1988-2008 TSI: AdDept: Amtrak Adventures

Posted on June 23, 2021 by Mike

Over the course of my years at TSI I probably took Amtrak trains to and from New York City over one hundred times. The easiest way to get from Enfield to New York was by Amtrak. It was not the cheapest, but it was the most comfortable. I actually got a fair amount of work done on Amtrak trains.

During this period there was no Amtrak stop in Enfield. The closest ones were in Springfield, MA, and Windsor Locks, CT. Both places offered free parking. The Springfield station was a slightly longer drive, but it boasted an actual station with modern conveniences such as toilets and heat. Also, there was a ticket counter where one could buy a round-trip ticket. If I boarded in Windsor Locks, I had to stand in line in Penn Station to buy a ticket for the return trip. Nevertheless, because of the thirty additional minutes that I needed to spend on the train if I left from and returned to Springfield, I almost always chose Windsor Locks.

The Windsor Locks train platform was (and still is) almost certainly the least glamorous of all Amtrak stops in the entire nation. At one time there was a train station in Enfield, and an unused station in Windsor Locks still existed in 2020. You can read about the town’s plans for the site here.

Clothing and equipment: In the 1990’s all the males who worked at department stores in New York City wore suits or sport coats with white shirts and ties. I complied with these norms. By the time of my last few trips I may have downgraded to “business casual”.

As soon as IBM finally marketed a true laptop, I bought one. I kept it and all my other materials in a large leather sample case that was extremely durable. It was later supplanted by a large briefcase that Sue bought me.

In 1995 I bought a Thinkpad 701C, the one with a “butterfly keyboard”. You always had to fight the temptation to pick it up by the edges of the keyboard, but I loved it because it was easy to use on a train or airplane. However, I hated the tiny red ball that everyone was expected to use to place the cursor. I always brought a mouse with me. My last laptop was, I think, a Dell. I used it both on the road and as my workstation in the office, where I mounted it into a “docking station” for all of its cabling. It had a big screen, large enough to keep two windows open side-by-side. It had also a “bay” for a second battery or a CD drive. It also was very heavy.

After I bought my Bose headphones, I also brought them, my opera albums, and a CD player with me. Having them on these trips was not as important as it was for dealing with airports, but after some training sessions or vituperative meetings I needed a little Mozart.

Wi-fi was introduced near the end of my train-riding years. I tried to use it, but it was unreliable.

An interesting view of the Windsor Locks platform. Whoever took this photo was rather brave. The grating in the foreground is on a rather short and steep slope that leads directly to the Connecticut River.

The platform: Absolutely no one liked the train stop in Windsor Locks. Its only redeeming features were that the property was evidently not valuable for anything else, and its parking lot doubled as a small park-and-ride area.

The stop had two facilities. One was very important—a pay telephone. On cold winter nights only a few people disembarked at this stop. In the days before cell phones that telephone could serve as a lifeline for for those expecting to be met there and for people whose cars would not start or were absent without leave. I always made sure that I had change, but I never had to use the phone. I suspect that this one will be the last pay telephone in America if it is not already.

The other facility, the shelter, was essentially useless. It only had room for about three people, and it provided little protection for them. Furthermore, the seasoned travelers never stood on the platform in inclement weather. They stayed in their cars until the train’s light was visible under the bridge at the top of the photo. The engineers knew this, and stopped here even if no one was visible on the platform.

For some reason the platform in Windsor Locks was built lower than most. Only one door on the train was ever opened for this stop. One of the conductors had to lower the stairs so that people could enter. He/she (it was almost always a he) would then announce, “Amtrak to New Haven and Penn Station” and then assist people who had luggage or might find the climbing difficult.

After everyone was aboard, the conductors collected tickets. Because there was nowhere to buy tickets in Windsor Locks, most of us who boarded there did not have one. The conductor had to sell each of us a one-way fare. In theory they took credit cards, but often the little machine for processing them on the train did not work. In that case the conductor would need to go inside at one of the subsequent stations so that an agent there could effect the transaction. This was annoying to the conductors and to the passengers who could not understand the delay. I usually paid cash, and I tried to have exact change.

There were usually only two cars on the train that went from New Haven to Springfield. The conductor would announce which door was opening for Windsor Locks as we pulled away from the Windsor station. We all gather up our stuff and moved toward the designated door. Sometimes I was the only person exiting.

As the train slowed down, the conductor opened the door and let down the stairs. He/she helped everyone on the last step.

On one memorable occasion there was a hitch. It was bitterly cold that night, and the door was frozen shut. We were all required to exit on the other side. At any other stop this would have been a minor inconvenience. However, the east side of the tracks in Windsor Locks was covered with gravel, and that gravel was covered with ice that night. It was also on a steep slope toward the frigid Connecticut River, which was only a few yards away. To make matters worse, it was pitch dark on that side. We all descended onto the gravel,. The conductor went aboard, drew up the steps, and closed the door. After the train had departed, we all managed to clamber up over the tracks to the parking lot.

No harm; no foul, I guess.

The conductors: The conductors on Amtrak seemed to me to be both professional and competent. I made a genuine effort to avoid making their life more difficult. On one occasion I did get into an argument¹ with one of them, but his partner resolved the situation in a friendly and reasonable manner.

The seating: The seats were all reasonably comfortable, and there was always room aplenty in the overhead racks. I always tried to sit on the starboard side of the car on the way to the city and on the port side on the return trip. The sun was thereby always on the opposite side, and there was much less glare on my computer screen.

Four seats in every car had electrical outlets. Since Windsor Locks was the morning train’s first stop, it was usually rather easy to grab one of those seats for the first leg. It was much more difficult in the evening and if we had to change trains in New Haven. However, the cars all had the same layout, and I knew which seats had them. As soon as one became available, I would grab my ticket from the luggage rack and moved there.

The stop in New Haven: After we arrived in New Haven in the morning, we usually had to await the arrival of a train from Boston. It would usually park across the platform from our train, and our passengers were ordered to move to the other train. This was necessary because the engines on the Hew Haven-Springfield line were diesel powered. The tracks along the shore used electricity.

In the evening as we approached New Haven the conductors would move those of us going on towards Springfield (as opposed to Boston) to the last two cars, which would then be decoupled from the remainder of the train. The train to Boston would then leave, and a diesel engine would be brought in to transport us the rest of the way. This process took about twenty minutes, during which the train had no heat or light.

The passengers: When I first started to ride to Macy’s a group of eight or ten buyers from Casual Corner, which then had headquarters on South Road in Enfield, rode to New York on the first train every Tuesday. Most of them got on with me at Windsor Locks. Others boarded in Windsor or Hartford. Most people on that train said nary a word. These people, who were mostly women, were very talkative.

For some reason their bosses evidently put a stop to this practice while I was still going to Macy’s on a regular basis. The trips were less lively after that.

For many years a man who was about my age commuted from Windsor to the city. I never talked with him, but whenever I rode Amtrak in the morning I saw him get on at the station in Windsor every day. He often was also on the same train that I took home in the evening. I wondered to myself how he could bear that schedule. In his place I would have been very tempted to move closer to my place of work. If he could cut his commute down to an hour, it would free up twenty hours per week!

This is similar to what Amtrak had in the nineties, but there was always a line.

Train food: No food or drink was available between Springfield and New Haven. There was almost always a “café car” between New Haven and Penn Station. It contained four tables, two at either end. They were usually occupied by conductors or no one.

