Zeke's Nightmare

Me Uncle John who we sometimes call Zeke worked with me Grandpa Joe in Grandpa's welding machine rental business. At times the pressure of the job got to him.

Zeke came into work one morning looking frazzled. "You okay, John?" my Dad asked him.

"I didn't sleep well," he answered. "In fact I feel like I worked all night."

"How can that be?"

Uncle John explained, "I dreamed I was ill, so I called in sick. But we were so busy that Joe knocked out a wall to my second floor bedroom and had a ramp built up to it, so you guys could bring me welders to work on anyway."

Me Pops just shook his head. "You really need to separate your work and private life better, Zeke."

Four Hundred Pounds Plus

Me Pops had a lot of great stories about his time in the welder rental and drain snake business. I hope to one day tell them all. One that just popped back into the front of my mind today involved the biggest man Dad ever dealt with. He was a good guy just the same, genuinely helpful and gregarious. But he was big. And he had the strong to go with his size. I'll leave exactly how big and strong to your imagination. But think bigger than you think big is.

To give an example of his size and strength, there was a job where me Pops was delivering welders along with the heavy cables necessary to weld with. These cables weighed a touch over a pound a foot. That particular day Dad had several 200 ft. lengths to deliver.

Guys were coming up to the back of Dad's truck and doubling up, two to a cable, to carry them over to the tool crib. Big Jim walked up and offered Pops a shoulder. "Put one there, Bill," he instructed.

"They're two hundred footers, Jim."

"Put one there," he replied simply, wagging his shoulder at the old man. So Dad did, setting it down as gently as he could. Then Jim turned about and said, "Give me another," indicating his empty shoulder.

"They're all two hundreds," Dad reminded him. Jim replied, "Give me another."

So me Pops set another cable on that shoulder. Big Jim walked away with more than 400 pounds of welding cable on his shoulders as though taking a stroll in the park.

I want him on my side in a rumble.

Joe's Freezing Dander

It never took much to get me Grandpa Joe's dander up. Still, some things, believe it or not, got his dander up to stratospheric levels remarkably fast even by comparison to his normal, uh, standard.

Joe rented welding equipment, as I think I've well established in these pages. And while you likely couldn't do it now even if you wanted as most water lines are nonmetallic, at one time you could de-ice frozen pipes with a welding generator. 

What makes a welder weld is that you complete a circuit when you 'strike arc', that is, apply the welding electrode to the items you wish to fuse together. Don't fret this too much if you can't picture it. Suffice it to say that when you weld, you're completing an electric circuit. When you do that, you create heat. Heating a metal pipe will then melt the ice which has formed within it.

You also effectively create a short circuit when using a welder to de-ice pipes, causing it to overheat. This will eventually, very eventually in Joe's book, destroy his welder.

Grandpa would fly off the handle even faster than usual when he'd hear of some numbskull using one of his machines to thaw pipe. If you believe he had a quick temper anyway, use his equipment wrongly. You'll find out that nothing really is impossible, even shortening Joe's profusely short fuse.

Joe's righteous anger

Me Grandpa Joe rented welding machines, as many of you by now know. He really wasn't fussy about much, but one of those things was his welding cable.

Each machine typically had to have 150-200 feet of cable while in operation. These cables were copper coated rubber and were about an inch thick. He always made sure that they were rolled in loops which were easy for a man to carry on his shoulder. On this point he was very particular; it could take forever to unknot even one cable. That was just time wasted, he rightly believed. Coil the cables, tie them off, and stack them nicely when the job was through, that was his mantra.

Once Acme Steel Processors (not the company's real name) rented ten welders from Joe and had them for a couple of months. When the job was over, Joe himself happened to be the man who went to pick them up. He was greeted at the Acme plant with a pile of unrolled, tangled cable. All his beautiful welding cable, more than 2,000 feet, was piled in a jumbled, knotted mess upon a pallet. His fuse, short anyway, was set.

About then the foreman came up to Joe and said, "There was trouble with one of your welders. The plant manager wants to talk to you."

