We sold nightcrawlers from our house for several years. Becky really got it all started when she saw how much others were charging for a dozen worms and remembered how easy they were to collect when she was younger. She made a big sign for our front yard, we collected several dozen one evening and we were in business. Well, maybe it’s not all that easy.
Going out once in awhile and hunting nightcrawlers can be fun but when you are doing it almost every night it gets a little tiresome. Fingers actually get soar from grabbing the things. Generally, you drive your thumb and index finger into the ground trying to catch the worm and then hold on until it tires and then slowly pull it out of the ground trying not to break it.
It was a competitive market! We started out selling them for 75 cents a dozen. That forced other sellers to lower their price. As the summer progressed the price went up, as worms were harder to find in the hot weather. Because I had a sales tax permit I could buy worms in bulk form Rose’s Bait Shop in West Burlington. I had to have the permit for my house painting business.
Rose’s actually imported their worms from Canada. They came in Styrofoam cooler like boxes they called lugs. A lug of worms was determined by weight but usually was about 400 worms. Smaller worms meant more worms. We liked that because it meant more profit and a small Canadian worm was still plenty large for a fisherman. Their large worms were huge!
The profit, of course was much better when we were finding our own worms so we tried to do that as often as possible. During the years we sold worms we averaged over $1000 per summer. Not bad for a part time job and nice summer income. We reported the income for sales tax and paid the 3 cents on a dollar to the state. Yes, we also reported it all on our income taxes.
We initially kept the worms in the refrigerator and sold them right out of our front door. Becky quickly grew tired of worms in the refrigerator and we moved them to a large cooler on the back porch. We started directing people to the back door to pick them up.
That worked well! Many fishermen just came down the alley and came to the back door. Sometimes they woke us up early looking for worms. Other times we were gone and lost customers, which we didn’t like. We had some regular customers who asked if we could leave worms out on our patio for them. We put them in a smaller cooler and left a cup in it for payment. That worked well and they always left the money.
As time went by we moved the large cooler to the patio and gradually customers got used to the self-service nightcrawler business. That’s when the trouble started! You can read about that in the next installment.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Church Youth Trips
Becky and I went on lots of church youth trips during the seventies. We were a young couple involved in the church and so we got asked often to be part of youth activities. We were even the youth group’s leaders for a few years. We also did youth Sunday school several times. But, the big thing was the trips.
One of the first trips we went on was the youth ski trip to Mt. LaCrosse near La Crosse, Wisconsin. We did know much about leading a group of kids and we knew nothing about skiing but we went anyway. It’s not really a mountain but a big hill.
We started out on the bunny hill and did Ok. They had a rope tow to the top of the big hill so that was the next challenge. It was a long not so steep hill. We went up and came straight down and then up and down again. We could go straight but didn’t know how to turn. After awhile it wasn’t too exciting.
Becky crashed on the hill behind me and was twisted in a painful position. She was unable to move and screamed for my help. Now, the only way I knew to go up hill when skiing was the rope tow but that wasn’t an option. I ended up crawling about 20 yards up the hill to get to her. She had twisted a knee so her skiing was over for the day. Her swollen knee made the long trip home a painful trip.
We took a weeklong trip with the youth group one summer. We took the girls with us on this one. We went to a Presbyterian Camp for a week’s work cleaning and repairing the camp for the camping season. From there we went to Minneapolis we stayed in a church basement. While there we toured an inner city refuge and the group went to a play at the Guthrie Theater. I didn’t get to go because someone needed to stay back at the church and watch Heather.
We made about six trips to Dubuque with church kids. We went there with the confirmation group and visited New Mallory Abby and a Greek Orthodox Church. We stayed all night in the Catholic Seminary and enjoyed having breakfast with the cloistered monks.
Several times while in Dubuque we went skiing at Sundown. It was a better slope than Mt. LaCrosse and offered several routes and challenges. It also had lift chairs that we liked much better than the towropes. We got better and better at it as we continued to go.
Becky perfected several acrobatic moves. More than once after one of the spectacular tumbles I thought surely she was seriously hurt, or worse only to find her giddy with joy. Fortunately, neither us were ever hurt seriously and none of the kids were a problem. We did get a little tired of sleeping on the hard floor of a church.
