There was a time my job was almost my total identity. It was such a part of me for 37 years. Twelve years ago today I walked away from it. Went to some awesome places (Tampa, Anchorage, San Diego, San Francisco, Providence) to learn, teach, or set up and work fugitive operations. There were some not so nice places, too (mostly jails!). Met some awesome people (too many to name). I'm proud of my service and miss my work.
This was a job that turned into an adventure. I walked into a State Unemployment office in the spring of 1970 to apply for a summer job, with a friend who'd talked me into it. She got a job at the Custom House for the summer. I was to report to the Navy Yard. I wasn't the least bit serious about a job, let alone a career, at the time. I was a junior in high school, 16 years old.
Got to the Navy Yard and was informed that my job was given away. But I had working papers and a written "promise of employment" so I trekked back to the State office and asked where I should report for the job I'd been promised. The woman thumbed through a box full of 3x5 index cards. Yes there were NO computers, not so much as an electric typewriter. She pulled out a card, asked if I'd mind going uptown (center city) for the job. I said it was ok. Still not enthused, wondering if this whole thing was for real.
Got to 9th and Market, 3rd floor (US Courthouse). Wondered what could I possibly be doing here!
Get to office, met by a woman, their admin boss, Grace McGill. She led me to the office of the Chief Deputy US Marshal. Now I'm really wondering where I am... The Chief, Nick Vinci, takes one look at me in my hot pink blouse, and black pleated miniskirt... asks if I can type and take shorthand. Well, I'd had one year of typing and shorthand, so I said yes. He asked where I went to school. I said West Catholic Girls. He said, "You're hired. You start Monday morning, 8:30." I was floating on air!
The following Monday I walk in, Grace shows me to my desk, in a back room next to a small kitchen. She asks a few questions which I answer, she disappears. I'm sitting there in front of a manual Royal typewriter and an adding machine. She comes back from a vault with a box and drops it on my desk, along with a huge pile of paper, and a box of envelopes. She then says, Type addresses on the envelopes, one for every one of these vouchers. (There were at least 300 vouchers.) Then she opens the box, which contains 500 blank Government checks, with 2 carbon copies attached. She says, compute what the voucher totals, take one of these checks and type it with the amount written out, then the person's name. Then total the checks and the vouchers, and they must balance by the classes of expenses on the voucher. They must add up exactly. Then bring the checks, vouchers, and adding machine tape showing they balance to me. Oh and by the way, when typing the checks, you CAN'T MAKE A MISTAKE or you have to void the check, and we don't want to void checks. Yikes. NO pressure!
I was busy. I presented the checks, vouchers, envelopes and adding machine tape to Grace. She looked at it, checked them, sees that I only voided one check. She said, this is good work. I'll be right with you, go ahead back to your desk. I leave. She has the Marshal (a florist!) sign the checks, brings them back, tells me to put them in the envelopes and mail them. Along with these, she also brings another pile of 300 vouchers. (They were for paying jurors, nobody had done the job for at least 5 months.)
In the meantime, I'm seeing guys walk by my desk, they're all cordial and very nice, but they're also all wearing handcuffs on their belts, and were carrying guns. I have NO idea what kind of place I've gotten myself into. Finally, one guy - Jack Smith, "Smitty", stops and tells me, "Hi kid. Do you work here now?" I say yes, he says, "OK kid. Just one thing. You don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps."
That's how it went from June 22, 1970 (the day after my 17th birthday) until right before I went back to school for my senior year. The last day, Smitty comes and says, come on, we have to take a ride. I say, OK, does Grace know, he says yes. I go with him, and he tells me, "OK kid, no matter what happens, don't look scared. You can BE scared, just don't look it." So now I'm scared. HA! We pull into the Philadelphia House of Corrections. He goes in and comes out with a female, who is wearing the handcuffs. He puts her in the back seat of the car, and we drive back to the office. (I was petrified.)
Thus started my career, starting after a nine month stint with the Navy Recruiting office. Then upon going back to the Marshals, it progressed to many trips, assignments, cities, supervisors, task forces, and different jobs in the office, but I loved it. The last year and a half, not so much, but I loved it. I miss the work, I do not miss the commute. I miss most of the people, not all. Lots of them are gone now to a better place.
There's so much more to this narrative. I began writing a book about it, as I've been told I should. It will take some time, and some names have to be changed to protect the guilty.
Thirty seven years. I walked out on July 3, 2008. Retired exactly two weeks after my 55th birthday. I get up and go to bed when I want, I go where I want when I want, and though lots of people tell me I was too young to retire, I know they're just jealous. I was blessed. I was lucky. And I thank God for every minute, especially the good which vastly outnumbered the bad.
Stay tuned, the book will be out, (someday).
