Rethinking The 20th Century

First published in the Camden Chronicle (date unknown)

Throughout the year 1999, writers of all stripes told us over and over again which events in the 20th century were newsworthy and worth remembering. World Wars I and II were favorite subjects. The Battle of the Bulge, the A-bomb drop on Hiroshima, the decision to commence the Marshall Plan were on just about everybody's A-list, too. The Great Depression, manned flight, and the development of the automobile were events of the ten decades from 1900 to 2000 mentioned as the most compelling events of this period as well.

There were some events, less glorious, but just as meaningful to the person we call The Common Man. One of these was Henry Ford's decision in 1915 to raise all of his worker's pay to $5.00 a day.

Just imagine if some entrepreneur/industrialist, say Bill Gates of Microsoft, announced tomorrow that every employee he has will be paid, $100,000 a year beginning right now. Think of all the waves that would make in the computer industry. Wall Street would panic and Congress would rush to pass laws raising taxes.

In 1915, the going wage was $2.00 per day. Sometimes an extremely skilled and diligent worker was raised to the sublime wage of $2.50 per day, but that was tops. Five dollars a day was unheard of and many predicted that Ford would go bankrupt in a few months unless he got hold of himself and returned his pay slips to their old number. When Mr. Ford held the line on his pay increases, many of his investors began bolting for the door.

Former Michigan governor Lewis Cass's money had been in the Ford Motor Company. FOMOCO was not on the Stock Exchange then. The Dodge family pulled out of Ford and started their own automotive company.

Ransom E. Olds, the founder of the Oldsmobile Corporation, threatened to put Ford out of business by selling his cars cheaper than Ford because he assumed Ford would have to raise prices because of his wage policy. Instead, Ford cut prices and kept Olds in the pressure seat.

But boy! Did Ford's workers love it! Families that had been renting a place to live suddenly were buying homes. The children of Ford workers who never expected to go to college were now enrolling in higher education. Now, even the lowest paid employee at Ford could afford one of the black beauties he helped to build. Soon, Model Ts began appearing in the driveways where they never were expected before.

For the average man, one of the greatest benefits of the Ford $5.00 a day plan was to lift expectations for all workers in almost every industry. Edison workers said, "If Ford can do it, why can't Edison?" Skilled workers at Ford's suppliers, such as the steel industry, began leaving their jobs in Youngstown, Pittsburgh, and Wierton, heading for Dearborn and Mr. Ford's shop.

If the steel magnates complained to Ford, he merely threatened to build his own steel works (which he later did) and cut them off completely.

When I debate all those who believe government is the answer to all the welfare needs of us citizens, I ask this question: Who has done more for poor people in America, Henry Ford or Lyndon Johnson?

Another powerful event that took place during the 20th century that went unnoticed by the New York scriveners was the birth of the Dionne Quintuplets in May 1934 in Callander, Ontario.

I was a little over four years old when these five girls were born but I either remember the event or heard it spoken of so much that it seems I can remember the real thing.

That five children were born prematurely and all kept alive was, for the time, nothing short of miraculous. All five weighed a total of 11 1/2 pounds at birth. The attending doctor, a physician named Roy Dafoe, gained worldwide fame for his delivering techniques and the makeshift incubator he built to house the infants during the early weeks. For a while, the mother's life was in danger. Dr. Dafoe showed considerable skill treating her and saving her life. These were the days before fertility pills and five live births from the same pregnancy were rare. The girls were made wards of the British crown. Canada was still a British colony then. People came from all over the world to view these miracle babies. Childless women on three continents wrote to the Dionne father to pay him for his services if he would impregnate them.

To the average person, Henry Ford's $5.00 a day wages and the Dionne Quintuplets were bigger events than the Wright Brother's flight at Kitty Hawk, bigger than the surrender of Germany in World War I. These were working man happenings. These were things housewives could understand and talked about over the back fence. Even children knew something big was taking place.