In the middle of the car was a small bar or, if you like, counter. There was always a line at the bar. For sale were coffee, soft drinks, snacks, beer, hot dogs, pastries in the morning, and a few other things. I would usually buy a cup of coffee and a muffin or a pastry in the morning. The coffee always tasted very bad, but it was hot, wet, and full of caffeine.

In the evening I always tried to buy food before I boarded. A deli and a Roy Rogers with tolerable fried chicken were right across the street from Penn Station. I also found the mini-pizzas at the Pizza Hut inside Penn Station to be edible. If I was unable to get any food before boarding, I might by some chips and hope that leftovers were available at home. After a rough trip I might buy a beer if the person at the counter guaranteed it was cold.

Tracks: There is only one set of tracks on the New Haven-Springfield line. There were so few trains that this was almost never a problem. Once, however, we encountered another train. We didn’t collide, but it took about thirty minutes to resolve the conflict and back up one of the trains to a side-track.

The track from New Haven to the city was owned by Metro North. The track around Bridgeport was banked so steeply that the engineer had to slow down to about ten miles per hour to keep the train on the track. This was still not fixed by the last time that I rode.

The bigger problem was that the Metro North trains had right of way. In the morning the Amtrak train usually had to pull over to a side-track to allow a Metro North express train zoom past. One or two of these could easily cause me to be late for an appointment, and there were no cell phones.

Celebritiess: The closest that I came to seeing a celebrity on Amtrak was when I was in the same car as Joe D’Ambrosio, the voice of the UConn Huskies. I first became familiar with him in the seventies when he was on WPOP. I knew his face from TV, but I would have recognized his voice anywhere. He told sports stories to his travel companions all the way to New York.

I didn’t talk to Joe. All right; I didn’t really talk to anyone. It is difficult for me to recall a single conversation that went beyond “Is that seat taken?” I do recall that on one return trip from New York someone who was probably two decades younger than I was asked me about The Tortilla Curtain a novel by T. Coraghesson Boyle, that I was reading. I told him that the first half was so-so, but it seemed to be improving. Actually, I did not end up liking it very much.

Penn Station: If I did not already have one, my first responsibility upon entering the station in the evening was to buy a one-way ticket to Windsor Locks. There was no way to jump the line.

No, no, no. Check the ARRIVALS board first.

The next step was to check the Arrivals board in the gate area to determine the number of the train and its status. The worst possible news was to see the word DELAYED. That meant that the train was still a long way from New York City or there were known problems on the track.

If I had enough time, and I had not already purchased food for supper, I stopped in at one of the fast food places in the station—usually Pizza Hut, Nathan’s, or an establishment that sold sandwiches. I also always bought a large Diet Coke. The fountain drinks were a much better deal than anything on the train. I would then usually find a relatively secluded seat in the waiting area and read and/or eat.

I sometimes visited the stores that sold books and magazines. I was surprised to find copies of Oggi and Panorama. In my trips after 2002 I always carried my Italian dictionary with me. I purchased a few issues of these magazines and did my best to translate the articles in them. Fortunately there was always an abundance of photos.

The northbound trains in the evening were often late. Some started the day in Florida. I frequently had to kill time in the station, which sometimes led to situations that annoyed me then but amuse me now. I found the following account in my notes for a trip to Lord and Taylor in November of 2007:

Penn station encounters: As I was waiting for my train and holding a Roy Rogers bag, a woman asked me for a piece of chicken. A little later a guy asked me for a cigarette, then two dollars, then one dollar, then a quarter. On Tuesday morning a guy tried to sell me a tourist guide to New York, which he said cost $11, for $10. I was wearing a dress shirt, tie, sweater vest, and dress overcoat and was consulting my laptop at the time. Evidently the guy’s tourist radar was on the blink. He asked me where I was going. I said, “work,” which was the only word other than “no” in any of these conversations.

One evening I heard over the loudspeaker a request for someone who spoke Italian to come to the information desk. I considered volunteering my very questionable services, but then it occurred to me that this was the Big Apple, not Dubuque. There must be at least a dozen people here who could really speak Italian. Besides, my hand gestures were not advanced enough for conversing with a real Italian.

One of my favorite things about Penn Station was the man who made the announcements over the loudspeaker, Danny Simmons². He had an unmatched style. I can still here in my mind his incantation ringing in my ears: “… with station stops of Wallingford, Meriden, Berlin, Hartford, Windsor, Windsor Locks, and Springfield is now boarding on track …” You can listen to some of his calls here.

Someone should certainly have told him that in Connecticut the city “Berlin” is accented on the first syllable.

Train tips: The goal for the return trip was to snag the best seat possible.The priorities were:

On the port side;
Window;
Both seats unoccupied;
With electricity;
Near the café car.

I almost always succeeded at finding a seat that met the first three criteria. I strove to be one of the first ten or so people in line at the departure gate, which was identified by a number and E or W. This was relatively easy. I always monitored the ARRIVALS board. Most people were assembled under the DEPARTURES board. They seemed unaware of two rather obvious facts about through trains: 1) They must have arrived before they could depart. 2) They always departed on the track on which they arrived.

So, if the ARRIVALS board listed the gate as 7, I went and stood by the escalator down to 7E. This pretty much assured me a good position in line no matter how many people eventually congregated there.

It was equally important to find the right car. The trains always went from west to east. I always walked toward the rear of the train until I found a car that met most of my criteria. I then entered and selected the seat by the port-side window. If the aisle seat was unoccupied, I placed my sample case or briefcase on it, opened it up, took out a book or a folder, and lay it beside the case.

I then pulled down both tray tables. If I had food with me, I lay it on the tray table in front of me and took a bite out of something. I inserted the straw into my large Diet Coke, and placed my drink on the tray table for the aisle seat. My objective for all of this was to make the aisle seat seem as undesirable as possible. It would have worked even better if I sat in the aisle seat and put my stuff in the window seat, but I found that that was not really necessary. I almost always was left to myself.

There was no reason to worry about people entering at subsequent stops. On the eastbound evening trains at each stop after Penn Station far more people exited the train than boarded it.

If I wanted to purchase something from the café car, it was necessary to do it before the train reached Bridgeport. The café car closed down well before the stop in New Haven, and there was always a line. In fact, it was usually a good idea to make any purchases before the first stop in New Rochelle. The selection in the café car got worse fairly rapidly.

Distressing events: Uneventful train rides were delightful. Any disruption of the routine was, at best, annoying.

One day the line behind me at the gate was unusually long, and the people in it were mostly college-aged. It was a Friday. Perhaps it was spring break, or the end of a term. In any case, every seat on the train was filled, even the aisle seat next to mine. Furthermore, a dozen or more people sat on the floor in my car. I presume that the situation was similar in all the other cars.

This could not have been legal, could it? It was the only time that I saw this happen. Evidently Amtrak had no way of determining that more tickets had been sold than there were seats.

I can only imagine what the café car was like. I did not dare to abandon my seat just to buy a can of Diet Coke for $2.

A more distressing event occurred on one of my last trips in 2006. I was returning from Macy’s, and I evidently left my Cascio point-and-shoot camera³ on the train. It must have fallen on the floor at some point. I had used that camera on the glorious Village Italy tour that we took in 2005. It is documented here.

In my notes from trips to Lord and Taylor in 2007 and 2008 I twice reported that I had almost lost the small Canon camera that I had purchased as a replacement for the Cascio.

