KW: You know, I was going to say, you said you have one daughter who is an engineer?
AN: She's an engineer basically in computer science educated at the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee campus. I don’t think she had the overall engineering training I did. I believe it was strictly math and computer science for her. At Michigan, you may have a major, but you’ll have a good basis for everything, electrical, mechanical, chemical metallurgy, civil, and so forth. As a sophomore, I took a 5-hour chemical metallurgy course (supposedly a tough course) and with this was a 3-hour laboratory in the foundry on Wednesdays between 3:30 and 6:30 PM. (I should digress and explain that back in the '50s women didn’t wear jeans or slacks. I always wore a skirt, believe it or not, and we wore socks (straight up), saddle shoes, or loafers, as in my laboratory picture.
LW: Oh yeah.
AN: The anklets were always straight up, you know, that was cool.
LW: Oh yeah.
AN: That was cool! But I always wore a skirt to class and to most of my labs. However, the Wednesday foundry lab was dirty and filthy, you had to wear blue jeans and an old sweatshirt or a dirty old shirt. And it was three hours 3:30 to 6:30 on Wednesday, complicated by a little bit of difficulty because our guest night in the sorority was Wednesday where we had linen table cloths, had to wear dresses or skirts, and good things. Slacks were not allowed, one had to be dressed for guests. So, here I am in this lab until 6:30, riding my bike home. The cook always saved dinner for me and filthy, dirty, (no time to shower or anything) I would sneak into the kitchen, grab my dinner plate and quickly try to get lost in a hallway alcove. One particular Wednesday, we made steel, quenched the samples in oil or water and studied martensite and other components. I said it was a foundry lab. Another Wednesday, the TA announced, “Today we weld.” I thought, “Oh great, great! We'll gas weld, acetylene weld first.” So, we each had our little benches, lit our acetylene torches and welded, everything was pretty easy. The TA approved of our progress and halfway through the lab he announced, “Okay, now we graduate to arc welding." I know arc welding has probably changed a great deal, but in those days you had to put on goggles and then put on an apparatus that literally came down to here (almost to the waist). And then you looked through a glass opening, the dark glass through which it is safe to view an eclipse. It was a lot of junk (equipment). So, we arc welded, each in a little curtained booth because you are not supposed to look at the arc without eye protection. Occasionally, the TA would open the curtain and look in to see what each student was doing. Arc welding was new to me. I never expected ever to do it and, actually, I had never done acetylene welding either. Toward the end of the lab the TA announced, “We will have a little demonstration. Usually, I do the demonstration but I think you will learn more if one of you students does it." Now, a light bulb goes on in my head. You know why, you know why. I certainly knew why. We did have a student in our class who had welded (acetylene) during a summer job. Still we voted for this student to do it because he was experienced. With a big smile however, the TA smiled broadly and said, “No...”
KW: He picked you.
AN: “I think Miss Campbell should do the honors." Yes, I was used to this by now. It was like brushing your teeth; you know it's you automatically. When you practice arc welding, you get a little piece of metal, a little larger than a hockey puck and thinner than a hockey puck, and the student practices puddling. (I wish I’d saved some of my hockey puck puddling samples, besides making greet paperweights, they would lead to interesting conversation.) When I got all my equipment on he said, “Okay our first demonstration is using a rod without flux." The flux helps the rod from sticking and it is very difficult when done without it. So, I puddle, making these little puddles across the metal. “Now to show the difference, she’ll use the rod with the flux," and so on and so forth. Then too short an arc, which is also difficult because it wants to stick. Then too long an arc and then just a proper arc. “Okay now put down a perfect puddle." I finished about half an hour or forty-five minutes later, filthy and sweaty in my little booth. He took my little hockey puck and showed it to the rest of the class explaining each demonstrated puddle. He did admit they were good samples, sort of, but he never said a word to me until I got rid of my bulky equipment and went over to the sink to wash up. Then, with not another student in sight, he got real close to me, legally, and he said, “You can weld for me any time, Anne."
KW: Oh wow. That’s cool
AN: He never let any other student hear what he said, but it was his apology and congratulations for a good job.
KW: Did you feel like he picked you as sort of to prove yourself?
AN: Sure, of course he did. That happened all the time.
LW: Yeah, and so when class is in session, he wasn’t like “good job you can weld with me”, he was like “that was okay, it was a good example”?
AN: Well, no, he didn’t say anything bad. It was a good example and he showed it as a good example, but he didn’t say out loud to everybody “You can weld for me any time". But it was the highest compliment I could get.
LW: Yeah. That’s really great.
AN: That's what I mean about proving yourself. I knew you did. I didn’t take exception to the rule. I wasn’t offended at all.