaho?” Note. Sagebrush don’t grow on the west coast. I sniffed and nodded. “I guess it does, just a little.” Dell took the big sagebrush off the car and leaned it up by the garage door. “Keep smelling it.” he said. “Because we want you to come back to Idaho. We need you down there.” Then Dell told me. Financed by Dad, he had started up a small box factory at the Dewey packing shed at Little Rock. It was making nothing but money. But when the fruit harvest come, he would have to move out of there. Dad would sell me his half interest for just the amount of money he had invested. We would build a new building. Dell was a good talker and soon had me convinced. After all, there is no place like home. I knew a fellow that wanted to buy me out and he had the cash. In a short time we were back in Idaho. Good bye Pratum.

CHAPTER 17

      Our strawberry crop that summer, didn’t amount to much. After a few years, weevil get in them and that is the beginning of the end. A couple of months went by. I was getting around a little with my crutches. The doctors had fixed me up with a corset. Much like what my mother used to wear. If I cinched this thing up real tight in the morning, and kept it that way all day, it would help keep down the terrible pain that would shoot down my right leg. It was like a tooth-ache, only the tooth was as large as a leg. I guess I have gone through hell already. Then gradually, the worst was over. The pain was not quite so bad. I threw away the crutches. But poor brother Dell. That bug in his joints was sure giving him hell. His legs looked like stove pipes.

      Then one day, one of his doctors told him; “I think that if you would move to a hot, dry climate and lay out in the sun a lot, you might get over this.” One morning Dell said to me. “Ted, Lillian and I have talked it over and we are going back to Emmett. We have bothered you enough. Poor Helen is about worn out.” Then he grinned. “We will put our feet under our folk’s table for awhile.” I will never forget that morning when they all got into their car and were ready to go. It took Dell quite awhile to get in and get under that steering wheel. Dell had lots of guts. But somehow, I didn’t think he would ever make it. Lillian was also in bad shape. I turned to Helen. “I’m going with them.” There were tears in her eyes. “Oh Ted, I am so glad.” I walked over to the door of the car. “Get over.” I told Dell. “I am going to drive.”

      It took us three days to get down there. Then I returned by bus. I knew that my hard working days were over with. No more sawmill work, no wood cutting. At least for a long time. I knew that I must get to doing something. I was a good mechanic and welder. If I only had a little shop of my own and had it paid for, surely I could make a living. We decided to sell the ranch. There seemed to be quite a lot of buyers around. Also, I began looking for a little spot to go in business.

      Finally we accomplished both. We sold the ranch on Pumpkin Ridge and moved over to a little town called Pratum. It was about five miles out of Salem. Between Salem and Silverton. It was just a small town. One general store, a big feed store, and what had been another store and filling station. Also there was a nice apartment upstairs. We paid all cash for the place and moved in.

      I went to work and put large garage doors on the front of the place. It was big enough for two cars plus all my welders and other tools. I painted a sign above the door; PRATUM GARAGE…WELDING. I told Helen. “We got a little money left and I am going to take it easy. Won’t do any advertising for awhile. Maybe a few will come in. And they did. For miles around they come. Soon I was working from daylight to dark. I even hired a helper. A young man by the name of Frank Woodzwoda.

      Our oldest daughter, Bertie, was now in school. One day she said to me. “Daddy, buy me a piano. I want to learn to play the piano….Please.” Unlike my dad, when I wanted to learn to play the violin, I told her, “sure, we will get you one. A good one.” Helen and I went shopping and found a beautiful up-right Grand, a Baldwin. It was solid oak and looked like it weighed a ton. We bought it under the conditions that they take it upstairs to our apartment. And that they did and Bertie began taking lessons. And at the same time, she was passing on what she had learned to her sister Gerty.

      My back was getting a lot better. But I would wear that corset for many a year. Anyhow, we were making a good living and we were a very happy family. At least I was.

      Then we had another blessed event. Little Joe was born. I was about a nervous wreck before this was over with. Helen had got the warning signals and I took her to the hospital in Silverton. This was in the middle of the night. I come home and tried to get some sleep. But there was no use trying. I kept calling the hospital every few hours. Nothing. I drove over there and took a look for myself. Helen seemed to be o.k. But there was something that wasn’t just right. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon of her second day there, that our little boy was born. Little Joe. Named after my buddy Joe Woodzwoda. The guy that baby sat me during this trying ordeal.