While working for a shop in Spokane, I did a lot of work in the old Davenport Hotel and Restaurant.  The chief cook was called Sheff.  I thought that was a rather strange name.  After many days it dawned on me they were saying “Chef.”  (In Havre, Montana none of the cafes rated a “chef” so I wasn’t familiar with hearing it.)

The restaurant seemed to change chefs off and on while I worked there.  Each one had a different name that came after “Chef.”  One of the chefs in the parade had conduct that I didn’t appreciate.  I never knew if he was married or not, but a wife would not have appreciated what took place on the job.

Nevertheless, I was there to work on electrical things, so I tried to ignore everything else.  One of those jobs involved one of his soup pots.  He had a line of them (perhaps 10 or more) against a wall.  The wall was about 4 feet tall.  The last pot in the line was rotating on a heat source.  Except that, on this day, the pot was not rotating.

The only way to get to the pot in the corner that wasn’t operating correctly was to climb up on the stub wall and walk down the line to the corner, then climb down behind it and work on the electric motor.  As I walked down the wall I thought; “I don’t want to slip now and end up in a pot of boiling soup.”

After I got the motor working on the pot turner, I returned the way I had come – walking the top of the wall.  Chef was there waiting for me.  I told him the pot turner was fixed and working.

I also told him; “When I was walking along that wall I accidently kicked a whole lemon in one of the pots of soup.  If you get rich and famous for a new recipe, I want part of the credit.”

Chef was instantly curious, dare I say anxious, and asked; “What lemon?!  What pot?! What soup?!”

I just chuckled at his frustration and walked away.

I don’t think he appreciated my sense of humor.

I had worked in the electrical trade in Glasgow, Montana for four years when work slowed down to the point that I needed to go elsewhere for a job.

We had purchased a new car on payments, and those payments had to be made.  We had a little boy to raise, and for some reason he was always eating.

I went 160 miles west to Havre, Montana to find work and I found it.  On July 4^th I went back to Glasgow to move my family and trailer home to Havre.  I hitched the new Ford to the trailer and moved everything in one trip.

We got a late start, so when evening came we pulled over alongside the road outside of Malta, Montana.  I remember it was the 4^th of July, because during the night someone drove by and threw out a fire cracker that landed by the trailer.  When it went off it woke up the baby.  I heard the car drive away with the occupants laughing.  We survived.

After thirteen years in Havre it was time to move again.  By that time our family had grown to four children.  I found work within the week in Spokane, Washington.  This time it took six trips and an entire year to make the move.

Besides children we had horses, goats, chickens and a second larger mobile home (total of two mobile homes), a structure that connected the two living quarters, my mother in law, her mobile home (that makes three mobile homes), her car, our car, a pick-up, a trailer tower, the original new car we had purchased, a spare parts car for that one, and a horse trailer.

Setting up all of our trailers and etcetera on unimproved land took some time and lots of work.  Nine years later we moved again onto another unimproved land location.  By that time the only items from the previous move we didn’t have were the original car, the parts car and the horse trailer.  Of course we had acquired a number of outbuildings that we didn’t want to leave behind.  And the older children now had their vehicles.

In the forty-three years since our move to Spokane we have built a house on unimproved land, started our own business, and acquired and/or built more outbuildings.  And we have purchased our second new car.

I have now turned the business over to my sons.

The electrical trade has done a fine job of supporting us and our family.  I have informed my family that if and when my wife and I died, and they want to move, they should hire a bull dozer and push everything down into the swamp and cover it over.

Let future generations say; “What happened here?”

One summer I was working with a High School boy.  He was sharp and quick witted, but only worked with us during the summer while school was out.

One day some carpenters were razzing us about not yet having the power on in the building.  My apprentice said; “You better treat us nice, or we can leave and leave you without any power at all.  You will have to go find a piece of wire somewhere and see if there is any electricity left in it.  You could probably use that to run your saw.”

I suggested that they get a bucket and drain the electricity into it in order to carry it into the building for use.  Later on I found that to be a standard joke.  If someone says they have been shocked by wire that was (supposed to be) de-energized, you tell them it was probably because there was a little power left in the wire.

Another job I was sent to work on was on a house where people of both genders lived, but where none of them were married.  This was in the ‘60s and such things just weren’t done in those days.

The housekeeper was a lady that was employed as a school teacher during the day, but was the live-in house keeper by night.  At one point one of the men in the house told me as he was leaving, that the housekeeper would be over about 4 P.M.  This caused me some nervousness because I wasn’t sure what type of person she would be.  In any case I wanted to be out of there before 4 P.M.

I was standing on a ladder installing an outside fixture and working as rapidly (and nervously) as I knew how.  I was in such a hurry that my pliers slipped and banged me on my front teeth.  It gave me a fat lip.

When I got done I went around the house picking up scraps of wire casing and other leavings, trying to clean up after myself as quickly as possible.

I was back by the bedrooms, bent over, picking up some scrap.  When I straightened up there was someone standing and looking at me, not saying a word.  I yelled out loud before I realized I was looking at a full-length mirror on one of the bedroom doors.

It took ten years off of my life.

However, I think it might have put a charge in my bucket.