The nightmarish return trip: On many of the trips home I arrived late, sometimes very late. One of them, an extremely hot evening in the summer, I will never forget.

The Hell Gate bridge, which connected the Astoria section of Queens with Randalls and Wards Islands, was only used by freight trains and the “Northeast Corridor” Amtrak trains on which I rode. One summer evening the bridge had reportedly caught on fire (!) and was unusable, at least for the nonce.

So, on the DEPARTURE board appeared the dreaded phrase: SEE AGENT. The good people at Amtrak addressed our group, which by then included everyone who had already been on the train. They divided us up into groups that were determined by our destinations. I was in the group that included all of the stops north of New Haven.

Amtrak, we were informed, had chartered tourist-type buses in Europe) to transport us to our destinations. After about a two-hour delay in which all these arrangements were made, our group was herded onto our bus. The first thing that we noticed was that it did not have air conditioning. The second was that our bus was very crowded. A foul mood prevailed.

Our bus driver cheerfully announced that he had information that the usual route north through Manhattan was experiencing heavy traffic. He had exercised his initiative to plot a route through the Lincoln Tunnel to I-95 in New Jersey. We would then cruise across the George Washington Bridge toward Connecticut.

This news elicited some smiles and giggles of schadenfreude among the passengers. We would get home very late, but we would avoid that horrible Manhattan traffic that would probably drive the other passengers crazy.

And we did indeed drive through the tunnel at a reasonable pace. Similarly, our passage through the Garden State proceeded at a good clip. We could not actually see the poor saps on the other buses inching their way north on the other side of the Hudson, but we could easily imagine their frustrating situation.

However, our collective optimism crashed when we encountered traffic on our own highway just before we reached the George Washington Bridge. In fact, we were not moving at all. Our driver announced that there had been an oil spill on the highway on the New York side of the bridge. It took us more than an hour to cross the bridge. Everyone—including myself–was suffering from the heat. It was surely over 100° inside our conveyance.

After the bus finally crossed the bridge we were required to exit the highway in the northern part of Manhattan. It was dark by then as the bus driver piloted us through hostile-looking side streets of the worst parts of Gotham. I don’t know what the other passengers were thinking about, but I could not keep the first few chapters of Bonfire of the Vanities out of my mind.

At long last we got back onto the interstate. Imagine our relief to see the “Welcome to Connecticut” sign. We passed by our usual stops at New Rochelle, Stamford, and Bridgeport stations and turned north onto I-91. I was familiar with the drive from there to Windsor Locks. it could easily be completed in an hour.

We might have made it that quickly, too, but we had to exit the highway to stop at each of the five Amtrak stations—Wallingford, Meriden, Berlin, Hartford, and Windsor. All of these stations were conveniently located near the railroad tracks. None, however, was easily accessible from I-91 especially by an oversized vehicle like our bus. Of course we also had to wait for the passengers to get all of their gear together. Of course, they had to wait for the bus to stop. Then the exiting passengers had to fight their way up the narrow aisle to the door and climb down.

I did not leave that wretched bus until 3AM, and I still had to make the bleary-eyed drive to Enfield. Of course, the people who went all the way to Springfield had it even worse. I thought with glee of one of them discovering that someone might have broken into his—no, make it her—car while we were on this forlorn journey from hell.

1. The story about the run-in that I had with an Amtrak conductor concerning my book of discounted train tickets has been recounted here.

2. Danny Simmons retired in 1994.

3. I replaced the Cascio with a Canon that was much easier to use. When I upgraded for our Africa trip, I gave the Canon point-and-shoot to Sue, but I don’s think that she ever used it.

1994 TSI: The Second Crisis

Posted on May 24, 2021 by Mike

The I in TSI comes to stand for Incorporated. Continue reading →

This entry requires quite a bit of background.

When we were still living in Detroit, Sue Comparetto founded TSI Tailored Systems as sole proprietor. I helped her occasionally in the early days, but for the most part she did it alone. She never had any employees or, as far as I know, a business plan. She inherited a handful of accounts from her former employer. At first she had an office in Highland Park, a small and dangerous city surrounded by Detroit. Then, when TSI somehow obtained an IBM 5120 computer, she set up shop in the spare room in our house in Detroit.

Having the computer in Detroit allowed me to learn BASIC. Having access to the programs and listings from AIS, the company that wrote most of the software that Sue supported, allowed me to learn how business programs could be structured. We were self-taught. I had taken exactly one college-level programming class at Michigan in 1966¹; Sue had none. Neither of us had ever taken an accounting or marketing class. In fact, neither of us had ever even sold or helped market anything.

When we moved back to Connecticut, Sue registered TSI as a partnership. We worked together, but we never really agreed on who was responsible for what. I considered myself much better at programming than Sue was. I therefore expected to do the bulk of the coding (including software for TSI to use) and for her to handle nearly everything else. The way I thought of this was: she does the phone stuff; I do the computer stuff.

The first additional task that I felt obliged to take over was marketing. In Detroit Sue had never needed to find new clients. She was given a bunch of them, and she hoped that IBM would provide her with additional leads. When we moved back to Connecticut, however, we lost the ties with the Detroit IBM office, and it was difficult to make new arrangements. We had only a few clients and lousy credentials.

I copied company names and addresses from the Yellow Pages.

We scrambled to get a few custom programming jobs. I did nearly all the design, coding, implementation, and training. I pulled together a mailing list from phone books at the library and wrote letters to businesses that I thought might be interested in systems designed for our clients. We never made a lot of money this way, but it did generate some business. Eventually, IBM also gave us some leads.

We hired a receptionist/bookkeeper, Debbie Priola, and a programmer, Denise Bessette. The former freed up time for Sue almost immediately. The latter consumed quite a bit of my time for a couple of months, but eventually she helped a lot. Unfortunately, she decided to return to college and cut back on her hours at TSI. More details about the early years of TSI can be read here.

Both Sue and I found most of the decade of the eighties to be enjoyable but frustrating. The programming was fun and very challenging. Almost all of TSI’s customers appreciated our approach. However, we never came up with a good way of monetizing our efforts. The ad agency system, GrandAd, did better than the “anything for a buck” approach that we had been forced to use in the beginning. However, our market was effectively limited to agencies that were within driving distance and were too large for a PC system. In that reduced market, it was difficult to make enough sales to get by. Eventually there were so few reasonable prospects remaining that a change in strategy was essential.

I was convinced that our future lay in selling AdDept to large retail advertisers across the country. There was no real competition, and there seemed to be a good number of prospects.

I don’t think that Sue agreed with this change in focus. She had always favored local businesses over large corporations when purchasing something, and I am pretty sure that she also preferred dealing with smaller businesses over dealing with corporate executives. The fact that both of our first two AdDept clients declared bankruptcy and left us with tens of thousands of dollars of noncollectable invoices reinforced her attitude.

Sue had always been a night person. I was the opposite. I always was out of bed by 5AM or earlier. I usually became very sleepy around 9:30PM. I then took a shower and read a few pages of a book in bed. I was almost always asleep within a minute or two of turning off the lights. I stuck to this routine for decades, and I still do in 2021.

At some point in the eighties Sue developed a sleeping problem. She liked to watch late-night television, but she almost always dozed off in her chair. She slept very fitfully, waking up with a start and then falling back asleep. This went on for a long time—months, maybe years. Finally she went to a doctor. He prescribed a sleep study. It was not a surprise that it confirmed that she had sleep apnea. For reasons that I have never understood Sue was reluctant to purchase and then use the sleep machine. The models sold in those days were big, expensive, and ungainly. Even so, breathing well while sleeping is critical to good health.

