My father Duane a master builder passed away five years ago. Of the stories he told this was my favorite. Believe it was around 1948. Long story, two pages. I thought the group might enjoy it though.
My Father Duane grew up on a farm in Lyon county. He once told me about the night he proposed to Mom. He was terrified she would say no and when she said yes he was so happy he sang all the way home.
When first married they lived in the upstairs of my Grandparents farm house. I recall my Mom telling how Dad was quite taken with refrigeration and how tired she got of heat pumps sitting on top of the refrigerator along with coils of copper and big barrels of water.
Dad was very gifted, loved to tinker, to understand things. More then anyone else I knew growing up Dad understood what made things work.
Uncle Swede, a truck driving man, married my Mom's sister Viv. Us kids all loved him as he had a glass eye that he would pull out if you asked and he could wiggle his ears on cue.
The glass eye was the result of a buzz saw accident one Sunday morning. Aunt Viv never failed to bring up the point that had Swede been in church he would still have his eye. Thinking back seems Swede would have gotten tired of hearing that but he would just grin and chuckle when Viv brought it up.
Now the upshot of the glass eye was that Uncle Swede could no longer drive Interstate. Although I was too young and never met Hank Riter if a load went Interstate, Hank was Swedes driver.
What pulls all this together is that Dad and Swede were always cooking stuff up so it was no surprise when Dad took on building a refrigeration unit for one of Swedes Semi trailers. I certainly wish I had a picture of it but none exist. What I can tell you is that the compressor was belt driven off a pulley which was mounted between the back duals of the trailer. I do know Dad had a patent pending on it.
Dad no more then got the unit done then Swede booked a load of frozen eggs to Philadelphia. As Dad told it the eggs were broken, put in cans, frozen solid and then packed into cardboard boxes.
With the trailer loaded, Hank at the wheel, and Dad riding shotgun they were off. Dad said Hank told him repeatedly how the East coast was all union. In Northwest Iowa even while I was growing up the Unions were just something you read about in the papers. As Hank told Dad though, why you just pull up to the loading dock cross you arms and those union boys walk everything right off the truck, don't have to lift a finger. This was far different then back home where the truck driver was always expected to unload glad to have any help at all.
It all went south half-way across Indiana. By his own admission frazzled by the heavier then he was used to traffic Dad let the clutch out too quickly at a stop sign pulling a wheelie into the intersection. With the old K10 International back under way there was the sickening clunk clunk clunk of a chipped tooth on the pinion gear. Tail between his legs Dad limped into a truck stop.
Before leaving home Dad had hung a old Briggs motor on for auxiliary power, as he told the story he knew full well it did not have enough horsepower to pull that compressor, it was strictly for show. Simply put it was a ground driven unit, without the trailer moving their load was going to thaw out.
Late in the afternoon the mechanic at the truck stop had every right to laugh, what a sight they must have been. But rather then make fun he told them he would leave his tool box open for them and someone else gave Hank the keys to his personal pickup truck so he could run to South Bend for parts.
Dad stayed pulling the truck apart in the parking lot. Hank made it back and helped Dad get that rear end back together and in the truck.. The load might have been a little soft around the edges but they didn't lose it, were still in the game
Back on the road Hank told Dad once again how the Union worked and that they would not have to lift a finger at the docks.
It was five o'clock Friday afternoon when our heroes pulled into the warehouse at Philadelphia. As they were driving in the gate they met all the dock workers streaming out for the weekend..
Told they would not be unloaded until Monday morning and Dad and Hank were just sick. As Dad said their was just no way they could drive that old K10 around Philadelphia for the entire weekend to keep their load frozen. As they leaned back against the trailer their faces dragging the ground the dock foreman came around the corner, sized them up, and asked if they wished to get that load off?
With big grins Dad and Hank both replied to the affirmative. The foremen told them if they wanted it off they had better get their butts in there and unload it themselves and that he in turn would hold the door open until they were done.
Dad told me they were whistling and grinning from ear to ear as they manhandled those cases of eggs.
And that I could go back in time and shake the hand of the fellow at the Truck-stop that let Dad use his tools, and that I could say thank you to the fellow that gave Hank his pickup truck to use and give a pat on the back to that Philadelphia dock foreman.. How I wish they knew how important what they did for Dad was, how hard it would have been on him to come home with nothing but repair bills, expenses, and a lost load.
How easy it would have been for those fellows at the truck stop and the loading dock foreman to simply go home with a story about some rube farm kids from Iowa with a Mickey Mouse ground driven reefer unit and a load of melting eggs.
But they did not laugh, they saw a chance to make a difference and simply stepped up to the plate.
We don't even know their names.
At this point all the principles involved are gone, nothing is left but the story and the spirit of those involved.
