Joe Barnes - Foreman for Life

I had worked at DeSantis Coatings in Willoughby, Ohio, making traffic paint under the supervision of the factory’s “Foreman for Life”, Joe Barnes. No kidding, that was his actual title- Foreman for Life. I was very curious about this position and especially the title. So one day I saw Joe Barnes at the pump station as he was bottling up some tuelol (the active ingredient in airplane glue) for a 3 day weekend. Tuelol is addictive and Joe had the “monkey on his back” when it came to inhaling the stuff.

Joe was a friendly sort and always telling stories. He was the most senior of employees- he had been on the job for about 18 years and as I said, he was “Foreman for Life.” This particular day he was jabbering away when he asked me , “Do you know how I got be Foreman for Life?” I replied , “No, but I am curious about it.” And that was all it took for him to recount the following;

“Well, you see, it was a Friday and Old Man DeSantis (the founder/owner of DeSantis Coatings) was drawing off some thinner to do some painting at home over the weekend. Stupid bastard owns the factory but he don’t know one damn thing about making paint. So he’s over here at the pumps and he’s got a metal bucket and holding it under the spigot- presses the pump button without grounding and zap- a spark ignites the bucket which spooks the old man and he falls with the pump running and now he’s soaked with thinner and on fire and he’s really burning. Now I hated Old Man DeSantis and so I looked around and I realized we were alone. So I go over to him and getting as close as I can I kick him in the ribs- hard. And he rolls over on his side. So I kick him again and he rolls some more. By now I’m really into it so I keep kicking and kicking and he keeps rolling and rolling. Just then his son, Vince Jr comes in looking for his old man and sees me kicking him. So I figure- well I’m done here and so I give him a couple of more kicks for the hell of it and he rolls some more and now the fire’s out. Vince Jr is hailing me as a quick thinking hero for saving his dad’s life and they give me a raise and make me Foreman for Life. And that was about 15 years ago.” 

( Note: The patch at the top is actually from my work shirt at the factory. The map below shows Timberlake, a village of 300 people, where I lived in late 1973. You can just about see the lake in the upper left corner. I lived in the last house right on Lake Erie. Follow the blue line Southeast and that is where Willoughby Coatings was. Still is but someone bought the business out. I used to ride my bicycle to work until it got too cold and then I bought my first car, a 1964 Ford Galaxy 500 with dual exhaust.)

  

My First Car - 1973

This was my first car. The photos are from on line, which is why the interior shot is blue. It was the late summer of 1973. It was a 1964 Ford Galaxy 500 with the dual tailpipes. Paid $75 for it. I was living just outside Cleveland on the shore of Lake Erie in Timberlake, a town of 300 people. In the evenings I would sit in the car and listen to 770 AM WABC out of New York.

It was a big boat and battleship grey. I had no license and no insurance was required. The speed limit on Rt 80 was 90 on some stretches until the National Speed Limit of 55 kicked in. Gas went from 35 cents a gallon to 65 cents at the Arco station. I got about 12 miles per gallon.

I still have the plate, though the car was abandoned on the side of Rt 80 when the engine seized up on the first few miles back to Brooklyn. I was 19 years old.

 

Bee Bee's Tray

The tray pictured here belonged to my friend's Grandma Bee Bee. She lived at 1900 Quentin Road in Brooklyn, N.Y. When I was in Juinor High I thought nothing was classier than this tray- which was always filled with goodies like Bridge Mix and other delights we didn’t have in my home.

I’m not really sure of the year but it was around 1971 or so when Bee Bee passed away. I was offered a “souvenir” to remember her by- and I chose the tray. To me it epitomized an era of genteel living, when people had “company” on Saturday nights, or “guests” during the week for cards or Scrabble. TV came along and changed all that.

The real “meat” of this story involves the loss and later recovery of this tray- possibly with the aid of “cosmic” forces beyond our understanding or control.

The tray had been on top of a black steamer trunk which I used as a dresser in 1973 while living at 2132 Ocean Avenue in Brooklyn. Remember in July of 1973 I packed up and moved to Ohio where I ended up engaged to Monica and working in the paint factory.

In December of 1973 I left Ohio by car (a 1964 Ford Galaxy 500) for NY- trunk in tow. But the car didn’t make it and I was forced to abandon it on the side of Route 80 in Ohio within sight of an Arco station. Not being able to hitch with the trunk I carried it over to the service station and asked the owner if I could leave it there for a bit, intending to send for it later. The owner gave his consent and I lugged it up a ladder to the attic/storage area and continued to the airport and a flight to NY.

I mentioned to my friend that I had left the trunk at a service station in Ohio alongside Route 80. And then I don’t think I thought about it again except in a passing- “Gee, I wish I had my trunk back” kind of way.

