Friday, December 31, 2021

My first job...working for the queen.

I had my first experience in the work force was when I was sixteen years old. Before my “real job”, I helped my dad build four houses and for the most part I did not receive payment for my work.  My dad felt that my help just covered my room and board. When I turned sixteen, I wanted a car and my dad told me to get a job and he would consider advancing me some money to help pay for the car. One of my high school friends Alan Obst, had a job at a store that sold and repaired vacuum cleaners and he wanted to quit because he found another job. He said I should stop by and he would show me what he did at the store. It was a very small storefront in downtown Belleville nestled between a movie theater and a restaurant and across the street from a furniture store.  The sign on the window said Compact Cleaners with a script cut line below stating “Queen of the American home renovating systems”; below that was a notice: we repair all brands of vacuum cleaners. Inside the store there was a small counter with a phone,  a pad of work tickets and a small container of business cards. There were also vacuum cleaner posters on the wall and a picture of Jack Bailey, the host of the popular television show Queen for a Day.  It was very sparsely decorated except for the space age looking vacuum cleaner in the window display. The machine was aerodynamic in shape and looked like something from the future. All the attachments were chrome plated. It was a very impressive sight. I was interested in science fiction and fascinated by planes and rockets and it reminded me of the television show Space Patrol popular in the 1950‘s.


There was a narrow back room, that you entered through a curtain,  with a work bench on one wall. The workbench was equipped with rudimentary tools, a buffing wheel, a device to rewind motor armatures and a small cabinet full of screws, switches, plugs and brushes for repairing motors.  Hanging above the workbench were parts to repair vacuum hoses and cords.  I was familiar with most of the items because my dad and grandfather had similar tools in their workshops. On the opposite wall there were stacks of old vacuums cleaner carcasses piled to the ceiling. The worn wood floor was littered with remnants of the repair process.  In the back of the workshop, there was as very dirty bathroom and a doorway to the alley. Just outside he alley door there were more piles of assorted vacuums cleaner parts. 


My friend showed me how he refurbished the old Electrolux cleaner bodies. He clean them and put put a new vinyl skin on the bodies and polish the chrome trim pieces and replace the cord and hose if needed. He  also inserted a new cleaner bag to give the appearance of a fine restoration. The local high school shop teacher recruited him for the owners and he received rudimentary training from a previous repairman. Most of the vacuums he reconditioned were the Electrolux brand that were taken in trade for a new Compact cleaner. Many other brands of old upright cleaners were stacked in piles.  The canister style had just hit the market and old models like the Kirby had Hoover were taken in for trade. I found out later that the owners new Stan Kahn a regular on the Charlotte Peters show and vacuum cleaner collector.  He had been in the store seeking machines for his collection. Electrolux was a main competitor in the door to door market. They were mass produced and  were easy to refurbished with parts cannibalized from the mass of old parts stored in the workshop. I never found out what they did with the refurbished Electroluxes. I did help load some of the reconditioned and used machines into their black 1954 Cadillac trunk for some unknown destination.


Alan’s duties also included answering the phone. He was told to just take the name and phone number and tell the caller he would receive a call back when the the manager returned. He also took in vacuums for repair and would make out a work ticket  and  tell the customer the technician was out and they would receive a call detailing the repairs needed and the cost. In addition to reconditioning the Electroluxes, he did make small repairs to cords and hoses and occasional put new brushes in the motors. However, the owners would tell the customers that the vacuum needed major repairs and they could get a great deal by trading it in for a new state of art vacuum as advertised on Queen for a day