One of the first trips we went on was the youth ski trip to Mt. LaCrosse near La Crosse, Wisconsin. We did know much about leading a group of kids and we knew nothing about skiing but we went anyway. It’s not really a mountain but a big hill.
We started out on the bunny hill and did Ok. They had a rope tow to the top of the big hill so that was the next challenge. It was a long not so steep hill. We went up and came straight down and then up and down again. We could go straight but didn’t know how to turn. After awhile it wasn’t too exciting.
Becky crashed on the hill behind me and was twisted in a painful position. She was unable to move and screamed for my help. Now, the only way I knew to go up hill when skiing was the rope tow but that wasn’t an option. I ended up crawling about 20 yards up the hill to get to her. She had twisted a knee so her skiing was over for the day. Her swollen knee made the long trip home a painful trip.
We took a weeklong trip with the youth group one summer. We took the girls with us on this one. We went to a Presbyterian Camp for a week’s work cleaning and repairing the camp for the camping season. From there we went to Minneapolis we stayed in a church basement. While there we toured an inner city refuge and the group went to a play at the Guthrie Theater. I didn’t get to go because someone needed to stay back at the church and watch Heather.
We made about six trips to Dubuque with church kids. We went there with the confirmation group and visited New Mallory Abby and a Greek Orthodox Church. We stayed all night in the Catholic Seminary and enjoyed having breakfast with the cloistered monks.
Several times while in Dubuque we went skiing at Sundown. It was a better slope than Mt. LaCrosse and offered several routes and challenges. It also had lift chairs that we liked much better than the towropes. We got better and better at it as we continued to go.
Becky perfected several acrobatic moves. More than once after one of the spectacular tumbles I thought surely she was seriously hurt, or worse only to find her giddy with joy. Fortunately, neither us were ever hurt seriously and none of the kids were a problem. We did get a little tired of sleeping on the hard floor of a church.
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Legend of the Camelback Lure
The Legend of the Camelback Lure
My Grandpa Perry was a great fisherman and he often fished with his brother-in-law, Louis Van Doren. I remember Grandpa being a big fellow who had a full head of hair, seldom wore a hat, and always had a smile on his face. Uncle Lew was a small thin man who often wore a straw fedora and always had a toothpick in his mouth. They fished for catfish, carp, bass, bluegill, and about anything else that swam in the rivers and streams around the family farm in Henry County.
Uncle Lew was always interested in the best fishing techniques and read magazines and many books about it. He experimented with baits like Grandpa’s Gooey Catfish Bait and the anise dough ball for carp. He was always looking for the perfect bait.
I am not sure if he ever found it but he did find the perfect lure, or rather, he made it. There wasn’t much he couldn’t make out of wood. Lew had seen lures advertised in magazines but in the 1930s had no money to spend on them so he started fabricating his own out of wood and other available components. He once told me the first few looked good but didn’t perform right in the water. After much experimentation he came across the perfect design.
The lure, made of wood and leather, behaved just like a fish when you drug it through the water. That behavior is what many commercial lure makers struggle to create. It is not as easy to achieve as you might imagine.
The lure was in two segments, the body and the tail, attached together with a thin strip of cowhide. It was about five inches long, had two treble hooks and was in its day, a real beauty. He called it the Camelback lure cause it sort resembled the back of a camel. I only saw it once. When I was about eight years old Lew got it out to show me.
He kept it in a small cigar box with some of his other homemade lures. I remember holding it in my hand and then he put it back in the box. He even had an old newspaper article about it folded up in that box. He said it was a big mistake to do the interview for the article because it just drew more attention to it. I never saw the article or the lure again but he often told stories about all the fish he caught.
Lew said he ended up making about 5 more just like it for friends and Grandpa. He said they were all amazing but none worked quite as well as the original. He attributed that to one slight difference that he would not divulge.
The unbelievable thing is that the lure never failed to catch a fish. That’s right! With every cast or troll it caught a fish. Unbelievable? Yes, but it is the truth or that is at least what my Grandpa and Uncle Lew said. Being Quakers I don’t think either one would ever tell a lie.
