05-03-2020, 05:44 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-03-2020, 02:29 PM by Terry Bentley.)
Chapter 32
So the 1961 Indianapolis 500 is now officially in the history books. This was AJ Foyts first time to win here. Watching him drive and battling all the time to maintain a steady lead, definitely showed some great driving skills. Not to mention a couple of impressive pit stops. A pit stop could be a make or break for some decent drivers.
It would really suck for a good driver to actually loose his big chance over a fumble in the pits. That would also be a hard one for the pit crew to deal with. To think they are the ones that lost the race, not the driver. Yikes! I would be willing to bet this wont be the only time AJ Foyt wins one here at Indy. He is just too good not to be a repeat offender.
Well Steve called me up to discuss the race. His mom actually let him watch it in his room. I couldnt imagine actually having my own personal tv. Just for me to watch in my bedroom. Thats for rich folks. Doing this for Steve probably took a lot out of her, since she seems to think he has the flu. That is extracurricular activity you dont do when sick. Normally her home remedy for most ailments is a honey and whiskey mix that gets heated up, then off to bed for the duration. Sorry if you are from Kentucky that would be bourbon. So I know Steve has gotten a lot of rest since last Saturday. Maybe even a hangover if getting heavily medicated.
He didnt sound ill on the phone and seemed to think he was almost cured. Must be the high percentage of alcohol killed off that nasty bug. Who knows. He commented on the Jack Brabham car. Even tho it cost a small fortune for that one car to be built specifically for this race, and be obsolete next year, didnt fair too bad. We talked about some of the finer points of the race and called it a night.
For the next few days I had to help dad at work. They were short handed with some employees on vacation. I wasnt excited about it, but was getting paid in real money. That makes for a convincing argument there. For $1.75 an hour, I guess it was worth putting up with some inconveniences in my very busy life.
Really, working at the Sign Shop wasnt so bad. It just didnt have the appeal of something mechanical that makes noise. I didnt have to get there until 9 am. Then only worked till 3:30. But got paid for a full 8 hours. It was boring for the most part. We printed signs for Safeway grocery stores. All of the big window signs and those smaller price labels for just about everything on the shelves.
The big window signs were nearly tall as I was. They were silk screen printed using a stencil cut out for whatever was being advertised. Dads main job was something that took some patience and talent, I thought. He sat there most of the day and hand painted each stencil with a small brush. The lettering was in a form of brush stroke font.
To be clear, for the large window signs, there was a set of numbers to trace out with. But all of the numbers and lettering on those small price cards were done free hand.
The stencil was cut from something very much like wax paper. He would cut each letter out with a very small and extremely sharp knife. These knives were nothing but simple in construction. Dad would hand make them to fit for his purpose. I was always amazed to watch him cut those stencils so precisely.
After a day of cutting there was usually a big pile of very small thin lightweight pieces of the stencil material dropped around the floor everywhere. Anytime I used to drop by, just grab the door open and walk in. With that rush of air following me inside, those little scraps would fly up everywhere on top of the tables and any place in between.
Dad would always yell about not letting the door fly open and then close real fast. It was a regular occurrence to the point I thought was funny. Well it wasnt funny after the last time a few years back. Granddad gave me a not too happy scowl and stuck a broom in my hand. No further discussion was needed what to do with it.
Every letter dad cut out from stencil was identical to the next. He painted them so easily with fluid strokes but they all looked exactly the same. Cutting them out of stencil didnt take any longer than time to paint each one. Painting each letter was no different than someone signing their name on something.
The next step is take that stencil and lay down, top a piece of paper on table under the silk screen frame. That stencil gets centered and frame is set down over it. They pour paint on silk at one side and run squeegee across. Then lift the screen up and put tape on edges of stencil. The paint is what holds stencil to silk. Taping just keeps stencil from trying to peel itself off.
All I had to do was just grab the corner on each piece of very large paper as the silk screen frame was lifted. Next step is slide it over to the stack of pickets. Then lay over another picket for the next sign.
