The California Job Case

My sisters were both named for popular songs of the day. On the other hand, Grandmother wanted me to be named Harry Anthony III but Mother wouldn’t stand for that so I got the mundane moniker of Kenneth Allen.

But in spite of Daddy’s gentle nature, serious malfeasance by the children sometimes called for a talk with the man of the house. These sessions, I think, were much more feared than the hickory switch.

One of those talks was needed following one of my misanthropic activities. My job at the paper on Saturdays was to throw in the type that had been set for the previous week’s paper. We printed only the front and back pages (the inside was boiler plate -- pre-printed articles from Western Paper company) but considering all the type was set by hand, letter by letter, it took considerable time to put it all back in the proper compartments of the case -- known as a California job case.

The California job case was designed for speed so the letters of the alphabet were not simply placed in order. The most-used letters -- the e, n, s, etc. -- were closest and had larger compartments. A typesetter, or anyone throwing in the type, was supposed to be able to do their job without looking at the location of the letters.

An average typesetter could set a stick an hour. That would probably be four inches or less in regular column width. By comparison, a Linotype operator in later years was expected to set at least a galley (one full 20 to 2l inch column) of type an hour and most were faster. Today’s computer operators are maybe twice that fast.

One Saturday my dad had gone out for his regular afternoon cup of coffee, leaving me to throw in type. I could have been out playing with my friends as most ten-year-olds would have been so I resented having to stay cooped up in the print shop. Consequently, I began idly tossing each letter wherever it happened to land -- in retaliation for my ignominy in being left to work.

Father came back and went to work setting type for the upcoming paper and, being an accomplished typesetter, it was not necessary for him to look at the letters as he set them. After finishing a stick, however, he glanced at his handiwork and of course saw just a jumble of letters. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened and you know who spent several minutes with Daddy and a talk. I then consumed several hours going through the type case putting the misplaced letters in their proper compartments.