That lure seemed to work on almost any kind of fish. It was irresistible. Bass, carp, bluegill, catfish and even walleyes and northerns went for it. Word spread pretty fast about that lure and when folks saw Lew fishing somewhere they would gather around and watch in amazement! Grandpa Perry talked up the lure every time he got a chance. It got to be so bad that Lew would wear a disguise when he fished but people soon figured that out and flocked around.
That and the fact that fishing trips got much shorter because it only took a few casts to catch his limit caused Uncle Lew to put that lure in semi retirement. Besides that he said it took the fun and challenge out of fishing. He only used it when he had a big fish fry coming up.
I have always wondered what happened to those lures? Uncle Lew died in the sixties and Grandpa in 1972. I don’t remember seeing them in the things they left behind. Years later, I met an old fisherman fishing at Oakland Mills. When I told him my name he said, “You Perry Mendenhall’s grandson?” Of course I said “yes” and he started talking about that lure. He had seen Lew use it many times and Grandpa use his, too.
The old fella swore it was all true and claimed he had one of the replicas for a time, too, but lost it years ago catching a huge catfish in the very spot he was sitting at that moment. Believing catfish can live to be 50-60 years old he was hoping to catch that fish again and get his lure back. I don’t know if he ever did?
I have asked members of my family about the Camelback lure but no one seems to know what became of it. Oh, they all remember it, but each one describes it slightly differently. I do remember what it looked like because I saw it. I sure wish I had it now!
All fishing stories are true and some of them really happened.
My Grandpa Perry was a great fisherman and he often fished with his brother-in-law, Louis Van Doren. I remember Grandpa being a big fellow who had a full head of hair, seldom wore a hat, and always had a smile on his face. Uncle Lew was a small thin man who often wore a straw fedora and always had a toothpick in his mouth. They fished for catfish, carp, bass, bluegill, and about anything else that swam in the rivers and streams around the family farm in Henry County.
Uncle Lew was always interested in the best fishing techniques and read magazines and many books about it. He experimented with baits like Grandpa’s Gooey Catfish Bait and the anise dough ball for carp. He was always looking for the perfect bait.
I am not sure if he ever found it but he did find the perfect lure, or rather, he made it. There wasn’t much he couldn’t make out of wood. Lew had seen lures advertised in magazines but in the 1930s had no money to spend on them so he started fabricating his own out of wood and other available components. He once told me the first few looked good but didn’t perform right in the water. After much experimentation he came across the perfect design.
The lure, made of wood and leather, behaved just like a fish when you drug it through the water. That behavior is what many commercial lure makers struggle to create. It is not as easy to achieve as you might imagine.
The lure was in two segments, the body and the tail, attached together with a thin strip of cowhide. It was about five inches long, had two treble hooks and was in its day, a real beauty. He called it the Camelback lure cause it sort resembled the back of a camel. I only saw it once. When I was about eight years old Lew got it out to show me.
He kept it in a small cigar box with some of his other homemade lures. I remember holding it in my hand and then he put it back in the box. He even had an old newspaper article about it folded up in that box. He said it was a big mistake to do the interview for the article because it just drew more attention to it. I never saw the article or the lure again but he often told stories about all the fish he caught.
Lew said he ended up making about 5 more just like it for friends and Grandpa. He said they were all amazing but none worked quite as well as the original. He attributed that to one slight difference that he would not divulge.
The unbelievable thing is that the lure never failed to catch a fish. That’s right! With every cast or troll it caught a fish. Unbelievable? Yes, but it is the truth or that is at least what my Grandpa and Uncle Lew said. Being Quakers I don’t think either one would ever tell a lie.
That lure seemed to work on almost any kind of fish. It was irresistible. Bass, carp, bluegill, catfish and even walleyes and northerns went for it. Word spread pretty fast about that lure and when folks saw Lew fishing somewhere they would gather around and watch in amazement! Grandpa Perry talked up the lure every time he got a chance. It got to be so bad that Lew would wear a disguise when he fished but people soon figured that out and flocked around.
That and the fact that fishing trips got much shorter because it only took a few casts to catch his limit caused Uncle Lew to put that lure in semi retirement. Besides that he said it took the fun and challenge out of fishing. He only used it when he had a big fish fry coming up.