Joe barked, "That's just dandy, because I want to talk to him too."

Grandpa stormed into the plant manager's office. The manager, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, never had a chance to open his mouth. Joe lit right into him, a blast of emphatic, rough English, yet with no expletives more than Joe's liberal use of the mild one 'hell', explaining exactly how little he cared for discovering his cable in one God-awful mess. That was not how he delivered it, Joe asserted vigorously. It was gonna take hours to sort out he, um, explained. I've been told it was quite a harangue. Those who do not know Joe must understand that when his dander was up, whole neighborhoods knew it. Hell, to use his favorite word, small towns were made aware.

As Joe was winding down Cloyce made the mistake of remarking, "You don't have to be so loud, Joe."

"Hell yeah I do!" Joe bellowed. "I want everyone in here to know what I think and I don't want to have to tell them each individually!" He was off again.

I don't believe Cloyce ever got to voice his complaint. He was probably quite happy to get back to the mundane tasks of plant managing once Grandpa left.

Breaking the Silence

Alec Brough was a crony of me Grandpa Joe when they were both working on construction sites together. Alec would also rent welding machines from Joe once Grandpa had left field work behind. Alec was a mountain of a man, the kind who impressed you with his size alone. Added to that was the loud, brash, and demanding way he carried himself. With his physical stature and intimidating nature, Alec was called the Bear. I'm told that it was easy to see why Joe and Alec got along. A birds of a feather type thing, although Joe was more average in build.

There came a time when the Bear had developed a serious health problem. I don't recall what ailed him exactly, yet it required a lengthy hospital stay. Me Grandpa Joe, being a man who believed in things such as visiting the sick (for as rough as he was, I can't say enough that Joe did have a sense of justice) took time to call on his old buddy as he recuperated.

Joe went to the hospital, creeping quietly through the corridors trying to show respect for the place and its current tenants. Finding the Bear's room, Joe pushed the door open slowly and deliberately so as not to disturb anyone or anything. The Bear looked to be asleep, so Grandpa eased over to the bed.

After a second or two Alec whispered, "Joe? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Alec," me Grandpa relied.

The Bear rose up to full sitting position and bellowed, "Why in the world are ya comin' in here so quiet? How am I supposed to know it's you if you ain't raisin' Hell?"

Yep. They got along all right. 

They'll do it every time, or, Cloyce and the sweet rolls

When me Pops were a young lad fresh out of high school, he became, well, sorta the dispatcher for Joe Cosgriff Welding Machine Rentals. While that sounds like an impressive job title, what it meant was that Pops had to be up ahead of any of the drivers to make sure they got on their way promptly.

Bear in mind that in the middle of the 1950s there weren't the kind of superhighways we all complain about today. When a delivery had to be made the driver had to bull through Detroit and then through every wide spot in the road once past the city limits. Have I ever mentioned that me Grandpa Joe's welders went all over Michigan and Ohio? That meant some very early starts when a unit had to be in Muskegon or Bay City Michigan, let alone Ashtabula, Ohio. And me Pops job was to be up early to hitch up welders (if they be gas drives, that is, driven by attached gasoline engines) or load electric drives (electricity powered welders) onto stake trucks in readiness for the drivers. Then he had to make sure the drivers got out on time. It meant a lot of 4 AM wake ups for Pops. But he did it, and he became a good man for it.

So there was this one driver, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who worked for Joe back then. As was his custom, me Pops always had hot coffee ready for the drivers, to help wake them in the wee hours. Several times in a row, when Cloyce would sleepily arrive for an early morning run, he would gratefully enough take a cup from Pops. And every time he would ask me Pops, every single time, mind you, "You don't have a roll to go with this do ya?" Pops would apologize as he said no.

After this happening frequently, Pops got ahead of the game. One evening before an early morning delivery he knew Cloyce had, he went to the corner store and bought a package of sweet rolls.