All of this was done in one fluid motion. With two or three people. Whoever was pulling the squeegee would first place a thin stack of the paper signs on table. Drop the screen over and by hand run that squeegee across to force paint or ink thru the stencil. Next he would lift the silk screen frame. I would then reach up to grab the fresh wet sign as it was just starting to peel off from its on weight.
It would usually start peeling off the silk just soon as the frame was being lifted up. By timing it just right, I grab the corner and hold the sign as frame goes up. The sign never rises any higher. It just peels off and glides over in midair to the pickets. Nobody had to stop and wait. Soon as that sign was pulled away the silk screen was dropped down again and squeegee was run back across the other way.
There was one really big downside to this. It went on all day, just about the same every day. When these large signs were painted, they would be left to dry. Yeahaw, I get to move around for a few minutes while the stencil is changed with a different one. Another run of smaller signs are printed in groups on a large piece of material much like a recipe file card. Then those get sheared down to individual pieces about the size of a legal envelope.
These small signs were then sorted, stacked in piles next to each other on a long table. A person would go down the line and pick one of each up to be sent to every store. It was amazing to watch how fast some of the employees could collect these one at a time. Wrap around a rubber band each set and repeat until those stacks disappeared.
There were two sisters that were twins, Polly and Tira, both well in their retirement years that could do this so fast would make you dizzy just watching. They had a system worked out so well that would rival any mechanized equipment out there on the market. If only the Post Office had these two ladies working for them.
I tried a few times. Get that rhythm going and could do it fairly fast, but one hiccup then some of the sorted stacks would be scattered all over the floor. I am talking in the thousands. Thats lost valuable time. Time they didnt have to waste. These adverts went out like clockwork every week, rain or shine, no excuses.
This did start to give me a taste of what it is like actually "working for a living". It obviously is an acquired taste as you get older. But right now, left a very bad one in my mouth. A taste I didnt like at all and couldnt see how it would get any better over time.
So the 1961 Indianapolis 500 is now officially in the history books. This was AJ Foyts first time to win here. Watching him drive and battling all the time to maintain a steady lead, definitely showed some great driving skills. Not to mention a couple of impressive pit stops. A pit stop could be a make or break for some decent drivers.
It would really suck for a good driver to actually loose his big chance over a fumble in the pits. That would also be a hard one for the pit crew to deal with. To think they are the ones that lost the race, not the driver. Yikes! I would be willing to bet this wont be the only time AJ Foyt wins one here at Indy. He is just too good not to be a repeat offender.
Well Steve called me up to discuss the race. His mom actually let him watch it in his room. I couldnt imagine actually having my own personal tv. Just for me to watch in my bedroom. Thats for rich folks. Doing this for Steve probably took a lot out of her, since she seems to think he has the flu. That is extracurricular activity you dont do when sick. Normally her home remedy for most ailments is a honey and whiskey mix that gets heated up, then off to bed for the duration. Sorry if you are from Kentucky that would be bourbon. So I know Steve has gotten a lot of rest since last Saturday. Maybe even a hangover if getting heavily medicated.
He didnt sound ill on the phone and seemed to think he was almost cured. Must be the high percentage of alcohol killed off that nasty bug. Who knows. He commented on the Jack Brabham car. Even tho it cost a small fortune for that one car to be built specifically for this race, and be obsolete next year, didnt fair too bad. We talked about some of the finer points of the race and called it a night.
For the next few days I had to help dad at work. They were short handed with some employees on vacation. I wasnt excited about it, but was getting paid in real money. That makes for a convincing argument there. For $1.75 an hour, I guess it was worth putting up with some inconveniences in my very busy life.
Really, working at the Sign Shop wasnt so bad. It just didnt have the appeal of something mechanical that makes noise. I didnt have to get there until 9 am. Then only worked till 3:30. But got paid for a full 8 hours. It was boring for the most part. We printed signs for Safeway grocery stores. All of the big window signs and those smaller price labels for just about everything on the shelves.
