Post by southsidesignmaker on Feb 9, 2011 19:39:28 GMT -6
In the Trenches: Mr. Felsen
Rick Williams's picture
By: Rick Williams
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
sdgmag.com/article/handcrafted-signage/in-trenches-mr-felsen
Each year, the alumni of Pine Tree High School hold a tailgate party in the practice field just below the stadium for a couple of hours before the homecoming game. It was there this past October that I ran into Phyllis, an old friend who had graduated two or three years behind me at good old Pine Tree High.
It was nice to see her and some other friends of her class, but after a minute or two of visiting I made a point to ask Phyllis about her parents, especially Mr. Felsen. She told me a bit about how they were getting along, how their health was and where they were living. Then I said, “Phyllis, if the next time you see me I haven’t been to visit your dad, I want you to find something really big to hit me with, for I will surely deserve whatever punishment you can dish out.”
“Dad loves you, I suppose you know that. And I hope you really find time to go by and see him,” she responded.
Good to my word, and not wanting to risk a beating from a 95 pound woman, within two weeks I was driving up Mr. Felsen’s driveway on a Sunday afternoon. Mr. Felsen answered the door alright, but it was the wrong Mr. Felsen. Bernard Felson, Irving Felsen’s son, was in town for a few days from El Paso, recognized me and informed me that his dad was in the hospital recovering from knee replacement surgery just the day before.
At nearly 80 years old, his recovery would not be fast, which gave me more than one opportunity for a personal visit, something we both enjoyed a lot. Once or twice, our visits went well into the night, breaking hospital rules of course, but giving him an unplanned diversion from a considerable level of pain and boredom. Later, he wrote me one of the nicest letters I’ve ever received in my life, this from an old friend I had nearly lost touch with.
Who was Mr. Felson? He was one of a fine group of older and wiser friends a young kid and signmaker met, admired and depended on more than a few years ago—men and women the likes of which are much harder to come by these days. Irving Felsen and his wife Cookie, Keith and Irene Rash, John and Genava Christian, Andy and Stella Nix, the owners and operators of Greggton Pipe and Steel, Greggton Hardware, Cherokee Paint Company, and United Welding Supply, in that order.
Back in those days nearly every local supplier I used knew me by my first name, knew my parents, who were in business locally, and did everything they could to help me out with the materials I needed, the advice I needed, and the examples that I needed even more.
I loved going to their places of business for several reasons, not the least of which was that they were extremely knowledgeable and insightful, often telling me what I really needed or how to do something the way it should be done, valuable assistance a small-time signmaker barely old enough to vote needed very desperately.
I could say, “Mr. Felsen, I forgot to get a check when I left. Could I pay you the next time I come in?” and hear back, “No problem, anytime you come by will be fine.” Or call ahead to the hardware store and ask Mrs. Rash if she would get a box of this type of screw, so many anchors, and five pounds of a certain size nail set aside for me, and they would be waiting on the counter when I walked in the door. If I did not know the best way to build something, weld something, install something, or paint something, they had the answers for me and kept my inexperience from getting me in trouble. What else could you ask for?
Well, I could have asked that these fine people and their family owned businesses would be around here forever, but that, of course, is not the case. I miss those days, those familiar faces, and the wonderful places they owned that are no longer here. On occasion, when I get a chance to see them again and have an opportunity to say thanks, I try not to pass it up. I trust, if you have people in your past like the ones I’ve described, you make it point to do the same.
I was 18 when I started making trips to Greggton Pipe and Steel in my ’55 Chevy pickup. I bought angle iron to make sign frames with, pipe for posts, and I would say, “Mr. Felsen, I don’t have a trailer, and need to cut my steel in half to carry it in my truck. Could I use the cutting torch out in the warehouse and cut my order down so I can haul it in my pickup?
To this 18-year-old he would say, “Young man, do you know how to use a cutting torch?” And after insisting that I did, he would grant his permission. I was in my 40s the last time I went to buy steel from Mr. Felsen, and when I asked him if I could cut my order down to truck hauling size, he hesitated, then smiled at me and said, “Young man, do you know how to use a cutting torch?”
I knew how to use one then, and I do now, but I sure do miss using his. I miss doing business with Mr. Felsen, and I miss them all. I am thankful for the examples they set, examples of honest, customer oriented local business people. And thankful for the message they gave me, still clear after all these years, simply, “Now go and do likewise.”
**********************************************************************************************************
It is most fortunate when folks are touched by the Mr. Felsen's of the world. For some, it is time to be the Mr. Felsen's of the world.
Hopefully others will share their Mr. Felsen stories.
