A recent New York Times obituary of a prominent member of the arts community brought forth a weird recollection.
During my high school years (1943-47), I worked at the corner drug store*, employed as a soda jerk, clerk and stockboy. If you’re under 40 you may not know what a soda jerk was, but he was the equivalent of the neighborhood bartender, only for high school kids; we dispensed soda and ice cream from drug store counters, complete with barstools.
Anyway, every night we closed the fountain at 10 p.m. As anyone who has worked restaurant jobs knows, when you get near closing time, you begin cleaning up so that you can leave work on time.
It just so happened that this family (a dad, mom and boy about 12) came in about twice a week just about ten minutes before ten, at a time when I’d have the fountain nearly totally cleaned. Right on cue, they’d order three chocolate sodas. How I grew to hate the sight of that family and their son that would force me to clean up a second time.
The memory of that family popped into my head when I opened the New York Times on Feb. 21st to see a large obituary (a full half-page with picture) for Richard Schickel, longtime movie critic for Time Magazine and one of the nation’s most respected, who died at age 84.
Schickel not only reviewed movies; he wrote and directed them. He also authored 37 books mainly about the movies. This esteemed person was indeed the little boy who frustrated me many nights in my youth when his family arrived just before closing time for their chocolate sodas. Ken Germanson, Feb. 23, 2017.
- For those familiar with Milwaukee, the drug store, Whipp’s, was located at N. 72nd St. and W. North Ave. For years the building has housed the Chinese Pagoda restaurant.