Harry Rodvogen was a very interesting person. He wanted to practice driving so he could buy a car, so we went out in my car with him driving until he was ready to try for his license. I was working the afternoon shift and did not go to work until 4pm, so it worked out fine.
He baught a Chevy, four door, and the first thing he did was to start decorating it. He got some brass bells of Sarna, and hung three from a knob on the dashboard. He said they were his "Bumpmeter." It was a one bell bump, or a two bell bump, and a three bell bump was a severe one.
He also built a diaorama on the top of the dashboard, and one on the flat space behind the rear seat. He colored in the pattern on the seats with markers. Under the hood he painted a nude woman, so the gas station attendents "would always check the oil." It was a work in progress as long as I knew him.
Some of his abstract paintings, I discovered, were his psychoanalitical catharsis.
I would look at one of his paintings every day, and would comment on it. That what he had painted refered to something that had just happened in his life. The next day that area would be worked on, hiding the event more in the abstraction. I realized I had to stop interpreting the painting so he could get on with it.
The same process is the basis of psychoanalysis. The rich have their Physcoanalists, the Catholics their confessional, the poor their bartender. It is all the same thing, you tell your troubles to some one else to get them off your chest, but the one you tell them to must not repeat them to anybody else. And so it was with Harry's abstract paintings. It was his confession, but it was hidden, just between him and the painting. It was there for everybody to see, but it was hidden.
One of Harry's enjoyments was to sit it the lobby of the Light House Inn smoking a Turkish ciggarette. These stunk terribly. And to laugh to himself when the desk clerk would put the dog outside.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Light House Inn
When working at the Electric Boat Company in Groton Conn, I stayed where the other GE Men were staying at the Light House Inn, in New London, Conn. This is across the Thames river from Groton. Since I got there after the others had been working there, and I was only helping them, I was given a small room on the third floor. Which was actually the attic. However, my room was next to Harry Rodvogin's studio. His room was actually attic, unfinished. But it was his living quarters, and artist's studio.
Harry Rodvogen was an artist that had lived in New York City, and was living in Hartford, Conn. when the owners of the Light House Inn, the Ronnick brothers, who knew him, invited him to come live at the Inn and take care of the paintings on display, and for sale there. The paintings were by area artists and were hung in the bar, dining room, and rooms on the second floor.
Harry was in his mid 50's. He was an excellent portrait artist. But he also painted abstract art, which was realistic, but a juxtoposition of realism and fantsy. For example he painted a self portrait of his reflection in a shattered mirror. He also painted beautiful paintings of nude women, but usually as part of an abstract painting. For example in a painting he had a beautiful woman's face, but her cheek was opened up to show a seascape with a sailboat.
One time when I came back there, he showed me his latest painting, it was a copy of the "Mona Lisa." As I was admiring it, I said "Harry, it is beautiful, but something isn't right." He pointed out that her breasts were nude. It never had dawned on me. He always painted nudes.
A year when I was in Paris, at the Louve, and standing in front of the "Mona Lisa" I was the only one laughing to myself. And I bought a post card of it and sent it to Harry, Saying "Harry. They have your painting over here in an old building called "The Louve," but somebody has painted clothes on her."
Harry Rodvogen was an artist that had lived in New York City, and was living in Hartford, Conn. when the owners of the Light House Inn, the Ronnick brothers, who knew him, invited him to come live at the Inn and take care of the paintings on display, and for sale there. The paintings were by area artists and were hung in the bar, dining room, and rooms on the second floor.
Harry was in his mid 50's. He was an excellent portrait artist. But he also painted abstract art, which was realistic, but a juxtoposition of realism and fantsy. For example he painted a self portrait of his reflection in a shattered mirror. He also painted beautiful paintings of nude women, but usually as part of an abstract painting. For example in a painting he had a beautiful woman's face, but her cheek was opened up to show a seascape with a sailboat.
One time when I came back there, he showed me his latest painting, it was a copy of the "Mona Lisa." As I was admiring it, I said "Harry, it is beautiful, but something isn't right." He pointed out that her breasts were nude. It never had dawned on me. He always painted nudes.
A year when I was in Paris, at the Louve, and standing in front of the "Mona Lisa" I was the only one laughing to myself. And I bought a post card of it and sent it to Harry, Saying "Harry. They have your painting over here in an old building called "The Louve," but somebody has painted clothes on her."
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Toneversation
From conversation when first married,
"Darling, would you like some more wine?"
"Yes, thank you, sweetheart."
To toneversation after 20 years.
"mmM?"
"Mmm!"
"Darling, would you like some more wine?"
"Yes, thank you, sweetheart."
To toneversation after 20 years.
"mmM?"
"Mmm!"
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Subs
Submarines, naval u-boats, not sandwiches.
In the early 1950's Admiral Rickover convinced the the US Navy to put nuclear propulsion power aboard submarines. He had been for a while at the Oak Ridge Atomic works during the war and saw the possibilities of submarines that were not dependent upon air for propulsion. The diesel electric propulsion required the subs to run on the surface to travel any distance. Submerged and running on battery power they only ran at slow speeds, as the batteries would be exhausted in only two hours running at full power.
So the plans were drawn up and construction started on the USS Nautilus, and the USS Seawolf. This is the Seawolf built in the mid 1950's, there were other subs named the the Seawolf, before this one, and after this one.
Westinghouse supplied the reactors and engine room machinery for the Nautilus, and General Electric supplied the propulsion equipment for the Seawolf.
These submarines were built at the Electric Boat Company in Groton Connecticut, which is just across the river from New London, CT. I was working in the Boston Office of GE, and was sent down to Groton the help with the installation of the GE turbines and gears, and the turbo-generators.
Now, I know not many of you have been aboard a submarine, so a little explanation will be helpful. There are certain requirements to work on a submarine. Number one is PATIENCE. This is a must. Other requirements are not to be claustrophobic, not to be fat, to carry a flashlight, it is awfully dark when the lights go out, and to know your job.
The job that required the utmost patience was to be an electrician working on the electrical gear in the Reactor room. The only passage through the reactor room was on the upper level, The reactor and associated equipment occupied the lower level. The fore and aft passage through this space was three feet wide between two rows of electrical cabinets with sliding drawers that could be pulled out to work on the equipment. So anybody going to or from the engine room had to go through this passage. Now electricians would be working on the equipment in these pulled out drawers, and when somebody came by they had to close the drawer, and turn sideways to let the sideways turned passerby squeeze through. Then he could open the drawer and continue work until the next person came through. Now that required a person with the utmost patience.
The Engine Room was the last compartment going aft. Going from forward to aft, There were the electrical switchboards, the turbo generators, the control station, the propulsion turbines, the reduction gear, an electric propulsion motor on the line shaft, the thrust bearing on the line shaft which then went out the stern tube to the propellor.
The layout of the rest of the sub was, starting from the bow, the torpedo room,
bearthing areas. Control room, messhall, more bearthing underneath, and then tha reactor room and finally the engine room.
As I said at the begining, the hull design was a surface ship that could be closed up to be water tight so it could submerge. And was not operated at full power when submerged. In the new atomic powered subs, they had more power than the diesel boats, and could operate at full power when submerged. The Nautilus realized that this was a problem when they could not pull out of a power dive,
and bounced off the bottom of Long Island Sound. It was back to the drawing boards.
In the early 1950's Admiral Rickover convinced the the US Navy to put nuclear propulsion power aboard submarines. He had been for a while at the Oak Ridge Atomic works during the war and saw the possibilities of submarines that were not dependent upon air for propulsion. The diesel electric propulsion required the subs to run on the surface to travel any distance. Submerged and running on battery power they only ran at slow speeds, as the batteries would be exhausted in only two hours running at full power.