Jim, circa 1995, making a point

What Makes A Leader

This article first appeared in the October 10, 1990 issue of The Camden Chronicle. If anyone knows the Larry Vick mentioned in the article, I'd be interested in what happened to him and the project he supported.

It is gratifying and reassuring to see so many letters to the Editor on the Opinion page of The Chronicle lately. Gratifying because that is what the Opinion page is for, it is the place for people in the country to call attention to a problem they feel is plaguing the community or to just get something off their chest. In addition, it is the place in a small community, sometimes the only place, for the thinkers to put forth new thoughts and ideas.

Many people feel the places to look for leadership and innovation in our political and social worlds are among our federal politicians and in our appellate courts. If not that high, at least to the elected and appointed officials at the State level. However, when we examine the process closely, most of the time we find the real thinking comes from the grass roots. With few exceptions, our political and social leaders are so busy maintaining the status quo and perpetuating themselves in office there is little time left to think of the people who elected them.

For this reason it is unexpected and reassuring to see a local politician taking the bull by the horns when he feels there is a need and putting the political process to work in the way it was intended at the local level.

In the past few weeks, County Commissioner Larry Vick has just about single-handedly sold the County on building a Civic Center to provide a place for young people, as well as the elderly, to meet and play and enjoy themselves in a manner that is good and right. I don't know Larry Vick, but I like the way he works. He sets forth his ideas in a coherent style and asks for help without whining or begging. He knows that alone he can accomplish nothing, but when a community works together, a lot can be accomplished in a very short time.

As mentioned before, I never met young Mr. Vick, but I knew his father personally and his grandfather by reputation, so I know the bloodline is good. When one tires, as I do, of reading about greedy inept politicians in our big city newspapers, reading about Larry Vick's energy and interest i his community is like a breath of fresh air.

The Saving Grace of 'Catch-22'

This article first appeared in the June 7, 2000 issue of The Camden Chronicle

When I heard on the news that Joseph Heller died, it sent my mind sailing backwards to a time when things were not going well for me and he helped me laugh my way through my low time.  

You see, Heller wrote a book called "Catch-22." It was about an Army Air Force bombardier who had seen too much German flak thrown up at his plane during bombing runs and was seeking any way to be grounded in order to stop his missions. The book's central character was Air Force Captain Yossarian and he was about as craven a coward as you'll ever read about, but don't feel superior because he is not unique. I'm almost certain that everyone who has ever fought in a war has shared Yossarian-type feelings.

Yossarian wanted to be declared insane and grounded by the medical staff, thus ending his dangerous missions over Italy where Hermann Goering's (Hitler's Luftwaffe leader) anti-aircraft gunners were defending targets. The trouble for Yossarian was that the Army's medical section opined a bombardier who wasn't afraid was a crazy person. The scared ones were perfectly normal, thus "Catch-22."

At the time I read the book I was in as blue a funk as Capt. Yossarian. The milk plant where I had worked since my 18th birthday had closed down and laid off its entire staff. Management included. I was as scared as Yossarian because I was having to plot a whole new course for my life's work. I had a young consort and a child to protect and support, a mortgage to meet and bills to pay. Money was scarce.

From my 18th birthday, the day I was hired at the milk plant, until the day I was summarily dismissed, I never expected to work at any other place. Career-wise, I thought I had found a home. As I found out when I was reading "Catch-22," there are forces working against all of us which we don't have much control over. Despite all of our plans, sometimes we must grab hold of the nearest hand grip and go along for the ride.While we're at it, we might as well relax and enjoy the ride we're on.

Because of my youth and my willingness to work, I had been welcomed into all parts of the milk plant. In three or four years, I was on speaking terms with people in every aspect of the plant's operations. Because of his, and the fact that I showed up for work everyday, I was a valued, well-paid employee who was appointed to break in the college grads recently recruited from Michigan State with degrees in Animal Husbandry and Dairy Management.

I had so much confidence I was cocky and real sure of myself, conditions that don't lend themselves to much fright or self-reflection. When the boom was lowered, I was in no condition to handle the pressure.

