It has been my sad duty to shut down two different plants.
At Rockwell, we were told upfront that the Contract would be for just 5 years and we could not expect more than that, but of course, all of us believed that since "North American" had been there since 1950, it would be there forever.
My years at Rockwell were the happiest, most fulfilling years of my entire worklife and when I was chosen to be one of two Manufacturing Managers to remain while the company sought a new Contract, I was honored. When my boss, the best Manager that I had ever worked with, and for, told me that he was leaving and that I should get out as soon as I could, I should have listened. We completed the FIF ahead of schedule and then I returned to the Nacelles. After we completed the Nacelles, I was assigned to Logistics to wait for the announcement of the new Contract. When it was announced that Lockheed received the contract, I was heartbroken, but I was fortunate, because I was able to return to International Harvester.
Below is the last article I wrote as Publisher of the Farewell Issue of "Pass The Word":
"This article is dedicated to: Don Waddell, the late Bill Thompson, Robbie Robinson, Bill Wade, and Al Smith."
"One road diverged into two,
I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference." - Robert Frost
"As the first and only woman Manufacturing Manager in the history of Rockwell International, NAA-Columbus, "I took the road less traveled by" in being a woman in a so-called "man's job" - but Rockwell and the Management Club "made all the difference" - Rockwell and the Club and especially the ones to whom this article is dedicated, gave me and many others opportunities that would never have been possible with other companies. Don Waddell, Bill Thompson, and Robbie Robinson gave me extraordinary opportunities in the Nacelle and FIF and Bill Wade and Al Smith gave me the opportunity to be a Manager; what I did with those opportunities was then my decision.
As a girl growing up on a farm in Central Ohio, I wanted to work at "North American" because of my fascination with aircraft and because my aunt had worked at Curtiss-Wright during World War II as one of the "Rosie the Riveters."
When Don Waddell hired me in 1982 as a Manufacturing Supervisor, I had already been the first woman Manufacturing Supervisor at two other corporations. At Rockwell, I expected to find, finally, other women in management positions. After a couple of days on the job, I asked Bill Thompson, "Where are the other women?" He laughed and said, "You're it!" I asked, incredulously, "What happened to Rosie the Riveter, wasn't she promoted?" Fortunately for me and many others, other women were promoted to supervisory positions.
Robbie Robinson inducted me into the Management Club by saying, 'You'll be glad to know there's a woman President." Although there was a lack of women in management positions, there were many women active in the Management Club. I immediately joined and soon got in contact with Helen Hartberger who was the first women president of Chapter 636. Helen's stewardship of the Club and her exemplary leadership were a measuring stick for all succeeding Presidents. Helen encouraged me to become a Booster. After being a Booster, Captain and Instructor, I became the Vice-President of Public Relations and Community Activities; I was then elected a Trustee. The Management Club has helped me both professionally and personally.
Whatever road we all decide to travel in the future, Rockwell and the Management Club have helped to pave the way."
When Mrs. Wead put our house on the market, we were not savvy enough to know that one could "make an offer" instead of just agreeing to the asking price. I would always refer to the Wead house as MY house! We toured MY house but I knew that we could not afford the asking price. It was a huge disappointment because I figured that it would never be on the market again; after all, who would leave MY house once they had it? We decided to buy a house more in our price range.
Gerald and I had both been working two jobs to save for a down payment on a house. He was working at IH and at my cousin's gas station. I was working at Mead and at Steele Data Processing. We bought our house on Albin Avenue and were very happy there for ten years.
I passed MY house daily and when I saw the "FOR SALE" sign I told Gerald that I "just wanted to see what had been done to it since we last saw it." I learned that the house had set empty for four years and had been part of a contentious divorce settlement. I told Gerald, "It wouldn't hurt to talk to the realtor." Gerald insisted, "You know we can't afford it!" When we heard the asking price, I said, "You know we can make an offer--we don't have to pay that much!"