So the plans were drawn up and construction started on the USS Nautilus, and the USS Seawolf. This is the Seawolf built in the mid 1950's, there were other subs named the the Seawolf, before this one, and after this one.
Westinghouse supplied the reactors and engine room machinery for the Nautilus, and General Electric supplied the propulsion equipment for the Seawolf.
These submarines were built at the Electric Boat Company in Groton Connecticut, which is just across the river from New London, CT. I was working in the Boston Office of GE, and was sent down to Groton the help with the installation of the GE turbines and gears, and the turbo-generators.
Now, I know not many of you have been aboard a submarine, so a little explanation will be helpful. There are certain requirements to work on a submarine. Number one is PATIENCE. This is a must. Other requirements are not to be claustrophobic, not to be fat, to carry a flashlight, it is awfully dark when the lights go out, and to know your job.
The job that required the utmost patience was to be an electrician working on the electrical gear in the Reactor room. The only passage through the reactor room was on the upper level, The reactor and associated equipment occupied the lower level. The fore and aft passage through this space was three feet wide between two rows of electrical cabinets with sliding drawers that could be pulled out to work on the equipment. So anybody going to or from the engine room had to go through this passage. Now electricians would be working on the equipment in these pulled out drawers, and when somebody came by they had to close the drawer, and turn sideways to let the sideways turned passerby squeeze through. Then he could open the drawer and continue work until the next person came through. Now that required a person with the utmost patience.
The Engine Room was the last compartment going aft. Going from forward to aft, There were the electrical switchboards, the turbo generators, the control station, the propulsion turbines, the reduction gear, an electric propulsion motor on the line shaft, the thrust bearing on the line shaft which then went out the stern tube to the propellor.
The layout of the rest of the sub was, starting from the bow, the torpedo room,
bearthing areas. Control room, messhall, more bearthing underneath, and then tha reactor room and finally the engine room.
As I said at the begining, the hull design was a surface ship that could be closed up to be water tight so it could submerge. And was not operated at full power when submerged. In the new atomic powered subs, they had more power than the diesel boats, and could operate at full power when submerged. The Nautilus realized that this was a problem when they could not pull out of a power dive,
and bounced off the bottom of Long Island Sound. It was back to the drawing boards.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Pavlov
I frequently have discovered that I do not know everything, so I bought books to try to cure this ailment. One such book had a chapter on Pavlov's experiments on dogs with ringing a bell, and then feeding the dogs. This developed a conditioned reflex, so that the dogs salivated upon his ringing a bell. Now dear readers, do not hold me to absolute accuracy, as this event occurred over 50 years ago.
I was on a flight from Seattle back to Boston, and reading about Pavlov's condition reflex experiments, when the stewardess's started serving lunch. This was in the day's when airlines served hot meals. The airplane had a center aisle, with two seats on each side. Since I was sitting in the aisle seat, I had to pull my shoulder in to allow the stewardess to pass by. On this plane the pantry was in the back of the plane, and she started serving those in the front rows first.
I could hear her coming so I would pull in my shoulder, and glance up at her as she passed by. She had a very nice wiggle to her derriere. On her way back from the front, I would glance up to let her pass, and appreciate the nice bounce of her bosom. Since I was reading about conditioned reflexes I realized what was happening to me. Each trip up the aisle became more amusing to me and I was laughing. She noticed, and stopped and said that must be a very funny book you are reading. I showed her the title, and explained that I was reading about Pavlov's condition reflex experiments. She said she was familiar with the experiments. So I said, you have no idea what you are doing to me. She hit me on the shoulder and went on with serving the lunch. When she got to my row she had three trays. Gave one the the fellow sitting next to me, and the other two to the passengers on the other side of the aisle. I was the last one to be served lunch. But, it was with a chuckle.
I was on a flight from Seattle back to Boston, and reading about Pavlov's condition reflex experiments, when the stewardess's started serving lunch. This was in the day's when airlines served hot meals. The airplane had a center aisle, with two seats on each side. Since I was sitting in the aisle seat, I had to pull my shoulder in to allow the stewardess to pass by. On this plane the pantry was in the back of the plane, and she started serving those in the front rows first.
I could hear her coming so I would pull in my shoulder, and glance up at her as she passed by. She had a very nice wiggle to her derriere. On her way back from the front, I would glance up to let her pass, and appreciate the nice bounce of her bosom. Since I was reading about conditioned reflexes I realized what was happening to me. Each trip up the aisle became more amusing to me and I was laughing. She noticed, and stopped and said that must be a very funny book you are reading. I showed her the title, and explained that I was reading about Pavlov's condition reflex experiments. She said she was familiar with the experiments. So I said, you have no idea what you are doing to me. She hit me on the shoulder and went on with serving the lunch. When she got to my row she had three trays. Gave one the the fellow sitting next to me, and the other two to the passengers on the other side of the aisle. I was the last one to be served lunch. But, it was with a chuckle.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Until next year
Saturday, the last day of the fair until next year.
There was no more to do at the fair that evening one year back in the 30's, so we made our way out, but going through the buildings as we left, we went through the cooking arts building. A nice lady tending the displays asked if we would like a cake. There were many cakes that were not reclaimed by their bakers, and since there was nothing more to do with them she offered them to us rather than throw them out. We gladly accepted her kind offer, and I was the recipient of an angle food cake that had been baked with all the skill and care of the maker. So carrying them on a paper plates, we thanked her, and left the fairgrounds eating cake. We had no forks, but hands were used before forks, and there were no mothers there to scold us.
The mile and a half walk home gave us plenty of time to have our fill of cake, and I don't remember whether there was any left by the time I reached home.
What a nice way to finish up a week of fair time pleasures.
There was no more to do at the fair that evening one year back in the 30's, so we made our way out, but going through the buildings as we left, we went through the cooking arts building. A nice lady tending the displays asked if we would like a cake. There were many cakes that were not reclaimed by their bakers, and since there was nothing more to do with them she offered them to us rather than throw them out. We gladly accepted her kind offer, and I was the recipient of an angle food cake that had been baked with all the skill and care of the maker. So carrying them on a paper plates, we thanked her, and left the fairgrounds eating cake. We had no forks, but hands were used before forks, and there were no mothers there to scold us.
The mile and a half walk home gave us plenty of time to have our fill of cake, and I don't remember whether there was any left by the time I reached home.
What a nice way to finish up a week of fair time pleasures.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Thrill day at the fair
Most people around here have heard about the airplane's crashing at the fairgrounds. Not too many remember it, as it happened in 1946. I read about it on the moving news bulletin sign around the Times building in Times square in New York City. Cha, Howard, and I had landed in NYC that afternoon from our flight from GF to NYC to start work with GE the coming Monday. The crash was two military fighter jets from the East base who were doing a close order flyby in front of the Grandstand. They touched wings an crashed. One into the race horse barns, and the other further away. This was a terrible tragedy.
How ever, not too many remember when Captain Ffrank Ffrakes crashed his aeroplane on Saturday afternoon Thrill Day during the 1930's. These crashes occur ed each year for three years.
Captain Ffrakes had a WW1 biplane in which he took off from just out side the fairgrounds and circled around a few times before coming in from the East to crash into a burning barn set up in the infield of the horse racing track. The crash knocked of the wings of the plane, and the fuselage came through the burning barn to hit the ground just beyond. The fire engines and ambulance that were standing by, rushed over as Captain Ffrank Ffrakes hopped out of the cockpit of the plane to take his bows for the cheering audience.