I suspect strongly that this long period in which she was not getting enough oxygen when she slept impaired her performance at work and elsewhere. She regularly came in to the office late—very late. She was late for appointments. She missed appointments all together. The books were never closed on time. She repeatedly put off providing the accountant with tax information, even though the company’s operation was not a bit complicated. There were many other issues, but the worst thing, from my perspective, was that she made employees call the people with whom she had appointments in order to make excuses for her.

To the best of my knowledge none of the people whom I listed relapsed even once.

In 1987 or 1988 Sue gave up smoking. At almost exactly the same time, Denise did, too. So did Patti Corcoran, Sue’s best friend, and, halfway across the country, my dad. This was like a dream come true for me. I had never taken a puff, but for years I had worked in smoky offices and had taken Excedrin for headaches. When TSI’s office was declared smoke-free, my headaches went away forthwith, and they never returned.

Sue, in contrast, had a very difficult time quitting. She put on quite a bit of weight, which amplified the sleep apnea problem. She was also more irritable at work and at home.

I must mention one other factor: Sue never throws anything away. Okay, if it has mold on it, or it is starting to stink, she will discard it. Otherwise she stuffs things for which she has no immediate use in bags or boxes.

When I first met Sue, she was renting one room in the basement of someone’s house. It was not cluttered at all. She seemed to have no possessions except a water bed, a record player, and a few albums. By the early nineties we had a house of our own with two rooms that had no assigned function, a garage, an attic, and a full basement. All of them soon became full of junk. Both of our cars had to park outside because the garage was wall-to-wall miscellany.

TSI’s headquarters in Enfield was nearly as bad. Sue’s very large office was the worst. Strewn about were boxes and paper sacks full of correspondence and memorabilia. Her desk was always completely covered, and post-it notes were everywhere.

In the rest of the office stood several file cabinets. Of course, every business must retain records, and one never knew when the company might get audited. It was also critically important to maintain good records about contacts with clients and prospects, and our business, in particular, needed up-to-date listings of programs, which we had by the thousands. So, we had a lot of important paperwork.

No more mainframe announcements, please.

However, in TSI’s office could be found many other things, which by any measure were totally useless. One day I undertook to throw away the announcements that we constantly received from IBM about its products. These documents formed a stack about four feet high. 90 percent of these missives were about mainframe products. There was absolutely no chance that we would ever work with any of these machines. Even the remaining ones (all of which I intended to keep) were seldom of any value because the information might have been contradicted by a subsequent notice.

Sue asked me what I was doing, and I told her. She immediately got very upset and even started to cry. She just could not stand for anyone to make the decision to discard anything that she considered hers. I realized at that moment this was a reflection of a very serious problem. I put all the notices back in the file cabinet.²

1994: It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

The business was finally taking off. Our new salesman, Doug Pease, was demonstrating that he was ideal for the job. The nationwide retail recession had ended. The retail conglomerates with money (or credit) were gobbling up smaller chains, and in most cases this worked to our advantage. We were approaching a position in which we need not ever worry about competition. Most of us were working very hard, but we were getting new clients, and it was exciting.

The problem was Sue. She was hardly involved in any of this at all. Her behavior was becoming really unprofessional. Doug complained about her often. She kept hiring assistants, and they kept quitting. I could not find out where we stood financially because our books were so out of date.

On a couple of occasions I was stretched so thin that I asked Sue to take trips to clients for me. I did not think that technical expertise would be involved. I just needed someone to find out what the users needed. The first one was to Macy’s East in New York. Sue never told me what happened, but the people at Macy’s told me years later that they had made voodoo dolls representing her and stuck pins in them.

The other trip was to Foley’s in Houston. Sue flew all the way there and then realized that she had brought no cash. Her credit cards had all been canceled by the issuers. Fortunately, she had a checkbook, and Beverly Ingraham, the Advertising Director at Foley’s, cashed a check for her.

In May of 1994 Sue and I took a very important road trip to Pittsburgh. We met with Blattner/Brunner, an ad agency (described here), and Kaufmann’s, a chain of department stores (described here). Both of these sessions went quite well. When we returned to Enfield, I was required to spend a lot of time working on the proposal for Kaufmann’s. It was the most complicated and difficult one that I had ever done, and if I did not do a good job of analyzing and estimating the difficulty of each element, we could suffer for this for years.

So, I asked Sue to follow up on Blattner/Brunner while I was working on Kaufmann’s. Sue had been there for the session in Pittsburgh. There was no one else I could turn to. She completely fumbled the ball. I was quite angry, but I knew that it would do no good to nag her about it.

On the other hand, I appreciated the fact that she was the founder of the company. These opportunities never would have happened if she had not started the ball rolling back in Detroit.

The day finally came when I just could not take it any more. I told her to go home and not to come in to work any more. There was no argument and no tears. She told me that I was making a big mistake and just left.

No one else thought that it was a mistake.

Within a day or so I approached Sue with the following arrangement: TSI Tailored Systems Inc. would be registered as a Chapter C corporation.

I would be president and have 55 percent of the stock, and Sue would would be treasurer with 45 percent. We would hire a new accountant to handle the corporation, and the bookkeeper would report to me. It would be my responsibility to make sure that the books were closed on time, and the taxes were paid on time. I would also do our personal taxes. We would fund the corporation with the difference between our accounts receivable and our accounts payable. If it needed cash (as it did a few times), I would loan as much as necessary to the corporation at a reasonable interest rate.

Sue was not happy about it, but she agreed to this. She did not even argue about the salary amounts that I set.

Our new accountant’s name was Sal Rossitto². He guided us through the transition. He advised us to set up an Limited Liability Company³, but I insisted on a true corporate entity that issued stock to its owners.

Setting up the new corporation was fairly straightforward. We had to open a new bank account. I found it to be a fairly simple matter to close the books every month within a day or two of the end of the month. We also set up a 401K with matching funds, a profit-sharing plan, and a good health and disability insurance plan from Anthem. None of this was difficult.

I am not sure who took over handling of the payroll after Sue left. TSI eventually hired Paychex to do it. Denise collected the time cards from the employees and submitted the requisite forms to Paychex.

Our accountants loved our Nov. fiscal year. They could work on our taxes in a less busy season.

I made one very good decision. We set our fiscal year to run from December 1 through November 30. We paid bonuses and made contributions in November. This gave all the employees the entire month of December to spend or save for tax purposes.

Dissolving TSI was a much more complicated task. Sue and Sal met often over the course of several months to unravel issues in the partnership’s books. I remember, among other things, some kind of ugly situation with regard to sales tax in California regarding the way that the installation at Gottschalks occurred. At the end of this process Sal confided to me that he now understood why I wanted to set up a real corporation.

We also ordered new letterhead. Ken Owen worked with me on the logo. I eliminated the stripes and the lean of TSI. The color around the TSI was pure blue. The colors to the left of that block went from a very light blue gradually darker almost to pure blue. The effect worked better on the computer screen than it did when printed.

For me the most important thing was to reestablish blue as the company’s color. It started with a light blue as shown at the top of the page, but over the years it had somehow evolved into something that was more green than blue. I hated it.

