I recently came across a couple of newspaper clippings from back in the day that brought back a flood of memories! While I was attending college, my summer job was working at Hennessey’s Farmer’s Coop. Most of my coworkers had bohemian names like Patocka and Fuksa. My job varied, but one of my main responsibilities was making sure coffee was ready early in the morning before what everyone called “Class” started. This group would gather around 7:30 every morning to discuss everything under the sun, solving the world’s problems—or at least offering their opinions on how things should be!
One of my duties involved sweeping the front drive of the station. One of the members of the “Class” often drove his pickup truck and horse trailer right up to the front door, hauling whatever animal needed transporting. This meant that mud and animal droppings frequently covered the drive, which I had to clean up after heavy rains. The situation became repetitive, and my coworker and partner in crime, Alfred, came up with a plan. The farmer would toss me his truck keys, asking me to move his vehicle once I complained about him blocking the front drive.
One morning, we had a significant amount of rain, so when the keys were tossed my way, I put the plan into action. I drove the pickup around back but parked it next to the biggest water hole I could find, making it necessary to wade through water to reach the driver’s side. Instead of entering through the driver’s door, I crawled out the passenger side, locking the door behind me. After that, the farmer chose not to block the front drive anymore. During my time there, I learned how to patch tires and change oil. Additionally, I became quite skilled at swearing in Bohemian—at least, I think I did! I once tried dipping tobacco, but it didn’t end well; my complexion took on a greenish hue after that experience.
“Babicka” means “grandma” in Czech. One of my favorite customers was Bobby Vaverka. I often wondered if “Bobby” was indeed her real name, or if no one could correctly pronounce “grandma” in Czech, leading them to settle on “Bobby.” You might want to ask her grandchildren for clarification. Bobby drove whatever vehicle her grandsons left at her house. She would pull up in a souped-up car with wide rear tires, and being quite short, she could barely see over the steering wheel. Bobby was known for collecting produce that the grocery store was throwing out for her ducks, chickens, or geese. I knew this because when I gassed up her car, I could smell the lingering aroma of her collections! Though small, Bobby was spunky, and I adored her. I always looked forward to seeing her and admired her vibrant character.
My favorite time while working at the coop was during harvest season. The wheat trucks would line up on the main street, waiting their turn to dump the wheat. This was before the days of cell phones and bottled water; the trucks were equipped with CB radios. Everyone had a handle, and you could hear the chatter on the airwaves! The trucks needed servicing each season, often requiring repairs due to wiring that mice had eaten while nesting under the hood. Some trucks had a scenic view where the floorboards had worn away, offering a glimpse of the road beneath. It felt like a community effort, and I was proud to have a small role in the harvest. The days were long!
Homemade food was delivered to the fields, and when combines broke down, the fields turned into makeshift mechanic shops. I didn’t have a problem with mosquitoes; my mom always said it was because I smelled like diesel. She wouldn’t allow my work shoes in the house; they had a designated spot in the garage, and no matches were allowed near them! Last summer, Marla joined us at the coop, which is when our promotion for Bonnie & Clyde came about. Although I had already been nicknamed “Sammy,” there was one farmer who simply referred to me as “Girl.”
Years later, while working in my department at Pioneer Telephone, I received a call to come over to the cellular office. One of my farmers was there with questions! Although I didn’t have more knowledge than the other girls, they knew he would listen to me, and for some reason, he trusted my opinion on his phone inquiries. It felt like a full circle moment from my days at the Farmers Coop. Many of the Bohemian names I remember have passed, and the building has changed names, but I still drive by and reflect on those different times.
