When I graduated from Central, I tried to pretend that a three-year routine wasn’t ending. In spite of poor grades, I had been accepted to the Colorado School of Mines. That acceptance was my excuse for not figuring out what I should do with my life.
I got a job for 64 cents an hour at the BK Drive Inn on Highland and Lake. I was told that was the “break-in rate.” The regular minimum wage was 80 cents an hour. I learned how to make a malted milk, something that seemed anachronistic even then. You could get a malt or a milkshake at A&W, but you could get a malted milk only at BK. By regular testing I found out how many root beer mugs I could hold in one hand. I could fill and order for four, sometimes five, root beers without shutting off the tap. Though the bosses weren’t pleased with me at first, I became a good employee.
Occasionally Mrs. Vickers was the boss when we closed. After we were nearly through cleaning up, she’d play songs from the 40’s and pre-Elvis 50’s on the juke box and some of the crew would dance, often with her. Her husband was an extreme capitalist who would have paid us 40 cents an hour, or nothing, if he could have gotten away with it. He did charge the car hops for broken and stolen mugs, even if they didn’t break them or a customer drove off when the car hop was nowhere near. I don’t know whether he would have been angrier at the idea of paying a few extra cents for his employees to dance, or the fact that his wife was dancing.
Once Mrs. Vickers asked me if I wanted to dance when she noticed that I hadn’t asked anyone else. I declined, though I wanted to very much, but not as much as I’ve wished, in retrospect, that I had accepted. Those moments come in life, and when they pass, they are gone forever. I’m sure I would have enjoyed the dancing once I got over the awkwardness of the situation, but I wonder if I haven’t enjoyed the yearning I’ve relived over the years far more.
Jeff Arnold
February 1, 2009 at 7:23 pm |
Jeff,
Good story that brings back lots of memories for me. I also worked there when I was going the Central, nights and weekends. My recollections differ from yours somewhat, but I do recall that Bill Vickers was a strident John Bircher, and he pushed us hard to work. This must have been pre-dance era there, or I have forgotten we did it. It was fun working with the different people and I enjoyed the great root beer floats, the onion rings and the burgers, although making them was often hard work and made for a long day. But I believe we got maybe a dollar’s worth of food if we got a chance to sit down and eat it during a shift. I really liked that.
I remember driving home one night, probably a weekend, after a long day and night of work. I was driving over the 4th Street bridge almost home when I woke up heading for the railing and the Arkansas River in my 1950 Ford. Ever after that I drove home with my head stuck out the window if I was the least bit drowsy.
I guess it was good training, but I wouldn’t want to do it again. Yet, compared to K.P. in the Army it was a walk in the park. Awake at about 4:00 A.M. working until 7:00 P.M. or so with some skinny Sargent barking orders at you all day long making you feel like a slave. Bill Vickers, as tough as he was, didn’t hold a candle to the guy bossing me around during K.P. Today’s G.I.s have no idea what fun they are missing out on by having K.P. contracted out.
Jerry
February 2, 2009 at 12:44 pm |
Jeff,
It was probably good you resisted the temptation to dance with Mrs. Vickers. Look what happened to “Ben” (Dustin Hoffman) with Mrs. Robinson in the movie, “The Graduate” (1967).
Now you have your memories. And who knows what Mr. Vickers would have done if he found out you danced with his wife!
So, I give you Simon and Garfunkel’s famous song:
“And here’s to you, Mrs. Vickers,
Jesus loves you more than you will know.
God bless you, please Mrs. Vickers.
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey, hey, hey”
Rayboy in Okinawa
February 11, 2009 at 9:07 pm |
Jeff,
The fact that you remember this little incident says a lot. If you had danced with her, would you have remembered that night now? Or would you have remembered it even more vividly? I think I have finally learned that you need to grab on to everything, and I wish I had learned that lesson long ago.