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Dixon (1943-1945)
We moved to Dixon, IL, where Dad was wartime sales manager for Reynolds Wire
Co., a manufacturer of window screening on the Rock River. I did 2nd, 3rd, and
part of 4th grades in Dixon. During the war, men were either overseas or
working long hours. We kids did not have any supervision and ran wild.
Here is Dad, Mom, Grandpa, me, and
Edith in Granny and Grandpa's backyard in Evanston on a visit
from Dixon.
We lived in a heavily industrial neighborhood
with several train lines, a shoe factory, a lumberyard, a derelict college
building, and a large power plant near the river. The power plant had a
slow-moving coal train on which we played. The lumberyard had stacks of
air-drying wood to use as forts and such. The college building had boilers and
pipes to pretend to be submarines and rocket ships. There were no men about to
keep us off things. The Rock River went right through the center of Dixon. We
played (sometimes naked N) in the shallows two
blocks away at the end of our street and fished for catfish near the dam
uptown. I do not remember any adult involvement or supervision of our
activities -- in retrospect, much of it dangerous.
Men wore hats everywhere. They were a
constant bother. Homes and businesses had coat and hat racks by the front door.
Cars, trains, and planes had to be tall enough to accommodate men with
hats. Hats went out of style in the 1950s, but my stepfather insisted I buy one
to start my job at Lockheed. I never wore it. Another item that went out of
style was the spittoon. Spittoons are pot with a
funnel top that were outside doorways of shops and offices downtown. I remember
visiting Grandpa's office in New York, and they were everywhere. Hundreds of
them, even by desks in the outer offices. Disgusting! And, of course, my Dad
and Grandpa smoked cigars.
The movie A Christmas Story with Peter
Billingsley is spot on as I remember life at home, school, and community in
Dixon and Evanston. I love that movie and enjoy watching it on TV every
Christmas.
Dixon was small, and we lived just blocks
from farms and downtown. My sister and I had overnights at a farm that was part
of the Reynold's estate. The farm family had kids our age, and we enjoyed
playing there with cows, pigs, chickens, and lots of machinery and barns. We
all helped harvest potatoes, convincing me never to become a farmer.
In 3rd grade (age 8), I had a paper route.
After school, I would walk a few blocks to the office downtown to fold, load my
bag, and deliver papers near where we lived. Once a week, I would go around and
collect for the papers and newspaper life insurance. I
had a ring of punch cards saying how much and a punch and purse. I had a
mastoid infection one time and was out for a couple of weeks. Mom had to do the
route for me. I always had a job until I retired from Lucent in 2002 (58
years). Dad insisted that Edith and I learn how to work. If we did not have
formal work, we sold potholders, grab rakes, and other things door-to-door. A
work ethic I still have.
On my 10th birthday, my Uncle Dick gave me my first airplane ride. He took me
up for a ten-minute ride in a rented 2-place, side-by-side Taylorcraft from the Dixon
Airport. It transformed my life! I was thrilled. I devoured everything airplane
for the next 25 years. [It was nostalgic to see a similar Taylorcraft on the
floor of the small airplane museum near here in College Park, MD.]
I listened to radio shows like Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy,
Captain Midnight, and The Lone Ranger. My uncle gave me a set of The Boy
Mechanic and many of the Tom Swift Young Inventor books. One series of Jack
Armstrong programs featured the Piper J-3 Cub airplane.
Wheaties cereal came with cut-outs on the box to make a J-3 model complete with
a shoe-box diorama connected with threads so you could pilot it with stick and
rudder (remarkably similar to the Microsoft Flight Simulator of today). Of
course, Captain Midnight always saved the day and caught the crooks by using
his airplane. Radio dramas were all we had for entertainment. Few people had
time or money for movies or shows. The bar at the end of our street was busy,
but I was not allowed to go inside it.
I got a bike one Christmas that expanded
the scope of play. The town dump near the airport was a favorite. It had all
sorts of discarded farm equipment and junked cars. Treasures included bar
magnets from tractor magnetos and little wheels to make carts. We would bike to
the mainline train station and put pennies and pins on the tracks to be
flattened. Crossed pins made an excellent miniature sword. Dixon was hardly
ever a stop, and the big steam engines going by at full speed were a thundering
thrill
I kept a big pot at home with tadpoles
stocked from a pond across the river from downtown. It was fun to watch the
frogs develop and bike over to the pond to release them and restock. The river
had lots of catfish, big ugly fish with whiskers, that other kids seemed able
to catch. I spent lots of time with them and used the same bait (smelly balls
of dough) and hooks, but I never caught any. Our favorite fishing spot was
just upstream of the dam downtown, where the coal train came out of the power station.
The train went down one of the city streets and in and out of several big
buildings along the river. One went across the river on a big trestle bridge. I
could never figure out where the many trains (all steam) came from or went.
With the gasoline rationing of war, there were very few cars or trucks. We had
a car, but it was only for necessary trips.
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