When we were kids growing up in St. Paul in the 1950's, my brothers and sister were lucky because we were among a small group of kids who got to go to work with our Dad. He owned a beer and glassware distributorship at 226 University Avenue just a few blocks from the state capitol. There was a Standard Oil Station on the corner and Dad's business, Lux Distributing Company, was next door. Ron Saxon Ford was located across the street. The other day my sister Maribeth sent me an email recalling that place and some of the characters who dropped by:
"I turned off the news this a.m. and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and thought about the price of gas and where the price may be going to. I had this sudden clear vision of Dad, Joe Schwartz, Will Yetts (sp) and a few other fellows, I can’t recall their names, standing at the corner of the counter at Lux on a Saturday afternoon. All smoking, a bottle of Blatz and blah blah blah about the price of gas and who’s fault it is ; I can even see the dice unit on the counter between them."
Have you ever had that happen? Where does it come from so suddenly and clear? Loved it. Good memory.
Maribeth's memory brings back a vivid picture of that warehouse near the intersection of University Avenue and Marion St. It was a place of business where our dad sold beer and glassware to bars and liquor stores in St. Paul and the emerging suburbs. But like Maribeth I also remember Lux as a place for fellowship and a cold beer at the end of a work day or on Saturday when dad did his bookwork.
Joe Schwartz worked at Eagle laundry on the other side of Marion street. Joey and his brother Lenny -who also worked at the laundry- would come over on hot summer days wearing sweat soaked tee shirts and big smiles, to banter with dad and our grandma -who helped with office work- ready to shake dice to determine who paid for a cold bottle of beer. I think dad charged $.15 for a bottle of beer. (I suspect technically he didn't charge anything since he didn't have a license to sell off sale) It was probably 100 degrees inside the laundry on a hot summer days and I can imagine how that ice cold beer must have tasted. It was a real bargain.
What did they talk about? What would they talk about today? To me, not yet a teenager at the time, these men were big and strong and authorities on life and current events; this small business owner who was my father, the laundry workers like Joe and Lenny Schwartz, insurance men like Will Yetts, policemen like the motorcycle cop that came by, or mechanics like Milt who ran the Standard Oil station next door and of course, Len and Ernie, the drivers who delivered the beer. They were variously sweaty, dirty, smudged with grease, calloused hands and they complained plenty about their aches and pains. It is hard to remember specifics but topics included; Eisenhower, they called him Ike, and seemed to love him; Kids, who had it easier then they did; Politicians, who were mostly crooked; unions, are they good of bad for busines; it's hard to make a living but glad to have a job; The St. Paul Saints; things they wanted, a new car, fishing boat, or a lake cabin; Del Flanagan, a boxer who contended for welterweight champ; boxing;was it fixed or on the level. They probably got a little noisy and argued but to me they seemed to enjoy the banter, and rolling the dice for beer in this dusty hot warehouse where the walls were formed by stacks of beer cases and glassware containers that led you to the dice board and the refrigerator.
What would they talk about today? I think they'd be surprised that people call them part of the greatest generation. Most all were veterans but they never talked, in front of me, about war experiences, except for crabby sargants, brawls they witnessed or were in, practical jokes and characters they met. I suspect if the price of gas came up today they'd argue abit, reminisce about gas wars and fifteen cent a gallon gas and end up agreeing that we wouldn't be in this mess if we had a man like Ike in the White House.
If you have a memory, or a meditation on life, politics, the meaning of life, A big, small or medium truth etc please share it. You can share it through a comment on any entry you wish. Or you can send it to me by email at pjmblog@gmail.com.
"I turned off the news this a.m. and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and thought about the price of gas and where the price may be going to. I had this sudden clear vision of Dad, Joe Schwartz, Will Yetts (sp) and a few other fellows, I can’t recall their names, standing at the corner of the counter at Lux on a Saturday afternoon. All smoking, a bottle of Blatz and blah blah blah about the price of gas and who’s fault it is ; I can even see the dice unit on the counter between them."
Have you ever had that happen? Where does it come from so suddenly and clear? Loved it. Good memory.
Maribeth's memory brings back a vivid picture of that warehouse near the intersection of University Avenue and Marion St. It was a place of business where our dad sold beer and glassware to bars and liquor stores in St. Paul and the emerging suburbs. But like Maribeth I also remember Lux as a place for fellowship and a cold beer at the end of a work day or on Saturday when dad did his bookwork.
Joe Schwartz worked at Eagle laundry on the other side of Marion street. Joey and his brother Lenny -who also worked at the laundry- would come over on hot summer days wearing sweat soaked tee shirts and big smiles, to banter with dad and our grandma -who helped with office work- ready to shake dice to determine who paid for a cold bottle of beer. I think dad charged $.15 for a bottle of beer. (I suspect technically he didn't charge anything since he didn't have a license to sell off sale) It was probably 100 degrees inside the laundry on a hot summer days and I can imagine how that ice cold beer must have tasted. It was a real bargain.
What did they talk about? What would they talk about today? To me, not yet a teenager at the time, these men were big and strong and authorities on life and current events; this small business owner who was my father, the laundry workers like Joe and Lenny Schwartz, insurance men like Will Yetts, policemen like the motorcycle cop that came by, or mechanics like Milt who ran the Standard Oil station next door and of course, Len and Ernie, the drivers who delivered the beer. They were variously sweaty, dirty, smudged with grease, calloused hands and they complained plenty about their aches and pains. It is hard to remember specifics but topics included; Eisenhower, they called him Ike, and seemed to love him; Kids, who had it easier then they did; Politicians, who were mostly crooked; unions, are they good of bad for busines; it's hard to make a living but glad to have a job; The St. Paul Saints; things they wanted, a new car, fishing boat, or a lake cabin; Del Flanagan, a boxer who contended for welterweight champ; boxing;was it fixed or on the level. They probably got a little noisy and argued but to me they seemed to enjoy the banter, and rolling the dice for beer in this dusty hot warehouse where the walls were formed by stacks of beer cases and glassware containers that led you to the dice board and the refrigerator.
What would they talk about today? I think they'd be surprised that people call them part of the greatest generation. Most all were veterans but they never talked, in front of me, about war experiences, except for crabby sargants, brawls they witnessed or were in, practical jokes and characters they met. I suspect if the price of gas came up today they'd argue abit, reminisce about gas wars and fifteen cent a gallon gas and end up agreeing that we wouldn't be in this mess if we had a man like Ike in the White House.
If you have a memory, or a meditation on life, politics, the meaning of life, A big, small or medium truth etc please share it. You can share it through a comment on any entry you wish. Or you can send it to me by email at pjmblog@gmail.com.
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