The next few years were boom years for TSI. I worked my tail off, and my travel schedule was a killer. I didn’t care. We had finally turned the corner, and the future looked very bright.

Life at home, however, was very difficult. Sue was obviously unhappy. She probably thought that I intended to dump her. I still loved her; I just did not want to work with her any more. I was quite sure that the company would do better without her.

displayed no interest in finding a job. This surprised me. She had had quite a few jobs since I met her. She really liked a few of them. She could summon up a great deal of enthusiasm about new projects, and she loved meeting new people. I could think of several occupations that she would fit very well.

Instead, she leased some space in an old office building in a questionable part of downtown Springfield, MA. She then fixed it up and rented it out to dance teachers who needed a place to give lessons. I don’t know how much of our money she lost on this venture. I am not sure that she even kept records of it. She certainly didn’t ask my opinion about it.

On weekends we still drove to Wethersfield to visit our old friends, the Corcorans, regularly. That helped quite a bit.

At one point Sue awarded herself a vacation. She drove to New Orleans to see a guy that she knew from high school who was into social dancing. She stopped at some other places along the way. I never asked her about what happened on this trip. When she returned she did not offer any details.

Eventually things got a little better. After the trip to Hawaii (described here) in December 1995 the situation became more tolerable for both of. At least we had some money to spend and save for the first time ever in our relationship.

1. The course that I took as a freshman at U-M taught a programming language that was unknown outside of Ann Arbor. It was called MAD, which stood for Michigan Algorithm Decoder. We wrote our programs on 80-column punch cards.

2. Perhaps you are wondering why I gave in without an argument. It was because I recognized quite early in our relationship that Sue was expert at playing the “Why don’t you …? Yes, but …” game described by Eric Berne in his best-selling book Games People Play. A pretty good write-up of the “game” is posted here. This is also the reason that I did not press her about the sleep apnea.

2. Sal Rossitto died in 2002. His obituary is here.

3. The purpose of an LLC is to protect the “members” from being personally responsible for debts and obligations undertaken by the company, but it is not as completely separated as a true corporation.

1988-1994 Living in Enfield

Posted on April 29, 2021 by Mike

Our first few years as a suburban couple. Continue reading →

Enfield is the northernmost town in central Connecticut. Historically it was noted for its two industrial giants, the Hartford-Bigelow Carpet Mill and the Hazard Powder Company, which manufactured gunpowder.¹ The town had two claims to fame. 1) Enfield Square was the only mall between Hartford and Springfield, MA. 2) Enfield was at one time home to the great Paul Robeson², or at least to his family. For some reason almost no one in the area seemed to care about the second distinction.

The Neighborhood: Our ranch house on North St. was much more modest than the Robeson’s stately dwelling, and so were those of our neighbors. I did not really know how to be a good neighbor. In the years following our move to Enfield I only really met one of our neighbors. A man named Fred, who was perhaps twenty years older than I was, told me a little about the history of our property. I never really got acquainted with anyone else in the neighborhood.

Part of the reason for this might involve the house’s peculiar layout. The front door to our house faced North St., but the driveway was on Hamilton Court. Fred was our neighbor on that side. The west side of the yard was fenced to separate it from the driveway and sidewalk leading to Hazard Memorial School. Directly across Hamilton Court from us was a two-story house that was divided into four units. It had dozens residents over the years. We seldom interacted with any of them. On the other side of North St. was Allen St., which had only a dozen or so houses before it dead-ended. There was also a house directly across North St. from ours, but I don’t think that we ever met the occupants.

Every year Fred got out a stepladder and trimmed the bushes that separated his backyard from the western side of our yard, which we thought of as the back yard. He informed me that the line of bushes was actually in his property.

Yard Work: That was fine with me, but when Fred and his wife moved to Florida a few years later, the first thing that the family that moved in did was to install a wooden fence adjacent to the bushes. So, the responsibility for maintaining the bushes fell to me willy-nilly.

Those were by no means the only bushes on our property, There were good-sized forsythias in both the northeast and northwest corners of the property. Large burning bushes flanked the house on both sides. Knee-level evergreens decorated the north side of the garage and part of the front. We had at least one rhododendron and two mountain laurels. There were hollies in the front side of the house, but I think that Sue put those in later to replace something else. A hedge of some kind that was about eight feet long, two feet thick, and four or five feet high was positioned fifteen or so feet in front of the door leading to the entryway.

I suspect that the power hedge trimmer might be in this box.

I was well aware that grass and weeds grew, but it had never really occurred to me that these bushes would keep growing all spring and summer, as well as most of the winter. Keeping all of these bushes from overgrowing the house was a task that I had not reckoned on. I bought a power hedge trimmer, but it was heavy, and it could not handle some of the thick branches. I used it on the hedges sometimes, but for most of the other bushes it was easier to use old-fashioned hedge clippers and a lopper. Of course, since we had never faced the issue of bushes before, I had to buy those as well.

Then there were the trees. The property had a spindly pine tree on the east lawn and nine maple trees—seven big red maples that encircled the house, one even larger green maple, and one small Japanese maple that really seemed out of place. In the spring the maples shed thousands of those little helicopter seeds, many of which took root in our gutters. In the fall, of course, the trees discharged all of their leaves.

The very best thing about life in Enfield in those days was that the city had hired a company to come around once a year to vacuum up leaves from the curbside. In our neighborhood it occurred a little after Thanksgiving. I bought a backpack leaf blower, but it still took a lot of time and effort to blow all those leaves down to the street. Even though our corner lot provided us with more footage on the two streets on which we lived than any of the neighbors had, it still seemed as if our mountain range of leaves was as lofty as anyone’s.

The leaf blower has rested in the garage for years.

The town eventually discontinued the blatant socialism of this service. It was replaced with leaf pickup days. The leaves all had to be bundled in large paper bags, and there was a limit to how many could be left at one time. I seem to remember that they allowed twenty bags at a time. When the objective was changed to getting the leaves in bags rather than down to the street, the usefulness of the leaf blower decreased markedly. I eventually abandoned it in favor of old-fashioned rakes. Sue insisted that the best way was to rake the leaves onto a sheet and then carry the sheet to the destination. I tried this, but found the extra step saved no time or effort.

At some point Enfield stopped accepting the bags, too. Instead brown tipper-barrels were supplied. Every week a truck came to collect their contents, which could include any type of lawn waste. Well, my yard’s leaves could fill dozens or maybe even hundreds of those barrels. I decided to just chop up the leaves in October and early November using the lawnmower with its mulching setting. I have been satisfied with the results.

I also had to take care of the 10,000 square-foot lawn, of course. When I say “take care of” I actually mean “mow”. I never fertilized or watered it, and I only spent any time weeding it once—on August 17, 1988, as explained here. I probably should have bought a small tractor as soon as we moved in. It would have paid for itself several times over. However, I was a several decades younger when we moved to Enfield, and I actually liked the exercise of mowing the lawn—as long as the mower was self-propelled.

I went through three or four lawnmowers before I purchased in 2011 or thereabouts a really good one from the Honda dealer across the street from TSI’s office in East Windsor.

Gardening: Vegetable gardening was my primary hobby when we lived in Rockville. When we looked at houses, I always tried to imagine where a garden could be located. It was not easy to find a decent spot on a lawn that also featured so many maple trees that became very leafy just when the crops needed sunlight.