Along about 4:30 the following morning Pops got up and hitched a gas drive to a vehicle in anticipation of a delivery to Midland, Michigan, a good three and half hours from Detroit at the time. Cloyce soon appeared at the Old Barn and availed himself of the coffee Dad had at the ready. He and Pops chit chatted for a few minutes as they each sipped at their hot drinks, the previously opened package of rolls between them on a desk.

You know where this is going, right?

After a few minutes of Cloyce not taking one Dad pointed out, "There's some rolls there, Cloyce."

"Nah, I don't believe I feel like any this morning, Bill," he replied.

I doubt the old man ever bought him anything else after that, let alone a sweet roll.

Clomping and shuffling

As I took a drive yesterday I happened to pass by a building which was erected in the late 1970s. I know that because I remember being there as it was built, me Grandpa Joe having rented welders to a contractor who was working on it.

I still remember quite clearly my last day there, when I was picking up the last welder Joe had on site. We were cautioned that no one would be on premise for whatever reason but that it would be okay to get the machine. Joe sent me and another fella, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, to fetch it.

The building at the time was complete yet there was still apparently interior work to be done. It was empty of furniture and furnishings, and Cloyce and I were left to wander the halls and rooms looking for me Grandpa's welder. That's when I first realized that Cloyce didn't pick up his feet as he trudged along. He literally shuffled.

This echoed throughout the place. Shhh, shhh, shhh, shhh, Cloyce shuffled along behind me. It was driving me nuts: shhh, shhh, shhh constantly. But as I was 17 and he was an adult, I was slow to ask him to pick up his feet. I was yet intimidated by adults and didn't feel I ought to complain, even vaguely, about what they did.

Yet after endless shhh, shhh, shhh bouncing off the walls I was ready to bounce off them too. Finally screwing up my courage I asked politely, timidly, "Uh, Cloyce, could you pick up your feet as you walk please?"

"Oh, sure, Marty, I'm sorry." I'm certain he didn't realize what he was doing and was genuinely concerned. So he started to pick up his feet as we searched for yon Hobart welder.

That may have been worse, because as it turned Cloyce was a clomper. Clomp, clomp, clomp now echoed around the empty building, fraying my already tense nerves. By then I really didn't want to say more. I didn't know what I could say anyway.

We eventually found the machine, at the far end of the building from where we entered. Cloyce volunteered to get the pickup and bring it around, for which I was eternally grateful. Nothing sounded better than his clomping dying out as he went to get the truck. It gave me a chance to calm myself.

Big Jim and the heavy cables

Me Pops had a lot of great stories about his time in the welder rental and drain snake business. I hope to one day tell them all. One that just popped back into the front of my mind today involved the biggest man Dad ever dealt with. He was a good guy just the same, genuinely helpful and gregarious, and he was big. And strong. I'll leave exactly how big and strong to your imagination. But think bigger than you think big is.

To give an example of his size and strength, there was a job where me Pops was delivering welders along with the heavy cables necessary to weld with. These cables weighed a touch over a pound a foot. That particular day Dad had several 200 ft. lengths to deliver.

Guys were coming up to the back of Dad's truck and doubling up, two to a cable, to carry them over to the tool crib. Big Jim walked up and offered Pops a shoulder. "Put one there, Bill," he instructed.

"They're two hundred footers, Jim."

"Put one there," he replied simply, rotating his shoulder. So Dad did, setting it on his shoulder as gently as he could. Then Jim turned about and said, "Give me another," indicating his empty shoulder.

"They're all two hundreds," Dad reminded him. Jim replied, "Give me another."

So me Pops set another cable on that shoulder. Big Jim walked away with more than 400 pounds of welding cable on his shoulders as though taking a stroll in the park.

That's strong.

Fun facts

Did you know that in 1953, Joe Cosgriff Welding Machine rentals bought more new Hobart welders than anyone else in the country except Ford and Chrysler? Well, now you do. I'm not sure how many units that was, but it must have been a lot.

 
At its height I know me Grandpa had over 200 welders. In the 1970s, I remember them being numbered up to 210. That number, of course, does not include the total number of machines he ever owned. Things go bad; things get scrapped out or, horrors, stolen.

