Tag Archive | Nob Hill Elementary Yakima

The First Tuesday in September

Sep3

Pee Chees, Saddle Shoes, and Fear

September 3, 2024

A Tuesday Newsday Classic

The first Tuesday of September was always a day which struck fear in my heart. In fact, no other day of the year caused more anxiety and distress than this one.

The reason, of course, was due to the fact that when I was growing up school always started on this day.

The ubiquitous Pee-Chee – an indispensible back to school item

Unlike in today’s world, where we are inundated with back-to-school ads for supplies and equipment beginning in late July, in the 1960’s and 70’s, we didn’t much think about going back to school. That was until one day in late August my mother would ominously announce that school started the next week.

So off we would go to get things. Our back-to-school supply list included Pee Chee folders, notebook paper, #2 pencils, and BIC pens. That was it.

For clothing, I was lucky to get one new outfit for the first day of school. And the most evil of all footwear ever invented: saddle shoes.

I’ll get back to those in a bit.  First off, however, I imagine you are wondering about the Pee Chee.  What is a Pee Chee? And why do so many people my age wax nostalgic over a folded in half piece of cardstock? I knew it deserved Tuesday Newsday status. Since I couldn’t find the official day they were introduced, the first Tuesday in September seemed the perfect opportunity to learn about them. From the Infallible Wikipedia:

How we learned our multiplication tables and other useful information

“The yellow Pee-Chee All Season Portfolio was a common American stationery item in the second half of the 20th century, commonly used by students for storing school papers. It was first produced in 1943 by the Western Tablet and Stationery Company of Kalamazoo, Michigan. Pee-Chees were later produced by the Mead Corporation. (snip) These inexpensive folders are made of card stock with two internal pockets for the storage of loose-leaf paper. The pockets are printed with a variety of reference information including factors for converting between Imperial and metric measurement units, and a multiplication table. The folders had fallen out of general use by the 2000s, but are available from Mead as of 2014.”

Note the words “multiplication table.” This was probably the most valuable thing a Pee Chee provided as we were expected to memorize this table. By the time you arrived at the twelves, it got a bit difficult. The handy dandy Pee Chee came to your rescue. Of course, our teachers knew this and we had to put our Pee Chee’s away during test time.

One of the eight Nordstrom shoe stores in the 1960’s

Every day, when I walked home from elementary school, I only carried a Pee Chee and rarely any books unless it was one checked out from the school library. By the time I was in Junior High and High School, books were part of the equation. Along with the Pee Chee of course.

That brand new, unmarked, non-dog-eared Pee Chee was the best part of being forced to go back to school. And paper, pencils and BIC pens, of course. The best addition were colored Flair pens starting in Junior High! My favorite was the green one.

But the worst part? From first grade through sixth I was subjected to torture by being forced to wear saddle shoes. Whoever invented this shoe should have been required to wear a new pair every week for their entire lives just so they would know what pain they subjected multiple generations of girls to endure.

The evil saddle shoe…

My mother would take me and my sister to Nordstrom’s Shoe store… in the 1960’s in Yakima that’s all it was… a shoe store. We would bypass all the beautiful shiny black patent leather shoes and the cute Mary Janes and go directly to the rack of clunky saddle shoes. There they sat, big, bulky, and ugly. They had brown soles thicker than a slice of French toast. Across their beige bodies was a second strip of stiff brown leather, with laces through the holes, just waiting to cinch your foot into bondage. Heaven forbid that you got shoes which fit… no, they had to be a bit big so you’d grow in to them and not grow out of them before the following June.

We would wear them around the house for several days before school started in a futile effort to ‘break’ them in. It never worked. The first few weeks of school our feet bore witness to the horrors of saddle shoes; oozing red blisters were covered with adhesive tape and we’d limp through the day. Eventually the leather softened and the blisters abated… usually by October. Kids today just don’t realize how lucky they are to have been spared the scourge of saddle shoes.

Note the saddle shoes on the two girls seated, Marla on the left and Rinda on the far right. This author is next to Marla undoubtedly also wearing saddle shoes. The girl in the glasses next to me? That was Kelly who NEVER had saddle shoes but always cute black patten leather shoes.
Flair pens were IT! Especially the green ones.

Even now the first week of September is my least favorite time of the year; despite the fact I do not have to go back to school nor do my children.

I am, however, very, very tempted to go hang out in the office supply store and indulge myself in the smell of paper and ink and the plethora of notebooks, papers, pens, and paperclips. Anyone who has seen my office knows that I have stacks of spiral notebooks, hundreds of colored paperclips (many with decorative tops), and a collection of G-2 pens of every hue. In fact, just writing about it inspires me to head to my nearest Office Depot Max to see what’s on sale. Unlike saddle shoes, office supplies never go out of fashion!

