georget98
Enlightened
Mr. Fradette\'s Ray-O-Vac Cabinet (a reminiscence)
Maybe it's in my genes. They say my first words were "light on, light off."
On the corner near where I lived was Fradette's variety store. They had the usual assortment for the time, newspapers, candy, cigarettes, canned food, spools of thread, and of course flashlight batteries.
One day when I was around 5, probably 1951, my flashlight wouldn't light. I KNEW it wasn't the batteries so there must have been something terribly wrong. My father handed me a quarter, and told me to take the flashlight to Fradette's.
I handed it to Mrs. Fradette. She flicked the switch, I suppose she was looking for that momentary deep orange flash that even the deadest of the dead batteries could produce. Seeing nothing she shook her head and went to the back room and got Mr. Fradette.
He tried the switch just to be sure, then went straight to work. He unscrewed the back end and shook the batteries out on the counter.
On the wall behind the counter was a metal cabinet that said Ray-O-Vac on the door. On one side was the tester. It was a two sided affair. One side had a "U" shaped vertically mounted metal strap with a flashlight bulb screwed in the top end, the other side was the same but with a D cell battery and a hole where the bulb went.
He put the batteries, one at a time, into the side of the tester with the bulb. Each time, the bulb glowed brightly. He looked at me and said, "The batteries are fine, so let's check the bulb."
He spread a soft cloth on the counter and proceeded to unscrew the other end — the part I had never opened because it was for grown-ups!
I watched in fascination as he took the end off with its cone shaped reflector. He yanked off a metal ring from the end of the cone, and pulled out the bulb. I knew it was the bulb because I had seen it through the glass, but I had never seen it in its entirety before.
He took the bulb and pressed it down through the hole in the side of the tester with the battery. Nothing happened. He faced me seriously and said, "the bulb is burned out, it needs to be replaced." I didn't know what "replaced" meant, but it sounded pretty serious and I started to worry we might have to send it away somewhere, like film, to have it "replaced."
As I was just starting to wonder how long it would be before the bulb came back, Mr Fradette opened the Ray-O-Vac cabinet door. I stood up on my toes to try to see everything inside. There were mostly little cardboard boxes with numbers on the side. He selected one and opened it on the counter. It had a piece of cardboard inside with holes, and what seemed like hundreds of shiny new bulbs all lined up like eggs in a carton.
He took a bulb and first of all put it in the tester, it glowed brightly. He put it back in the cone thing, snapped on the ring, and put the flashlight back together. It worked!
But then he shook the light and said "Uh, oh. See how it flickers when I shake it?" With a sense of impending doom I somehow nodded my head. "The contacts are corroded."
As I started to feel faint with visions of my beloved flashlight once again in the back of a truck headed for Rochester, he started to unscrew BOTH ENDS!!!
Mr. Fradette then looked around in the cabinet again and took out a little black square of what looked like stiff cloth. "Emery cloth," he replied to my puzzled look. In turn, he rubbed the emery cloth on the spring in the battery cover, the ring around the bulb, the tip of the bulb, and the spring metal strip from the switch which he then bent just a tiny bit inwards. Out of nowhere, he produced a jar of Vaseline and put just a tiny bit on the case threads. Then he screwed the ends back on.
Taking the cloth off the counter, he wiped off the excess Vaseline and then picked up a another clean cloth and polished the lens.
He turned it on and shook it. This time the light was bright and steady. Then he put the flashlight down on the counter and said, "Good as new. That will be 18 cents."
I rushed home, gave my father the good news, the 7 cents change, and settled down to wait for dark.
Now I'm 56 and my life is full of complexity — computers, tax returns, HDL & LDL. It seems so nice that so simple a device like a flashlight can still give me feelings of wonder, and comfort from a time, oh so long ago.
Maybe it's in my genes. They say my first words were "light on, light off."
On the corner near where I lived was Fradette's variety store. They had the usual assortment for the time, newspapers, candy, cigarettes, canned food, spools of thread, and of course flashlight batteries.
One day when I was around 5, probably 1951, my flashlight wouldn't light. I KNEW it wasn't the batteries so there must have been something terribly wrong. My father handed me a quarter, and told me to take the flashlight to Fradette's.
I handed it to Mrs. Fradette. She flicked the switch, I suppose she was looking for that momentary deep orange flash that even the deadest of the dead batteries could produce. Seeing nothing she shook her head and went to the back room and got Mr. Fradette.
He tried the switch just to be sure, then went straight to work. He unscrewed the back end and shook the batteries out on the counter.
On the wall behind the counter was a metal cabinet that said Ray-O-Vac on the door. On one side was the tester. It was a two sided affair. One side had a "U" shaped vertically mounted metal strap with a flashlight bulb screwed in the top end, the other side was the same but with a D cell battery and a hole where the bulb went.
He put the batteries, one at a time, into the side of the tester with the bulb. Each time, the bulb glowed brightly. He looked at me and said, "The batteries are fine, so let's check the bulb."
He spread a soft cloth on the counter and proceeded to unscrew the other end — the part I had never opened because it was for grown-ups!
I watched in fascination as he took the end off with its cone shaped reflector. He yanked off a metal ring from the end of the cone, and pulled out the bulb. I knew it was the bulb because I had seen it through the glass, but I had never seen it in its entirety before.
He took the bulb and pressed it down through the hole in the side of the tester with the battery. Nothing happened. He faced me seriously and said, "the bulb is burned out, it needs to be replaced." I didn't know what "replaced" meant, but it sounded pretty serious and I started to worry we might have to send it away somewhere, like film, to have it "replaced."
As I was just starting to wonder how long it would be before the bulb came back, Mr Fradette opened the Ray-O-Vac cabinet door. I stood up on my toes to try to see everything inside. There were mostly little cardboard boxes with numbers on the side. He selected one and opened it on the counter. It had a piece of cardboard inside with holes, and what seemed like hundreds of shiny new bulbs all lined up like eggs in a carton.
He took a bulb and first of all put it in the tester, it glowed brightly. He put it back in the cone thing, snapped on the ring, and put the flashlight back together. It worked!
But then he shook the light and said "Uh, oh. See how it flickers when I shake it?" With a sense of impending doom I somehow nodded my head. "The contacts are corroded."
As I started to feel faint with visions of my beloved flashlight once again in the back of a truck headed for Rochester, he started to unscrew BOTH ENDS!!!
Mr. Fradette then looked around in the cabinet again and took out a little black square of what looked like stiff cloth. "Emery cloth," he replied to my puzzled look. In turn, he rubbed the emery cloth on the spring in the battery cover, the ring around the bulb, the tip of the bulb, and the spring metal strip from the switch which he then bent just a tiny bit inwards. Out of nowhere, he produced a jar of Vaseline and put just a tiny bit on the case threads. Then he screwed the ends back on.
Taking the cloth off the counter, he wiped off the excess Vaseline and then picked up a another clean cloth and polished the lens.
He turned it on and shook it. This time the light was bright and steady. Then he put the flashlight down on the counter and said, "Good as new. That will be 18 cents."
I rushed home, gave my father the good news, the 7 cents change, and settled down to wait for dark.
Now I'm 56 and my life is full of complexity — computers, tax returns, HDL & LDL. It seems so nice that so simple a device like a flashlight can still give me feelings of wonder, and comfort from a time, oh so long ago.