My main garden was a square patch—perhaps fifteen feet on each side—of land right in front of the bushes on the north side of the house. It was between two trees and far enough away from the house that it received six or seven hours of direct sunlight during the summer months. This was adequate for most popular plants, but it was a continual frustration for me, especially since I understood that over time the trees would only get bigger.

That small piece of land was thickly covered by a thick mat of zoysia grass. I needed to use a spade to remove the turf during the first spring. It was backbreaking work, but I persevered. Then I borrowed Betty Slanetz’s rototiller to cultivate the soil. That was much easier, but in the process I accidentally punctured one of the hoses for the sprinkling system that lay beneath our entire lawn.³

I planted the usual crops—tomatoes, peppers, beans, broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, and peppers. I had very little luck with root crops—onions, garlic, and carrots. I never did figure out what was wrong with my technique. My carrots never got more than a few inches long. The onions that I produced were scarcely larger than the sets that I planted in the spring.

In later years I purchased the starters for my tomato plants from Jeanie Smith, who lived at the northwest corner of North Maple and Moody Road. I tried several different kinds of tomatoes, but my favorites were (if I remember correctly) Red Rockets. Unfortunately after a few years of spectacular harvests, they got the blight, and it apparently leached into the soil. Thereafter, my harvest were not very good, and there really was nowhere else on the property suitable for growing tomatoes.

In point of fact, I really was not that big a fan of tomatoes per se. However, the chili that I made with freshly picked tomatoes was just delicious.

My favorite crop was green beans. I tried both bush beans and pole beans. I had some really good harvests, but the Mexican bean beetles, which seemed to arrive en masse in early July were devastating. During the first year I went out every morning and pulled off beetles with my fingers. They always hid on the underside of the leaves. I really did not want to use an insecticide, but I could not come up with another way of keeping the beetles and their voracious larvae from destroying the entire crop. In most other cases I eschewed the use of pesticides in order to protect the cats.

One Christmas Tom and Patti Corcoran gave me a book by Mike Wavada entitled All I Know about Beans and Beetles. Every page was blank.

Since I lived in New England I felt compelled to grow squash and zucchini. Nice crops of broccoli and cauliflower resulted after I learned about bacillus thuringiensis (BT), the environmentally safe way to eliminate cabbage worms. I grew some Brussels sprouts that produced little cabbages well into December. One mild winter one of the plants even wintered over and produced more little heads in the spring!

On the west side of the lawn by the fence I grew some asparagus and strawberries. These plants required an awful lot of weeding and attention, but they both produced nice crops for several years.

I gave up on the main garden after a few years. The growth of the surrounding trees had made it increasingly difficult for the crops to receive sufficient sunlight. I kept up the asparagus and strawberries for a few years after that. At some point I probably just became too busy to pay them the attention that they needed.

The Basement: The house on North St. had a full basement. The staircase down was in the hallway that led to the bedrooms, and the door was directly across from the entrance to the kitchen.

The washer and the shelves. The dryer is long gone.

Two large shelving units were built into the walls of the basement. It would have been a huge undertaking to remove them. We did not even consider doing so. The one on the north side we used for storage of books and games that were seldom used and the indoor side of the landing spot for the cats coming through the cat door. Next to it on one side was the case that held the fuses; on the other were the washer and dryer.

A small piece of plywood served as a ramp from the cat door to the top shelf. From there the cats made a right turn and walked over to the edge, jumped down to the washing machine and from there to the floor.

The sprinkler unit is in here somewhere near the shelves.

Next to the shelves on the west wall was the control unit for the underground sprinkler system. I played around with this enough to figure out that I did not want to use it. I saw two disadvantages: 1) Our water bill would increase. 2) The grass would need to be mowed more often.

For my fortieth birthday Sue bought a ping pong table. Evidently I had once told her that I played some ping pong at Allen Rumsey House in the sixties. It was not one of my better sports, and it certainly was not hers. I set it up near the shelves that held games and books.

We played a few times, but it frankly was not much fun. The area where the table was installed was not really suitable. There was not enough light and room for a good game. Furthermore, Sue experienced a lot of trouble keeping the ball on the table.

I drew a red box around the Mateus bottle on the edge of the ping pong table. This is, I think, the bottle from this story.

At some point Sue became interested in N-gauge model trains. She converted the ping pong table into a small train layout. For all that I know, that may have been part of the reason that she bought the table; I certainly never suggested that I wanted one. She and Brian Corcoran also formed a company for purchasing gear called the B&S railroad. All of that stuff is still down on the table in the basement, but only a trained archeologist could unearth it today.

After we got our new kitten, Woodrow, I found an old door that somehow had appeared in our basement. I converted it into a ramp for him from the top shelf down to the ping pong table. A box was strategically positioned to make it easier for him to reach the table. Woodrow used the ramp to get down for the rest of his life, but he preferred to climb up the bookshelves when he wanted to go out. He also like to shinny up trees when he was chasing squirrels in the yard. However, he did not like to climb down, and I had to rescue him a few times.

The rest of the basement was soon filled with boxes of Sue’s junk. Many of them have never been opened since we moved into the house, a period of nearly thirty-four years!

Sports: My interests in most sports waned considerably after we moved to Enfield. I still watched Michigan football games on television, however. Someone even gave me a license plate holder that celebrated Michigan Football. In 2021 it is affixed to its third car.

I began to take jogging more seriously. Enfield is one of the flattest towns in Connecticut, a distinction that made it rather easy to design a course of almost any length that did not involve hills as steep as the one on which we lived in Rockville. I often took a long lunch break that consisted of a run of a few miles, a shower, lunch, and a short nap before I returned to the office.

I buried Woodrow beneath this burning bush

In good weather I ate lunch at our picnic table and napped on the small mattress that came with the camping cot that Sue had purchased when we lived in Rockville. Rocky, the cat that moved with us from Rockville, would emerge from his favorite sleeping sport in the forsythia bushes and beg for a morsel of human food. The tiniest bit satisfied him, and he returned to his bush. As soon as I lay down for my nap, Woodrow, the trailer-trash cat that Sue brought home from St. Johnsbury, VT, generally ambled over from his napping spot beneath the burning bush and plopped himself next to me on the mattress.

4.25 miles between the canal & the river.

I also found two other very enjoyable places to run. The trail at Windsor Locks Canal State Park, which started in Suffield, CT, and the trail that stretched from Northampton to Amherst in Massachusetts.

I became rather serious about the activity. I tried to run as much as possible, even in the winter, although I never ventured out in ice, snow, or, for that matter, rain. I ran eighteen miles one morning in the fall. I refused to carry water, but I did place water bottles at two places along the route. Those were my only stops. I am not sure of the date, but I do remember mentioning it to prospective clients on the trip that I took to Seattle, and that was in 1992 or thereabouts.

I also remember that I ran a few miles the next day. That allowed me to brag to a serious runner, who was a friend of Sue’s from high school, that my personal best for a marathon was twenty-five hours.

Classical Music: While running I listened to music on a Sony Walkman with headphones. I bought a lot of cheap cassette tapes of orchestral works by an eclectic group of classical composers. I made an effort to become familiar with most of the popular composers. My collection included only a few operas. Cassette tape drives were installed on both my Saturn and the Honda that I bought in 2007.

I remember mentioning one afternoon to someone at TSI’s office that while jogging on South Road I had been listening to one of the Hungarian Rhapsodies. I was startled to find myself leaning so much to one side that I almost lost my balance. Then it dawned on me why it had happened. I had just been Liszting.

