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Not so the “Tool and Die Maker” of the family. Having received his training and blessings of the profession during the Second World War, he knew how to read a blue print; make the precise measurements, and the assemblies required, so that the airplanes not only fit together but stayed together as well. Somehow in the transfer from steel and aluminum to wood, something was lost in the process. A two by four that was a bit short wasn’t considered a problem. So was it in his fencing skills, a post out of line or perhaps just nailing the wire to a near-by tree was “good enough”.
How is it that these too could get along so well? They enjoyed a good argument, (Others may have called their discussions a debate, but anyone that listened in, quickly learned that this was no gentleman’s game where the other was permitted to share equal time and in a cool and detached way.) As soon as the sun would go down and it was cool on the front porch, they took their positions. The “Maker” in his favorite cane-bottomed rocker and the “Engineer” in one reserved for guest, would cautiously fence around to see what the topic of the evening would be. When it appeared settled, the corn-cob pipe would be pulled out. Thumping it on the heal of his hand to loosen yesterday’s burnt offerings, was part of the ritual and the ashes were tossed in the yard. Then the bowl, with the top rim burned back and blackened by many an encounter with the glowing coals, would be filled and tamped with his yellowed thumb. The source of the coloration was soon revealed as somehow grasping the “strike anywhere” match between his fingers, the thumbnail would cross the white tip and in a flash of phosphorus and sulfurous smoke the end would alight. Now holding the burning wooden stick above the tobacco, and with a sucking sound that reminded you that nature had provided a “moisture trap” in the pipe stem that gurgled with each deep draw, the tobacco was finally made to burn. During all this, not a word was spoken as if by previous agreement.
More times than not, the evening argument would be on labor and management, or was it management and labor? Typically George would bring up a recent event in his plant in which he was called upon to act. Perhaps to place the discussion in perspective, a reminder would be of the time that a disgruntled employee had burst into his office looking for that “S.O.B. George Prehler!” But usually it would be an article in the Dallas Morning News that promoted the evening warfare.
At first in deference to his father-in-laws age, George would politely await his turn but when it appeared that this was going to be an unending soliloquy, he would intrude with a point of concern that perhaps there was another side to the issue. Let the fireworks begin! Now there wasn’t a moment when the combatants were about to give quarter and using every resource at hand would bring into play local, national, and international events that would be affected if the other’s viewpoint were accepted.
For a teenager sitting away from the fray and not paying particular attention to the discussion at hand, the raised voices, interruptions, and breathless long winded speeches now were cause for concern. Surely one or the other was about to get the upper-hand in the discussion and then it would be over and thus it appeared; as the emotive forces waned. But just when it was thought to be over, one or the other, either the engineer or the tool and die maker, would point out that the point being made by the other was just and would make a statement of support. What happened next is still to this day not understood. The combatants switched sides! Now the weaker argument had the support of the opponent and the reverse was true. The vigorous claims of what’s right and what’s wrong was renewed and the argument continued until finally the woman-folk had heard enough from the kitchen and would come out, suggest the discussion could certainly wait until morning, and it was time to go to bed.
If there was still a spark of life in the pipe, the tool and die maker would beat it out of the pipe by banging the pipe on the arm of his rocker. This was often done with a display of sparks that much like a celebration of the Fourth of July, signaled the event to be over.
The difference between an engineer and a tool-maker? Not much, they just read the measuring stick differently.
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