One can only wonder how many Mr. Felsen stories are played out on a daily basis within the halls of our school district.
Rick Williams's picture
By: Rick Williams
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
sdgmag.com/article/handcrafted-signage/in-trenches-mr-felsen
Each year, the alumni of Pine Tree High School hold a tailgate party in the practice field just below the stadium for a couple of hours before the homecoming game. It was there this past October that I ran into Phyllis, an old friend who had graduated two or three years behind me at good old Pine Tree High.
It was nice to see her and some other friends of her class, but after a minute or two of visiting I made a point to ask Phyllis about her parents, especially Mr. Felsen. She told me a bit about how they were getting along, how their health was and where they were living. Then I said, “Phyllis, if the next time you see me I haven’t been to visit your dad, I want you to find something really big to hit me with, for I will surely deserve whatever punishment you can dish out.”
“Dad loves you, I suppose you know that. And I hope you really find time to go by and see him,” she responded.
Good to my word, and not wanting to risk a beating from a 95 pound woman, within two weeks I was driving up Mr. Felsen’s driveway on a Sunday afternoon. Mr. Felsen answered the door alright, but it was the wrong Mr. Felsen. Bernard Felson, Irving Felsen’s son, was in town for a few days from El Paso, recognized me and informed me that his dad was in the hospital recovering from knee replacement surgery just the day before.
At nearly 80 years old, his recovery would not be fast, which gave me more than one opportunity for a personal visit, something we both enjoyed a lot. Once or twice, our visits went well into the night, breaking hospital rules of course, but giving him an unplanned diversion from a considerable level of pain and boredom. Later, he wrote me one of the nicest letters I’ve ever received in my life, this from an old friend I had nearly lost touch with.
Who was Mr. Felson? He was one of a fine group of older and wiser friends a young kid and signmaker met, admired and depended on more than a few years ago—men and women the likes of which are much harder to come by these days. Irving Felsen and his wife Cookie, Keith and Irene Rash, John and Genava Christian, Andy and Stella Nix, the owners and operators of Greggton Pipe and Steel, Greggton Hardware, Cherokee Paint Company, and United Welding Supply, in that order.
Back in those days nearly every local supplier I used knew me by my first name, knew my parents, who were in business locally, and did everything they could to help me out with the materials I needed, the advice I needed, and the examples that I needed even more.
I loved going to their places of business for several reasons, not the least of which was that they were extremely knowledgeable and insightful, often telling me what I really needed or how to do something the way it should be done, valuable assistance a small-time signmaker barely old enough to vote needed very desperately.
I could say, “Mr. Felsen, I forgot to get a check when I left. Could I pay you the next time I come in?” and hear back, “No problem, anytime you come by will be fine.” Or call ahead to the hardware store and ask Mrs. Rash if she would get a box of this type of screw, so many anchors, and five pounds of a certain size nail set aside for me, and they would be waiting on the counter when I walked in the door. If I did not know the best way to build something, weld something, install something, or paint something, they had the answers for me and kept my inexperience from getting me in trouble. What else could you ask for?
Well, I could have asked that these fine people and their family owned businesses would be around here forever, but that, of course, is not the case. I miss those days, those familiar faces, and the wonderful places they owned that are no longer here. On occasion, when I get a chance to see them again and have an opportunity to say thanks, I try not to pass it up. I trust, if you have people in your past like the ones I’ve described, you make it point to do the same.
I was 18 when I started making trips to Greggton Pipe and Steel in my ’55 Chevy pickup. I bought angle iron to make sign frames with, pipe for posts, and I would say, “Mr. Felsen, I don’t have a trailer, and need to cut my steel in half to carry it in my truck. Could I use the cutting torch out in the warehouse and cut my order down so I can haul it in my pickup?
To this 18-year-old he would say, “Young man, do you know how to use a cutting torch?” And after insisting that I did, he would grant his permission. I was in my 40s the last time I went to buy steel from Mr. Felsen, and when I asked him if I could cut my order down to truck hauling size, he hesitated, then smiled at me and said, “Young man, do you know how to use a cutting torch?”
I knew how to use one then, and I do now, but I sure do miss using his. I miss doing business with Mr. Felsen, and I miss them all. I am thankful for the examples they set, examples of honest, customer oriented local business people. And thankful for the message they gave me, still clear after all these years, simply, “Now go and do likewise.”
**********************************************************************************************************
It is most fortunate when folks are touched by the Mr. Felsen's of the world. For some, it is time to be the Mr. Felsen's of the world.
Hopefully others will share their Mr. Felsen stories.
One can only wonder how many Mr. Felsen stories are played out on a daily basis within the halls of our school district.
