11,524. RUDIMENTS, pt. 588

RUDIMENTS, pt. 588

(what's all this crap?)

The 12 acres I had in 

Pennsylvania, once I

got there, at Columbia 

Crossroads, had a bunch of

heavy, industrial machinery

strewn around the yard, in

and at the barn, under the

overhang carport type

structure that hung off it

and, way out to the side 

field, a 60-foot boom crane

and a gigantic FWD city

truck, with the Elmira city

decals on the doors. The first

few years I didn't care, I just

let it stay there, and I even

made a tire-swing sort of

set-up for my son, at the

end of the crane, and the

hanging hook. It was pretty

cool. There was also a '55

Mercury, a Corvair, and one

or two old junky mid-60's

Chevies. Everything was all

rusted up, weathered, and

useless. No engines would

turn, no keys; couldn't even

hot-wire anything. The cars

were situated such that, from

the rear-porch area of the 

house, when my friends 

from NJ came over, for a 

thrill I'd bring out some 

guns and we'd set up cans

and bottles on the cars and

I'd let them have at it all for

target practice. It was a big

deal to them. Myself, I wasn't

really much of a shot. They

were worse  -  so the cars had

pretty much lost all their glass 

and were pockmarked too with

about 5000 bullet holes. (Yes,

I exaggerate). My armaments

and firepower were no great

shakes either  -  guns and

rifles I'd gotten, up there, in trades

for cars, work, and other goods.

But they all worked  -  the pistols

were Ivers & Johnson, and the

rifles, as I recall, were of a gun

factory out towards Ithaca, that

made 'Ithaca' firearms.  My

visitors, needless to say, loved

all of this, big time. Inside the 

barn, in one section, was a long

industrial lathe  -  metal-grinding

or something, about 30 feet long,

with all sorts of things attached,

and a switch box too  -  but I

could never get anything to run.

The FWD Truck (that was the

actual brand, made in Wisconsin,

really heavy-duty), and stood

for Four Wheel Drive, intended

as north-country municipal

vehicles  -  able to withstand 

most anything. My father used

to come up to visit, and he

was always getting all pissed 

off at what I had going on  -

all this crap laying around, old

cars and metal. He always said

I should find a way to turn it

into money  -  get things 

running (?), go into business

with the crane and the truck,

get a worker for the lathe. The

guy was nuts like that. I'd say

how I enjoyed it all just the

way it was, having it around 

me, just to savor the cool stuff.

He'd go nuts  -  and usually 

then end up on a ladder or 

something, monkeying around

with things he claimed needed 

fixing or painting or tending to.

Mostly I just let that go, figuring

any 'improvements' would be

something I didn't have to do.

Paint, etc. He was always way

overboard with his hands-on

work, and never really annoyed

me until he'd start cutting things.

I'd see that, and that was usually

then MY tipping point  -  tree

limbs, bushes, old trees, saplings

in the wrong places, all that crap

that annoyed him to perdition.

Those things I'd put a stop to.

We never quite saw eye-to-eye

on any of this. It was, after all,
MY house and property.

-

My taxes, let me add, for all

of this were, at that time, about

1972, something like $480 dollars

yearly (yes, sounds cheap and 

crazy, but what can I say). Along

about the time of about a year

maybe after the Elmira flood, I'd

somehow gotten the name of the

owner of all this crap on the

property. He was an old, chubby,

maybe 60 year old, cigar-chomping

guy in Elmira, Don Metz. Under

the influence, I guess, of my father's

prodding about whoever owned

this stuff freeloading on me by

being allowed to leave it all there,

I got his business address and 

wrote him a note. In the note I

pretty much said my wife and

myself, and our little family,

were running out of money, 

facing financial problems, etc,

and, as he was the rightful 
owner of all this crap on our land, 

I'd like a meeting with him to 

discuss  back-rent, payments, 

settlement  and removal. I had 

no idea what to expect.

-

Don Metz had a couple of

Elmira city warehouses. He

was quite the businessman  -

in scrap, industrial oddments,

used furniture, office furniture,

etc. Each of the three warehouses

there were vertical, mind you,

old-style, 5-story buildings, with the

usual loading docks at rear. He'd

buy and sell, through auctions

and liquidations, any and all he

could get his hands on. I joked

with him once, after we'd gotten

to know each other, that he'd

invented 'buy low/sell high.' He

didn't follow me, and I said, you

buy them at ground level, sales

and auctions. and bring them 

here and sell everything from

the 3rd, 4th, or 5th floor. Thus

buying low and selling high. 

Didn't go over real well.

No matter. I'd sent the letter

and heard nothing for some 

number of weeks, and was 

about  to forget the entire 

idea when, one afternoon, a 

knock at the door presents 

to me one Don Metz, from

Elmira, on our porch. Truly

a surprise, I let him in; we

sat and talked. He'd liked my

letter, understood fully, and 

was here to talk it over and

settle up. He met the little

family, wife and toddler, and

it all went very well  -  he 

understood my points fully,

and was glad I'd contacted 

him because he never knew 

what became of the property

after old 'Denton' had left

(a previous owner). Anyway,

he offered  - and honored

fully  -  what I agreed to. He'd

give us two years worth of taxes,

he'd invite us to his furniture

warehouse for our pick of any

items we might need or want,

and he'd have a crew sent over

to take away anything and 

everything of his that was 

on the property. We accepted

the deal. Within a month, it

all was gone  -  the wrecked

cars, the crane, the lathe, the

old truck, and every other

steel and metallic object of

his left around. Once I saw it

all gone, the new barrenness,

or absence anyway, hit me, 

and I missed everything,

immediately. Too late now.

Shortly thereafter we took

our own truck trip to his

warehouse and came away

maybe 6 or 7 nice items, 

some of which we had 

for a long time, and for

other moves. At least

Don Metz had proved

to be a man of his word.

-

How much of his stuff, or
even of his profiteering, may
have come from any of the sob
stories and tales of flood loss, I
never new. He seemed hard-boiled
to me, but he hadn't come off that 
way either. Or not fully  -  I found
some stroke of compassion in
him. Business people, as a
whole, I've found, never harbor
too many 'feelings' about things.
'It's nothing personal, just
business,' is the way an old boss
of mine would put it  -  upon
giving someone a layoff or a
termination. It got him past the
point of blame or confrontation. 
'The accountant was just going
over the books and thought I 
should do this and that, etc.' -
one of the 'this' items being to
cut a few jobs. I somehow
didn't see Metz being that way;
maybe he was just too dumb, or
maybe it was because the entire
place had, as aftermath, taken on
a total tone of loss and tragedy,
and many people were still
hurting, wishing for other things,
on the search, for anything.
Elmira was singing a tune
called 'Pain' for a long time.