The big window signs were nearly tall as I was. They were silk screen printed using a stencil cut out for whatever was being advertised. Dads main job was something that took some patience and talent, I thought. He sat there most of the day and hand painted each stencil with a small brush. The lettering was in a form of brush stroke font.
To be clear, for the large window signs, there was a set of numbers to trace out with. But all of the numbers and lettering on those small price cards were done free hand.
The stencil was cut from something very much like wax paper. He would cut each letter out with a very small and extremely sharp knife. These knives were nothing but simple in construction. Dad would hand make them to fit for his purpose. I was always amazed to watch him cut those stencils so precisely.
After a day of cutting there was usually a big pile of very small thin lightweight pieces of the stencil material dropped around the floor everywhere. Anytime I used to drop by, just grab the door open and walk in. With that rush of air following me inside, those little scraps would fly up everywhere on top of the tables and any place in between.
Dad would always yell about not letting the door fly open and then close real fast. It was a regular occurrence to the point I thought was funny. Well it wasnt funny after the last time a few years back. Granddad gave me a not too happy scowl and stuck a broom in my hand. No further discussion was needed what to do with it.
Every letter dad cut out from stencil was identical to the next. He painted them so easily with fluid strokes but they all looked exactly the same. Cutting them out of stencil didnt take any longer than time to paint each one. Painting each letter was no different than someone signing their name on something.
The next step is take that stencil and lay down, top a piece of paper on table under the silk screen frame. That stencil gets centered and frame is set down over it. They pour paint on silk at one side and run squeegee across. Then lift the screen up and put tape on edges of stencil. The paint is what holds stencil to silk. Taping just keeps stencil from trying to peel itself off.
All I had to do was just grab the corner on each piece of very large paper as the silk screen frame was lifted. Next step is slide it over to the stack of pickets. Then lay over another picket for the next sign.
All of this was done in one fluid motion. With two or three people. Whoever was pulling the squeegee would first place a thin stack of the paper signs on table. Drop the screen over and by hand run that squeegee across to force paint or ink thru the stencil. Next he would lift the silk screen frame. I would then reach up to grab the fresh wet sign as it was just starting to peel off from its on weight.
It would usually start peeling off the silk just soon as the frame was being lifted up. By timing it just right, I grab the corner and hold the sign as frame goes up. The sign never rises any higher. It just peels off and glides over in midair to the pickets. Nobody had to stop and wait. Soon as that sign was pulled away the silk screen was dropped down again and squeegee was run back across the other way.
There was one really big downside to this. It went on all day, just about the same every day. When these large signs were painted, they would be left to dry. Yeahaw, I get to move around for a few minutes while the stencil is changed with a different one. Another run of smaller signs are printed in groups on a large piece of material much like a recipe file card. Then those get sheared down to individual pieces about the size of a legal envelope.
These small signs were then sorted, stacked in piles next to each other on a long table. A person would go down the line and pick one of each up to be sent to every store. It was amazing to watch how fast some of the employees could collect these one at a time. Wrap around a rubber band each set and repeat until those stacks disappeared.
There were two sisters that were twins, Polly and Tira, both well in their retirement years that could do this so fast would make you dizzy just watching. They had a system worked out so well that would rival any mechanized equipment out there on the market. If only the Post Office had these two ladies working for them.
I tried a few times. Get that rhythm going and could do it fairly fast, but one hiccup then some of the sorted stacks would be scattered all over the floor. I am talking in the thousands. Thats lost valuable time. Time they didnt have to waste. These adverts went out like clockwork every week, rain or shine, no excuses.
This did start to give me a taste of what it is like actually "working for a living". It obviously is an acquired taste as you get older. But right now, left a very bad one in my mouth. A taste I didnt like at all and couldnt see how it would get any better over time.