I worked with my friend that afternoon and he told me to stop by tomorrow and the owners would be in town. I met the owners the next day.  There name was Mr. and Mrs. Hollander.  The man was short slim man with an ill fitting double breasted suit and a fedora. His wife was about a foot taller and out weighed him by at least fifty pounds. Her attire was over the top. She wore bright dresses lot’s of jewelry and makeup. She also had a fox fur with little beady eyes that were creepy. However, to a young boy of sixteen from a small town she looked like a movie star.  I can’t recall them using their first names. They used to refer to each other as “honey” or “sweetie.” He was very talkative and after a brief interview, he said,  ”son your are  perfect for this job”. The job paid twenty-five cents an hour and I could make as much as fifty cents  helping them with special events. I started work the next day.  I worked with my friend for about a week and then worked by myself each day after school from three to five and every Saturday from nine to five. The first Saturday I worked, the owners spent the entire day at the store making phone calls and recording the information on index cards that they bound together with rubber band. They told me with stories about the product and the money they were making. However, I was surprised that they did not give me more instructions for repairing the cleaners.  I did manage to do a few simple repairs. Mysteriously, most customers opted for a new space age cleaning machine and not the repairs.  I did have a few problems with customers questioning me about repairs but the owners were very cleaver in turning every problem to their advantage .The Hollander’s were more interested in the information I could get from the  customers. Mr. Hollander said that a good memory and attention to detail was important for a salesman. The couple confided in me that they were high school teachers in Missouri and they invested in an exciting new company called Compact Cleaners and were working part time to develop a business.  The were very motivated and it was exciting to be with them and hear stories about their fantastic adventures.  I was wide eyed and thought I was part a some grand money making scheme.  I went on a few sales calls with them and it was amazing to see them at work. They dazzled the customer with many facts and left with a signed contract that they sold to a local loan company. I did not understand this process at the time. l learned later in life it is was called “selling or passing” paper. The small loan companies did not have much regulation and the customer was tied into a long term high interest contract.


 One of their demonstrations showed the cleaners suction power. They attach a plugger head to the hose and pick of a bowling ball. The customers would be awe struck by this simple manipulation of physics. Mr. Hollander would also demonstrate the strength of the cast metal case by standing on it. Not only was it a vacuum cleaner, it was a floor polisher, and a sprayer. I soon realize it was not about repairing vacuum cleaners but about selling the amazing new American cleaning system. One exciting adventure was helping they set up a display at the county fair. I passed out brochures and sign up cards for a free cleaner. I gathered hundreds of leads for future sales. I watched them work the crowds like carnival pitchmen. I worked there my junior and part of my senior year and when I returned from college my junior year I went to visit them. The store was closed and the building was abandoned. I always wondered what happened to them. They were from Missouri and I know they had stores in the St. Louis area but I never tried to find them.


As you have probably guessed the moral of this tale is “it is looks to good to be true it is probably is” It is a cautionary tale but once upon a time I worked for the queen.






Thursday, December 30, 2021

Southwestern Illinois College Exhibition


                              "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Wonders of the unconscious.



                            "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Sketchbooks

A few sketchbooks from a lifetime of art.

I have been using sketchbooks since my college days 1957-1962.
Looking back at a sixty-two year career in art and teaching is a wonderful experience. The process of documenting your growth as an artist is an essential part of any artistic endeavor. 





                           "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

Imprinting



With sons and fathers, there's an inexplicable connection and imprint that your father leaves on you.” Brad Pitt


I am not  a psychologist but I play one in daily life.  Observing human behavior is a cottage industry in the world of aging.  There is no better way to observe how we have become who we are than by the observation of our children.  Observing the imprinting of our offsprings behavior gives us clues to what was meaningful and sometimes what was detrimental. I am imprinted by my mom and dads child rearing techniques; some good and some problematic. I have the perfect case study in my youngest son Lowell.  Moving to Webster Groves to be near him and my grandchildren was fortuitous in many ways.  Getting a chance to see him make his way through raising a family and developing a career is a wonderful learning experience.  I have also given thought to my other four children and they also provide examples of imprinting by my wife and I.


Small things that were not particularly traumatic seem to be imprinted, in some cases, more indelibly than major emotional events.  In my case, my fathers harsh techniques and personal emotional problems did not take root as much as his love for building and inventing.  Those traits served me well for seventy-five years.  It is also evident in my son Lowell.  I was not aware that he was observing my every move as tried to keep the family home repaired and constantly remodeling to improve our living conditions.  Observing him rehabbing houses and raise his family I can see subtle reminders of our relationship.  I often catch my self repeating one of my father’s aphorisms and it is astonishing to hear my children use the same worn out sayings.



                 "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

More boxes

More decorative boxes. It started out as a small project but I got "carried away" I have spent over seventy years as a teacher and artist and I am still fascinated with Sharpie pens.


