Specialist for Hire...Any Job Will Do

My grandmother, Edna, was a skilled seamstress, and my mother, too. I've heard stories about the skirt Mother made for my sister using men's ties and how it became the talk of the town! Except for some mending, her treadle sewing machine, an old Singer, hadn't been used in a long time until I joined a 4-H club in summer 1955 to learn to sew, myself. When my brother, Keith, heard I was making my own clothes, he gave me a Morse electric. By my third summer of 4-H, having completed several learn-to-sew-a-straight-stitch projects and a dress and slip, Mother taught me to crochet so I could make slippers to go with the duster and PJ's I'd constructed--set-in sleeves, attached collar, buttonholes, pipping trim, the works! Mother was right-handed but she crocheted left-handed. Despite this oddity, she was able to show me how to hold the hook and thread right-handed. I won blue ribbons in sewing and styling at the Franklin County Fair. Some red ones, too. At the Idaho State Fair in Blackfoot, number 157 in line, with many more 4-Hers behind me, it was a long wait to model, standing on cold cement. Another blue ribbon! Al-right!

As a young mother, looking for some way to be at home with my kids and still earn a little 'pin' money, a home sewing business seemed like the thing to do. With 4-H and high school home economics training under my belt, I could be a 'Sewing Specialist for Hire'. I learned early on that customers viewed home sewing as a 'cheap' way to go. The notion that personal tailoring could cost more than off-the-rack was not popular. Still, I pursued my little home-based business while we lived in Ogden, and again, in Salt Lake City. I was spending too much time hand sewing. That meant I was making next to nothing. What little I made, I saved, hoping to upgrade to a machine with finishing features that could save me some time. The day I retired my beloved Morse for a new Viking was a time of mixed feelings. It had seen me through countless projects--bridesmaid dresses, back-to-school clothes, problem projects that came in from other less-skilled home sewers, and much more.

Ever shop at ZCMI in Salt Lake City? An entire top floor the size of a city block with nothing but fabric. What's not to love about that if you're a specialist for hire!  One of my customers loved Vogue patterns.  She had made her selection from my stash of books, and described to me the fabrics and colors she envisioned for the item(s) on her list.  So, with her credit card in my hand, I was off to ZCMI, two kids in tow.  My young daughter could be confined in a stroller. Her older brother presented more of a challenge.  I was aware that he was no longer beside me at about the same time the announcement of a missing child crackled over the store's loud speaker. The announcer gave an unusual amount of detail about this 'missing' kid. As I looked across the store's field of cloth bolts, I could see him sitting on a counter, happily eating something sweet he'd been given and spilling the beans about every detail of his own and the entire family's story. Lost? Hardly! He loved hearing his name being spoken over a microphone.

For someone who found drawing stick figures a challenge, Tole painting was a specialty perfect for me. I fell in love! I took some classes, taught a few beginning sessions by request, sold a few pieces on consignment--SLC department store and a specialty shop in the Park City Ski Resort shopping district. I was relieved to retrieve unsold pieces when we moved. The paintings had become like my children.  I wasn't likely to make much money from this specialty if I couldn't part with the finished work.

Sparks, Nevada was a huge disappointment in the late 70's compared to what I had been use to so far as arts and crafts were concerned but I found a Tole class offered in a beautiful, old Victorian home in what was once the railroad district. It was being restored. What a divine place to paint. It was like hitting a jackpot, finding a small local shop and a Hallmark Card and Gift willing to sell consignment pieces. It was at Tink's that I learned of the weekend painting seminar in Oakland, California. Some of the best Tole specialists were there, conducting classes and painting with us nearly 'round the clock.

Still looking for my personal specialty and a way to earn cash while raising kids, I typed manuscripts, term papers, thesis rough drafts and final, camera-ready copy. Remember, office computers were just coming onto the scene and PC's were still very expensive. IBM Selectric's ruled. There was still a market for a fast and accurate typist. An older man approached me about typing for a book he was writing--a murder mystery. I agreed to do a couple of chapters but found him odd, his writing becoming too graphic. So I raised my price high enough to be beyond his reach. Cre-e-epy! My name was dropped as someone who could do transcription from tape, final copy ready. An insurance adjuster hired me to transcribe depositions for admission in court cases. He supplied me with everything I needed, including supplies and equipment. I was working a full-time job already, so I transcribed late into the night and in my spare time. The adjuster had a partner, his college-aged son. I had spoken with the son several times on the phone scheduling drop-off and pick-up times for his dad. One day he came in person to pick up the transcription, never having done so before. What a surprise he got! I could tell by the expression on his face and his hasty departure that he was expecting someone younger, a pick-up or date prospect but found instead a middle-aged woman with a good phone voice, able to make conversation, and with more padding than just being a little curvy! Poor guy!

So many odd jobs, a specialist for hire using what skills I had.  Those experiences became a part of me.

Coming soon: Off to College at 40-WPM