As Yossarian did, I panicked. At first I went into a state of denial. I didn't want anyone to know I had lost my job. I just couldn't bring myself to believe there would be no more job to go to each morning, where I would be completely confident of what I had to do and the manner in which I was to do it. For a week, I told people who asked that I was on vacation. I knew soon or later I would have to admit I was out of work. Not just out of work, it was worse than that. I was forced into a new system of life where I was just another "hand."

The woman I consorted with then, and as now, tried to console me but I refused to be comforted. The questions I asked myself and the decisions I had to make were mountainous to me. For the first time in a long time, I lost confidence in myself. Ask any athlete what a loss of confidence means. I asked myself questions like, should I accept the first job offer that comes along or hold out for a better one? Should I look for work in other fields or restrict myself to applications in the dairy industry, a field I knew well. "Catch-22" conditions had forced my company out of business and and was affecting the entire industry in Detroit. Very few companies were hiring new people. I found out there were plenty of other guys like me in the job market with as much skill and experience.

Then I happened on Joseph Heller's book and I realized there are worse conditions to be in than merely out of work. It was a fun book. I laughed when I read the lines that reminded me of myself and how I had overreacted to my situation. Sure enough, it wasn't long before I was established in another job and enjoying my work again.

On the last page of "Catch-22," Yossarian is asked how he feels. "I'm very frightened," was his reply. "That's good," the Major doing the asking said. "That proves you're still alive."

Where's Bobby Gentry When You Need Her?

This article was first published in the September 5, 1990 issue of The Camden Chronicle. 

Just about the time I say to myself, "Self, I believe I've seen or heard about every dumb thing a bumbling politician or stupid, arrogant bureaucrat can do," one comes up with a new ineptness that baffles the mind.

Here in Michigan we are blessed with the normal amount of bumbling politicians but due to the wealth of the state and the high tax structure, we will put our number of over-bloated bureaucracies up against any state, with the possible exceptions of New York and Massachusetts.

Zilwaukee Bridge collapse, 1987

Some years ago, the Michigan Department of Transportation decided to build a bridge over a Big Sandy-sized river on Interstate 75, north of Detroit*. The span they designed and built would have crossed the Amazon at the river's widest point. The original cost estimate was amazing and the over-runs were atrocious. Before it was finished, a portion of the bridge fell delaying work for months and months. Meanwhile, three departments were pointing the finger at each other with none taking the blame. As usual, the taxpayer felt a mighty surge in his hip pocket.

Now, none of our state departments has committed a blunder that is funny, unless you are a fish. In this particular case, the cost to the taxpayer is low enough that we can laugh about it. The Michigan Department of Natural Resources was testing the effects of coal-fired power plants on the fish in the Muskegon River. The method they used was to put a poison called Rotenone in the water near the return point that the power plants used. Then they would count the number of dead fish that floated to the surface. Unfortunately, they let it get out of hand. The poison floated downstream three miles, merrily killing fish along its way. The department head, David Hales, immediately pleaded guilty.

"We broke the law," he said, "and we'll pay a penalty." He ordered his department to pay two $25,000 fines to the State's General Fund.

"We're no different than anyone else," said Mr. Hales. "We violated the law, so we have to pay."

This brings up two questions. First: When something is dead, can it be counted? Does Benton County count the people buried in Mt. Zion Cemetery in its census? And, if so, does Mary Parker count since she escaped**?

The second question is: since the Rotenone damage to sport fishing in the river is estimated at $100,000, why compound it by giving away $50,000? Why not use that money to repair the damage? Bureaucracies alone may not destroy the state of Michigan but Lordy, Lordy, they sure provide some comic relief.

Editor's Notes:
*   I believe Jim is referring to The Zilwaukee Bridge, located on I-75 over the Saginaw River. 
** For more information about the mystery of Mary Parker, click on the link above. 

And Bobby Gentry's song was one of Jim's favorites. 