                         "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Decorative Boxes

I had a great breakfast and meeting with Lynn and Lary Bozzay owners of Grafika Art Gallery in Webster Groves. The decorative boxes are a project for Lynn.






                               "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Reflectaphors


Reflectaphors April -July 2003 80 pages. Hand drawn book. Pages from book.












                                 "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Monday, December 27, 2021

Enlightenment.

“A choir is made up of many voices, including yours and mine. If one by one all go silent then all that will be left are the soloists.


Don’t let a loud few determine the nature of the sound. It makes for poor harmony and diminishes the song.” 

Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration


There is a lot of hand wringing and whining on the internet regarding gun violence, police brutality, bullying, torture, religious violence, prejudice and in general the brutal nature of society.  I am not a scholar or a social scientist but it is evident to me that all of these things have been part of human experience for some time.  My introduction to this behavior was subtle a first and it just became part of my life.  Early on my father used teasing, spanking and bullying as a way to disciple me and “teach me a lesson.”  His techniques were not unique, many of my friends during the nineteen forties and fifties had the same experience and few were “spared the rod”.  In Catholic school we were told of the horrors of hell and that we would be tortured for eternity if we did not shape up and “fly right”.  We also were served a daily dose of quilt and the need for repentance. Our playground was a hot bed of teasing and bulling.  We also all played cowboys and indians and killed a lot of “redskins” and played with cap guns, our weapon of choice.  We had lot of violent toys, bb guns, tomahawks, slingshots and many of my friends killed birds and some use their bb guns on animals and humans.  Saturday  theater matinee’s were filled with good old western justice with shoot outs and an occasional hanging.  Before I had a family, I witnessed two wars and saw scores of war movies that glorified killing.  My children were brought into the world during the Vietnam war and a new batch of war toys was given to the public.  As I write this I can hear that old refrain that the good old days produced strong adults with a good sense of right and wrong and the kids of today  are coddled and spoiled. We complain that video games are making them violent and they have no respect for authority. If your parents were raising you now, vs. decades ago, they’d be subject to these influences, too.


It is evident to me that most Americans like or tolerate violence in some form. You might enjoy the quarterback throwing a “bomb” or a great tackle rings a players bell.  Perhaps you like secret agents dispatching a few bad guys with explosives. Watching a boxer get his “brain rotated” might be something you enjoy. A vengeful pitcher “beaning” a  player to get even might be your cup of tea. You may also get your fix of violence and bigotry from soap operas, reality shows, or police dramas.  Some simply enjoy bad behavior over and over on U tube. I can’t forget about videos of racing accidents that are often slowed down so we can see someone die in slow motions. 


What a surprise. Everyone is now decrying the violence of society.  At seventy-five, I am becoming resigned to the fact that we cannot overcome the propensity for  violence,

revenge, and prejudice. I do not believe marches, committees, religion, as it is practice today,  or science will help us climb out of our prehistoric cave into the light of knowledge.  We are already serving time in Dante's hell.  Allegorically, the Divine Comedy represents the journey of the soul towards God, with the Inferno describing the recognition and rejection of sin.


Our journey of of the dark cave of despair and toward our god and the rejection of violence, will only happen with enlightenment and leadership.  Like the enlightenment or Age of Reason, from the 1650s to the 1780s, the cultural and intellectual forces in Western Europe emphasized reason, analysis and individualism rather than traditional lines of authority. It was promoted by philosophers and thinkers and it challenged the authority of institutions and practices that were deeply rooted in society; there was discussion of ways to reform society with tolerance, creativity, cooperation and reason.


Human cooperation, even more necessary than violence for survival, has evolutionary roots as deep as those of human conflict. Groups may fight because of environmental pressures or resource scarcity, they may also have strong incentives to expand trade relations and build alliances that benefit both parties. The capacity for peaceful and cooperative relationships was surely more essential for the survival and success of the species than bellicosity. Violent resource competition and population density certainly influenced human evolution, predisposing us to competition and violence. But those same pressures can predispose us to cooperation as well.


Competition and Resource Scarcity


And NUH is the letter I use to spell Nutches, 
Who live in small caves, known as Niches, for hutches. 
These Nutches have troubles, the biggest of which is 
The fact there are many more Nutches than Niches. 
Each Nutch in a Nich knows that some other Nutch 
Would like to move into his Nich very much. 
So each Nutch in a Nich has to watch that small Nich 
Or Nutches who haven't got Niches will snitch. 