The next year they had set up a group of trees in the infield of the race track. There were two small trees in a line in the center of the woods, and two large trees on each side to catch the wings as the fuselage hit the small trees. Again, the fire engine and ambulance rushed over to the plane, sirens screaming. As Captain Ffrakes hopped from the plane to the cheers of the crowd.
The next year Captain Ffrakes engaged in a dogfight with another WW1 fighter. The two aircraft engaged in a dogfight out in front of the grandstand and Captain Ffrakes got shot down to crash in the infield again. However, Captain Ffrakes did not quite make it to the infield, he landed outside the fairgrounds in Third Street!
How ever, not too many remember when Captain Ffrank Ffrakes crashed his aeroplane on Saturday afternoon Thrill Day during the 1930's. These crashes occur ed each year for three years.
Captain Ffrakes had a WW1 biplane in which he took off from just out side the fairgrounds and circled around a few times before coming in from the East to crash into a burning barn set up in the infield of the horse racing track. The crash knocked of the wings of the plane, and the fuselage came through the burning barn to hit the ground just beyond. The fire engines and ambulance that were standing by, rushed over as Captain Ffrank Ffrakes hopped out of the cockpit of the plane to take his bows for the cheering audience.
The next year they had set up a group of trees in the infield of the race track. There were two small trees in a line in the center of the woods, and two large trees on each side to catch the wings as the fuselage hit the small trees. Again, the fire engine and ambulance rushed over to the plane, sirens screaming. As Captain Ffrakes hopped from the plane to the cheers of the crowd.
The next year Captain Ffrakes engaged in a dogfight with another WW1 fighter. The two aircraft engaged in a dogfight out in front of the grandstand and Captain Ffrakes got shot down to crash in the infield again. However, Captain Ffrakes did not quite make it to the infield, he landed outside the fairgrounds in Third Street!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
State fair
The State Fair here moved to it's present location in the early 1930's. The local VFW built a food stand which later became "The Jewel of the Midway." I went over with my father while it was being built by the members of the local VFW post. And ate there when I had some money.
The fair in those days was much different than today. We were in the depression and work was scarce. The night shows were on a stage in front of the grandstand. The bleachers were off to the left. People did not have much money and the prices were low. The night shows were lavish with a large troop of actors and dancers. And an orchestra inside a wooden fence in front of the stage.
The night shows always packed the grandstand and bleachers. When we were in Junior High and High School we kids went to the fair every day. And we always saw the night shows standing in front of the orchestra up against the wood fence around the orchestra. I do not remember how we got in, but we did not have tickets.
There were singing soloists, duets, Quartets, and choruses. Dance soloists, couples and a chorus line. The back of the stage had a vertical set which changed with each act.
There were dramatic presentations. comedy skits, and our favorite, a group of carpenters building a small house on the stage. It was total orchestrated chaos. One guy was walking around with a 15 foot long 2x12 balanced on his head. As he went by behind another guy who was puzzled with his task, and who's derby hat fell off as he bent over, he caught the derby and stood up and put it back on his head. Except the guy with the board on his head was passing by and the derby did not end up on his head, but instead on the board. So they continued their tasks, and later when the hat less one reached up to take off his hat, it was just passing by on the board, and he took it off the board as if it had been on his head all the time.
After 15 minutes of this chaos the they got their building finished. It was a small out house. The walls all fell down exposing a guy sitting there in his long johns with his bib overalls down around his ankles.
It was fun.
The fair in those days was much different than today. We were in the depression and work was scarce. The night shows were on a stage in front of the grandstand. The bleachers were off to the left. People did not have much money and the prices were low. The night shows were lavish with a large troop of actors and dancers. And an orchestra inside a wooden fence in front of the stage.
The night shows always packed the grandstand and bleachers. When we were in Junior High and High School we kids went to the fair every day. And we always saw the night shows standing in front of the orchestra up against the wood fence around the orchestra. I do not remember how we got in, but we did not have tickets.
There were singing soloists, duets, Quartets, and choruses. Dance soloists, couples and a chorus line. The back of the stage had a vertical set which changed with each act.
There were dramatic presentations. comedy skits, and our favorite, a group of carpenters building a small house on the stage. It was total orchestrated chaos. One guy was walking around with a 15 foot long 2x12 balanced on his head. As he went by behind another guy who was puzzled with his task, and who's derby hat fell off as he bent over, he caught the derby and stood up and put it back on his head. Except the guy with the board on his head was passing by and the derby did not end up on his head, but instead on the board. So they continued their tasks, and later when the hat less one reached up to take off his hat, it was just passing by on the board, and he took it off the board as if it had been on his head all the time.
After 15 minutes of this chaos the they got their building finished. It was a small out house. The walls all fell down exposing a guy sitting there in his long johns with his bib overalls down around his ankles.
It was fun.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Willno
Way back in my early high school days, before we were old enough to work, my friend Sonny Mundale and I would go to the State Fair when it was on in late July. We had very little money, but youthful agility, and fences did not keep us out.
We would look at all the free exhibits, and watch the free midway attractions. For a couple of years the free midway attraction was "Willno, the human cannon ball." He had a large cannon mounted on a trailer. When he preformed once every hour, He would come out in his "Cannon Ball" suit of a canvas coverall painted with aluminum pain, and a football helment, also painted aluminum. With all the appropriate fanfare, he would climb up on the cannon truck, and go through all the preliminaries that seemed necessary for a human cannon ball before climbing up to enter the cannon feet first. They would then raise the cannon to the exact angle for him to land in the far end of the net set up a reasonably good distance away. When all was ready, the cannoneers would shout "Are you ready Willno?" From inside the cannon would come a muffled shout "Yes" and BOOM would go the cannon, and Willno would come flying out, his arms out in front of him. He would tuck his head down and turn over length wise to land in the net on his back. After a few bounces in the net, he would get on his feet and walk as one has to walk in a safety net to the edge of the net and swing down to drop to the ground. All this was while the audience cheered.
We watched this every firing. It was free.
One day as we were watching, when Willno slid down into the cannon an the cannon was raised to firing position, and the cannoneers shouted "Are you ready Willno?" From in side the cannon came a muffled "NO." BOOM went the cannon. And Willno came flying out arms akimbo trying to get into landing position and landing on the net not in his usual position. After the momentum bounces, he got to his feet and limped to the edge of the net and swung down favoring his left leg, trying to make the best of it for his bows.
NO BODY LISTENS!
We would look at all the free exhibits, and watch the free midway attractions. For a couple of years the free midway attraction was "Willno, the human cannon ball." He had a large cannon mounted on a trailer. When he preformed once every hour, He would come out in his "Cannon Ball" suit of a canvas coverall painted with aluminum pain, and a football helment, also painted aluminum. With all the appropriate fanfare, he would climb up on the cannon truck, and go through all the preliminaries that seemed necessary for a human cannon ball before climbing up to enter the cannon feet first. They would then raise the cannon to the exact angle for him to land in the far end of the net set up a reasonably good distance away. When all was ready, the cannoneers would shout "Are you ready Willno?" From inside the cannon would come a muffled shout "Yes" and BOOM would go the cannon, and Willno would come flying out, his arms out in front of him. He would tuck his head down and turn over length wise to land in the net on his back. After a few bounces in the net, he would get on his feet and walk as one has to walk in a safety net to the edge of the net and swing down to drop to the ground. All this was while the audience cheered.
We watched this every firing. It was free.