Advice For Graduating Seniors

Editor's Note: This was originally published in The Camden Chronicle, but the exact date is unknown. At the time of Jim's death in January 2000, the biggest internet story was the fact that none of the dire predictions surrounding January 1, 2000 ("Y2K") had come to pass. Facebook, Twitter, etc., may have been ideas percolating in some teenager's consciousness, but I have my doubts about that. In the article below, as with many issues, Jim foreshadows the use of social media by employers and others to monitor behavior and use those observations to make a range of decisions impacting employment, college admissions, and so forth. 

At lunch a few days ago, a friend and I were discussing the opportunities, or lack of opportunities, facing this year's group of high school graduates. My friend, a southern expatriate like myself, was explaining, "When I came to Detroit in 1947, a fellow could sleep 'til 8:00 on just about any morning and still get a job before lunchtime. My advice to a high school grad is to continue on with their education. Jobs are much harder to come by now."

I suppose my friend's advice makes sense, but as for me, I have no advice for a student continuing on to college because I never went and cannot speak with authority.* But I do have advice for a young person who is beginning a lifetime  of work in a supermarket, hamburger franchise, machine shop, factory, or any of the thousands of unskilled jobs that are required to keep this country humming: KEEP A JOURNAL!

Not a diary. Not a record of holding hands with a Saturday night date. I'm talking about a record of the people you work with and especially the ones in authority over you.

From the moment you make application and are hired, every move you make and every word you speak will be reported in some personnel file the company requires its managers to keep. Your personal life will be recorded, too. Your habits, such as smoking and drinking, will be noted and scrutinized in the event that you are eligible for some sort of promotion or advance in the company. Screening agencies will be hired to check on your family life and your friends. Is your spouse the proper sort? Will he or she fit into the company's scheme of things? Are your friends well behaved? Do they have sexual or social failings that could bring embarrassment to you and, through you, to the company?

In order to minimize the effect these company-kept personnel records might have on you in the future a journal of all your workmates, and especially middle- and upper-management in the organization, is absolutely essential. This way, when sales are slow, new orders are not forthcoming and your boss pulls your personnel file because layoffs are the order of the day, you can pull out your own file and explain why it would be better if you are kept.

Records are a powerful tool and anyone can keep them. Remember, a properly kept journal can be far more valuable than the high school diploma you just earned.

###

More editor's notes: 

* This is sort of true. Jim didn't get a high school diploma in 1948 as he should have, instead he quit school two months before graduating and hopped a bus for Detroit. I never did hear a story that made sense. In one serious questioning, he explained that he had done badly on tests and quit before he thought he would be humiliated by flunking. In another, he claimed that he just wanted to come to the big city and make money. Quitting and being motivated by money were two traits I never would have used to describe my father. However, after being discharged from the Navy (see Letters From The USS Valley Forge), Jim received a G.E.D. and did take some courses, including creative writing and public speaking, from Henry Ford Community College. 

As with much of Jim's writing, the tone is a bit tongue in cheek. As a father, he never advocated blackmailing supervisors in the event of an unfortunate conversation. However, he did recommend constant observation of one's environment and listening for what was not being said. He also recommended a Pharm.D. as the best of all possible careers to anyone who would listen. 

Nilla Banana Pudding, The Sweetest Sin

First published in the July 25, 1990 issue of The Camden Chronicle

Mark Twain told a story of a maiden lady who became ill. The doctor was called and after an examination declared that tobacco was the culprit.

"If you give up snuff dipping," he said, "I can almost guarantee a complete recovery."

The lady protested, "I am a clean, fastidious woman. I have never used tobacco in my life."

"Is drinking your problem?" the doctor asked. "Perhaps if you gave up the bottle, your health would improve."

Again, the patient took issue. "I am," she said, "the daughter of a long line of teetotalers. If I put a glass of the Devil's brew to my lips, Heaven would split open and Satan would cackle from his hellish throne. Never, under any circumstances, would I partake of spirits."

"Well, then," the doctor opined, "it must be your social life. If you will give up some of your gentlemen friends and live a more sedate life, your health will improve dramatically."