Dr. Seuss - On Beyond Zebra (1955)




  • The total cost of violence to the U.S. was conservatively calculated to be over $460 billion while the lost productivity from violence amounted to $318 billion. California was found to have the highest state burden of violence at over $22 billion per year while Vermont has the lowest at $188 million. For each state taxpayer, the total economic cost of violence varies greatly, from $7,166 per taxpayer in Washington D.C. to $1,281 for Maine taxpayers. [2012 US Peace Index, Institute for Economics and Peace] - See more at: http://peacealliance.org/tools-education/statistics-on-violence/#sthash.pbVoLVs9.dpuf

Friday, December 24, 2021

Bricks in the foundation...searching for the creative nexus.

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Socrates, in Plato, Dialogues, Apology

Greek philosopher in Athens (469 BC - 399 BC)


Finding the starting point for your chosen profession is not easy. We often miss the simple decisions that lend us to our place in this world. It may have been something buried deep in our subconscious or an event that was transformative. Trying to identify  this elusive nexus has helped me understand more about the meaning of self and consciousness. 


Very deeply imbedded in my mind is a warm memory of my Mom making small boats and hats out of paper scraps. We would sit on the floor, put on our hats and sail the boats on a sea of wooden flooring, around cliffs of furniture and landing on the edge of a carpet island.  The island was patterned with lush floral images and teeming wild imaginary animals.  We would travel the world and evade sinister pirates and terrible storms.  That small connection to the past is  imprinted on my mind. It is  the basis of my interested in manipulation of material and creative imagery. Throughout the years, I would amuse my students with this simple paper folding. I would create voyages for them using nothing more than simple materials and mental creativity. We would put on our creative hats and explore the world. When I fold scraps of paper to make boats for my grandchildren, I am transported back to those wonderful adventures with my mom and students. That early exposure may have been the cornerstone of my artistic foundation.  Many more creative bricks were added each year of my life.


Another brick was placed in the foundation when I was in seventh grade.

My mom gave me a large scrap of brown wrapping paper and challenged me to make a picture. It was near Easter, and my mom suggested that I make a picture to celebrate Easter. I decided I would make a picture of an Easter bunny. Since I was attending Saint Mary’s Catholic  grade school, my mom suggested that this secular image would not be appropriate. Undeterred by political correctness, I proceeded with the pagan symbolism. However, a simple decision changed what could have been an embarrassment into an artistic triumph. I added a basket filled with eggs decorated with Christian symbols that the bunny was offering to the heavens. The manipulation of materials and creative story telling showed me the way and solved the problem. My mom kept that picture with her for many years.  She shared the picture with everyone and I remember how carefully she would unfold and spread the tattered image on the floor for all to see.


Rediscovering the bricks that support my creative mindset is an ongoing projects. Bits and pieces of images are revealed that contain codes the mind keeps under lock and key. Examining the symbols within my spontaneous drawings and paintings continue to reveal secrets from the recesses of my unconscious mind.


Miss Murray my first art teacher



I attended Belleville West High School from 1953 -1957.  It was the start of  an educational odyssey that ended at Belleville East High School in the spring of 1994. No one had more influence on me than my high school art teacher.  Miss Marjorie Murray was my mentor and started me on my journey.  She was a small “schoolmarm” looking women, soft spoken and intensely involved in her teaching. Her background was simple but her passion for teaching was a complex mix of small town attitude and an awareness of the world of art. She was an accomplished watercolorist and a scholarly advocate of design education. She finished her career at Belleville Area College. She established the college art department and spent many hours developing the program.  When I returned to Belleville to teach she welcomed me and became my biggest fan. She help me get hired as a art teacher and  a night school instructor at  Belleville Junior College. She passed away quietly a few years ago. No fanfare and just a faded memory to some. She lives in my soul and is forever responsible for my art teaching career. Thank you Miss Murray.


Dirt, rock and debris; working with my dad.