One day as we were watching, when Willno slid down into the cannon an the cannon was raised to firing position, and the cannoneers shouted "Are you ready Willno?" From in side the cannon came a muffled "NO." BOOM went the cannon. And Willno came flying out arms akimbo trying to get into landing position and landing on the net not in his usual position. After the momentum bounces, he got to his feet and limped to the edge of the net and swung down favoring his left leg, trying to make the best of it for his bows.
NO BODY LISTENS!
I'm a stranger
In my life as a field engineer in the Gear department I was in cities around the country, and around the world, where I had never been before. I would fly there and the local reps would pick me up at the airport and take me to the job. After work they would drop me off at a hotel, and say "Boy, we have heard about you, you are going to have a good time tonight." Yeah right, I do not know where I am at. So I'm going to have a good time? Where?"
Walking down the street, it invariably happened that a car would pull up and ask for directions, like how do I get to Elm Street? Naturally they assumed that somebody walking down the street lived there. I would reply "Sorry, I am a stranger here myself." They would look at me as if I would not tell them the time of the day. This happened so often that I developed a complex, and dreaded when it would happen next.
So, when in Paris, while walking in the Place de la Opera, a car pulled up along side me with the passenger window rolled down and the girl driving leaned over and asked me "Voleu vous faire l'amour avec moi?" I was totally confused and replied "Sorry, I am a stranger here myself." She got the most puzzled expression on her face, and then asked me in English "Do you wish to make love with me?" Well, it was now my turn to be flabbergasted, and my face assumed just as an amazed expression. There was nothing more for us to say, and she drove on.
Since then, I have been confused in many languages, including English.
Walking down the street, it invariably happened that a car would pull up and ask for directions, like how do I get to Elm Street? Naturally they assumed that somebody walking down the street lived there. I would reply "Sorry, I am a stranger here myself." They would look at me as if I would not tell them the time of the day. This happened so often that I developed a complex, and dreaded when it would happen next.
So, when in Paris, while walking in the Place de la Opera, a car pulled up along side me with the passenger window rolled down and the girl driving leaned over and asked me "Voleu vous faire l'amour avec moi?" I was totally confused and replied "Sorry, I am a stranger here myself." She got the most puzzled expression on her face, and then asked me in English "Do you wish to make love with me?" Well, it was now my turn to be flabbergasted, and my face assumed just as an amazed expression. There was nothing more for us to say, and she drove on.
Since then, I have been confused in many languages, including English.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Life as a Factory and Field Engineer
When working in Lynn Gear Engineering as a Factory and Field Engineer, which meant I was the one sent when field reps were stuck and I was sent out to solve the problem, if I could. Actually, my endeavours were very successful.
One time, I was sent to Indianapolis to examine a gear driving an exciter connected to a large central station turbo-generator. The turbo-generator had been tripped off the line and coasted to a stop. The problem was that in designing the power station they did not include a back up steam driven oil pump. After all this was where the electricity came from, and electric oil pumps were all that were needed. Unfortunately, when the station got tripped off the line, there was no electric power available in the power house, and the large steam turbine coasted to a stop with out any oil for the bearings. This caused the Babbitt in the bearings to melt, and the rotor dropped to the steel shells of the bearings, where it rolled around wiping out all the inter stage packing rings and totally damaging the shaft journals that were now spinning on on steel.
So when my boss sent me there, he said to stop in Philadelphia first to see what the problem the field engineers there were having with the tooth contact patterns on a main reduction gear they were installing on a navy destroyer under construction. They had been trying to solve this problem over the telephone with my boss for over a week.
When I got there, they met me at the airport and drove me to the shipyard. I could not go aboard the destroyer under construction because my navy security clearance had not been sent ahead, and we would have to wait until it arrived. This seemed silly to me since I had clearance to go on board nuclear submarines. Well, since it was noon we decided to go out for lunch. One of the young GE engineers working on the gear asked, "We do not have the bearing cap on the forward low speed gear bearing, do you think it makes any difference?" I replied, "We do not have to think, put a dial indicator on the shaft and we can see."
We went to lunch and when we got back my clearance had arrived, so we all went down to the ship. They had set up the dial indicator on the shaft. So I said run the turning gear in the direction to push the gear down into the lower half of the bearings and while doing this set the dial indicator to zero. Now stop the turning gear, and run it in the other direction, which would lift the gear out of its bearings. When we did this, the forward journal lifted .070" out of the bearing. Right then, I became the most useless person in the engine room, and I made my way back to their office alone.
Morgan Sibold was there, he was working on a nuclear powered merchant ship under construction. Morgan and I were old friends, and when I came in he said "Dave, they threw you in a barrel of s***, and you came up with a Gold Watch!"
So I made my way alone out to the airport and was off to Indianapolis.
Such was one incident in my life as a Factory and Field Engineer.
One time, I was sent to Indianapolis to examine a gear driving an exciter connected to a large central station turbo-generator. The turbo-generator had been tripped off the line and coasted to a stop. The problem was that in designing the power station they did not include a back up steam driven oil pump. After all this was where the electricity came from, and electric oil pumps were all that were needed. Unfortunately, when the station got tripped off the line, there was no electric power available in the power house, and the large steam turbine coasted to a stop with out any oil for the bearings. This caused the Babbitt in the bearings to melt, and the rotor dropped to the steel shells of the bearings, where it rolled around wiping out all the inter stage packing rings and totally damaging the shaft journals that were now spinning on on steel.
So when my boss sent me there, he said to stop in Philadelphia first to see what the problem the field engineers there were having with the tooth contact patterns on a main reduction gear they were installing on a navy destroyer under construction. They had been trying to solve this problem over the telephone with my boss for over a week.
When I got there, they met me at the airport and drove me to the shipyard. I could not go aboard the destroyer under construction because my navy security clearance had not been sent ahead, and we would have to wait until it arrived. This seemed silly to me since I had clearance to go on board nuclear submarines. Well, since it was noon we decided to go out for lunch. One of the young GE engineers working on the gear asked, "We do not have the bearing cap on the forward low speed gear bearing, do you think it makes any difference?" I replied, "We do not have to think, put a dial indicator on the shaft and we can see."
We went to lunch and when we got back my clearance had arrived, so we all went down to the ship. They had set up the dial indicator on the shaft. So I said run the turning gear in the direction to push the gear down into the lower half of the bearings and while doing this set the dial indicator to zero. Now stop the turning gear, and run it in the other direction, which would lift the gear out of its bearings. When we did this, the forward journal lifted .070" out of the bearing. Right then, I became the most useless person in the engine room, and I made my way back to their office alone.
Morgan Sibold was there, he was working on a nuclear powered merchant ship under construction. Morgan and I were old friends, and when I came in he said "Dave, they threw you in a barrel of s***, and you came up with a Gold Watch!"
So I made my way alone out to the airport and was off to Indianapolis.
Such was one incident in my life as a Factory and Field Engineer.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
A little more Palermo
Another incident from Sicily.
One Sunday, the workers from Milan and I decided to do a little sightseeing along the North coast of Sicily. We rented a car, they rented it, and I paid, they drove.
We headed West along the coast, through small towns that had been there for centuries. The buildings were built mostly of stone. Many of these villages were fishing villages. The fishing boats are colorfully painted. And all have a pole on the back with a lantern for attracting the fish at night.
In one village there was a magnificent stone cathedral. It looked as if it had been there for centuries. We went inside. It was afternoon, but Mass was being served. The men from Milan all genuflected, and we stood in the back to not disturb anyone. There were beautiful paintings on the ceilings, marble statues along the Altar. We heard a commotion behind us, and looking around, saw it was a tour group, with a guide explaining in a subdued voice, yet loud enough to be heard by the group, in five subsequent languages, the points of interest of the church.