I have always wondered what happened to those lures? Uncle Lew died in the sixties and Grandpa in 1972. I don’t remember seeing them in the things they left behind. Years later, I met an old fisherman fishing at Oakland Mills. When I told him my name he said, “You Perry Mendenhall’s grandson?” Of course I said “yes” and he started talking about that lure. He had seen Lew use it many times and Grandpa use his, too.
The old fella swore it was all true and claimed he had one of the replicas for a time, too, but lost it years ago catching a huge catfish in the very spot he was sitting at that moment. Believing catfish can live to be 50-60 years old he was hoping to catch that fish again and get his lure back. I don’t know if he ever did?
I have asked members of my family about the Camelback lure but no one seems to know what became of it. Oh, they all remember it, but each one describes it slightly differently. I do remember what it looked like because I saw it. I sure wish I had it now!
All fishing stories are true and some of them really happened.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Colorblind House Painter
There are jokes about colorblind house painters. That made it tough for me! I usually tried not to slip and tell a customer I was colorblind. I painted houses for several summers in the 1970s. I liked it because I was outside and could work when I wanted to.
The first summer I painted a house on White Street up near the railroad tracks. A friend wanted to work with me so I let him join in. He had a truck and a ladder so that worked well. We did a couple houses and split the money.
The next year he wanted to go on his own. He thought he could make more money on his own. I was a little disappointed but decided to go ahead on my own. I used car top racks and borrowed my Dad’s ladder.
I learned a lot about house painting. I learned how to calculate how much paint would be needed for a job. It is all based on the number of square feet that need to be covered. Other things like the absorbency of the surface or the number of coats that are being applied have to be considered.
I always let the customer choose the color and kind of paint they wanted and I even preferred that they purchase it directly from the store if possible. I just told them how much to get and I was usually pretty accurate. I preferred the more expensive paints because they seemed to spread easier.
Houses first had to be prepared for the paint. Sometimes that meant hours of scraping. I discovered that on many houses you could scrape for days and not seem to make any progress. The process of scraping took of the loose paint but also loosened up other spots. The more you scraped the more was loosened up and soon you realize you have to stop doing that or you will be scraping until all of the paint is off the house.
It was sometimes hard to find a safe place to put the ladder on a house. Siding was sometimes soft or rotten. I did break one pane of a second story window when I got the ladder too close. I was able to repair it quickly.
I painted some pretty high places including the bell tower on the First Presbyterian Church. That was kind of scary! A crane was used to lift a painting platform up next to the tower and we painted from there.
I painted high places on many houses, too. Sometimes I had to stretch as far as I could to cover all of the spots. It was very scary at times. I fell only once and it was down the ladder and I caught myself before I got to the ground. I was very sore for a while but not seriously injured.
I think I was a good painter and had several satisfied customers even though I am colorblind. I just tried to make sure I covered every spot with the paint. Usually, it was white on white so it wasn’t much of a problem.
The first summer I painted a house on White Street up near the railroad tracks. A friend wanted to work with me so I let him join in. He had a truck and a ladder so that worked well. We did a couple houses and split the money.
The next year he wanted to go on his own. He thought he could make more money on his own. I was a little disappointed but decided to go ahead on my own. I used car top racks and borrowed my Dad’s ladder.
I learned a lot about house painting. I learned how to calculate how much paint would be needed for a job. It is all based on the number of square feet that need to be covered. Other things like the absorbency of the surface or the number of coats that are being applied have to be considered.
I always let the customer choose the color and kind of paint they wanted and I even preferred that they purchase it directly from the store if possible. I just told them how much to get and I was usually pretty accurate. I preferred the more expensive paints because they seemed to spread easier.
Houses first had to be prepared for the paint. Sometimes that meant hours of scraping. I discovered that on many houses you could scrape for days and not seem to make any progress. The process of scraping took of the loose paint but also loosened up other spots. The more you scraped the more was loosened up and soon you realize you have to stop doing that or you will be scraping until all of the paint is off the house.
It was sometimes hard to find a safe place to put the ladder on a house. Siding was sometimes soft or rotten. I did break one pane of a second story window when I got the ladder too close. I was able to repair it quickly.