When I was about eight years old I began to help my dad build homes. He built five homes in the Belleville area and I worked with him until I was about eighteen years old. My dad has some general knowledge about construction but most of his expertise was obtained by on site training. His dad, who was a signal maintainer on the Illinois Central Railroad, built his family home using a Sears Roebuck kit home. My dad grew up around tools and electrical equipment and he was trained for an electricians mate rank  in the Navy. However, he did get demoted for fighting and lost his stripes. He had a natural aptitude for anything mechanical and he was always curious how things worked. He spent many hours tinkering with old machinery and electrical equipment. After he returned home from the Navy he had a series of jobs that help him hone his mechanical skills. He eventually received an electricians apprenticeship at Scott Air force bace in Belleville and began his career. He had jobs at the Armour meatpacking plant and  Ober Nester Glass Company in East St. Louis where he worked in the electrical department. He ended up as an electrician foreman at Granite City steel blast furnace in the 1950’s.


My dad process for building a home was one dictated by the times. He bought the plans from a Pollman mail order catalog. I remember being fascinated with the catalog and blueprints and I spent hours trying to figure out the architectural symbols. Searching for a lot would be the next step. After purchasing the lot, he would use it for collateral to get materials on credit. Building loans were not readily available and this was a way of paying for materials as you built your home.   This was a common practice after the second world war. Although it took the world quite awhile to recover from the affects of World War II, the 1950’s were more of a prosperous time than in times past. Vast improvements in housing were made during this period and  a priority was placed on building homes for war veterans and their families..  Many young veterans started to move the suburbs near Belleville and build homes. When he finished building, he obtained a loan from the local building and loan and paid off his lumber bill. 


Construction began with roughing in the plumbing and pouring the house footing foundation and a concrete slab for the garage; he would then build the garage and install wiring and plumbing. We lived in the attached garage until the home was finished. My dad would work his regular job, as an electrician at Granite City Steel and work on the house when he got home from work. When I was young I got him water and tools and cleaned up the building debris. As I got older I started to doing framing and roofing. I also helped pull wires, tiled floors, hung drywall and I did some finish carpentry. 


Living in the cramped garage space was very difficult and challenging.  My dad would build a simple bathroom with a shower stall in one corner. Near the bathroom he would fashion a kitchen area with a  portable gas burner for cooking. My mom washed the dishes in porcelain pan that she filled in the makeshift  bathroom. She created rooms using furniture with passages between the furniture and moving boxes serving as as doorways. When my dad worked the midnight shift at the steel mill it was difficult to keep quiet while he slept. However, playing outside was great fun. The yard was  just dirt and rocks and the large piles of dirt from the foundation were great  for digging tunnels. I would burrow into the hills and create my own little world. My brother and I would spend hours playing in the dirt. There was also many building scrap and I would turn the odd pieces into forts, guns, wagons and all sorts of strange sculptural items. I also stepped on a few nails and had to get my annual tetanus shot.  I slept on an old army cot and my brother slept on a feather bed on the garage floor so he could easily get in and out of bed. This would be our home for about  six to eight months.The winter was particularly difficult because my dad did not insulate the garage. Only the sheathing and siding kept out the summer heat and winter cold.  He did leave the windows and garage door covered with siding until the house was finished.


Moving into the house  when it was finished was very exciting. Watching the house rise from the surrounding farm land was amazing. We saw an entire community spring up before our eyes. Those early days of construction and play were an important part of my early education. I became quite proficient in electrical wiring and plumbing. Between drinking binges and problems with anger and depression my dad managed to build some fine homes.  He was a stern and sometimes cruel man troubled by his fate. However, I do thank him for those early lessons and childhood adventures, played out in a wonderland of dirt, rock and debris.






New digital images




Digital images created with Procreate and I Pad pro. December 2021 




                             "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

Sketches December 2021

What is difference between drawing and sketching?

While sketching is a freehand drawing that focuses on capturing the essence rather than going into details, drawing is a slow and more careful expression that makes use of tools and uses colors too.











 










                               "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.

Saturday, December 11, 2021

New work


I turned 82 this year and keeping track of my daily drawings is somewhat problematic.
I now post my work without titles and any kind of notification. What you are getting is my
daily thoughts unfiltered and uncluttered.











                                   "Things hidden in my head" Copyright 2013 © Ronald D. Isom, Sr.