One of the more unusual items to appear in the retail U.S. marketplace in the 70’s was the Pet Rock. It was conceived by a Gary Dahl after listening to his friends complain about the care and feeding requirements of their pets. His thought was, why not have a pet that does not require all that attention? His solution to this problem was to design a small cardboard box, line it with straw, and place a rock inside. “Air holes” were added to the box so the “pet” could breath. The rocks were of various sizes and colors, just like real pets. Improbable as it sounds, this idea took off with a vengeance. Although the current website shows a lot of these rocks with “faces”, I believe the original was just a plain stone. The owners could add these features if they wanted to.

It was the Holiday Season of 1975, and we of course had a few extra days off. After returning to work, word got around that someone in the R & D department had received a Pet Rock for Christmas. Those of us familiar with these folks just had to go down and see for ourselves this New Gift. Everyone was duly impressed, and congratulated the new owner. This owner decided to keep his Pet Rock at work, which led to a (comical) situation. The first thing that happened was the Pet Rock disappeared; after a couple of days there appeared a “ransom note”, classically done with cut up words glued to a piece of paper, but basically saying if the owner wanted to see his pet “alive” again, he had better come up with the demands outlined. I cannot remember the exact details, but after a few back-and-forth notes were written, and the ransom was paid, the Pet Rock was returned. I don’t think there was a monetary amount involved, maybe some cookies or things of that nature. Just one of those incidents that kept everyone in good humor.

Working in a machine shop takes some getting used to. I  remember my first “tour” of the old Fellows plant, back when I was in college. Down in the “bowels” of the building it was dark, dirty and noisy, with forklift trucks moving around everywhere. Until you are in this environment for a while, it can be pretty intimidating. So it was a similar situation at J&L, although somewhat brighter because of the roof design (with sawtooth windows). A lot of the veteran mechanics had missing fingers from mishaps. The business is dangerous, and you must keep alert anywhere around the machinery. Although I knew the basics of machining, I never considered myself a machinist; I left that up to more qualified people. The same with the assembly department; I can handle a wrench if necessary, but, again, except for my stint during the 1970 strike, “it ain’t my bag”. My job was in the design of the machinery, which I loved. Even though I used up a lot of eraser sometimes, the end results usually came out OK. Most of the time a new design on paper has to be “fine tuned” when finally built. Very few time does it end up being built without some sort of modification. It’s just the way it is, and the designer shouldn’t take it personally (even though it’s human nature to).