Letter to editor
To the Editor:
I wondered if any of the old printing equipment still was in the old Gazette-Herald building. A friend recently told me about the place being turned into a museum with some additional equipment being brought in. I have learned a very important method for dealing with static electricity on the big single-cylinder newspaper press which could save huge amounts of time and avoid tremendous frustration. The trouble is, I learned this method about 60 years too late.
The newspaper shop at Carmen, Okla., has been maintained as it was years ago. An open house was held during the Carmen camellia and I talked with a gentleman at the shop who had worked there starting when he was a boy.
While we reminisced about the good old days, I mentioned the trouble we had at Peabody with static in the winter. He told about his system for running wires from the static collector on the press down to buckets of water on each side of the press which did away with static grabbing the pages. Amazing. Fantastic. Finally I learned a way to deal with the static. No one uses those sheet-fed presses any more. But maybe someone runs the press for demonstrations at the museum. So, find the copper-colored "tinsel" at the back of the press and run wires from each end of that to buckets of water.
We used to set buckets of water on the gas heating stove to increase the humidity in the building, but it was of little help. I remember being startled one Wednesday night when editor/publisher Dwight Hinshaw took buckets of water and tossed the water across the floor in several places. It amazed me because I had never seen anyone throw water on the floor anywhere. But it didn't help.
How bad was static? I'll tell you how bad it was. The four-page size sheet of paper feeding out the back of the press, after it was printed, would go over a roller and under the copper tinsel into the folder. But because of static, it often would turn at an angle as it went into the folder and as it tried to feed sideways into the various sets of rollers, it would tear and leave pieces of paper that would foul up the next sheet coming through. By the time the press could be stopped, there was a mess of torn paper that had to be tugged out of all the various sets of rollers. We would use a sponge to wet three edges of the stack of paper being fed into the press which also didn't help much. On a bad night we got just a few papers run off before another big mess in the folder. On the worst night of all we finished just in time to get the papers to the post office by 7 a.m., which was the last minute they could get there and still be delivered that day. I barely had time to get ready for school. No one at the newspaper complained about working all night. They all understood they had to keep going until the paper was in the mail.
I think I still could feed the paper into that press. Someday I may come back and give it a try. But it probably would be wise to do it the way I first learned, with the ink rollers off and no type forms on the press.
I could write hundreds of pages about those four years at the newspaper, but only those who worked in an old hot-lead shop could visualize what I was talking about. I probably should write it anyway, just for the few who remember.
I got the printing job because of mowing a tough lawn. I had a desire to earn money for various toys and hobbies, and started mowing lawns with a reel-type non-power mower. One hot day on a big overgrown lawn, I decided there must be an easier way to make money. I went to talk to Earl Fickertt and he said he would let me know when they had an opening. I got a call at the end of summer with an offer to work. I really only wanted a summer job, but decided I would try mixing school and work to see if I could do it.
After Earl sold out and retired, the young people in the print shop would take a newspaper to his house, if it wasn't too late in the evening when we finished. We would talk with him and Esther about how we appreciated what a good boss he was. I wish I could tell Mr. and Mrs. Fickertt how much I appreciate the opportunity to learn one of the most interesting jobs in the world. On the larger newspapers, the employees would learn probably one skill, like running one kind of press, or running the linotype. But on a weekly newspaper, everyone learned every job in the building, starting with sweeping the floor and emptying the wastebaskets. Esther Fickertt often had to remind me to empty the front office wastebasket.
Mr. Fickertt had a system of using high school students as printers, starting one as a freshman who would be trained by the older students. By the time that freshman was a senior, he would be the primary linotype operator and shop foreman. Two of the students ahead of me were Clair Schelske and Rex Graham. They were amazingly patient and efficient at teaching me the printing business.
I saved most of the money I made to use for college except for buying movie tickets for Joan Talley and myself on Saturday nights. That was money well spent because Joan and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary this past August.
I got a job at the University of Kansas newspaper print shop to help pay for my college years. When I would go home during college holiday breaks, I would be allowed to work at the Gazette a few days to get some extra money. By then Hinshaw had sold to Bill Krause. Thank you Bill for letting me work even though you really didn't need any extra help at that time.
The publishers I worked for were among the best men I have ever known. The cigar was one of Earl Fickertt's trademarks. The building had a variety of odors from the ink, solvents, melting lead, etc., but the smell of the cigar was the strongest.
I walked into a store a few years ago that smelled exactly like the Gazette shop. I noticed the owner at a desk in the back smoking a cigar and eventually realized he must have had the same brand Earl used to smoke (or chew on). I wish I knew what brand that was. I would like to smoke one of those cigars in the Gazette museum to get it to smell like it did when Earl was there. I wish the rest of my memory was as good as my nose memory.
Jack Fisher
Alva, Okla.
