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Arvin Cowboy
Life in Rural Arvin in the 50's
Real Name: David L. Norris Gender: male Member Since: June 17, 2007 Last Signed In: April 21, 2009 Profile Views: 410 Blog Views: 1518 Walking to the Library Mr. Barle and the Hearing Aid Trick-or-Treat The El Rancho Theater The Law of Supply and Demand The Contact Lense Locking your Doors Arvin's First Community Center The 500 yard Dash Accident Momma and the Pillsbury Poppin Biscuits July 07 August 07 September 07 October 07 November 07 December 07 January 08 February 08 March 08 April 08 May 08 June 08 July 08 August 08 September 08 October 08 November 08 December 08 January 09 February 09 March 09 April 09 May 09 June 09 July 09 August 09 September 09 October 09 November 09 
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The Law of Supply and Demand
In 1957, at the tender age of 11, Capitalism had hit me hard. I learned that people would pay you to mow their lawns. I loved this task so much, that I would have paid them for the privilege. I was outside and got to handle heavy equipment. Well, at least the equipment was heavy for an 11-year-old boy. Not only did I have a lawn-mowing service in Arvin, but also, when my parents went traveling. We would barely get into the house of the relative that we were visiting, before I was asking if I could mow their lawns. They were glad to agree, if for no other reason that to get me out from under-foot.
Some lawns proved to be quite tricky for a geeky, 90-pound boy from Arvin where everything in the town was flat. Our relatives lived in the cities back east and their small lawns were on such a slope that if you slipped on the wet grass, you slid all the way to the sidewalk on your rear end. I left more than one home with green grass streaks down the backside of my pants. Others lived on farms that had grass up to your knees. Still, I loved the smell of new-mown grass and the steady whirr that the lawnmower blades made as they spun.
Then there was the issue of different equipment. I used everything; from swing sickles, to push mowers, rotary mowers, reel mowers, electric mowers and even mowers that used a white-gas and oil mix. I became quite adept at small engine repair and troubleshooting. This talent proved quite useful, such as the time that I accidentally reversed, the non-vented gas can lid with the vented gas tank lid, not noticing that the lids were the same size. The mower, which had been working fine, suddenly would not start, after I had filled the gas tank.
When we got back to my Grandfathers farm outside Louisville, Kentucky, my Uncle Dee dragged out my Grandfather’s old white gas/oil rotary mower. He started the mower on the patio, eased it into the front lawn, cutting a patch about three feet square. He then handed me the starter rope that was used to start the mower and the one-gallon can of gas/oil mix. He pointed to the Dixie Highway that ran in front of my Grandfather’s farm, about five acres away and said, “Go that a-way!”
There stood before me, grass that was almost a foot tall, as far as my little eyes could see. If the mower was stalled, you would have to drag the mower clear back to the patio, then wind the rope around the starter pulley to get a single pull effort to get it going again. In addition, there was no throttle cable, only a string with a loop tied in it, near the rear cross handlebar which ran to the carburetor. With the loop around your finger, you constantly played with it to keep the mower running, racing the engine as you plowed into the tall grass. When the mower ran out of gas, I had to walk three miles down a hill to the Conco Gas station, where I could buy the white gas and oil separately. I was never so glad to hear my parents tell me it was time to go home that year.
One of the yards that I mowed each Wednesday after school in Arvin, was Mrs. Bishop’s yard. She lived right across from my Aunt Helen and Uncle Bud Warns on the corner of Myer Street and Orange Avenue. Her lawn was quite large and I would mow it, once a week, for $1.50. Her adult son came over one Wednesday and watched me mow the lawn from her porch. He pointed out, that I should lower the mower one notch, and mowed the lawn both directions, rather than my customary one direction. By doing this, I would only have to mow the lawn every other week, as he handed me my usual $1.50 for that week, even though he had doubled my time and effort while cutting my wages in half.
I told my Father and Brother about this and they convinced me that I was foolish to agree to those terms. They insisted that I should go right back over there and demand double wages for double effort. I marched back over and told them my terms and they told me that they would think about it.
The following Wednesday, after getting out of school, I rode my red-Schwinn bicycle over to mow Mrs. Bishop’s lawn, as I had every other week. There was Butch, the kid that lived behind my Aunt and Uncle who had a wooden leg due to an auto accident several years earlier, there mowing MY lawn. I watched from my Uncles driveway, as he gladly mowed the yard both directions and received his $1.50 wages. This was his only yard that he had to mow, and like me, when I started, he would have probably paid them for the privilege to mow it.
Rather than being happy that my handicapped friend had a job, I felt betrayed and cheated. Then, I should have been glad that I was not the one being required to do the double effort for half the original wages. I unfortunately, dwelt on the fact that I had lost a client and a friend at the same time. These are the same feelings that everyone feels when they lose their job to people who are willing to do the same job, or more, for the same or less money and this was my first big lesson of the Law of Supply and Demand.
THE END
3 comments from 3 users
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posted by
Sloigo
on Sep 6, 2007 at 10:14 PM
I think like most people due to inherit money, see services as robbing them of what is due to them, until the parent sees fit to dies. Unfortunately, I got caught in the middle here between my Dad and Brother who basically represented the Union view and Butch who represented the farm labor, do anything to get the job view. Few job disappointments in my 61 years of life have made more of an inpression on me.
posted by
samheath
on Sep 7, 2007 at 05:17 AM
Mowing lawns. Felt it was the easiest way I ever earned money as a kid.
posted by
NancyII
on Sep 7, 2007 at 07:13 AM
Great story as usual Sloigo. When I was about 13 or so, growing up out in the boonies of Fruitvale, there was a Norwalk Bulk Gasoline plant across the field from our house. One of the "honchos" lived in a house supplied by that company and in a brilliant flash of our own capitalism, my girlfriend, who lived down the road from me, and I approached the couple and asked if we could mow their lawn. They agreed and we thought we were on our way to some Summer spending money. My folks had a push mower so we had no overhead to deal with either. When my Dad found out about it, he threw a fit and said that it was NOT a job for girls and that I was to cease and desist immediately. Man oh man was I disappointed. We had to go tell the couple that we wouldn't be able to continue mowing the lawn after all but they were very understanding. That was my first introduction to gender discrimination. Only it was by a parent.
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