I guess it was a good time to be an electrician as the wiring in the homes in the late 1950s into the 60s were going through a change in the way. Homes needed to be wired and every homeowner wanted and needed the changes. This increased supply and demand for the electrician business. Homes were originally wired with what was called tube and knobbing. Bare wires ran through ceramic tubes. This I know was neither efficient nor safe and was fast becoming a thing of the past. The building department wanted a coated wire ran through the homes that insulated and insured safety. The wires all were ran into a fuse box and each wire attached to a 15 or 20 amp fuse. This was done so that if a circuit were to be overloaded the fuse would blow and stop any chances of electrical fire. This is a rough and somewhat accurate explanation about the change, which since then has been improved on considerably.
So with this need out there, Dad, in the months that were slow for us, would take on a home or maybe two to rewire. Dad would order the supplies needed for a job through a Mr. Red Herbert at New Richmond. We then would load up the truck with supplies, tools and more tools along with a lunch, a hot plate and a coffee pot. When Dad started this business he had Ben to be his flunky. A flunky was the guy who got to carry the tools and supplies, drill holes in the rafters and studs where needed, and then pull the insulated wire through. It was hard work and the pay was too low in my opinion. But as Ben grew and Dad taught him more about the technical parts of wiring he was promoted to an assistant and probably better pay. (I never got to know the pay rate.)
When I was somewhere between the age of 10 and 12 Dad came to me and asked if I would like to help them wire a house. My answer was quick and before asking what I was to do, I said yes. So the next day I became an electricians’ flunky! It sounded good to me as I started with a title. After loading and unloading the truck I realized titles come cheap and I had forgotten to ask how much was I to be paid. After being boosted up into the attic of this old house I was handed a new Black and Decker electric drill made in the late 50s that weighed about 35 pounds and was instructed to drill a hole through each rafter, from one end of the home to the other. This was where the term flunky began to hit me. I spent the morning drilling holes and by lunch I felt my arms were about to fall off.
So as I climbed down out of the attic I went straight to the hot plate because I was starved. As I sat there looking at Vienna Sausages and a bag of chocolate chip cookies, along with some iced tea, I felt Mom hadn’t put her heart into this meal at all. As we sat there eating away I remembered to ask Dad just what was I to be paid. He looked at me and said “I feel 50 cents an hour is more than fair.” “Really? More than fair to whom?” I thought to myself. The rate didn’t seem to meet the labor but dad was always fair and I had agreed to be the flunky so I didn’t say a word. He then told me I was green to this and will need to work for a while before I could become an assistant like my brother. I understood the first part about learning but learning what, as I hadn’t really seen my brother do much. He walked around with a tape measure and a pencil making marks in different places. That really didn’t look too hard to me.
Ben had learned to read the blue prints and was marking where receptacles and light fixtures were to go. OK, so I was wrong. I was a flunky after all. As the day rolled on I got to use a key hole saw (manual) and cut out the places Ben had measured. This made the hole drilling look easy. Lord I must learn quickly to get promoted!
As I loaded everything back into the truck I felt I had done a good days work and sure as heck had earned my .50 cents. On the way home dad told me he was proud of how hard I had worked and that I didn’t complain and seemed willing to want to learn. Darn tootin I wanted to learn as I wanted to be an assistant, as Ben never would tell me how much he was getting paid.
We did this for a couple of years and as I thought I was close to moving up dad decided to run for county commissioner and stopped taking on jobs to wire. As glad as I was to see my dad become commissioner I ended my electrical career still a flunky. I can drill holes and pull wires with the best of them to this day!
Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and likes to share stories about his youth and other topics. He may be reached at houser734@yahoo.com.