A Fastidious European Becomes an American Do-It-Yourselfer — 1939

The working mechanism inside an American toilet tank, ca. 1939.

The working mechanism inside an American toilet tank, ca. 1939.

When my father got to America at the age of 35, he had never so much as held a hammer in his hand.  In Germany, educated people like him hired someone to do household repairs.  In Philadelphia, Johannes shared a big old rented house with relatives and money was very tight, so it was a disaster when the toilet in the house developed a leak. Johannes asked one of his new American friends to recommend a plumber who could do the repair cheaply.  The friend told him not to call a plumber.  “Go to the hardware store first,” the friend said, “and see if they can help you.”

Ten members of the Hoeber family shared this house in 1939 before most of them had jobs in the new country. The house at 6701 Cresheim Road is in better condition today than it was then.

Ten members of the Hoeber family shared this house in 1939 before most of them had jobs in the new country. The house at 6701 Cresheim Road is in better condition today than it was then.

Bellet’s hardware store, around the corner on Germantown Avenue, was packed with tools and screws and nails and parts and housewares in great array.  Johannes asked Mr. Bellet if he could possibly help him with a leaky toilet.  Mr. Bellet walked him to a counter where there was a toilet with the tank partially cut away to show the flush valves and float mechanism and other innards that made the thing work.  Mr. Bellet asked Johannes to show him where the water was leaking, and Johannes pointed to the connection between two brass and copper parts.  “Here’s how you fix it,” said Mr. Bellet, and started unscrewing nuts and disassembling the parts of the mechanism.  After a few moves, Mr. Bellet was able to pull out a small black rubber washer from a connecting joint.  Holding it up triumphantly, he said cheerfully, “Here’s what you need!” Out of the chaos of a cabinet with dozens of small wooden drawers Mr. Bellet pulled a matching washer and handed it to Johannes.  “Do you now know how to put it back together?” he asked.   When Johannes responded with a dubious grimace, Mr. Bellet led him back to the mysterious toilet mechanism on the counter. Deftly but deliberately, Mr. Bellet re-installed the little black washer and patiently instructed Johannes at each step of the way.  “Understand now?” asked Mr. Bellet.  “I think so,” said Johannes.  “How much do I owe you?”  “Five cents,” said Mr. Bellet, beaming.  Johannes was not the first immigrant he had taught to repair a toilet.

Bellet's Hardware closed years ago, but it probably looked a lot like Bruskin's, an ancient hardware store still operating today in South Philadelphia.

Bellet’s Hardware closed years ago, but it probably looked a lot like Bruskin’s, an ancient hardware store still operating in South Philadelphia.

Johannes nearly ran back to the house on Cresheim Road to try out his newly-learned skills and his newly-bought washer on the recalcitrant toilet.  Remembering Mr. Bellet’s instructions pretty accurately, he carefully dismantled the mechanism, located the worn, slimy old washer, replaced it with the sturdy new one and put the thing back together.  He turned the water back on — no leak!  He flushed — it worked!

That evening, with the rest of his relatives gathered around the dinner table, Johannes regaled them with his adventure with Mr. Bellet and the black washer.  “This is a wonderful country,” he said. “Five cents for a washer and five dollars worth of free advice!”  And he later taught his kids that in America you don’t call the plumber, you do it yourself.

Johannes U. Hoeber, when he wasn't repairing a toilet.

Johannes U. Hoeber, when he wasn’t repairing a toilet, 1939.

Johannes and his son Tom repair a door at the family's house at 612 West Cliveden St., Philadelphia, 1953

Johannes and his son Tom repair a door at the family’s house at 612 West Cliveden St., Philadelphia, 1953

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