Cardinal Scale founder was an innovative businessman from an early age

As you know, I love going back in time. I enjoy hearing stories of long ago and what life was like in the olden days. Bless his heart, W.H. Perry Jr. took the time to write his lifetime memories, and occasionally I will pick up one of his books and take a trip down memory lane with him. He did such a great job of detailing everyday happenings. I would like to share a few with you.

Many of us know that we live in a wonderful time, when we have electricity and many modern conveniences. Alas, that was not the case in the “good ole days.” Bill (W.H. stood for William Henry, but I don’t think he’d mind going by Bill in this story.) tells of playing baseball in the middle of wide Pennsylvania Street, between Third and Fourth streets. Their games were often interrupted by ice wagons making their rounds to each and every home. With only one ice plant in town, the Interurban Ice Co., in the northeast part of town held a monopoly, as each household needed a block of ice to keep food cold. The custom wagons were pulled by mules. As they approached each house, there would be a card in the window or on the door with numbers printed so the deliveryman would see the number and cut a portion of ice to match the number. Most folks ordered 5, 10, 15 or 25 pounds of ice. The lady of the house would make sure her card was in the screen of the front door. The ice man would score a 300-pound block of ice with an ice pick so it would break into the size needed. He used ice tongs to carry the ice to the house.

Bill said the iceman had a leather jacket to protect his back from the heavy blocks of ice as he slung them over his shoulder. There were always small slivers of ice left on the floor of the wagon after chipping out the block and while the ice was being delivered inside the house. The kids would rush to the wagon to grab those wonderful slivers to put on their tongues.

The ice man would come back and shoo the kids away. In the meantime, the mule would automatically move to the next house without the driver even stepping in the wagon. Having made the same stop day after day, the mules knew when to stop and when to go.

Bill recalled that the block of ice would be set inside the family’s ice box. There was a small shallow pan under the block of ice to catch the water as it melted. The pan had to be regularly emptied, which was a chore Bill’s mom and dad would forget. As a result, water would run all over the floor and have to be mopped up.

So Bill’s dad decided to fix the problem. He drilled a hole in the floor and put a funnel in the hole to allow the water to go underneath the house. Bill, being about 4 or 5, marveled at his dad’s ingenuity.

Bill and his friends later loved to play tennis, but Webb City did not have a tennis court, so the neighborhood boys took the situation into their own hands and built their own tennis court on a vacant lot on the east side of Pennsylvania Street. He said they would play tennis for hours. That may be why Bill and his wife, Marion, in later years would donate money for the city to build tennis courts in King Jack Park.

Bill was an entrepreneur, starting at an early age. The family did not have much money, and Bill was always figuring out a way to earn a little cash. His mother taught him to bake. He’d make gingerbread, frost it and sell it door to door while it was still warm. He started a little stand where he sold pop and candy bars. He would buy a case of flavored pop, 24 in a case for 80 cents, and the candy bars at the same price. He would sell them for 5 cents each and double his money. He named it Ye Olde Poppe Stand.

One wintry day, Bill decided to go out shoveling snow to earn some money. One contrary old lady agreed to pay him 10 cents to clear about 50 feet of sidewalk. When the job was finished she said Bill had misunderstood her – she did not want her sidewalk cleaned. He did not have nice memories of that lady!

Bill tried his hand at selling magazines door to door – Pictorial Review, Liberty, Grit, Ladies’ Home Journal, etc. He also sold White Cloverine Salve, which healed the smallest cut to anything else that needed healing. He felt he was doing something great for mankind!

Herrod’s Grocery store, during the Depression, would hire boys to put flyers in every mailbox on Saturday morning to announce the sales of the day. Bill was paid 50 cents to get up at 4 a.m. to distribute his stack of flyers. One cold morning, the other boys went out in the chats and burned all their flyers instead of delivering them. Bill told his dad, and his dad went to talk to Al Herrod. His dad talked Al into letting him deliver the flyers all over town for $2.50, which was welcome money to a family suffering from the Depression.

Another moneymaker for Bill was when he played in the city band. He received two dollars to play from 8 to 10 every Friday night at the bandstand in Memorial Park. They also marched in parades and once a year would play at the T.B. Hospital. They practiced on the third floor of the Roney building (8 S. Main St). So the young man who felt he didn’t play the clarinet very well, played anyway in the city band from 1925 to 1942. The band was disbanded because of the war. Bill said he never played his clarinet again after that.

What wonderful memories Bill wrote concerning growing up in Webb City, of which I’ve only touched on a few.