I painted some pretty high places including the bell tower on the First Presbyterian Church. That was kind of scary! A crane was used to lift a painting platform up next to the tower and we painted from there.
I painted high places on many houses, too. Sometimes I had to stretch as far as I could to cover all of the spots. It was very scary at times. I fell only once and it was down the ladder and I caught myself before I got to the ground. I was very sore for a while but not seriously injured.
I think I was a good painter and had several satisfied customers even though I am colorblind. I just tried to make sure I covered every spot with the paint. Usually, it was white on white so it wasn’t much of a problem.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Construction Worker
I worked one summer as a construction worker. My cousin, Melvin Smith, owned a construction business and offered me a job. I found out later that he didn’t think I would last more than one day at it and most of the crew felt the same way. In fact, they took bets on whether I would show up the second day.
That first day was a tough one but I honestly never even considered quitting. We were working on digging a basement under an existing house in Trenton. All the work that could be done with heavy equipment had been done and we were now doing the last of it by hand with shovels and wheelbarrows. We filled the wheelbarrows with dirt and then pushed them up a ramp and out of the hole. It was heavy, hard, dirty work.
There were sarcastic comments about schoolteachers that I didn’t pay much attention to. Thinking back on it I think they were going to show this soft kid a lesson or two about hard work. They did but I showed them a thing or two, too.
By the time we broke for lunch I was worn out. They hadn’t told me that I was supposed to bring my own lunch. One of the kinder older guys gave me part of his sandwich but I mostly just rested. We only got a half an hour and then we were back at it. The same badgering went on all afternoon. I was really happy when four o’clock came!
The next morning I showed up at the lumberyard early and ready to go to work. Someone said, “The schoolteacher came back!” The second day wasn’t much easier but the badgering tapered off as they got to know me. I worked side by side with them the rest of the week and was finally one of them. Aside from the occasional sarcastic remark about what an easy job teachers have there wasn’t much that made me feel like I was picked on. Soon they were making similar comments about each other.
One guy did tell me that if it weren’t for construction workers I wouldn’t have a job because there would be no schools. I didn’t comment much and let the conversation move forward.
They did try to trip me up with the old construction worker gags like telling me to go get the henweigh out of the truck, hoping I’d ask, ”What’s a henweigh? Of course, the answer is about 5 pounds. They also tried to send me back into the lumberyard to pick up a piecost. I didn’t fall for that one either.
I actually grew to love the work! We were outside all day and I liked that. Also, there was absolutely no stress. I didn’t have to make any decisions. I just did what I was told and went home at the end of the day and didn’t think about it again until the next morning. It was also gratifying to see visible results of the day’s work.
That first day was a tough one but I honestly never even considered quitting. We were working on digging a basement under an existing house in Trenton. All the work that could be done with heavy equipment had been done and we were now doing the last of it by hand with shovels and wheelbarrows. We filled the wheelbarrows with dirt and then pushed them up a ramp and out of the hole. It was heavy, hard, dirty work.
There were sarcastic comments about schoolteachers that I didn’t pay much attention to. Thinking back on it I think they were going to show this soft kid a lesson or two about hard work. They did but I showed them a thing or two, too.
By the time we broke for lunch I was worn out. They hadn’t told me that I was supposed to bring my own lunch. One of the kinder older guys gave me part of his sandwich but I mostly just rested. We only got a half an hour and then we were back at it. The same badgering went on all afternoon. I was really happy when four o’clock came!
The next morning I showed up at the lumberyard early and ready to go to work. Someone said, “The schoolteacher came back!” The second day wasn’t much easier but the badgering tapered off as they got to know me. I worked side by side with them the rest of the week and was finally one of them. Aside from the occasional sarcastic remark about what an easy job teachers have there wasn’t much that made me feel like I was picked on. Soon they were making similar comments about each other.
One guy did tell me that if it weren’t for construction workers I wouldn’t have a job because there would be no schools. I didn’t comment much and let the conversation move forward.
They did try to trip me up with the old construction worker gags like telling me to go get the henweigh out of the truck, hoping I’d ask, ”What’s a henweigh? Of course, the answer is about 5 pounds. They also tried to send me back into the lumberyard to pick up a piecost. I didn’t fall for that one either.
