One of Dad's many 'second' jobs was cleaning the former Canal Bank here at Morrill's Corner. Along with my paper route, one of the jobs I often did was help him clean the bank on the first floor and the architects' offices on the third floor. During the summer and winter, he often took a 'vacation' week from cleaning this building. So the job was left to me. Sometimes my brother or a sister helped out, but mostly it fell at my door. I really didn't mind it and sort of welcomed the added responsibilities. After all, I had the KEYS to a bank! His directions to me: dust every counter, empty all trashcans, clean the toilets, mop the linoleum floors, vacuum the teller areas and clean the ash trays. Other than that, don't touch a thing! If I hurried, I could complete the bank in about an hour. The upstairs was a treat. The minute I unlocked the door the aromatic sweetness of pipe tobacco filled my nostrils. Along with this aroma, the low hung ceilings, the small six over six windows, the stacks of blueprints scattered about the tables and the birds eye view of any happenings below on the sidewalks made for an interesting 1/2 hour or so. I always dreamed that some of my creative juices could have been explored in this profession. And here's another angle. Dad told me he often heard foot steps and doors closing upstairs, when the offices were darkened for the night. When I shut the lights up there, I always took one parting look into the darkness. Never heard or saw anything amiss.Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Third Floor
One of Dad's many 'second' jobs was cleaning the former Canal Bank here at Morrill's Corner. Along with my paper route, one of the jobs I often did was help him clean the bank on the first floor and the architects' offices on the third floor. During the summer and winter, he often took a 'vacation' week from cleaning this building. So the job was left to me. Sometimes my brother or a sister helped out, but mostly it fell at my door. I really didn't mind it and sort of welcomed the added responsibilities. After all, I had the KEYS to a bank! His directions to me: dust every counter, empty all trashcans, clean the toilets, mop the linoleum floors, vacuum the teller areas and clean the ash trays. Other than that, don't touch a thing! If I hurried, I could complete the bank in about an hour. The upstairs was a treat. The minute I unlocked the door the aromatic sweetness of pipe tobacco filled my nostrils. Along with this aroma, the low hung ceilings, the small six over six windows, the stacks of blueprints scattered about the tables and the birds eye view of any happenings below on the sidewalks made for an interesting 1/2 hour or so. I always dreamed that some of my creative juices could have been explored in this profession. And here's another angle. Dad told me he often heard foot steps and doors closing upstairs, when the offices were darkened for the night. When I shut the lights up there, I always took one parting look into the darkness. Never heard or saw anything amiss.
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Emptying ashtrays in a bank....whiffing the lingering scent of pipe tobacco in an architect's office....yes, those are days gone by. I'm always amazed at the vivid details from your childhood memories. Very sweet.
ReplyDeleteI love the smell of a pipe. Old buildings have such stories to tell.
ReplyDeleteOh, Birdman, this makes me think about sequels. Simply wonderful post.
ReplyDeleteYes, what brattcat said. And imagine a kid being allowed solo in a bank today!
ReplyDeleteYou really remembered the details. This is a lovely piece and a wonderful photo of an historical building--those windows!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great story Bird. Funny, I smelled something sweet the other day and commented that it smelled like pipe tobacco. Interesting how smells stay with us isn't it!
ReplyDeleteV
Interesting story, Birdman, with a lot of flavor. My first job was scooping "dog residue" from the display windows of a pet store. I don't think I will use that for a post.
ReplyDeleteFantastic story. You should write memoirs.
ReplyDeleteA lovely old building and fascinating story! In my first year of college, I helped pay my way by cleaning "Old Main." Not a job I relished, though. None of the romance of yours!
ReplyDeleteVery funny comment on Ocala DP: "Shoe-in" indeed!
Have a great evening!
You must have been a very responsible kid. You must have felt great to be trusted.
ReplyDeleteWell told. I could smell the Borkum Riff.
ReplyDeleteSuch architecture. You must have felt pretty important, having the keys to the bank!
ReplyDeleteYour story of your father cleaning the bank building brought back memories of my great aunt. She was feisty and a hard worker. While married to her first husband an alcoholic, she had to clean offices to help support the family. One she cleaned was a doctor's office and when I went in to say hello to her she let me look through the doc's microscope. What a thrill for a little girl. Simple moments in life add to the richness of our memory.
ReplyDeleteFantastic post!
ReplyDelete