Twelve-year-old soon-to-be eighth-grader Tery Ordway interviews 105-year-old Balona pioneer Junior Kuhl for the Balona High School summer Korndogger. Both Mr. Kuhl and his often funny story about destruction, terror, death, heroism, horses, hunger, sorrow, and helping hands turn out to be surprises from the earth and the heart.

CLICK if it's your pleasure to hear a tune that ancient Junior Kuhl is especially fond of.

   I got me a great job mucking out the stables on the corner, two blocks down from us on McAllister. At the fire house that was there at the time. Grover was blue-jealous. The job didn't pay me much, nothing at all at first, just the pleasure you get out of hanging around an exciting place. But after a while, when I got to doing good work, they give me some every week. I give it to my ma, most of it, saved some for candy and tobacco.
   TERY: You were how old?
   MR. KUHL: Well, now, I figger I was about eleven or twelve. Oh, you caught that about the tobacco. Yeah, in those days, kids would try to ape their elders, and I was a kid. Not like nowadays when kids will try to ape theirselfs.
   But Captain Sullivan wouldn't let anybody smoke around the place, y'know. Just like Wendel and Kevin won't let the old folks smoke around here. Account of the fire problem, Kevin says. We get a fire drill every month. But nobody ever pays attention to it. A big bell rings. Everybody just goes back to sleep. Nobody cares. Anyways, I never did smoke. Dirty habit.
   Back in the old days none of the firemen smoked. At least, when they were on duty. They chewed. Then they spat their tobacco juice all over the pucky-pile. Some of 'em, to be high-class and sanitary, kept a cup to spit into if they was far off from a pile. Carried their spit-cups around with 'em. After they had a cupful, poured their spit on the pucky-pile. Sometimes there was a confusion about a cup. Whether it was your spit-cup or your coffee cup? Lots of sport there, y'know.
   Anyways, I had to have something to chew, too, like any other fireman. Naturally, I couldn't help but swallow some tobacco juice, and it right away made me sick. So, to be manly about it, I bought me some likrish. It'll work up spit for you like a champion, y'know. Firemen didn't know the difference. Tasted a whole lot better. Made your tongue and teeth and spit glorious black. And since you could swallow your nice sweet spit, you didn't have to carry that spit-cup around with you.
   TERY: [Feeling just a bit queasy, I need to try to change the subject.] What were your duties, Mr. Kuhl?

The music for this page of BalonaBooks is "Daisy" or "A Bicycle Built for Two"