As always a couple of links:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pee_Chee_folder

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saddle_shoe

Yes, it is true. In 1960 Nordstrom’s only sold shoes. The store in Yakima was one of only 8 stores at the time.

https://shop.nordstrom.com/content/company-history

Automate This!

Jun4

The joys of automation in the ladies room

June 4, 2024

A Tuesday Newsday Classic updated

On June 4, 1973, the US patent for the ATM machine was issued to Don Wetzel, Tom Barnes, and George Chastain.

As with many such inventions, it did not spring spontaneously into use as there were others who had conceived of the idea for at least three decades prior. Cash machines were used in both Japan and Great Britain for nearly a decade before they arrived in the United States.

For the purposes of this article, however, we will go with 1973 as the year this form of automation entered our American lives. From the Infallible Wikipedia:

“After looking firsthand at the experiences in Europe, in 1968 the ATM was pioneered in the U.S. by Donald Wetzel, who was a department head at a company called Docutel. Docutel was a subsidiary of Recognition Equipment Inc of Dallas, Texas, which was producing optical scanning equipment and had instructed Docutel to explore automated baggage handling and automated gasoline pumps.

On September 2, 1969, Chemical Bank installed the first ATM in the U.S. at its branch in Rockville Centre, New York. The first ATMs were designed to dispense a fixed amount of cash when a user inserted a specially coded card.  (snip) In 1995, the Smithsonian National Museum of American History recognised Docutel and Wetzel as the inventors of the networked ATM.

By 1974, Docutel had acquired 70 percent of the U.S. market; but as a result of the early 1970s worldwide recession and its reliance on a single product line, Docutel lost its independence and was forced to merge with the U.S. subsidiary of Olivetti.”

Automation, of course, is not limited to the dispensing of money. It’s everywhere in our world. And nowhere is it more frustrating and confusing than in public restrooms.

When one enters such a place it becomes a midway house of horrors as one never knows what is or is not automated. Like the toilet.

auto flush toilet.jpg
Striking fear into the hearts of women in airports everywhere… the self-flushing toilet

Upon entry into the stall I dread seeing the little black or chrome box with the red light attached to the back of the throne. I don’t know if it’s just me but it seems as if the slightest movement will trigger the flushing mechanism and the toilet turns into an unruly bidet, spraying the unsuspecting (me!) customer with a premature shower of love. Sometimes this occurs multiple times sending this user screaming from the stall.

Now I also don’t know about others but I always (ALWAYS!) wash my hands before I leave the restroom. Having survived the automatic flushing toilet, the next gauntlet is the sink. I am never sure if swiping my hands under the faucet will trigger a flow of water or if I must push on the neck of the faucet or, heaven forbid, use an old-fashioned handle. An automatic faucet is a mystery. What is the exact placement of one’s hands to produce the elusive water? Too high or too low and you get nothing, instead looking like a magician swiping your digits back and forth in an attempt to conjure up the desired fluid.

Need soap? The device on the nearby wall never gives any clue as to how its operated. I stare at it and try to guess. My first attempt is yet another magical wave of my hand. If that does not work then I start pressing on what looks like levers and buttons. The mound of gooey gel on the counter below the machine provides evidence that I am not the first to guess incorrectly how to use it.

Now, with soap in hand and an idea of how to get water to flow, I wash and rinse my hands then turn to the scariest step of all: drying.

modern day stocks
With the power of a jumbo jet your hands are certain to be dry with this torture device.

In some restrooms you have a choice between paper towels and, nowadays, the device where you put your hands down into what looks like modern day stocks. The machine springs to life and blasts out a stream of air produced from the engines of a Boeing 747. Despite my reluctance I slip my hands into the device. I watch in fascinated horror as the skin on them wrinkles and moves like the upper arms on Miss Luhman, an infamous teacher at Nob Hill Elementary in Yakima, who – when she was conducting the entire 4th grade each year for the spring music festival – held every child’s rapt attention, all of us mesmerized by the rhythmic swing of her flapping arms as if she was about to take flight.

Or, heaven forbid, it’s an automatic towel dispenser. Usually there are two such devices, side by side, in the restroom which provides the opportunity to do the paper towel dispenser dance (TM). To operate this device I stand a foot away from the silver boxes, extend my arms straight out, and then move my hands simultaneously in a frenetic motion as though doing that 1960’s dance “The Swim.”

At last – if I’m lucky – two inches of blessed brown paper appears. I tear it off, dry three fingers, then start the dance once again. After three or four rounds of wild gyrations, my hands are dry, I’ve gotten the day’s workout, and I escape still slightly wet in a few places, but mostly unscathed.

Ain’t automation grand?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Automated_teller_machine

Actual footage of me attempting to get a paper towel from an automatic dispenser. I’m the third girl behind Bobby on the left.