The lady became agitated, "Doctor! I am a lifelong spinster! The only man I have been alone with in my adult life is Deacon Waverly, and even then there is always three feet of space and a pair of overalls between us. You are barking up the wrong tree. My life is as pure as the driven snow."

"Too bad, then," said the doctor. "You have no bad habits or shortcomings to give up in order to get well. It looks like you're a goner. Good day, madam."

I posed this question to the woman I consort with: If you were suddenly taken ill and had to give up some lifelong or beloved habit to improve your health, what would it be?

"That's easy," she said. "I would give up cornbread. That's the only way I would give up cornbread -- if my life was threatened. And, if that did not work to improve my health, I would made the supreme sacrifice: I would give up porch swinging. Life without cornbread and porch swinging would hardly be worth living, anyway. A just God would not overlook such a sacrifice on my part. I feel confident that the Almighty will honor those offerings laid at his feet."

While I pondered her answer, I wondered what I would do in like circumstances. I gave up smoking long ago. I never was much of a drinker. At my age, an overactive social life would probably be more dangerous to my health than anything nature could contrive.

The only over indulgence that plagues my life is vanilla wafers. That will attest to the dullest of existences. If Mark Twain were here, I wonder how he would feel about my plight.

Back of the Box Recipes, click here

Editor's note:

The Mark Twain story that Jim cites appears to be in "Following the Equator: A Journey Around The World" and is often referred to as the "Moral Pauper." Twain's version isn't quite like Jim's, but you know how storytellers embellish. One of Jim's favorite quotes from his mother was "I know that story's the truth 'cause I made it up myself." 

It's true about those dang bland cookies. There was always a box of Nabisco Vanilla Wafers in the house and there was nothing Jim loved more than the Banana Pudding recipe on the box.

The Art of the Deal - Southern Style

First published in the August 9, 1990 issue of The Camden Chronicle

I can remember exactly when and where it happened, when I acquired an affluent feeling, when I felt like I had left the common herd and had taken my place among the CEOs of this life. Until then, the only claim I had on the upper echelon-ship of everyday comings and goings was as a trustee in the church.

Being a church trustee requires no great amount of talent or training. All you have to do is show up at most meetings, say a short prayer if you are asked, keep your pledge more or less current, and speak well of the pastor in public. I could say something about what it takes to be a deacon or song leader, but I have digressed too much already.

There was this man who owed me a small sum of money. He came by my house while the workmen were building a new garage to replace the old one that was nearly rotted to the ground.  As he stood beside me watching the workmen perform, he explained that ready cash was still in short supply around his house and it would be a while before he could return the loan in the currency of the land.

"By Golly!" he exploded, his eyes lighting up. "I've just come into possession of a new garage door opener!" He gave the brand name and motor horsepower.

"It would sure be the thing to open the door on your new garage! I'll give you the opener and help you install it in lieu of the debt!"

Since I held no collateral on the loan and the amount was not a great lot, the idea appealed to me, but the clincher was his offer to help with the installation. I knew my debtor was skilled in things mechanical and the installation of the door opener would be a snap for him, while the removal and replacement of a light bulb sometimes taxes my engineering abilities.

True to our agreement, the next day my friend brought over the electric door opener and installed it in short order. Debt paid. We shook hands, agreed that both had made a great bargain and parted friends. He promised to keep me in mind if he needed to borrow money again. I thanked him and said I would certainly mention his name if anyone inquired about a garage door installer.

That night, after things had settled down and the woman I consort with was watching television in another part of the house, I stood at the kitchen window with the garage door remote. I pressed the button and watched the door quietly slide up and down. What a feeling of power!

"I am no longer a small time country boy," I told myself. "I have arrived." An automatic garage door opener is the difference between feeling influentially stable and just hanging on with crowd.

The editor (Connie Parker Harrison) beneath the Influentially Stable Garage Door Opener,
August 1986, with Kevin Cornett and friends.