Summer Enterprises, Soda Pop Bottles and Scrap Iron in the 1930s. (original) (raw)

THE IRONY OF IT ALL by George Lester

Our cousins, Junior and Clyde formed an enterprise with Sam and me one summer. We called it the �Bottle Club� but it had nothing to do with the modern connotation of that term. We scrounged around all over town looking for empty soda pop bottles to sell at grocery stores. Disposable bottles were not even a dream at that time. Things were going pretty good for a while and it was wonderful to have some loose change jingling in our pockets. We hadn�t counted on the fact that we would run out of bottles. Before we knew it our supply had dropped down to a trickle. It was obvious that sooner or later we would have to find another source of income.

One day we walked by a junkyard and saw a sign announcing that they bought scrap iron. A new business was formed immediately. The four of us got busy roaming the back streets, alleys and empty lots searching for that precious commodity. Things were picking up and once more we could afford the luxuries of life like an ice cream soda or a movie. To paraphrase an old saying �Iron is where you find it� and we found it everywhere. One day we saw a bit of metal barely visible above the ground. We started digging, and digging, and digging. The object seemed to go on forever. When it was completely uncovered we tried to pick it up. We could hardly budge it. A bonanza! We never did figure out exactly what it was, just that it was big. An old worn out Radio Flyer was our vehicle for transporting scrap iron to the dealer. When we finally wrestled it aboard the wagon it sagged in the middle until it almost touched the ground. When we arrived at the junkyard the manager took a quick look at our prize surrounded by some smaller pieces. He quickly offered us a deal. � Don�t bother bringing it to the scale, I�ll give you two dollars for the lot.� I think scrap iron was selling for about three cents a pound then. It didn�t take us long to realize that we were being taken. We politely declined his offer and asked him to weigh it all.

The big chunk alone checked in at almost three hundred pounds.

I suppose there is need for a moral here and perhaps it would be �Before you accept an offer �weigh� it over in your mind.