You may not know that I have a bizarre sense of humor … but in 1985, a pencil/shirt/gimmick salesman came to the plant. The girls in the office knew I would get hysterical and primed me, telling me NOT to laugh — I went out to interview the guy. He was missing two front teeth and wore a plaid coat (like the one in the J.C. Penney’s ad) and matching pants. It was all I could do to keep from losing it. He was such a nice guy that I had to leave the room so I wouldn’t bite through my lip to keep from laughing.

I bought some shirts with BFC (our company name) on them and dealt with him over the next five years. He married a nice girl — and the next time he came into the office, he wore navy slacks, a leather jacket, and he had dentures that looked terrific. I was so happy for him. However, I still remember that first time!

Billie

It was late in the decade, the exact year has faded from memory. We were taking Laurie, our daughter, to a summer’s internship with her veterinary aunt in North Dakota. We drove through Minneapolis, as we had made plans to visit friends. For whatever reason, we made a stop at a Robert Hall store north of town. You remember Robert Hall clothiers? They had that catchy jingle played on radio seemingly at least hourly; “Robert Hall this season will show you the reason. Low overhead- low overhead.”

Anyway, this store had a white leisure suit just my size and I bought it. As I recall, I walked out of the store wearing the suit, carrying my other clothes in a Robert Hall bag.
We reached our destination in North Dakota the following day and I was still wearing that suit. Our first stop was the veterinary office where Laurie’s aunt met us. She had just been summoned by a nearby farmer to assist a cow in giving birth. She asked if we wanted to come along. Laurie of course jumped at the chance and persuaded me to go along. We all followed the aunt’s truck in our car.

We soon found ourselves in barn that would never have been used as an icon for any farmer’s how to magazine. The area was barely shoveled and for the immediate past seemed to have been forgotten in any cleaning process.
If you wonder; the cow was delivered by Caesarian section, a process I witnessed. This process gave credence to my earlier decision never to aspire to become a veterinarian.

Leaving the barn (did I mention it was far from pristine) I fell on my ass while still wearing my white leisure suit. I landed in an indentation of the floor, where liquid of various origins had gathered over time. Upon egression from that malodorous pool I immediately concluded that the leisure suit was a total loss. The drive in the car that followed was painful for me, so I imagine what it was like for my passengers.

Anyway, I did for a moment own a 1970′s leisure suit.

Harry