I learned a lot from Dad, he worked hard and smart, paid his dues and never failed to step up to the plate when it was his turn.
My Father Duane grew up on a farm in Lyon county. He once told me about the night he proposed to Mom. He was terrified she would say no and when she said yes he was so happy he sang all the way home.
When first married they lived in the upstairs of my Grandparents farm house. I recall my Mom telling how Dad was quite taken with refrigeration and how tired she got of heat pumps sitting on top of the refrigerator along with coils of copper and big barrels of water.
Dad was very gifted, loved to tinker, to understand things. More then anyone else I knew growing up Dad understood what made things work.
Uncle Swede, a truck driving man, married my Mom's sister Viv. Us kids all loved him as he had a glass eye that he would pull out if you asked and he could wiggle his ears on cue.
The glass eye was the result of a buzz saw accident one Sunday morning. Aunt Viv never failed to bring up the point that had Swede been in church he would still have his eye. Thinking back seems Swede would have gotten tired of hearing that but he would just grin and chuckle when Viv brought it up.
Now the upshot of the glass eye was that Uncle Swede could no longer drive Interstate. Although I was too young and never met Hank Riter if a load went Interstate, Hank was Swedes driver.
What pulls all this together is that Dad and Swede were always cooking stuff up so it was no surprise when Dad took on building a refrigeration unit for one of Swedes Semi trailers. I certainly wish I had a picture of it but none exist. What I can tell you is that the compressor was belt driven off a pulley which was mounted between the back duals of the trailer. I do know Dad had a patent pending on it.
Dad no more then got the unit done then Swede booked a load of frozen eggs to Philadelphia. As Dad told it the eggs were broken, put in cans, frozen solid and then packed into cardboard boxes.
With the trailer loaded, Hank at the wheel, and Dad riding shotgun they were off. Dad said Hank told him repeatedly how the East coast was all union. In Northwest Iowa even while I was growing up the Unions were just something you read about in the papers. As Hank told Dad though, why you just pull up to the loading dock cross you arms and those union boys walk everything right off the truck, don't have to lift a finger. This was far different then back home where the truck driver was always expected to unload glad to have any help at all.
It all went south half-way across Indiana. By his own admission frazzled by the heavier then he was used to traffic Dad let the clutch out too quickly at a stop sign pulling a wheelie into the intersection. With the old K10 International back under way there was the sickening clunk clunk clunk of a chipped tooth on the pinion gear. Tail between his legs Dad limped into a truck stop.
Before leaving home Dad had hung a old Briggs motor on for auxiliary power, as he told the story he knew full well it did not have enough horsepower to pull that compressor, it was strictly for show. Simply put it was a ground driven unit, without the trailer moving their load was going to thaw out.
Late in the afternoon the mechanic at the truck stop had every right to laugh, what a sight they must have been. But rather then make fun he told them he would leave his tool box open for them and someone else gave Hank the keys to his personal pickup truck so he could run to South Bend for parts.
Dad stayed pulling the truck apart in the parking lot. Hank made it back and helped Dad get that rear end back together and in the truck.. The load might have been a little soft around the edges but they didn't lose it, were still in the game
Back on the road Hank told Dad once again how the Union worked and that they would not have to lift a finger at the docks.
It was five o'clock Friday afternoon when our heroes pulled into the warehouse at Philadelphia. As they were driving in the gate they met all the dock workers streaming out for the weekend..
Told they would not be unloaded until Monday morning and Dad and Hank were just sick. As Dad said their was just no way they could drive that old K10 around Philadelphia for the entire weekend to keep their load frozen. As they leaned back against the trailer their faces dragging the ground the dock foreman came around the corner, sized them up, and asked if they wished to get that load off?
With big grins Dad and Hank both replied to the affirmative. The foremen told them if they wanted it off they had better get their butts in there and unload it themselves and that he in turn would hold the door open until they were done.
Dad told me they were whistling and grinning from ear to ear as they manhandled those cases of eggs.
And that I could go back in time and shake the hand of the fellow at the Truck-stop that let Dad use his tools, and that I could say thank you to the fellow that gave Hank his pickup truck to use and give a pat on the back to that Philadelphia dock foreman.. How I wish they knew how important what they did for Dad was, how hard it would have been on him to come home with nothing but repair bills, expenses, and a lost load.
How easy it would have been for those fellows at the truck stop and the loading dock foreman to simply go home with a story about some rube farm kids from Iowa with a Mickey Mouse ground driven reefer unit and a load of melting eggs.
But they did not laugh, they saw a chance to make a difference and simply stepped up to the plate.
We don't even know their names.
At this point all the principles involved are gone, nothing is left but the story and the spirit of those involved.
I learned a lot from Dad, he worked hard and smart, paid his dues and never failed to step up to the plate when it was his turn.
