Me, too. My first job in Bellingham in 1975 was working as an industrial sewing machine operator. I worked in a warehouse in downtown Bellingham with about 25 women of all ages, including the first of the refugees after the fall of Saigon. Most of us made minimum wage. All those sewing machines made a lot of noise and everyone, including me, had a radio turned up loud at their work station. Imagine the combination of sounds! The only man who worked there was the sewing machine mechanic, a young man who said he played the guitar and come from the East Coast.
It was during my breaks at that job that I read Moby Dick
Glad you like the image. Jacob Lawrence's art work continues to inspire me.
AM, your story reminds me of the first job I had during summer vacation between junior and senior year of high school. I filled in for the bookkeeper at a tie-making factory in an industrial area of New Jersey. My high school friend's father owned the company. This was in 1969. I had to calculate each employee's weekly pay by counting up the tickets of ties they made and fabrics they used. Each employee was paid in cash, so I also had to calculate how many $20s, $10s, $5s, $1s, etc we needed from the bank. Years later it occurred to me that the employees were probably illegals, hence the need for cash only. I left the job early and went to Woodstock.
robin, I had forgotten about the tickets that went with each pair of ski pants whose leg seams I sewed. So you've got the picture of that scene in your mind, too, as well as Woodstock. The place I worked was a union shop. I still have my union card somewhere, but it puzzled me that we had to pay union dues when our pay was so low.
There are still some industrial sewing jobs in Bellingham, mostly related to sailmaking and boat covers. It's hard work.
Enjoyed reading both yours and robin's comments about working in garment industry jobs. When I was growing up in Montreal, there was a part of the city that was the base for a large garment industry. My uncles owned a sporting goods company and would visit the factories to see wares, etc.. My mom used to go along and I went along once too. What I remember best is the smell of so much fabric. I guess that there must be so much dust from fibers in the air that there's a very distinct smell that I associate with it. Also the odor of cloth being pressed as there were usually big steam presses in the same factories. Years later, when I would walk through that section of the city, I noticed that one could smell it even in the air around the big buildings.
late to comment but so glad to see this artist, JL, used for labor day. Thought it interesting google did nothing to their logo for the laborers of the world. says a good deal to me. kjm
How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be? -- Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)
Welcome to "37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)".
The photograph currently at the top of my blog was taken from my porch before sunrise on October 29, 2023.
"OLD GIRL OF THE NORTH COUNTRY" (the earliest name for my blog -- http://oldgirlfromthenorthcountry.blogspot.com
) came to life in early December of 2006 so that I could post a 42-year retrospective of my paintings and drawings and through that action, create a new relationship with the day the man I loved returned from Vietnam in December 1970. For a while (sometime after spring of 2008, which is when he died) my blog was "TALKING 37TH DREAM WITH RAINBOW (RUMORS OF PEACE)". For a number of years, it's been "TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)." As of April 12, 2017 my blog was titled "37TH DREAM / TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE/LOOKING UP)". Somewhere along the way it became 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE).
To begin viewing the retrospective with narrative, scroll down to December 8, 2006, on this page:
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. -- Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968)
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware. -- Martin Buber (1878-1965)
It is only a little planet, but how beautiful it is.
-- Robinson Jeffers
The true end of a war is the rebirth of life; the right to die peacefully in your own bed. The true end of war is the end of fear; the true end of war is the return of laughter.
-- Alfred Molano
Enjoy every sandwich -- Warren Zevon (1947-2003)
Not in God's wilds will you ever hear the sad moan, "All is vanity." No, we are paid a thousand times for all our toil, and after a single day spent outdoors in their atmosphere of strength and beauty, one could still say, should death come — even without any hope of another life — "Thank you for this most glorious gift!" and pass on.
-- John Muir (1838-1914)
Philip Henslowe: Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. Hugh Fennyman: So what do we do? Philip Henslowe: Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. Hugh Fennyman: How? Philip Henslowe: I don't know. It's a mystery.
6 comments:
I particularly like the last image, am.
Me, too. My first job in Bellingham in 1975 was working as an industrial sewing machine operator. I worked in a warehouse in downtown Bellingham with about 25 women of all ages, including the first of the refugees after the fall of Saigon. Most of us made minimum wage. All those sewing machines made a lot of noise and everyone, including me, had a radio turned up loud at their work station. Imagine the combination of sounds! The only man who worked there was the sewing machine mechanic, a young man who said he played the guitar and come from the East Coast.
It was during my breaks at that job that I read Moby Dick
Glad you like the image. Jacob Lawrence's art work continues to inspire me.
AM, your story reminds me of the first job I had during summer vacation between junior and senior year of high school. I filled in for the bookkeeper at a tie-making factory in an industrial area of New Jersey. My high school friend's father owned the company. This was in 1969. I had to calculate each employee's weekly pay by counting up the tickets of ties they made and fabrics they used. Each employee was paid in cash, so I also had to calculate how many $20s, $10s, $5s, $1s, etc we needed from the bank. Years later it occurred to me that the employees were probably illegals, hence the need for cash only. I left the job early and went to Woodstock.
robin, I had forgotten about the tickets that went with each pair of ski pants whose leg seams I sewed. So you've got the picture of that scene in your mind, too, as well as Woodstock. The place I worked was a union shop. I still have my union card somewhere, but it puzzled me that we had to pay union dues when our pay was so low.
There are still some industrial sewing jobs in Bellingham, mostly related to sailmaking and boat covers. It's hard work.
I found both images to be very powerful.
Enjoyed reading both yours and robin's comments about working in garment industry jobs. When I was growing up in Montreal, there was a part of the city that was the base for a large garment industry. My uncles owned a sporting goods company and would visit the factories to see wares, etc.. My mom used to go along and I went along once too. What I remember best is the smell of so much fabric. I guess that there must be so much dust from fibers in the air that there's a very distinct smell that I associate with it. Also the odor of cloth being pressed as there were usually big steam presses in the same factories. Years later, when I would walk through that section of the city, I noticed that one could smell it even in the air around the big buildings.
late to comment but so glad to see this artist, JL, used for labor day. Thought it interesting google did nothing to their logo for the laborers of the world. says a good deal to me. kjm
Post a Comment