mary hess is one of several people who offered insights about working about the casket factory in boyertown for this poetry project. below is the excerpt from her poem crafted from interview content from a few months ago, as well as some old memory pieces she kept since the place shut down in the late 1980s.
*
in 1959, i lost my job at devon knitting mill, a clothing
factory in eshbach—a tornado stirred its spinning fury
through the village. that twister tore the whole place
apart. before that storm, they’d started me on machines
but later moved me to pressing men’s shirts and underwear.
once they hired me at h&r manufacturing on south reading
avenue in boyertown, i had the same boss as at my old job,
homer reiter. he gave us compliments on our work pretty
well in some moments. i found myself employed at a pants
factory near where sugg motorcar company is now, too.
but i eventually heard that the casket factory in boyertown
was hiring, so i applied there, and soon, my name inked
into their payroll files. at first, i sawed wood and almost
lost part of my right hand’s ring finger from the blade. that
doctor told me i’d never have feeling in it again, but it buzzes
and pulses now, so my body proved him wrong on that one.
my girlfriends, sally and shirley in the shipping department
nudged me to apply for a job with them, so i did. betty
toulish stepped out of the driver’s seat of the loader one day
while prepping a truck, maybe to see how to get the forks
lined up in the tracks better, and that lift fell on her. we
heard it, ran quickly, found betty—her bones crushed, pushed
into the ground beneath its weight. heartbroken, we learned
she died from the injuries a few years later. at some point,
i did inspections, peered hard into wood and metal sides
to identify the nicks, the dings, requesting smooth touch-ups
for honoring the dead by the caskets they’d quietly know.
factory in eshbach—a tornado stirred its spinning fury
through the village. that twister tore the whole place
apart. before that storm, they’d started me on machines
but later moved me to pressing men’s shirts and underwear.
once they hired me at h&r manufacturing on south reading
avenue in boyertown, i had the same boss as at my old job,
homer reiter. he gave us compliments on our work pretty
well in some moments. i found myself employed at a pants
factory near where sugg motorcar company is now, too.
but i eventually heard that the casket factory in boyertown
was hiring, so i applied there, and soon, my name inked
into their payroll files. at first, i sawed wood and almost
lost part of my right hand’s ring finger from the blade. that
doctor told me i’d never have feeling in it again, but it buzzes
and pulses now, so my body proved him wrong on that one.
my girlfriends, sally and shirley in the shipping department
nudged me to apply for a job with them, so i did. betty
toulish stepped out of the driver’s seat of the loader one day
while prepping a truck, maybe to see how to get the forks
lined up in the tracks better, and that lift fell on her. we
heard it, ran quickly, found betty—her bones crushed, pushed
into the ground beneath its weight. heartbroken, we learned
she died from the injuries a few years later. at some point,
i did inspections, peered hard into wood and metal sides
to identify the nicks, the dings, requesting smooth touch-ups
for honoring the dead by the caskets they’d quietly know.
*
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