I took an immediate dislike to the realtor because of his demeanor and selling approach. We hired a broker to represent us. I knew the realtor was upset because he would have to split the commission with the broker! As we toured the house, I asked the realtor why there were no drapes or curtains. He said he didn't know but they had been there when they took the listing. I asked the seller and he said, "My ex-wife stole them, but I can't prove it!
Our broker told us that he knew the seller was having financial difficulty and surely wanted to "unload the white elephant". The broker said that we'd offer a really low price to begin with; I said, "I can't believe you have the chutzpah to offer that; he won't accept it!" The broker said, "We'll keep on nudging the price up and end up with the price you want to pay!"
When the broker made the offer, the realtor laughed at him; the following day the realtor told our broker that the seller had refused the offer. Our broker was suspicious and called the seller. The broker learned that the realtor had not given our offer to the seller, which was an illegal act. Imagine our shock and pleasure when the seller accepted our first offer! The broker had told him we would have the money quickly and the closing could happen right away. I had to do some mighty scrambling to make that happen!
However, the most disgusting part happened as we did our final walk-through with the realtor, and he actually spoke these words: "Well, you won't have to worry about colored people being in this neighborhood." Gerald responded immediately, "Well, we'll change that!" I saw the color drain from the realtor's face as he attempted to smooth over his racist comment.
I reported him to the State Board for both the racist comment and not giving our offer to the seller.
After we closed on the house, the former occupant who had NOT gotten the house in the divorce settlement, called me and asked if I wanted to buy the custom-made draperies and curtains which had been in the house. I told her that I didn't want to receive stolen merchandise. For some reason, she became very upset with me. I told her that her ex-husband wondered who had stolen the drapes!
Stargazer lilies, white roses, pink carnations, magenta daisies, pink snapdragons, heather and greenery; such a beautiful arrangement.
I'll bet you're thinking: "What a nice husband to give her flowers for her birthday." Oh, no, these are from my friend Bobbi! My husband does not believe in--doesn't understand--why people buy cut flowers. He thinks it is a waste. He will buy plants for the house and plant anything I want in the yard, but I have known him since 1968, and there have been no cut flowers for me.
I've written before about the only time I was in the hospital, after my accident in 1995, and I thought surely he would bring me flowers--and he did--two rose BUSHES.
He likes to remind me that those two rose bushes are still alive and producing lovely pink and yellow roses!
When Barbra sings, "You don't bring me flowers anymore", I chime in with "You don't bring me flowers--EVER!"
While working at North American Rockwell, I was an active member of the National Management Association. We had more than 500 members in our Club. When I became Vice-President, under my umbrella were the responsibilities of Public Relations and Community Activities. Included in those were the Reading Rehabilitation Program at Alvis House, being the publisher of the Club newsletter, "Pass The Word", and the Rockwell Clown Unit.
The Rockwell Clown Unit served the Columbus community for more than twenty-five years. In July, 1961, Ed Ryan donned clown makeup to entertain the children at the North American Management Club picnic. This act was the impetus for starting an amateur Clown Unit to entertain children who needed help, sympathy and cheering-up. The ages and sizes of the children did not matter; the Clown Unit would entertain infants as well as retirees. In December, 1962, an Administrator from Children's Hospital asked the Clown Unit to consider making monthly visits to the hospital. After that, the Clown Unit never missed a single month. Members of the Clown Unit came from many different backgrounds, but their common trait was that they were volunteers who had the ability to share fun and happiness with others.
I became "Klutzy The Clown" which was apt for me, because I am naturally KLUTZY and I learned many valuable things such as how to fall without hurting oneself and that clowning is healthful because it lowers blood pressure. My costume is pink and purple and my makeup is pink with purple freckles.
One day, after a performance, I was very tired and I decided just to drive home while in costume. I stopped to get a Coke at a gas station and I heard a voice ring out, "Look, Mommy, a clown!" It didn't matter how tired I was, I immediately was on stage AGAIN, because clowns take an oath that if they are in costume, they must keep the persona.