The tour group proceeded along the left aisle, with the guide pointing out the statues representing the stations of the cross. And to observe the paintings on the ceiling. When they got to the front of the church, they crossed along the communion rail, the guide genuflected as he crossed in front of the alter, which the tour group did not.
They then proceeded out the left wall, the guide keeping up his explanations, as they left the church.
When we got outside, the guys were all astounded at what we had just witnessed. Never having seen anything like this.
One Sunday, the workers from Milan and I decided to do a little sightseeing along the North coast of Sicily. We rented a car, they rented it, and I paid, they drove.
We headed West along the coast, through small towns that had been there for centuries. The buildings were built mostly of stone. Many of these villages were fishing villages. The fishing boats are colorfully painted. And all have a pole on the back with a lantern for attracting the fish at night.
In one village there was a magnificent stone cathedral. It looked as if it had been there for centuries. We went inside. It was afternoon, but Mass was being served. The men from Milan all genuflected, and we stood in the back to not disturb anyone. There were beautiful paintings on the ceilings, marble statues along the Altar. We heard a commotion behind us, and looking around, saw it was a tour group, with a guide explaining in a subdued voice, yet loud enough to be heard by the group, in five subsequent languages, the points of interest of the church.
The tour group proceeded along the left aisle, with the guide pointing out the statues representing the stations of the cross. And to observe the paintings on the ceiling. When they got to the front of the church, they crossed along the communion rail, the guide genuflected as he crossed in front of the alter, which the tour group did not.
They then proceeded out the left wall, the guide keeping up his explanations, as they left the church.
When we got outside, the guys were all astounded at what we had just witnessed. Never having seen anything like this.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Cold milk
Now this is not all I have to tell about my time in Palermo, but completing work on the turbo-generator, it was time to go back home. So I flew to Rome to start the journey back home.
At the Rome airport while waiting for the next flight to Paris, I had lunch at the airport. Ordering my lunch from a waiter who spoke very good English, I included a glass of cold milk. I heard him call the order to the cooks. including " A glass of cold milk." As I was eating I discovered I had gotten a glass of "calda"
milk. Calda in Italian is warm. Some times you just have to accept the misunderstandings between languages.
At the Rome airport while waiting for the next flight to Paris, I had lunch at the airport. Ordering my lunch from a waiter who spoke very good English, I included a glass of cold milk. I heard him call the order to the cooks. including " A glass of cold milk." As I was eating I discovered I had gotten a glass of "calda"
milk. Calda in Italian is warm. Some times you just have to accept the misunderstandings between languages.
Sally's uncle
Sally, a friend of Italian descent, who grew up in East Boston had an interesting tale to tell. Her uncle who grew up in the family home, which included grandparents, with both English and Italian being spoken there, went to Italy to visit the family. While visiting, on the first meeting, as time passed he felt an urge to go to the bathroom, so he asked "Dove bagouse?" His hosts asked what he wanted as they did not understand him. "Dove bagouse?" " DOVE BAGOUSE" becoming more agitated as urgency set in. (In Italian Dove is pronunced doh-veh").
They said speak English as they did not know what he wanted. "Where is the bathroom?" he said. "Oh, the Water Closet, it is right in there."
Upon his return, they tried to figure out the meaning of "dove bagouse." Finally it dawned on them that this was Grandfather's pronunciation of "Back house."
They said speak English as they did not know what he wanted. "Where is the bathroom?" he said. "Oh, the Water Closet, it is right in there."
Upon his return, they tried to figure out the meaning of "dove bagouse." Finally it dawned on them that this was Grandfather's pronunciation of "Back house."
Salt and toothpicks
Still at the Pont Hotel in Palermo.
On the table in the lower level restaurant there was a small cut glass dish low and flat in front with salt in it, and raised in the back with toothpicks there. Now this is the only place I have seen this type of dish. My reaction was, this was for a pinch of salt, and when needed a toothpick.
Just now, when trying to find a picture of one for this blog, I saw some other salt dishes which came with a small spoon for the salt. In Palermo the table setting did not include a spoon of this type, and it never dawned on me to use a teaspoon. So I had a pinch of salt on my meal. Which in Palermo did not seem all that unsanitary.
On the table in the lower level restaurant there was a small cut glass dish low and flat in front with salt in it, and raised in the back with toothpicks there. Now this is the only place I have seen this type of dish. My reaction was, this was for a pinch of salt, and when needed a toothpick.
Just now, when trying to find a picture of one for this blog, I saw some other salt dishes which came with a small spoon for the salt. In Palermo the table setting did not include a spoon of this type, and it never dawned on me to use a teaspoon. So I had a pinch of salt on my meal. Which in Palermo did not seem all that unsanitary.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
A boy hit by a car
One Sunday afternoon in Palermo, while having a cold drink at a sidewalk cafe, a delivery boy from a coffee shop was hit by a car in the middle of a six lane thoroughfare while delivering a coffee order across this street.
Now, unfortunately this is not a rare occurrence, but this one had its own twists and turns.
When the police arrived, they were the wrong ones. There are three uniformed branch's of police in Italy. One is the local city police. Then there is what I would call the equivalent of our State Police Troopers. And then there are the National Police. All branches are on the streets in the cities. The next branch of police to arrive were still the wrong ones. Finally the correct branch arrived and began the investigation.
The owner of the coffee shop was questioned because the boy was only 15 years old, and you have to be 16 to work. The coffee shop owner said the boy was not an employee. He was just a kid that showed up at the shop an hour ago wanting work. So the owner gave him a white apron and put him to work, no questions asked.
The driver of the car was not Italian, he was an European sailor off a merchant ship in the harbor. He was driving a car he had rented for the day.
He had rented the car from an auto repair shop that had the car in for repairs. The owner had put the car in for repair, and knew nothing about it being rented for the day.
Well, this is all I learned about the affair, but, I suspect the lawyers had a field day with this one.
Now, unfortunately this is not a rare occurrence, but this one had its own twists and turns.
When the police arrived, they were the wrong ones. There are three uniformed branch's of police in Italy. One is the local city police. Then there is what I would call the equivalent of our State Police Troopers. And then there are the National Police. All branches are on the streets in the cities. The next branch of police to arrive were still the wrong ones. Finally the correct branch arrived and began the investigation.
The owner of the coffee shop was questioned because the boy was only 15 years old, and you have to be 16 to work. The coffee shop owner said the boy was not an employee. He was just a kid that showed up at the shop an hour ago wanting work. So the owner gave him a white apron and put him to work, no questions asked.
The driver of the car was not Italian, he was an European sailor off a merchant ship in the harbor. He was driving a car he had rented for the day.
He had rented the car from an auto repair shop that had the car in for repairs. The owner had put the car in for repair, and knew nothing about it being rented for the day.
Well, this is all I learned about the affair, but, I suspect the lawyers had a field day with this one.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Hello Joe
When in Palermo, on the weekends, I would sometimes walk over to the business district to see what was in the shop windows. I always followed the same path. And as I passed by a bar along the way, a fellow in a small group siting outside on wooden chairs the sidewalk would always say "Hello Joe." And sometimes in the shopping district a man walking by would say "Hello Joe."
One afternoon on the way back to the hotel, Passing the bar and "Hello Joe" I stopped to visit. "Hello Joe" offered me a chair and said "Sit down." I did and the conversation began. He asked where I was from, and when I said Lynn, Mass, He perked up and said he used to live in Pawtuckett, RI.
As the conversation progressed he raved about how good America was, and how bad Sicily was. After quite a bit of this, I asked, if Sicily was so bad, why didn't he go back to America. He looked at me with an expression of "how dumb can you be" and said he knocked off a guy on orders from the mob. They didn't have enough on him to send him to jail, so they deported him.
