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1
My very best summer job came between my junior and senior years of high school. I never knew precisely how it happened, but I always have presumed that my parents were talking with their long-time church friend, Mr. Eckhardt, sharing notes about their children - as parents always do, I guess - when Mr. Eckhardt mentioned that his son John was married now and worked for his in-laws in a winter resort in Arizona and in their summer resort in Colorado. Mr. M-------, John's father-in-law, had now passed away, and Mrs. M------ couldn't run the place(s) by herself, and a lot of people had been working with them for years, all moving back and forth in the short transitions between seasons, and on and on... So John was now the Executive Manager of these two places.
My folks talked about their son - me - beginning to look for a summer job. (This must have been in February or so).
2
So, the last week in May there I was with my one little suitcase on the bus on the way through Denver and Boulder, headed for Estes Park.
Someone must have picked me up to whisk me away from the little vacation town itself and on to the Rocky Mountain National Park 10 or 15 miles away. All I remember about my arrival at the Fall River Lodge is that I had a terrible headache, I suppose from the rapid change in altitude.
The Lodge where I was to be a bellboy was built about 1920. In front was a little man-made lake with a meeting house on the other side (where there were weekly Square Dances. The staff slept in a series of little uninsulated cabins hidden behind the main building. Across the road were five or six guest cabins.
And all this picturesque scene was surrounding by stunning, snow-capped Rocky Mountains! It was breath-taking.
3
There was one other bell boy besides me. I think he may have worked at our Lodge the year before. He was two or three years older than I and - like most of the Wait staff (we said then "waiters" and "waitresses") - he was probably a college student during the academic year. He spent his free time with one or more of the young guys who worked the Dude Ranch side of the operation.
There was one of us on duty 14 hours per day, 7 days a week. One of us would work from 7 am to 2 pm, and the other from 2 to 9 pm. Soon, we sorted it out so that the mornings were mine, while he took the afternoon. I never had the full day off, but I did do a double-shift for him once or twice. I think his name was Antoine.
The morning guy had clean-up responsibilities for the large front lobby. That meant vacuuming all the red oriental carpets and - the challenging part - washing the large, multi-pane windows. The windows like the rest of the place were gorgeous. But since they faced east, it was frustrating to clean them, streak-free, between 8 and 9 a.m.
Mrs. M-------- was a smoker-voiced, stocky, commanding woman who supervised us closely. I worked hard on those windows and fretted at the streaks. But she did not generally complain too much.
Of course, we carried guests' bags arriving and departing whenever they showed up or telephoned the front desk. Once every couple of days, we had to get an extra, roll-away bed up to the room at the time of a check-in. That was just a little bother for the second and third floors of the Lodge, but was daunting when it came to the cabins here and there across the road and up the winding, rocky pathways.
It was also our responsibility to make sure the pop-vending machine in the little gift shop never ran out. At irregular times, then, we would go down a dark little staircase off one corner of the front lobby to the basement where many supplies and tools were stored and where, relatively handy, was an empty carrying case for the pop bottles (Canada Dry: my favorite was the Black Cherry flavor).
nce in a while, Mr. Eckhardt or one of the other two desk clerks would open the door off the lobby when I would be loading the new bottles or unloading the empties and call down in a melodious tone: "'Byron?' we have a Check-In." Each of them called out in a sweet tone like a good friend speaking with a beloved associate, because of course the guests could hear him or her and they wanted to show everyone how really nice they were.
4
When we were not working, we could get a ride into town for a few hours, where the older staff members - like Antoine - would disappear at night to sample the Colorado 3.2 beer. I would go in once a week in the early afternoon to bank my tips, which I kept in a stretched-out white athletic sock. Once I bought a pair of deer-hide gloves, which I loved to wear for years afterwards.
And we were allowed to participate in any of the activities the Lodge offered its guests. Despite there once being a free staff horseback tour of the lower slope, except for that once I did not take advantage of that activity. But I never missed a Thursday-night Square Dance, a Tuesday night sing-along, or a Sunday night movie in the lobby. I must have read most of the books available to us - as to guests - on bookshelves here and there around the lobby. (I remember reading Richard Matheson's science fiction thriller I Am Legend there in the beautiful Colorado Rockies, for example.)
One cabin out back was the staff rec room with a sofa and some comfy chairs (and a heater!). It had a 45 record player and a small stack of records too. I got to know them all by heart, of course.
I had arrived at the Lodge by June 1. One afternoon in July Mr. Eckhardt found me in the rec room and asked me to come back with him to his office, which was off the big lobby. I may have changed my shirt or brushed my hair or something, but of course I hurried over.
He told me that Antoine had decided not to continue working at the Lodge, so as soon as they could find someone to replace him, I would have somebody else to work with. Antoine had already left. So, could I be on-call for the rest of the afternoon? They would start looking for a replacement right away...
I told him I had found the seven-hour shift easy to deal with. He started thinking about what hours I could be on and which I could be off, minimally covering the bases while they looked for a new bell boy. But I put myself forward to say I could cover both shifts, indefinitely. (I didn't say so, but after the first week or so I had been a little bored with all my free time.)
Mr. Eckhardt was reluctant, but he said he would give me both shifts for a week or two and we would see how that went.
So I was THE Bell Boy at Fall River Lodge!