After the shutdown of North American Rockwell in 1988, the Clown Unit wanted to stay intact and sought a new sponsor. After Rockwell, I worked in Springfield and could no longer participate in "clowning around" with the Unit although I have donned the outfit a few times since for special occasions.
When writing the Paul Tibbets article, I was reminded of a priceless quip from my brother Les.
When Luci Baines Johnson planned her wedding, she chose August 6 as the date. The Japanese government protested because that was the date of the bombing of Hiroshima.
Les quipped, "Maybe she can change it to December 7!"
When I was four years old, a tornado destroyed our home in Bloomingburg. All of our lives we heard about "the cyclone". I was in the ninth grade when Mrs. Biddle told us it was actually a tornado and explained the difference between a cyclone and a tornado. Despite that knowledge, it was always "the cyclone" in our family.
The birth of my younger brother, the tornado and its aftermath are my earliest memories. The day of the tornado, March 19, my brother Norman was home from school and he was playing on the kitchen floor and I was sitting at the counter as Mother was making blackberry cobbler. I can remember the big bowl of purple liquid and I saw white things falling into it. Suddenly my mother grabbed me and she was on top of me and my brother Norman on the kitchen floor.
Our home, an old store building beside the post office, was destroyed. What followed was the defining moment of my life. My father and the four older boys went to live with his mother in Bloomingburg while Mother, Norman, the baby Roger and I were, as my mother would always say, "bandied about from pillar to post". We were homeless. We went to stay with her mother and that was short-lived, because her mother wanted to whip us. My mother, herself an abused child, never struck any of us; she didn't believe in hitting a child. I never had a lick, a spanking, any physical punishment in my life except scraps with the brothers! [My husband says THAT is what is wrong with me!]
I can vividly remember the day when we left my grandmother's house. I was in the back yard of my grandmother's house and there were some other kids by the fence. I wanted to play with them, but I had been warned to stay in the yard. Suddenly, my grandmother grabbed my arm saying that she had told me not to be there and she said she was going to get a switch to whip me. My mother ran out of the house, rescued me, and her mother said that if she couldn't discipline the "heathens" then we could "hit the road!". There we were, Norman and I, with Mother carrying the baby, trudging along the street to my aunt's house, carrying our belongings in paper bags. We couldn't stay there long either; my aunt had, at that time, six children of her own. We stayed with other friends until my mother finally was able to arrange for us to return to Bloomingburg and we lived in one large room at the Dave Tway house on Main Street. Dave had an apartment and the rest of the house was made into apartments. I can remember our happy reunion with my brothers who had been living with our other grandmother. By that time, we had been "bandied about" for more than a year. After that, we lived in a succession of rentals: a small house in Bloomingburg, in a house on Myers Road during the blizzard, then on Lewis Road and finally on Yatesville-Wissler Road.
I know that the ordeal was what made me want to have my own home and also the reason I have rental properties. I always think that if something "happens" to this house, that I can always live in one of the others! My mother had a life-long enmity toward the American Red Cross, because when she asked for help they refused. She was told we could stay with relatives. The names of the Red Cross officials: "Ole" Rell Allen, Arch Reiber, Arthur Maddux, Emmitt Passmore were anathemas in our family.
One day, probably thirty years after the tornado, Mother mentioned the "cyclone" and I asked, "Mother, Norman and I were in the kitchen with you; where was the baby?" In all those intervening years, I had never thought about where my younger brother was during the tornado. In my whole life, I saw my mother cry just twice. I saw tears well up in her eyes as she said that he was in the bedroom. She said that she knew she couldn't get to him and she just got on top of Norman and me. I said, "Well, he didn't get hurt." She said, "No, he never even woke up!" I put my arms around her and sensing the depth of that emotion and the split-second decision she had to make, I was so grateful that I had never had to make a "Sophie's Choice" in my own life!
