Out of
the Past
. . . into the present
Recollections of Byron Eisner
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The Blacksmith Shop
The farmers in Kerman were somewhat limited in their choices of places to hang out on idle days, such as rainy days when they were unable to work outdoors on their farms.
For coffee, there was "Ma's Cafe," for swapping lies, "Pinkeys Auto Repair" or the "Beacon Gas Station" were good spots and if so inclined, there was always "Reno's Club" if a beer was more to their liking. the blacksmith shop was another popular place to hang your hat, which, incidentally, was my favorite place when I tagged along with my father. Housed in a building sheeted with corrugated iron, it was rustic in appearance, built more out of necessity than by choice and was a far cry from being fanciful.
It was noisy, somewhat dark from a blend of poor lighting and the ever present bluish haze emanating from the forge and arc welding. The haze was accompanied with a one of kind odor which one would never forget. It was often cold in the winter to unbearably hot in the summer but I believe it still drew the farmers like moths to a flame because it was a place to relax and freely talk farmer talk and gossip to their hearts content. For me, it was exciting to watch the machinery in motion and the ballet like movements of the blacksmiths when shaping red hot raw steel taken from the forge and making it into something useful.
The ceiling area, held a network of overhead pulleys on common drive shafts with wide leather belts which hung down to operate pieces of equipment such as a post drill, trip hammer, lathe and blower for the forge. To start or stop a machine, the operator would move the belt on or off the pulley using what looked like a long wooden broom stick.
Besides the owner, the only other employee was an elderly, tall, thin man, bespeckled in wire framed eye glasses with round lenses, he was know simply as "Pop." I took a liking to "Pop" when he gave me an old pair of his glasses which were so badly pitted from molten metal they were rendered unusable, my father spoke highly of him, saying, "He was a master at his work and could fix most anything."
My father would take in damaged items that needed repair and more often it would be plow shears that needed hard facing. The items were marked with the farmers name, written in chalk, since tags and other paperwork was considered unnecessary to do.
A corner of the shop was set aside for the folks to visit, furnished with benches and a couple of wobbly wooden chairs which had been bailing wired to keep them from collapsing. Nowdays, if there were any blacksmith shops left, I doubt if people would be allowed in the shop area like they once were. In fact, after I left home I learned an explosion did take place at the shop. An acetylene tank blew out one wall and part of the roof. Two men were injured, one was the local Farmer's insurance agent.
Nila's uncle Jack Bolton was an early day blacksmith in the town of Fresno. He lost an eye from a wayward piece of metal when he was a young man, in his day, welding was done using a forge, since arc welding was not yet in use. A flux of borax or salammoniac was placed in between the red hot pieces and then struck repeatedly with a hammer until they became joined. I have read that this join, when properly done, is stronger than one which has been welded using modern equipment. When I was in high school I took agriculture mechanics shop classes and learned many of the skills of blacksmithing. I can also attest to the fact that not having a mask on when welding will produce what's know as "flash" to the eyes and the result is, your eyes feel like they are moving around in sand!
In reflecting back to my boyhood visits to the Kerman Blacksmith Shop, I believe a fitting motto for "Pop" would likely read; "I can mend everything but the crack of day or a broken heart!
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