After two or three weeks, though, I have to admit I was beginning to tire a bit. I didn't mind when Mr. E------- called me in to say he'd decided it would be better to have two of us and he'd hired a guy who would start tomorrow. (It turned out his name was ... Antoine.)
5
Altogether, working at the Fall River Lodge that summer were only three high school students: besides me, there were just the two Mexican-descended dishwashers from Laredo. Just the three Texans too, now that I think of it.
When I was off and they were working, I would often check in with them in the kitchen and help out a little. Really, I was just looking for a little company.
The three of us used to hang out together pretty often in the rec room too. I had brought with me a new pair of bongo drums, quite the fashion back then. In fact, the other guys had a set of bongos too. I was just learning to play myself, but one of the two others - taller, lighter skinned, thinner - was actually good. He wasn't very good at teaching me to get better, though, but listening to the two of them go at it together, accompanying the 45s on the record-player, was a treat. There was an older upright piano in the rec room. I could play two or three popular songs, or rather I could play a crude accompaniment of myself singing a couple of Fats Domino songs (I remember "Blue Monday" in particular) and maybe something else.
I asked Mrs. M-------- one day if they ever had a staff talent show. She had heard about our banging around in the rec room and didn't say No anyway.
And as a matter of fact, the two Laredo boys and I played a couple of songs one night for the guests. They were very nice and we were proud of ourselves. After the show, though, one of the other two stopped playing with us in the lounge - the skinnier one - and no one ever brought up our doing it again.
One day late in the summer, as I filled an empty case with fresh bottles of various flavors of Canada Dry, the door off the lobby swung open and Mr. Eckhardt's cheery and friendly voice called out; "'Byron?' We have a check-in!" He had the same inflexion and tone as usual. I set the pop aside and skipped up the stairs, taking pains to close the door quietly behind me as I had been trained to do.
The little woman standing at the Check-In Desk next to her modest little suitcase turned around. What a total surprise!
"Well, Mother!" I exclaimed. I little noticed the little burst of laughter and applause around us from the staff who had been let in on the surprise and had had their wish at seeing me dumbfounded.
Yes, the older Mr. Eckhardt and Mother had driven from way down there inTexas to spend two or three days up there in the Colorado Rockies where their sons were working.
Frankly, I don't remember doing anything in particular those couple of days, but it was good to see Mom. Several weeks later, after Labor Day, the Lodge closed for the season. The three Texam high-school students had to leave for home right away, but everyone else had to stay around for a week or so more as everything was thoroughly cleaned and closed up in order to get through the tough winter anticipated.
Having spent the summer so far from home, doing work different from anything I'd done before, changed me - I thought - but I comfortably reassumed my role at home and in school.
I'd made some pretty good money, and had had valuable experience. Most of all, I knew myself better than I had before that unusual summer.
When I was off and they were working, I would often check in with them in the kitchen and help out a little. Really, I was just looking for a little company.
The three of us used to hang out together pretty often in the rec room too. I had brought with me a new pair of bongo drums, quite the fashion back then. In fact, the other guys had a set of bongos too. I was just learning to play myself, but one of the two others - taller, lighter skinned, thinner - was actually good. He wasn't very good at teaching me to get better, though, but listening to the two of them go at it together, accompanying the 45s on the record-player, was a treat. There was an older upright piano in the rec room. I could play two or three popular songs, or rather I could play a crude accompaniment of myself singing a couple of Fats Domino songs (I remember "Blue Monday" in particular) and maybe something else.
I asked Mrs. M-------- one day if they ever had a staff talent show. She had heard about our banging around in the rec room and didn't say No anyway.
And as a matter of fact, the two Laredo boys and I played a couple of songs one night for the guests. They were very nice and we were proud of ourselves. After the show, though, one of the other two stopped playing with us in the lounge - the skinnier one - and no one ever brought up our doing it again.
6
One day late in the summer, as I filled an empty case with fresh bottles of various flavors of Canada Dry, the door off the lobby swung open and Mr. Eckhardt's cheery and friendly voice called out; "'Byron?' We have a check-in!" He had the same inflexion and tone as usual. I set the pop aside and skipped up the stairs, taking pains to close the door quietly behind me as I had been trained to do.
The little woman standing at the Check-In Desk next to her modest little suitcase turned around. What a total surprise!
"Well, Mother!" I exclaimed. I little noticed the little burst of laughter and applause around us from the staff who had been let in on the surprise and had had their wish at seeing me dumbfounded.
Yes, the older Mr. Eckhardt and Mother had driven from way down there inTexas to spend two or three days up there in the Colorado Rockies where their sons were working.
7
Frankly, I don't remember doing anything in particular those couple of days, but it was good to see Mom. Several weeks later, after Labor Day, the Lodge closed for the season. The three Texam high-school students had to leave for home right away, but everyone else had to stay around for a week or so more as everything was thoroughly cleaned and closed up in order to get through the tough winter anticipated.
Having spent the summer so far from home, doing work different from anything I'd done before, changed me - I thought - but I comfortably reassumed my role at home and in school.
I'd made some pretty good money, and had had valuable experience. Most of all, I knew myself better than I had before that unusual summer.
NOTE: Other summer job recollections may be found below at http://byronderrick.blogspot.com/2010/05/reminiscence-summer-job.html
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