So here it is, almost 2 years later at 2:30 in the morning and my front door bell rings back at 2132 Ocean Avenue. At the door is my friend with a black steamer trunk on his back going “Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas!” It was my trunk!

Inside we opened the trunk and I started going through all the things I had missed in the previous 2 years. And the big surprise was that not only was the tray in there- but my friend, who had given me the tray to begin with, had no idea it was in there!

Eventually I got the whole story- he had been driving back to NY from school at Ohio State in Antioch and along Route 80 found himself outside of Cleveland when he remembered that I had lived near there a couple of years back. And then he remembered that I had left a trunk at a service station somewhere alongside Route 80.

Looking up he saw the sign for an Arco station at the next exit and got off. He went in and asked the guy if he had ever stored a trunk for some tall, skinny guy with shoulder length hair. The reply was something like- “Yeah, and if he doesn’t come for it soon we’re throwing it out!” So he took it and drove through to Brooklyn and woke me up.

And that’s when he saw the tray!

We have pondered this little oddity between us over these many years. He didn’t know it was an Arco station- he didn’t know exactly where on Route 80 I had left it- and only a brief whim caused him to stop and check it out. Was it Bee Bee calling out to get the tray? Or just one of those odd coincidences that make life the joy it sometimes can be?

I don’t know- but I do still have the tray.
 

The Tray

This story was first written as a “stand alone” and then incorporated into “It’s Only Me”; my 2009 attempt at an autobiography. I still like the story – which is true.

The tray pictured here belonged to my friend's Grandma Bee Bee. She lived at 1900 Quentin Road in Brooklyn, N.Y. When I was in Junior High I thought nothing was classier than this tray- which was always filled with goodies like Bridge Mix and other delights we didn’t have in my home.

I’m not really sure of the year but it was around 1971 or so when Bee Bee passed away. I was offered a “souvenir” to remember her by- and I chose the tray. To me it epitomized an era of genteel living, when people had “company” on Saturday nights, or “guests” during the week for cards or Scrabble. TV came along and changed all that.

The real “meat” of this story involves the loss and later recovery of this tray- possibly with the aid of “cosmic” forces beyond our understanding or control.

The tray had been on top of a black steamer trunk which I used as a dresser in 1973 while living at 2132 Ocean Avenue in Brooklyn. Remember in July of 1973 I packed up and moved to Ohio where I ended up engaged to Monica and working in the paint factory.

In December of 1973 I left Ohio by car (a 1964 Ford Galaxy 500) for NY- trunk in tow. But the car didn’t make it and I was forced to abandon it on the side of Route 80 in Ohio within sight of an Arco station. Not being able to hitch with the trunk I carried it over to the service station and asked the owner if I could leave it there for a bit, intending to send for it later. The owner gave his consent and I lugged it up a ladder to the attic/storage area and continued to the airport and a flight to NY.

I mentioned to my friend that I had left the trunk at a service station in Ohio alongside Route 80. And then I don’t think I thought about it again except in a passing- “Gee, I wish I had my trunk back” kind of way.

So here it is, almost 2 years later at 2:30 in the morning and my front door bell rings back at 2132 Ocean Avenue. At the door is my friend with a black steamer trunk on his back going “Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas!” It was my trunk!

Inside we opened the trunk and I started going through all the things I had missed in the previous 2 years. And the big surprise was that not only was the tray in there- but my friend, who had given me the tray to begin with, had no idea it was in there!

Eventually I got the whole story- he had been driving back to NY from school at Ohio State in Antioch and along Route 80 found himself outside of Cleveland when he remembered that I had lived near there a couple of years back. And then he remembered that I had left a trunk at a service station somewhere alongside Route 80.

Looking up he saw the sign for an Arco station at the next exit and got off. He went in and asked the guy if he had ever stored a trunk for some tall, skinny guy with shoulder length hair. The reply was something like- “Yeah, and if he doesn't come for it soon we’re throwing it out!” So he took it and drove through to Brooklyn and woke me up.

And that’s when he saw the tray!

We have pondered this little oddity between us over these many years. He didn't know it was an Arco station- he didn’t know exactly where on Route 80 I had left it- and only a brief whim caused him to stop and check it out. Was it Bee Bee calling out to get the tray? Or just one of those odd coincidences that make life the joy it sometimes can be?

Who knows; but while I no longer have the friend; I still have the tray!

Life would go on in this vein for 2 and a half years. The only change would be where I was living. In June of 1975 Mr. Rosenberg came down and knocked on our door; smiling ear to ear. "Boys," he said, "We've sold the house and we're moving to Florida."

And so the era of 2132 Ocean Avenue came to an end. It was time to find a new place to live. It was also the start of what I refer to as my "lost year."