Printer's Devil , livre ebook

First Edition Design Publishing - Morton Metker

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102 pages

English

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A young pre-teen gets into trouble and a school yard fight. Thinking his street fighting actions caused a murder, he ran away from everything. During the years on the horse race tracks, he became a street wise, tough kid who, with his white hair and big smile, would be taken for "the child next door". His travels would take him over the country, into jail, and finally to the friendship of a giant newspaper owner. An entirely new life would begin and his adventures left no stone unturned.

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Thriller

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Publié par	First Edition Design Publishing
Date de parution	20 mai 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781622878901
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0360€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

The Printer’s Devil

First Edition Design Publishing
Sarasota, Florida USA
The Printer’s Devil
Copyright ©2015 Mort (Sonny) Metker

ISBN 978-1622-878-89-5 PRINT
ISBN 978-1622-878-90-1 EBOOK

LCCN 2015905072

April 2015

Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com

ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns ─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r or publisher .
I dedicate this book to Mr. Wm. J. Church
The following is a true story that, intentionally, has some names and places changed, and because these changes are incorporated in my story, it becomes not a true non-fiction and it is not a pure factual story.
I am telling this as a “factional”, story for which I have described above . The Printer’s Devil however is a story truly lived by a character with a very troublesome childhood from the depths of the great depression through the ever expanding inventions of the digital age.
The Printers Devil was befriended by one of the greatest newspaper magnets this country has ever witnessed.
This story could only have taken place in the time in history that it did, and with the surrounding national labor circumstances of that period.
The story was documented by notes, pictures and records collected through the entire life of the story you are about to read.

I am not only the author of this story, I lived this story,

I survived this story and I Am the Printers Devil!!!!

I hope you enjoy this chronicle as much as I’ve enjoyed living it and writing it.

Mort (Sonny) Metker
sonnymetker@gmail.com
The Printer’s Devil
A story by: Morton (Sonny) Metker
Chapter-1
The Story Begins