Well, the visit didn't last too much longer, and I went on to the hotel.
After this I was always very respectful when passing somebody on the sidewalk and he said "Hello Joe"
One afternoon on the way back to the hotel, Passing the bar and "Hello Joe" I stopped to visit. "Hello Joe" offered me a chair and said "Sit down." I did and the conversation began. He asked where I was from, and when I said Lynn, Mass, He perked up and said he used to live in Pawtuckett, RI.
As the conversation progressed he raved about how good America was, and how bad Sicily was. After quite a bit of this, I asked, if Sicily was so bad, why didn't he go back to America. He looked at me with an expression of "how dumb can you be" and said he knocked off a guy on orders from the mob. They didn't have enough on him to send him to jail, so they deported him.
Well, the visit didn't last too much longer, and I went on to the hotel.
After this I was always very respectful when passing somebody on the sidewalk and he said "Hello Joe"
Targa Floria
One weekend while in Palermo, an Englishman arrived at the Pont Hotel. He had come to watch the Targa Floria auto race. These were sports cars racing over a 26 mile course on the local roads which were blocked off for the race. Carol Shelby was there with his race cars, and Dan Gurney was driving a car in the race.
I was not familiar with the race, but it sounded interesting, so I went with him to see the race. He had rented a car, and we were off to the races.
With a 26 mile race, you can just see a quarter mile section of the race from your location. So we found a spot on a hillside, and watched the the cars race past every 15 minutes or so. Seeing a nice grassy spot on a hillside nearby, we moved over there to improve our view.
We had just settled down, when we heard a loud shout "ANDIAMO!" Looking around, I saw a large shotgun lying across the lap of an angry looking man up the hill behind us, who was sitting on folding metal lawn chairs with I presume his two grown sons.
We shouted "escuzi" and promptly moved out of his line of sight. We did not stop to ask the translation of "andiamo."
So a new word was added to my vocabulary.
I was not familiar with the race, but it sounded interesting, so I went with him to see the race. He had rented a car, and we were off to the races.
With a 26 mile race, you can just see a quarter mile section of the race from your location. So we found a spot on a hillside, and watched the the cars race past every 15 minutes or so. Seeing a nice grassy spot on a hillside nearby, we moved over there to improve our view.
We had just settled down, when we heard a loud shout "ANDIAMO!" Looking around, I saw a large shotgun lying across the lap of an angry looking man up the hill behind us, who was sitting on folding metal lawn chairs with I presume his two grown sons.
We shouted "escuzi" and promptly moved out of his line of sight. We did not stop to ask the translation of "andiamo."
So a new word was added to my vocabulary.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Language 2
To continue with my travails in trying to communicate, I was sent to Spain to work.
Arriving in Madrid, I was met by the American rep for GE who said he was going to send me North in a taxi cab,to where I was going to work. I was to work with American GE field reps installing a large steam turbine-generator. I asked why I could not rent a car and drive up there. He said an American GE salesman did that, and going through a small town, with very narrow streets, which were laid out before the age of automobiles, he hit a young girl and killed her. This caused a big problem, but not as big a problem as it would have caused if it had been a boy. {Equality of the sexes had not reached there yet,}
So I went North to the mountain region near the North coast of Spain in the back seat of a taxi. Getting there and meeting the three GE men, they took me to an apartment house where I was to stay. And they told me to arrange for a maid to cook my meals. These guys were not very civil, which was surprising to me, as most GE men were very friendly.
They cautioned me, that if I was invited to someone's house for dinner, You did not peel an orange with your fingers, you had to use a knife and fork. I decided then and there. if the occasion arose I would forgo the orange.
Easter was in my second week there, and we GE men went down to Madrid for the holiday. The lead GE field rep had a rented car and we rode down in it.
Sightseeing included a visit to the bull fights, where no Matadors were killed, only the bulls. Actually the fights are very one sided against the bulls. After all the Matadors run the show, not the bulls. This was on Saturday, we were cautioned not to order steak on Sunday. Since it was Saturday we ordered steak that night. The consume was made at the table. They brought a silver plated duck press to the table. Into which they put a large piece of meat and squeezed out the juices which was then warmed over an alcohol burner.
In Spain, I learned that bread was "pan" and butter was "mantequilla."
The next week I was sent to Palermo, Sicilly, to assist in inspecting a large steam turbo-generator, which John Dubille had installed years before. He was the first GE field rep I had worked with. So I was redilly accepted. I got a room at the Pont Hotel. the first evening I went down to the restraunt in the basement. The high priced restraunt was on the Ground floor.
Picking up and opening the meneu, which was in Italian and French, on the left was "Antipasto," no problem. The first entre was "Salami e burro."
My heart sank, what was I letting my self in for. It was three day's later I learned this was "salami and butter." Burro, the animal, in Italian is assinna.
Arriving in Madrid, I was met by the American rep for GE who said he was going to send me North in a taxi cab,to where I was going to work. I was to work with American GE field reps installing a large steam turbine-generator. I asked why I could not rent a car and drive up there. He said an American GE salesman did that, and going through a small town, with very narrow streets, which were laid out before the age of automobiles, he hit a young girl and killed her. This caused a big problem, but not as big a problem as it would have caused if it had been a boy. {Equality of the sexes had not reached there yet,}
So I went North to the mountain region near the North coast of Spain in the back seat of a taxi. Getting there and meeting the three GE men, they took me to an apartment house where I was to stay. And they told me to arrange for a maid to cook my meals. These guys were not very civil, which was surprising to me, as most GE men were very friendly.
They cautioned me, that if I was invited to someone's house for dinner, You did not peel an orange with your fingers, you had to use a knife and fork. I decided then and there. if the occasion arose I would forgo the orange.
Easter was in my second week there, and we GE men went down to Madrid for the holiday. The lead GE field rep had a rented car and we rode down in it.
Sightseeing included a visit to the bull fights, where no Matadors were killed, only the bulls. Actually the fights are very one sided against the bulls. After all the Matadors run the show, not the bulls. This was on Saturday, we were cautioned not to order steak on Sunday. Since it was Saturday we ordered steak that night. The consume was made at the table. They brought a silver plated duck press to the table. Into which they put a large piece of meat and squeezed out the juices which was then warmed over an alcohol burner.
In Spain, I learned that bread was "pan" and butter was "mantequilla."
The next week I was sent to Palermo, Sicilly, to assist in inspecting a large steam turbo-generator, which John Dubille had installed years before. He was the first GE field rep I had worked with. So I was redilly accepted. I got a room at the Pont Hotel. the first evening I went down to the restraunt in the basement. The high priced restraunt was on the Ground floor.
Picking up and opening the meneu, which was in Italian and French, on the left was "Antipasto," no problem. The first entre was "Salami e burro."
My heart sank, what was I letting my self in for. It was three day's later I learned this was "salami and butter." Burro, the animal, in Italian is assinna.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Language
Today I was thinking about some of my misadventures in trying to communicate with others. Now I am not meaning when I recite "Jabberwoky" which starts out with "Twas brillig", which of course means mid afternoon, {the time of broiling dinner in Australia} "and the slithy Toves {which everyone knows means the slim lithe Toves} were gyering and gimbiling in the wabe, {the little rascals were rolling and tumbling down the grassy hillside}. I will not run on with this, as I am sure you all understand.
You see, I grew up in Montana, and after College I followed my brothers into the Navy {there was a war on}, I was was sent to Notre Dame for my "Ninety Day Wonder Course" which only lasted 60 day's {as you can see we were smart for our age}. There I was exposed to the strange languages of New England and Georgia which being adept at juggling I soon understood. Then off to the West Coast where they speak American.
