Blind drain cleaner

Mr. Johnston was a drain cleaner. And I am not making a joke here; indeed I'm rather in awe. You see, Mr. Johnston was blind. Yet by all accounts he was a fine drain cleaner.

To be sure, he had to have an assistant, someone to drive him to jobs and arrange things. You know, find the cleanout (access point) of the drain and set up the machinery. Then he would lead Mr. Johnston to the opening, give him a pair of gloves and start the cable into the line. But then Mr. Johnston would would take it from there.

I've always understood that blind people have their other senses heightened, and that's how I understand Mr. Johnston did his job. He could feel the cable begin to helix, corkscrew, when it hit a blockage just a bit quicker than others. The sound of the machine gave him clues too as to what was happening. The motor might whine a little bit extra when the machine was under stress. Mr. Johnston could pick that up readily.

It's sounds like a joke but it's true. I knew a blind drain cleaner. By all accounts, he was very good at it.

Squirrelly customers

When you've dealt with drain cleaning and drain cleaners for as long as I have, you hear many stories. It's amazing what can find its way into your sewer. Potatoes, toys; once at my Church a candle holder, a flat brass circle about three inches in diameter, was somehow flushed through a toilet and was acting like a butterfly valve, allowing the commode to work only at its whim. Sometimes even animals can get into a line and die. Their bodies swell up and block the drain. It's yucky, to be sure.

Once an old plumber, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, had to deal with a dead squirrel which had plugged a sewer. I won't go into details (remember, there's yucky) but Cloyce worked and worked until he removed unfortunate rodent by then a member of the choir invisible. Yet his heroics did not satisfy the old woman who owned the house where the chore took place.

"She got mad at me. She was yelling at me!" Cloyce exclaimed to me Pops one day, shock still in his voice. "She didn't want to pay. I said, lady, I didn't put it down there!"

"Well how else did it get in?" she demanded.

"How should I know?" Cloyce barked back at her. "I mighta come in from the city main. It maybe slipped through your downspout and got caught. But I didn't put it there and you owe me for opening your sewer!"

He got paid, but it was an effort. More effort, he told Pops, than the actual work.

Squirrels down the drain

When you've dealt with drain cleaning and drain cleaners for as long as I have, you hear many stories. It's amazing what can find its way into your sewer. Potatoes, toys; once at my Church a candle holder, a flat brass circle about three inches in diameter, was somehow flushed through a toilet and was acting like a butterfly valve, allowing the commode to work only at its whim. Sometimes even animals can get into a line and die. Their bodies swell up and block the drain. It's yucky, to be sure.
Once an old plumber, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, had to deal with a dead squirrel which had plugged a sewer. I won't go into details (remember, there's yucky) but Cloyce worked and worked until he removed unfortunate rodent by then a member of the choir invisible. Yet his heroics did not satisfy the old woman who owned the house where the chore took place.
"She got mad at me. She was yelling at me!" Cloyce exclaimed to me Pops one day, shock still in his voice. "She didn't want to pay. I said, lady, I didn't put it down there!"
"Well how else did it get in?" she demanded.
"How should I know?" Cloyce barked back at her. "I mighta come in from the city main. It maybe slipped through your downspout and got caught. But I didn't put it there and you owe me for opening your sewer!"
He got paid, but it was an effort. More effort, he told Pops, than the actual work.

Preachers and sewers

"Your men were drinking on the job," the man explained from the other end of the phone. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Waall," drawled the business owner in his West Virginia twang, a plumber who specialized in drain cleaning, "Did they do a good job?"

"Well, yes," answered the customer.

Jim, the plumber, continued, "Did they clean up after themselves?"

The man responded that they did, and very thoroughly.

"Did they cuss yer wife or children? Did they sass you at all?"

"No, no, none of that," the man replied. "I just thought you'd want to know your guys were drinking on the job, that's all."

"Waall," Jim began again, "That's the trouble with the sewer business. I can't get preachers to clean sewers."

I've never really been sure what to think of this story. It's a true tale (I remember fondly the plumber in question myself) and one of Dad's favorites. It's even vaguely charming, in its folksy way. But I do admit a certain sympathy for the caller as it is.

Ah well; there it is for you. Pops liked it, so it's all right by me.

A museum, you say?

I sell drain snakes. My mind is always in the sewer.

I get a lot of miles with that quip, yet it's sometimes not well received. My cousin Patty slapped my shoulder after I told it to a Dominican nun who is a common cousin. "You can't say that to a nun!" she exclaimed. Oh, I don't know. Sister Dorothy seemed to think it funny enough. Patty was laughing too, so I'm not sure it was all that bad.

I'm actually wondering if I could profitably open a museum of drain cleaning equipment. I have several unique things already in my possession, and there's quite a bit more variety to drain snakes than you might think. At one point there were over 15 manufacturers in the US alone, although I'm not sure that's still the case. I know one company for certain no longer in production; actually two now that I think about it. Each company has or had many different models of their own too. It's not as though there have been only one Electric Eel for example.

Shameless plug time: if you need a snake, you need an Electric Eel. I say that because I sell them. But I also firmly believe they're the best drain cleaners out there. That's because they are.

There are all kinds of cutting heads too, and there are water jetters and drain inspection cameras as well. There surely is a varied enough array of equipment that a small building could house many items. And I could finally achieve my life long dream of being a docent.

I'll try to keep my mind out of the sewer for long enough to give it real thought.