It is early spring of 1935. The deep depression had crippled the United States along with many other countries around the world. The U.S. was showing, ever so slightly, vague signs of turning towards recovery. There were still long soup lines, millions out of work, and around the country, jobs were only a dream for the millions who had lost everything.
President Franklin D. Roosevelt was designing the social security act and a man named Adolph Hitler was named Chancellor of Germany. He was making loud, threatening, and war like speeches throughout Europe. People of the USA had plenty on their plates to worry them, and the future in the USA, looked very dark. This was hardly a time to enlarge a family.
On April 7 th 1935, the day before the sandstorms ravaged the Midwest causing the famous United States Dust Bowl, a lone passenger train pulled into the train station, in Youngstown Ohio. It was an early Sunday morning and it was cold.
Here, in Youngstown Ohio, on a trip from Shelbyville, Kentucky to Fort Wayne, Indiana, Nancy Metker was rushed to the hospital where she gave birth to a son. That baby boy would be me, Mort Metker Junior.
My mother, the wife of Mort Metker, Sr. had been following my father around the country from job to job. My mother’s family consisted of two daughters, my blood sister, and my half-sister, living with my grandmother, grandfather, uncle, two aunts, and two cousins, in a rented home in Ohio. My father’s family was living in Fort Wayne Indiana, and also in Akron. Ohio.
My youngest sister Jo-Ann, fathered by Mort, and my eldest sister Doris, was fathered by a man unknown to everybody except my mother. This secret, my mother took to her grave.
This was quite a dilemma for me to be born into, but I had no choice so world, here I came.
*A “Tramp Printer” was a journeyman member of a printers union who would travel around the country working where ever the printers union had work available. The union barbers had a similar perk throughout their union at that time also. These workers came to be known as “tramp printers” due to their ability to roam throughout the country at their discretion; they could work a day, pick up their pay, and tomorrow be working in another newspaper or print shop many miles away.
Since properly caring for a new born child would make it almost impossible to live in the rented rooms and cheap hotels that my father could afford, and since he needed to continue working wherever work was available, my mother and I headed for Fort Wayne, Indiana. The plan was to gather some help from the family on my father’s side, while resting and deciding what we were going to do. My father’s family flatly refused to help us once we arrived in Indiana, so we moved on to Akron, Ohio, by train, to join my mother’s ever growing family. My mother’s family, the McCaughey family, had moved to Akron from the mountains of Dubois, Pennsylvania.
When I entered the family, living in that small rented house, we were given the warm and loving acceptance the Irish are known for. To this day, I am forever grateful to my Irish side of the family.
My grandmother was a very religious person and to me, she was a saint. I remember she had a small closet where she had a religious altar complete with candles and statues of all the holiest of biblical personalities. Here she would pray for all of us, a couple times a day (time permitting). Now if we got into REAL trouble, she would light a candle. You knew it was serious if the candles were burning in Mom’s closet.
We called my Grandmother, Mom, and I loved her with all my heart. I guess I thought she was preferential toward me above all the other siblings. I am sure the others thought the same about themselves. Now that is a great woman that can handle that chore.
Although she did not ever, (as long as I can remember anyway), have a tooth in her head, she smoked like a freight train, and to this day, I still think she was the most beautiful, loving woman God ever put on this earth. I can still see her squint her face tight, when one of us would swear. She didn’t have to say a word, the squint told you that she was hurt from that vulgar, immoral or whatever wrong came out of your mouth. No one ever wanted to hurt Mom. She never spanked us. She would just look so damn sorrowful over her glasses, you just felt very sorry.
My grandfather, Otto Lindberg McCaughey, was a brick mason and a powerhouse in a small package. He carried the nick name of “Little Beaver” due to his tenacity on the heavy job of laying brick and stone. My uncle, Gene McCaughey, was a happy-go-lucky drunk and worked with my grandfather when they could find work. Gene was also a great story teller, especially after a few drinks. I remember when the weather would get the least bit cold, and I was in front of any crowd of people, he would just blurt out, “Sonny, cold weather is coming; you better find yourself a fat woman or get a long haired dog”. This was his attempt to embarrass me. It worked every time. Gene had a lot of sayings and stories about life’s surprises. I still carry many of those with me and reflect back on them often.
My two aunts, Esther, who had a daughter named Donna Jean and Loraine, who had a son named Donald, were both unmarried women. Each of these aunts had the greatest sense of humor. They could make you laugh no matter how serious or bad the problem facing you was. To hear them laugh brought a chuckle from the most serious person.

When my mother and her two sisters would start to tell an off color story, and they told many, I can still see my grandmother heading for the closet. We may have been short on money, but we sure made up for it with love, laughter and happy stories.
After a period of time, my father returned to Akron, gathered up all his family, and moved to Indianapolis, Indiana. Here he rented a house and went to work in an advertising print shop. After Indiana, I can remember living in Louisville, Kentucky, and Knoxville, Tennessee. There were other places I know we moved in and out of very quickly. I really didn’t remember the names of many of these towns.
During this time my parents had two more boys, Robert Eugene Metker and Richard Otto Metker, both born in different cities. I do remember one night sitting in a beer joint, with my father and my mother. My father tipped his hat back on his head, which he had a habit of doing when he got a Little tipsy, and told my mother that he had a tip on a job where he could make a bunch of money as a foreman of a commercial printing shop. As the night wore on, a plan was developed.
Soon after, my father was working at the job he described, eventually saving some money and buying a home. I’m not too sure where the “home” was, but the next morning my father headed one way and we headed another by bus. Where do you suppose the five of us headed? If you said grandma’s house you were right. When my grandma saw us returning she headed for the closet again.
It wasn’t too long before my father returned to Akron. Only now he was here because he had developed a large tumor on his neck and had to have surgery to have it removed. He promised everyone if he came out of this operation he would not leave again.
He also promised he’d stop drinking. The surgery went well. The tumor was benign. The drinking stopped and things certainly improved.
All six of us moved just outside of Morgantown, West Virginia, where I started first grade. First, second and third grades were all in one room. I didn’t have much time to make many friends because before long we were moving again. This time we headed back to Akron, to a rented house on the West side of town.
My father’s brother, (my uncle), had made it big in Akron, Ohio. He and my grandfather on my father’s side were home builders in Akron. My grandfather