Several years ago, I wrote about my first real job working at Marvin’s Provisions. I worked there from the time I was 14 until I graduated from high school. What I left out of that essay was the fact that I returned to work there in the summer of 1969.
In 1969, the employees of IBP (formerly known as Iowa Beef Processors (formerly known as Iowa Beef Packers)) went on strike at the facility in Dakota City, Nebraska. Marvin needed a load of meat from the plant. The striking workers had a reputation of violence toward anyone crossing the picket line, and the driver that usually went there to pick up a load refused to go. “Hell,” I said, “I used to work there and I know many of the union members. I have no problem getting a load of meat.” I was thinking that because they knew me, they would let me through.
I had worked on the kill floor from October 5,1968 until June of 1969. Big deal! What I didn’t take into consideration was that the bulk of the strikers were employed in the processing end of the plant, as if that made a difference.
I remember pulling the truck into the gate. BAM! A large black woman yelled at me and dented the front left fender of the truck with a baseball bat. She, and scores of others, were yelling at me as well. I have no idea what they were saying because my window was rolled up. No, I didn’t have air conditioning in the cab; I rolled the window up when I saw people throwing objects as I approached.
I backed the truck up to the dock and was loaded almost immediately. Most drivers were not naïve enough to risk what I did. Pulling out of the dock, I realized my brakes were not working. I called back to Marvin’s to get direction on what to do next. Marvin’s Provisions had an unwritten policy that collect calls were turned down, the caller (either a customer or a driver) would say that collect call was from ‘Jim’s Market’ or some other known location, and the sales person would call back on the outbound WATS line[i] knowing that the butcher at Jim’s wanted to place an order, or that the driver was at Jim’s and needed to talk to someone at Marvin’s. I tried calling collect several times, and the call was not accepted in all my attempts. I had to locate change for a pay phone and finally got through.
From there, Marvin instructed those answering the phone to accept a collect call from Marty. A few telephone calls revealed that the International Truck service in Sioux City would not look at the truck as long as it was on the other side of the picket line, but if I could use emergency brake (only) getting to their shop in Sioux City across the bridge, they would fix it there. Great!
The trip to the International dealer was hair-raising. The truck was loaded – no, the truck was overloaded. The brakes were repaired, a bill was sent to Marvin’s, and I was on my way. On my way, that is, until I reached the truck scales south of Sioux City on Interstate 29. As I mentioned, the truck was overloaded. It was also the first time I had heard the phrase reciprocity papers. “What the hell are those?” I asked.
Parking my truck in the back of the scale house and hoping the Thermo King® (refrigerating unit) would not shut off, I was transported to a house in Salix where a justice-of-the-peace lived. I was fined for not having reciprocity papers and a load far exceeding limitations. I told the JP I had no money. He told me to phone my employer. I did and no one would accept the collect call. He told me sit down at the kitchen table and have some dinner while he called Marvin. I don’t remember what was for dinner, but I recall that it was good. Marvin told him that a check was in the mail for the overload, and that I didn’t need to have reciprocity papers because we were not hauling for hire. That worked.
I was driven back to the truck scales and told to shift my load. I refused. It is a violation to cut a federal seal unless you are the owner of the load or an employee of the load at the employer’s place of business. The guy in charge said that for as much as I was overloaded it probably wouldn’t work, anyway. I got in the truck and drove back to Vail.
As I pulled into Vail, Dick Blair, a part owner, was waiting for me. He told me to back the truck into the loading door and “we’ll unload in the morning.” That was the end of my day. Or, was it?
Half the population of Vail, including me, were awoken in the middle of the night to an extremely large BOOM! I knew immediately what it was. I got dressed and ran down to Marvin’s, about two and half blocks away. Dick Blair was already in the building.
Apparently, someone threw some dynamite on to the roof of Marvin’s new addition to the business. It blew a huge hole in the roof and damaged rails hanging from the ceiling. The cooler was practically empty since we hadn’t unloaded the truck.
When Marvin showed up, he went right to the phone and called Senator Harold Hughes. I was amazed. He actually had the senator’s telephone number, and Hughes answered. Marvin was a significant Democratic Party donor. I remember Marvin telling Senator Hughes he wanted that strike to end. After that experience, I fail to retain anymore memories of the day’s (and night’s) events.
I was exhausted. But I learned “a lot” that day.
Related blogs: For what it’s worth and That first job
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[i] Wide Area Telephone Service (WATS) access to long-distance telephone lines for commercial use at reduced rates. Callers to an incoming WATS line dial 800 instead of a specific area code and are not charged for the service. Organizations who hold the WATS line are charged for incoming calls; costs of outgoing calls using a WATS line are generally less expensive per call than ordinary long-distance service.