Then off to the Pacific, Hawaii where everybody speaks "Aloha" And on to Japan. Where the word for "Hello" is "Ohio" to which my roommate Hickman would respond "No Minnesota" which is where he was from. Now Japanese is nothing like American, so we both did the best we could with a mix of Japanese and American.
Then off to New England where I soon learned the East Boston accent from a neighbor, Terry, and the Brahman from the Back Bay. Burlesqueze at the Old Howard Atheneum,{where I also honed my drawing skills}. Actually New Englandese is much like American, except for the Accent.
While there, work took me to many strange lands, not all of them in the USA. The first venture was to Kuwait, when I flew across thee Atlantic in an upper berth in the DC6. And where I was stunned to see so many Nuns walking barefoot alongside the road. Later I learned this was the women's dress, and was not a Habit.
This was my first exposure to English. The language of the British Iles. I was invited to go to a "Tumbollo" Game one evening. It turned out to be Bingo, But with the Limey accent I soon realized it was " Tumbollo". I didn't understand a word.
On the way back home I landed in Paris for an overnight stay. Where I found out the Gendarmes would only speak French. If you wanted to get directions you had to ask a woman. There I met Hans, who was from Michigan, But was originally from Austria. He escaped from the Russian domination to free Europe, and to France, before being hired by a US Oil company. We Hans, and an American who worked for Westinghouse, who was looking for a mounted butterfly shop, and I went out to find the butterflies. It was a fun experience since Hans was very witty and joked with the women sidewalk push cart vendors.
We gave up on the trying to find a butterfly on the streets of Paris, and went sightseeing to the Eiffel Tower. As we were going up in the elevator everybody was pointing out churches and buildings, and feeling left out I pointed to the Sacre Curre and asked Hans if that was the Vatican. He replied yes, that was the Vatican and pointing to the river Seine he said that was the Tiber. He was naming all sorts of places in Rome. It became very quite in the elevator as Hans explained that the Tower was built with the Marshall Plan Money, but the French were not very good builders, which is why it looks so old.
On the way down, we were quiet, standing jammed in the crowd, just in front of us were two couples, one American and the other English, the men discussing where was a good place to eat. The American was naming various restaurants as being excellent. The Englishman's natural pride overcame him and he proclaimed the best restaurant in the world was in the Savoy Hotel in London. This was a proclamation, and there was an awkward silence. Hans broke the silence be saying "In America we have 50 restaurants as good as the Savoy." The Englishman drew himself up to his full 6'3" and looking down at 5'7" Hans stated, "I HAVE BEEN TO AMERICA, WHERE?"
"Howard Johnson's", Hans replied. Luckily we had reached the landing and we got out of the elevator as fast as we could.
That night we went to the Lido where the ski expedition Hans was on had reservations.
I flew back to Boston the next day.
This is enough for now as my fingers are tired from typing, and your eyes must be tired from reading. However this is only the start of my misadventures.
You see, I grew up in Montana, and after College I followed my brothers into the Navy {there was a war on}, I was was sent to Notre Dame for my "Ninety Day Wonder Course" which only lasted 60 day's {as you can see we were smart for our age}. There I was exposed to the strange languages of New England and Georgia which being adept at juggling I soon understood. Then off to the West Coast where they speak American.
Then off to the Pacific, Hawaii where everybody speaks "Aloha" And on to Japan. Where the word for "Hello" is "Ohio" to which my roommate Hickman would respond "No Minnesota" which is where he was from. Now Japanese is nothing like American, so we both did the best we could with a mix of Japanese and American.
Then off to New England where I soon learned the East Boston accent from a neighbor, Terry, and the Brahman from the Back Bay. Burlesqueze at the Old Howard Atheneum,{where I also honed my drawing skills}. Actually New Englandese is much like American, except for the Accent.
While there, work took me to many strange lands, not all of them in the USA. The first venture was to Kuwait, when I flew across thee Atlantic in an upper berth in the DC6. And where I was stunned to see so many Nuns walking barefoot alongside the road. Later I learned this was the women's dress, and was not a Habit.
This was my first exposure to English. The language of the British Iles. I was invited to go to a "Tumbollo" Game one evening. It turned out to be Bingo, But with the Limey accent I soon realized it was " Tumbollo". I didn't understand a word.
On the way back home I landed in Paris for an overnight stay. Where I found out the Gendarmes would only speak French. If you wanted to get directions you had to ask a woman. There I met Hans, who was from Michigan, But was originally from Austria. He escaped from the Russian domination to free Europe, and to France, before being hired by a US Oil company. We Hans, and an American who worked for Westinghouse, who was looking for a mounted butterfly shop, and I went out to find the butterflies. It was a fun experience since Hans was very witty and joked with the women sidewalk push cart vendors.
We gave up on the trying to find a butterfly on the streets of Paris, and went sightseeing to the Eiffel Tower. As we were going up in the elevator everybody was pointing out churches and buildings, and feeling left out I pointed to the Sacre Curre and asked Hans if that was the Vatican. He replied yes, that was the Vatican and pointing to the river Seine he said that was the Tiber. He was naming all sorts of places in Rome. It became very quite in the elevator as Hans explained that the Tower was built with the Marshall Plan Money, but the French were not very good builders, which is why it looks so old.
On the way down, we were quiet, standing jammed in the crowd, just in front of us were two couples, one American and the other English, the men discussing where was a good place to eat. The American was naming various restaurants as being excellent. The Englishman's natural pride overcame him and he proclaimed the best restaurant in the world was in the Savoy Hotel in London. This was a proclamation, and there was an awkward silence. Hans broke the silence be saying "In America we have 50 restaurants as good as the Savoy." The Englishman drew himself up to his full 6'3" and looking down at 5'7" Hans stated, "I HAVE BEEN TO AMERICA, WHERE?"
"Howard Johnson's", Hans replied. Luckily we had reached the landing and we got out of the elevator as fast as we could.
That night we went to the Lido where the ski expedition Hans was on had reservations.
I flew back to Boston the next day.
This is enough for now as my fingers are tired from typing, and your eyes must be tired from reading. However this is only the start of my misadventures.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Tools of my mathematical work
These are the Mathematical tools that I have been exposed to in my days from grade school to today.
In grade school, a yellow wood pencil, I don't have one anymore, and a piece of paper. Which I do have. The Lennes book of the multiplication tables. Chalk and the classroom blackboard.
In high school, a comptometer, a mechanical calculating machine that could do addition, subtraction, multiplication, and with difficulty division.
In college a slide rule, in its leather case with the metal ring which attached to leather strap around my belt, this was the holster in which I carried my slipstick. This took care of the multiplication and division. Adding and Subtracting required the use of the grey matter.
When working at GE in the 1960's, I used a Merchant mechanical calculator.
In 1972, in San Francisco, on noon hour, while walking down the street, in a shop window, I saw an electronic Sharp ELSI 8 hand held electronic 4 function calculator. I was working on a ship's lineshaft problem, using the office mechanical calculator, which had an internal fault, that sometimes it would keep running and the only way to stop it was to pull the electric plug.
So I went in and bought one, for $300, it did the 4 functions +-x & divide. If I wanted one memory it was $1oo more. When I got back to the office and showed it to my boss, he said "You bought that! I'm not paying for it!"
Later HP came out with a handheld 41, and when I saw it, I bought one. Since then HP kept bringing out new models, all at $300, and I kept buying them. In the 1980's they came out with the HP 11 and HP12 models. These were $99 each, and I bought 4 of them. One for me and one for each of my daughters. These calculators are still in use, and HP is still selling basically the same calculators today, for about $70.