 
I'll tell what impressed me most, though: me Pops had every serial number memorized. If I asked him the 'Joe Cosgriff' number, say, JC-167, he'd rattle off the machine's factory assigned serial number. Right now kapow. I was awed by that when I was 12. I'm still awed by it. I mean, we're not talking simple little four or five digits with maybe a letter. We're talking 12CW5497 or 5DW68873. I remember the 5DW ones were 400 amp welders, so there was a code to it which could help memorization. But still, over 200 (likely closer to 300 counting machines out of use over time) committed to memory? Wow.

 
Now they're all gone. The last one we rented, fittingly enough, was the month Joe died, August 1991. The last ones we had we sold to a guy who shipped them to Nigeria. Yes, that sounds like a joke. But it's what the fella told the old man, and he paid cash. He could do whatever he wanted with them after that.
There. Now you're all set for when 'Cosgriff welders' is the Jeopardy category.

Christmas from Grandpa Joe

I'm actually way ahead of the Christmas curve this year. I have three of my gifts at the ready. Each of my kids will be getting a roll of black electrical tape.

Of course, there's a story behind that.

Back in the Seventies, Grandpa Joe found a deal on electrical tape. He took advantage of a very good price, something like a nickel a roll as I recall, and bought (I am not making this up) 6,000 rolls. That's a lot of electrical tape. The marked price on the rolls was 79 cents apiece by the way, so it was indeed a fantastic price.

To be fair and right by Joe, it wasn't really a bad idea. He rented arc welders, which meant he had miles of inch thick, rubber insulated welding cable which required maintenance and repair. I worked for him at the time, and believe me taping the cables where they were worn, cut, or spliced was an ongoing chore. Still, 6,000 rolls seemed an insane amount in 1975.

The welding rental part of our family business has long since ended. We used many rolls of that tape, sold some along the way to our plumbing customers, gave some away, took some home, and still use what's left for the occasional power cord repair on the drain snakes we now sell and service. After a solid forty year run, we are down to our last nine rolls.

And I am giving my kids one roll each this Christmas as one last gift from their great grandfather. I think Joe's getting a big kick out the idea too.

The myth of the exploding arc welder

As a rule, Dad didn't let things bother him. He was very good at tuning out at the end of the day. He always said he could sleep soundly and easily because he had a clear conscience. Mom in reply asserted that what he had was a short memory.

Whatever the real cause, Pops rarely let things bother him. But he did, like all of us I believe, have his pet peeves.

As I've said many times, me Grandpa Joe rented welding equipment and Pops worked for him literally since he was about 10. Grandpa rented almost exclusively Hobart Welders. He bought more new Hobart welders in 1953 than anyone else in the country except Ford and Chrysler, so it was quite a good business back in the day. He bought so many machines that the Hobart company invited Joe to send someone to their facility in Troy, Ohio for a six week course on repairing their equipment. Grandpa sent his son, and Dad did so well that Hobart sent Joe a very complimentary letter about his boy's intellect and industry. Pops and Joe were both proud of that.

So then of course Pops became the go to guy to repair Joe's welders, both in their shop and in the field. He didn't mind the service calls; it was nice to get away from the shop on a regular basis. He had become friends with many of the ironworkers and millwrights over the years as well, and liked to get out and see them too. Yet herein also came one of Dad's pet peeves.

When someone would call for service Dad always tried to get an idea of the trouble. It helped him to know what tools and parts to take along. Most of the time the guys gave him decent answers when dad asked: the battery was dead, the motor would turn over but not start, or it was overheating, things like that. But a few guys were no help at all. When Pops would ask them what was wrong, they would tell him that the machine had 'blowed up'.

"What do you mean?" he'd ask in reply.

"It just blowed up," they'd repeat.

Dad would impatiently respond, "So when I get there, there'll just be parts and debris scattered all around where the welder used to be?"

"Well, no, no, it's just not running."

All right then, he'd continue, what exactly is your problem, and go from there. But it truly rankled him to be told a welder had blowed up.