Entertainment: I have difficulty remembering what we did for amusement during these years. We certainly visited the Corcorans often, and I attended a number of softball and soccer games that involved my sister Jamie’s kids. We went to a Springfield Indians hockey game with Sue’s dad once.

On March 11, 1988, Sue and I saw Roy Orbison at Symphony Hall in Springfield. The warmup act was a comic whom I had never heard of. This was perhaps the most well-behaved crowd in the history of concerts. People who left the concerts patiently waited for “Walk” lights before crossing the deserted streets.

We also enjoyed seeing Sam Kinison at the Paramount Theater in Springfield. I don’t know the date, but the comic died in 1992.

For several summers after we moved to Enfield Sue’s youngest sister hosted a day-long “Betty Bash” at the house in which she lived with Don and their parents. I really enjoyed these events. I always participated in the volleyball games and the epic croquet games (played with Slanetz rules). The food was typical picnic fare combined with special dishes that Betty concocted. Tom Corcoran always came. I remember that Jamie brought her son Joey on his fourth birthday.

I got to meet quite a few of Betty’s friends. They were all considerably younger than I was, but it was easier to relate to them than to the Enfielders that I knew.

Trips and Visits: Sue and I took two big international vacations during our first years in Enfield. The fortnight in England is described here. The write-up of the Turkey-Greece cruise begins here.

Sue and I almost certainly took some shorter trips, but the only one that I remember was the visit that we made to one of Sue’s high-school friends in Austin, TX. That trip involved a drive in a rental car from Dallas, where I did a presentation of the AdDept system for Neiman Marcus. That successful experience is described here.

My parents made at least one trip to New England during our first years in Enfield. I don’t think that they ever stayed in our guest bedroom. Instead, they stayed at a hotel near my sister Jamie Lisella’s⁴ house in West Springfield, MA. My recollection is that the hotel was a Howard Johnson Motel on Route 5. I think that this hotel shut down, and in later years they roomed at the Hampton Inn that was built almost directly across the street.

My parents spent most of their time with Jamie and her kids. I remember, however, that Sue and I drove mom and dad to Old Sturbridge Village once. I remember only that it was quite cold, and we ate lunch or supper at the Publick House or the Bullard Tavern. They seemed to like the idea of having a genuine (well, sort of genuine) New England experience.

I am pretty sure that they came to Enfield for a picnic lunch or supper in our back yard at least once during these early years. I don’t remember the details.

A fairly recent view of the mall from the north. The big building in the center is a Target that was added in 2001

Retail: The mall in Enfield, which is now known as Enfield Square, was developed by the May Company, one of TSI’s primary customers. It opened in 1971, just before I met Sue in my first stint in Connecticut. The mall originally housed three anchor stores—G. Fox (one of May’s department store chains), national chain JC Penney, and Steiger’s, a small chain of department stores based in Springfield. Dozens of smaller shops and eventually a twelve-screen theater were housed in the mall.

You won’t make it in less than ten minutes. There are eleven stoplights on Hazard Ave.

Four large strip malls were built on three sides of the mall. A fifth was positioned a block to the east near several auto dealerships and the post office. At least two or three very large grocery stores have been located in them throughout the years that we have lived in the area. Nearly every type of retailer could be found in a fairly small area. All of these stores were easily accessible from I-91 and Route 5. It was (and still is in 2021) the only large shopping area between Hartford and Springfield, MA. For almost two decades Enfield Square was the only enclosed mall in the Hartford area that was east of the Connecticut River.

Great numbers of people came to Enfield to shop in the years after we moved to Enfield, and the people who lived in Enfield felt little reason to go elsewhere for retail therapy. It was very convenient for Sue and me; our house was less than three miles away.

Sometimes individual retailers seemed guilty of very poor planning. For several years there was a McDonald’s across the street from the mall on both the north and south sides as well as one inside the mall. That last one closed when the mall began to deteriorate.

There was also a RadioShack on the south side of the mall. In the late nineties I made numerous trips to the company’s headquarters in Fort Worth. One day someone in the advertising department heard that I lived in Enfield and told me that the Shack was opening a new store there. I told them that there was already a store in Enfield and asked for the address of the new one. It had a low number on Elm St., which is the street bordering the north side of the Enfield Square. Shortly thereafter a new Shack appeared in the strip mall north of the mall, but—no surprise to me—it lasted less than a year. Many more details concerning my experiences with RadioShack’s advertising department, the other divisions of Tandy, and Fort Worth(less) are recorded here.

Restaurants: By the time that Sue and I moved to Enfield a large number of restaurants had sprung up in and around the mall. The former group included Ruby Tuesday’s and a few transitory fast food places. Of the ones on the periphery The restaurant that has lasted the longest is Olive Garden, which was and still is on the edge of one of the strip malls south of Enfield Square. I went there for lunch with clients or employees a few times.

Originally the building adjoining the Olive Garden was occupied by another Darden Restaurant, Red Lobster. When Red Lobster closed a new restaurant called the Hazard Grille⁵ opened there. Of all of the local eateries it was our favorite. Sue especially liked it when local musicians performed there.

We went to Ruby Tuesday’s fairly often. We liked the salad bar. We picked up fried chicken from KFC on Route 5 with some frequency until its owner retired and closed the store. We tried most of the other restaurants at least once, but we never became regulars at any of them. My dad and I often ate lunch at the Friendly restaurant in the mall’s parking lot. Our orders were totally predictable. He always ordered a senior turkey melt and a coffee. I always got the Reuben SuperMelt and a Diet Coke. Details about my dad’s life in Enfield are posted here.

Among the restaurants that we definitely did not frequent were the other two restaurants with stand-alone buildings on the grounds of Enfield Square. We went to Chi Chi’s once; we did not enjoy it at all. We found the fancy Italian restaurant, Figaro, to be grossly overpriced. I don’t think that Chi Chi’s made it to the twenty-first century, but Figaro is still operational. Sue and I dined there once with my Advanced Italian class.

The Lockes: Sue’s mother’s maiden name was Effy Locke. She had four brothers, three of whom lived in Enfield, as did almost all of their offspring and their offspring’s offspring. So, during the first years of our residence in Enfield Sue and I became much more involved with both her many relatives and the few of mine with whom I had any dealings.

It frankly astounded me that so many people in one family lived so close together. My relatives for the most part spread to the four winds as soon as it was feasible.

I must admit that I had a hard time adjusting to the Lockes. They all had a lot in common and seemed to get along well with one another, but I could not seem to find a way to fit in. I could seldom find anything to talk about with any of the male members of the clan. Most of them drove trucks as part or all of their jobs. The family game was a very simple trick-taking card game called Setback.

The exception in Sue’s family was her uncle Bob Locke, who lived with his wife Carol⁶ in western Michigan. He worked as an engineer. Their family, which included three daughters named Deb, Wendy, and Sandy⁷, drove out to Connecticut in an RV at least a few times. Whenever they did, one of Bob’s siblings threw a party that inevitably included a softball game. All the cousins attended. I played too, at least once.

Of all of Sue’s uncles the one whom I knew the least well was Chet Locke, whose wife was named Elsie⁸. They had two sons. Tim and Natalya live in Stafford Springs in 2021. I never got to know them very well at all. Paul married one of Betty Slanetz’s best friends, Karen Shapiro. Sue and I went to their wedding, which occurred in the early nineties. In 2021 the couple have two grown children.