In the 1980's HP came out with a portable computer with a single line of display that you drew a foot long 1/4" wide piece of plastic recording tape through to save your work. Of course I bought one.
Then Radio Shack had a laptop computer that ran the Deskmate Operating System. Of course I got one. That was before IBM came out with the Personal Computer and got Bill Gates to supply the operating system, DOS, Disk Operating System, which he bought from a guy in Seattle for $50,000.
Then Office Max opened a store in Great Falls, and they had a HP Computer which, it is a given that I had to have. Then a used laptop I bought from a guy who advertised it in the paper.
And after a few more laptops, I saw an ad for an ASUS Eee PC netbook. This I had to have, and now am using my second and third ASUS netbooks.
So that is the history of my mathematical adventures.
In grade school, a yellow wood pencil, I don't have one anymore, and a piece of paper. Which I do have. The Lennes book of the multiplication tables. Chalk and the classroom blackboard.
In high school, a comptometer, a mechanical calculating machine that could do addition, subtraction, multiplication, and with difficulty division.
In college a slide rule, in its leather case with the metal ring which attached to leather strap around my belt, this was the holster in which I carried my slipstick. This took care of the multiplication and division. Adding and Subtracting required the use of the grey matter.
When working at GE in the 1960's, I used a Merchant mechanical calculator.
In 1972, in San Francisco, on noon hour, while walking down the street, in a shop window, I saw an electronic Sharp ELSI 8 hand held electronic 4 function calculator. I was working on a ship's lineshaft problem, using the office mechanical calculator, which had an internal fault, that sometimes it would keep running and the only way to stop it was to pull the electric plug.
So I went in and bought one, for $300, it did the 4 functions +-x & divide. If I wanted one memory it was $1oo more. When I got back to the office and showed it to my boss, he said "You bought that! I'm not paying for it!"
Later HP came out with a handheld 41, and when I saw it, I bought one. Since then HP kept bringing out new models, all at $300, and I kept buying them. In the 1980's they came out with the HP 11 and HP12 models. These were $99 each, and I bought 4 of them. One for me and one for each of my daughters. These calculators are still in use, and HP is still selling basically the same calculators today, for about $70.
In the 1980's HP came out with a portable computer with a single line of display that you drew a foot long 1/4" wide piece of plastic recording tape through to save your work. Of course I bought one.
Then Radio Shack had a laptop computer that ran the Deskmate Operating System. Of course I got one. That was before IBM came out with the Personal Computer and got Bill Gates to supply the operating system, DOS, Disk Operating System, which he bought from a guy in Seattle for $50,000.
Then Office Max opened a store in Great Falls, and they had a HP Computer which, it is a given that I had to have. Then a used laptop I bought from a guy who advertised it in the paper.
And after a few more laptops, I saw an ad for an ASUS Eee PC netbook. This I had to have, and now am using my second and third ASUS netbooks.
So that is the history of my mathematical adventures.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
My youth
Wenesday 8-12-09
Today I'll tell a little about my youth, grade and middle school ages.
When I was young we boys all had pocket knives, plain, and Boy Scout, which had various blades, can opener, hole boring blade, large and small cutting blades, corkscrew etc.
A lot of summer time was spent playing mumbley peg, a game played on hands and knees and throwing a knife into the lawn by the proscribed motions. The first routine was with the knife laying on the backs of the fingernails with the 4 fingers closed into a fist and the thumb extended. You held your hand palm up with the knife blade pointed toward the thumb, and with a circular moition threw the knife at the ground, the object being to stik the knife blade in the ground.
This first action was the easiest. The next was to do the same with the left hand, There was a series of motions which followed, including putting the knife point on your knee, with your forefinger on the other end of the knife and flipping the knife to stick it in the ground.
The game followed a reutine in which the knife had to be stuck in the ground from various positions on the body, and when you missed, the knife did not stick, it was the next boy's turn. I can not remember any of us being cut.
The other use of the knives was whittling, we cut up a lot of wood. One of the projects we all did was to carve a ball in a cage out of a piece of wood.
Thanks to my mother, she saved one. I knew nothing about this until we were going through her mementos that were at Jack's house after Jack passed away.
This is my first attempt at including a photo, so forgive me if it is not in the right place.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Second time
Well, the first try seemed to be acceptable, so here goes again.
As time goes by, which it does, whether we like it or not, kids games change. My dad threw tops, and since nobody today knows what that is, I'll explain, to the best of my memory. The tops were wood cone shapes with the point of a two pointed sharp nail sticking out of the pointed end. They would wrap a strong string around the top, starting at the small end, and wind it around until they got near the top. They had tied a loop in the end of the string, which they put around their middle finger, and then threw the top to the ground and yanking up on the string set the top spinning.
Then the next boy would throw his top at the one spinning on the ground
trying to split the first top with the nail in his top. Then the next boy would throw. I have tried to throw these tops, but never at another top. Some times the string would catch on the top and when you yanked on it, and the top came flying back at you.
But one thing my dad never showed me was how to spin the dice out on a blanket so that the numbers he had up, stayed up. He never mentioned this skill but, one time when he came back from a company trip to Butte he gave back all the expense money the company had advanced him, and when questioned how he had not spent the expense money on the hotel and meals, he said there was a dice game, and he didn't need the company money.
He grew up in Misouri, and was in the infantry overseas in France in the trenches in WW1.
When WW2 started he told us boys to go into the Navy. You could get killed anywhere, but at least you had a clean place to sleep. We took his advice and all four of went into the Navy, and luckily we all came back alive.
As time goes by, which it does, whether we like it or not, kids games change. My dad threw tops, and since nobody today knows what that is, I'll explain, to the best of my memory. The tops were wood cone shapes with the point of a two pointed sharp nail sticking out of the pointed end. They would wrap a strong string around the top, starting at the small end, and wind it around until they got near the top. They had tied a loop in the end of the string, which they put around their middle finger, and then threw the top to the ground and yanking up on the string set the top spinning.
Then the next boy would throw his top at the one spinning on the ground
trying to split the first top with the nail in his top. Then the next boy would throw. I have tried to throw these tops, but never at another top. Some times the string would catch on the top and when you yanked on it, and the top came flying back at you.
But one thing my dad never showed me was how to spin the dice out on a blanket so that the numbers he had up, stayed up. He never mentioned this skill but, one time when he came back from a company trip to Butte he gave back all the expense money the company had advanced him, and when questioned how he had not spent the expense money on the hotel and meals, he said there was a dice game, and he didn't need the company money.
He grew up in Misouri, and was in the infantry overseas in France in the trenches in WW1.
When WW2 started he told us boys to go into the Navy. You could get killed anywhere, but at least you had a clean place to sleep. We took his advice and all four of went into the Navy, and luckily we all came back alive.
Monday, August 10, 2009
My first
Well, I am not sure what I am doing, it is at the insistance of Shell that I am here. But I guess when everybody starts, we are all in the same boat, totally at sea.
And I have been at sea before. Atlantic and Pacific. But I never crossed the Equator at the Internatioonal Date Line like my brother Chuck did on the USS Heerman.
One caution, I was allways better at math than spelling. And I am flexible when it comes to the truth, by poor memory, and for amusment.
And I have been at sea before. Atlantic and Pacific. But I never crossed the Equator at the Internatioonal Date Line like my brother Chuck did on the USS Heerman.
One caution, I was allways better at math than spelling. And I am flexible when it comes to the truth, by poor memory, and for amusment.
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