Post by peterfredson on Jan 7, 2005 14:39:40 GMT -5
BECOMING A WRITER
By Peter Fredson
In High School, probably around 1937, I took Journalism and Print Shop, thinking that like Mark Twain I would learn to become a published author by starting at the bottom, accepting menial tasks, and gradually acquiring knowledge and proficiency. I was accepted as a Printer’s Apprentice by the local Office Supply and Printing Company. I soon learned that a lot of sweeping and cleaning was necessary. A lot!
The worst job was to clean the rollers of the large flat-bed press. The rollers, about 6 feet long, with a steel core, covered with rubbery substance, had to be cleaned before closing shop for the night. This was done with rags and gasoline, until most of my front side was covered with a mixture of printer’s ink and gasoline, while my arms and elbows dripped the dirty mixture.
Another task was to distribute the moveable type used in printing back into the font cases, letter by letter, after scrubbing the type with cleaning fluid so that ink would not dry in the hollow parts of letters. I kept the Merganthaler Linotype supplied with lead, and helped the linotype operator proof-read his work. I also kept the Monotype operator supplied with lead.
A large local company, Polar Ware, used lots of labels which we printed on a hand-press. That was fine when many labels could be printed on an 8-inch sheet, but sometimes I had to print individual labels, about 2 or 3 inches long, This meant taking a small label with one hand, feeding it into the press against some guide pins, while taking out the previous label with the other hand. Meanwhile the press was running continually, just itching to catch my hand in its heavy metal jaws and mangle it for life. The press had a lever which prevented the jaws from closing, provided I could throw it in time. I have never been very quick, very adept, at such tasks, so I would hold one leg against the press fly-wheel to slow it down to my speed capability, while avoiding sharp rebuke from the foreman for taking too much time on a trivial job. The print shop usually lost money doing these individual labels but was willing to do that to keep the client happy.
Sometimes I would escape the print shop routine by delivering office furniture, such as desks, chairs, file-cases, etc. to customers.
Later I was allowed to set type for small print jobs, such as envelopes and calling cards, and felt good when the foreman said, “Looks okay.”<br>
The print-shop employees were very friendly, but did not refrain from pulling practical jokes on me. I remember that I was told to beware of type lice while cleaning type with gasoline. When I bent down, to inspect the type more closely, someone sharply hit the metal form sending cleaning fluid into my face, and everyone in sight laughed like hyenas.
I eventually was allowed to use the Merganthaler Linotype machine in High School, to set up the school newspaper in which appeared an article I had written about conservation. And that is how I become a published writer.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention this. I was paid 15 cents an hour by the print shop, and usually worked after school for 2 hours. One day I received a check for about 75 dollars by mail. It seems that the Wages and Hours inspector found the print shop had been guilty of underpaying me and forced it to pay restitution. So not only did I learn a trade but I bought something I had only dreamt of during the depression year… a Montgomery Ward 3-speed-gear bicycle, with horn, headlight, and large luggage rack in the back.
Good times.