I actually grew to love the work! We were outside all day and I liked that. Also, there was absolutely no stress. I didn’t have to make any decisions. I just did what I was told and went home at the end of the day and didn’t think about it again until the next morning. It was also gratifying to see visible results of the day’s work.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Tower School
I worked as an educational consultant for two years at Tower School. It was on the top floor or the Mental Health Institute and thus the name. I liked being able to say I was an educational consultant. I worked two nights a week for about two hours each.
The truth is I was a tutor along with several others and worked with kids from the children’s unit at the hospital. We worked mostly on reading and had one or two kids for each of the two hours. Many were very needy and all had serious mental health issues. While I was fascinated with many of their stories I was also saddened by their misfortune.
All of them attended a day school at the institute and this program was designed to supplement it. The day program had a principal and this tutor program was lead by a professor from Iowa Wesleyan College. The two guys didn’t see eye to eye and their dislike for each other spilled into the evening program. The guy in charge of the evening program had a Ph. D. and insisted on being called doctor. I didn’t mind doing that but thought he was rather arrogant in insisting on it.
The night principal had a routine he expected everyone to follow. At the end of your session with a child he wanted you to parade the child before him. Then he proceeded to interrogate the kid about what they knew. Most were quite intimidated by the ritual and would beg to avoid it if they could. I sympathized with them and never quite got the point of the activity. I think it was more about authority and control than anything else.
Overtime we did build relationships with the kids we worked with. I remember one boy being so excited that he was getting a home visit over the weekend and would get to see his father. That weekend he went to the basement and got a rifle and went upstairs and killed his father and then went back to the basement and shot himself. We were, of course, shocked!
Another time when I was tutoring a student he was sitting in an old fashioned chair with the writing surface that was part of the arm of the chair. As we were talking he slowly slid out of chair and on to the floor. He started chewing on the arm of the chair and too my amazement was taking large chunks of wood off with each bite.
One of the boys, a teenager, was brilliant! He had an incredible memory and could tell you who won the World Series for whatever year you choose and all the details of each game. He was incredibly bright and from a wealthy family on the west coast. How he ended up in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa I don’t know. He left before the year was over and went back to be with his family. I don’t know why he was there in the first place?
Other than the above and a few other isolated incidents the kids were a lot like any other kids you might encounter.
The truth is I was a tutor along with several others and worked with kids from the children’s unit at the hospital. We worked mostly on reading and had one or two kids for each of the two hours. Many were very needy and all had serious mental health issues. While I was fascinated with many of their stories I was also saddened by their misfortune.
All of them attended a day school at the institute and this program was designed to supplement it. The day program had a principal and this tutor program was lead by a professor from Iowa Wesleyan College. The two guys didn’t see eye to eye and their dislike for each other spilled into the evening program. The guy in charge of the evening program had a Ph. D. and insisted on being called doctor. I didn’t mind doing that but thought he was rather arrogant in insisting on it.
The night principal had a routine he expected everyone to follow. At the end of your session with a child he wanted you to parade the child before him. Then he proceeded to interrogate the kid about what they knew. Most were quite intimidated by the ritual and would beg to avoid it if they could. I sympathized with them and never quite got the point of the activity. I think it was more about authority and control than anything else.
Overtime we did build relationships with the kids we worked with. I remember one boy being so excited that he was getting a home visit over the weekend and would get to see his father. That weekend he went to the basement and got a rifle and went upstairs and killed his father and then went back to the basement and shot himself. We were, of course, shocked!
Another time when I was tutoring a student he was sitting in an old fashioned chair with the writing surface that was part of the arm of the chair. As we were talking he slowly slid out of chair and on to the floor. He started chewing on the arm of the chair and too my amazement was taking large chunks of wood off with each bite.
One of the boys, a teenager, was brilliant! He had an incredible memory and could tell you who won the World Series for whatever year you choose and all the details of each game. He was incredibly bright and from a wealthy family on the west coast. How he ended up in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa I don’t know. He left before the year was over and went back to be with his family. I don’t know why he was there in the first place?
Other than the above and a few other isolated incidents the kids were a lot like any other kids you might encounter.
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