I knew Charlie Locke because he worked as an electrician for the Slanetz Corporation. I am pretty sure that he and his assistant did the wiring for our office in Enfield. His wife’s name was Gene.⁹ They had two daughters, Patti Caswell¹⁰ and Kathy Stratton. I hardly knew either one of them.

Ted Locke and his wife Judy lived in the house right across the street from the house in which Sue grew up. Since both Don and Betty lived there with their parents (until they moved to Florida), Sue and I saw Ted and Judy quite often. Until she died in 1990, Sue’s grandmother Molly Locke lived with Ted and Judy.

Ted and Judy’s family family included three children. Sue Tkacz is a very perky lady, with whom I have exchanged greetings on a few occasions. Sue and I went to a Christmas party at the home in Somers of Glen Locke and his wife at the time, Sue. The youngest son, Jim, lives in Enfield. His wife Ann worked for TSI for a while.

Almost all of these people—or maybe I should say almost all of the males listed above—were very much into cars and, especially, trucks. So was Don Slanetz. They also knew a lot about who was building or buying real estate or equipment in Enfield and the vicinity. I found it extremely difficult to avoid being a bump on the log at the frequent family gatherings of the Locke clan. My fields of interests are quite diverse, but none of them seemed to overlap the interests of any of these people.

The only exception to the above statements that I can think of was Sue’s Uncle Bob. He seemed different from his brothers. I also got along with Sue’s mother and her sisters and most if not all of the women in the extended Locke family, and I do mean extended. Almost all of Sue’s cousins have at least two children and some members of that generation also have children.

The Slanetz Reunion: Seldom had I ever even met any of the relatives of Sue’s father, Art Slanetz. I have a very vague recollection of meeting Sue’s cousin Diane Davis¹¹ back in 1972 or 1973. We encountered her by chance on the street in Rockville. I don’t remember any more than that. I also have a very hazy recollection of going to the house in Enfield of Art’s sister, Margaret Davis¹². I remember being told ahead of time that Art and Margaret did not get along very well. I retain a very strange recollection of having brought her a doormat as a present. I have no idea as to what the context could possibly have been. Other than those two events I had no dealings with or information about Art’s side of the family—with one exception.

I had heard stories about the wunderkind, Margaret’s son Mark. He was reported to be the smartest of all of Sue’s cousins, and in fact the smartest person in his age group in all of Enfield.

I am not sure who came up with the idea of a reunion of the Slanetz family in 1992. It might have been Mark. It was held during the summer at the house in which Sue grew up in 1992. I am not sure why it was held in Enfield. In some ways it was a central location. Carloads of people drove from Long Island, New Hampshire, and Vermont. A few also came from much farther away.

I must admit that I was dreading this event. My only dealing with in-laws¹³ had been at the get-togethers of the Locke family in which I always felt ill at ease. In point of fact I would have skipped it if I could. However, I did attend, and I was very glad that I did.

The Slanetzes were nothing like the Lockes. Although quite a few had been born in the Enfield area, only Art and Margaret had stayed there. They seemed to have spread out all over the country, and their number included an impressive array of intellectuals, businessmen, and creative people. There was no family business, as far as I could tell. Most importantly, the conversations never approached the twin topics of trucks and Enfield gossip.

I don’t remember too many of the details. I do have a clear recollection of avoiding being included in the inevitable group photo.

The most famous attendee was Dr. Charles Slanetz Jr.¹⁴, a heart surgeon and researcher from Long Island. The most memorable connection that I made was with Bill¹⁵ and Norma Slanetz of Keene, NH, and their children Diane Patenaude, Jack, and David¹⁶.

Sue and I made several very enjoyable trips to visit with Bill and Norma. Bill was an avid gardener, and his garden was so large that, compared to mine, it seemed like a farm. I liked to wander around in it and examine the produce.

Their house was high up on a steep hill, and it was not easy to reach. Nevertheless, friends and family were always dropping by. The conversations were always interesting, at least to me, and some sort of activity, planned or spontaneous, always seemed to be happening.

Bill also liked to play bridge, and after I took the game up again in the twenty-first century, we sometime discussed the world’s greatest card game. Norma played too, but she was not as involved as Bill.

1. Both companies are defunct. the buildings of the carpet company have been transformed into apartments. Its Wikipedia page is here. Large portions of the powder factory were destroyed by a tremendous explosion on January 14, 1913. Its Wikipedia page is here.

2. Paul Robeson (1898-1976) is most famous for his portrayal of Joe in Show Boat, and especially for his unforgettable rendition of “Ole Man River”. However, acting was the least of his talents. He was a two-time all-American football player at Rutger, and he was such an outstanding student that he earned membership in Phi Beta Kappa and the Cap and Skull Society. He was also elected Valedictorian of his class. While he was earning a law degree at Columbia he played on two different NFL teams and appeared in several professional play productions. He spent much of his life giving concerts and lectures, often speaking about how much better he was treated by Europeans, especially Russians, than Americans. He was blackballed in the fifties and not prohibited from traveling abroad because of his political views. In 1940 he moved his family into a large house at 1221 Enfield St. (Route 5) in Enfield, which he owned for thirteen years during the highlight of his career as an entertainer. He was on the right side of history from start to finish but the wrong side of politics for most of the rest of his life.

3. This was not a great loss. If I had maintained the system over the decades that we have lived in Enfield, the sprinkler system may have significantly enhanced the value of the property. However, I had no intention of doing something so foolish as to pay higher water bills just to encourage the grass to grow more rapidly. So, the system probably would have ceased functioning properly at some point anyway.

4. A lot more about Jamie and her family has been posted here.

5. The Hazard Grille closed without warning in 2013. A couple of other restaurants succeeded it at that location with no success. In 2021 the building was torn down and replaced by a smaller building that is shared by Starbucks and Jersey Mike’s.

6. Carol died in 2018. Here obituary is here. Sue and I drove out to Michigan in the fall of 2008. We saw Bob, Carol, and their family on this trip, which is described here.

7. All three of the daughters are now married. Their names in 2021 are Deb Batts, Wendy Ahearne, and Sandy Mulder, and they all live in the Grand Rapids area.

8. Both Chet and Elsie are deceased in 2021. I could not find an obituary for Chet. Elsie’s is posted here.

9. Charlie and Gene are both deceased in 2021. Charlie’s obituary is posted here, and Gene’s is posted here.

10. Patti Caswell died in 2019. Her obituary is here.

11. Diane has apparently been married a couple of times. Her last name in 2021 is Clark, but her children are named Quinn.

12. Margaret Davis died in 2010. Her obituary is posted here.

13. Sue and I were not married then, but we were in the second or maybe even third decade of our whirlwind courtship. Everyone expected me to be at the family reunion.

14. Dr. Slanetz died in 2006. The newsletter of the John Jones Surgical Society of Columbia University published a long obituary. It is posted here. Scroll down to page 11 or search for “Slanetz”.

15. Bill Died in 2017. His obituary is posted here. Sue and I drove up to Keene for the funeral.

16. David Slanetz died unexpectedly at his house on the island of Dominica in 2004. His obituary is posted here. Sue and I attended the memorial service.

Wavablog

Memoirs, bridge, popes, travel, and other stuff

Tag Archives: Springfield MA

1988-2008 TSI: AdDept: Amtrak Adventures

1994 TSI: The Second Crisis

1988-1994 Living in Enfield