(I gave many readings from ‘Depot Street Memories…The Lawler Stories’ at schools, retirement centers, service clubs, and libraries in the past couple of years. This little vignette often elicited a much bigger response than I expected…especially from men and women of a certain age. They talked about horse-drawn ice wagons and milk deliveries.)
Junk Man Don: Lawler, Iowa in the 1950s
It sounds like a cliché to say that times were simpler back then. But it is a fact—times were simpler back then. It was pre-television; and then only black and TV for years. There were no microwaves or automatic dishwashers. Cars did not have turn signals in the early 50’s; the driver (in good weather) stuck his/her hand out the window—straight out to indicate a left turn and upright to indicate right turns. There were no FM radio stations, movie theaters played double features, no computers, no Internet, walking on the moon was science fiction, and all families had burn-barrels in their backyards to dispose of waste.
And that’s how Don Bemis fits into the picture. Although the word entrepreneur was not in our vocabulary at the time—that is exactly what he was. Don owned a horse and a wagon with big car tires that became his stock in trade. He called on citizens of Lawler once or twice a month to haul their garbage and burn-barrel remains out to the city dump several miles south of town. There were no ordinances about what could be thrown into that pit in those days, so it was a veritable treasure hunt for young boys who hitched a ride with him on his route.
He was a simple guy who lived on the west end of the main drag with his parents and siblings. Looking back—I am guessing that Don was in his thirties when in the draying business. I never saw him in anything other than bib overalls and recall the calluses on his hands from throwing junk of all kinds onto that trailer. And he was never in a hurry. That horse had one speed, and so did Don. He was very content with that pace of living.
We could not have imagined at the time that one day we would live in a world of recycling, non-burning and powerful machines that lift garbage bins high into the air to deliver contents into the back of the truck; with no human hands touching the material.
The trucks roar off to the next house in less than a minute to repeat the process, making a loud noise in the process. I know that it makes sense to do it the new way—but sometimes I get a little nostalgic for Don Bemis’ horse-drawn wagon and the ‘clippity clop clippity clop’ sound of his stalwart equine partner heading south, with two or three of us riding along to pass the time of day.
Bill Sheridan, Freelance Writer