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Reuben Lindstrom

4/14/2014

19 Comments

 
I hadn’t told the editor I already knew where Reuben lived.  My good friend Charles “Charlie" Miller had mentioned he was Reuben Lindstrom’s landlord.  I couldn’t believe my good fortune.  Charlie said Reuben lived in a garage on his land in the town of Sigel, a few miles north of Wisconsin Rapids. 

So, I drove to the garage a number of times but Reuben was either not present or he preferred not to answer the door.  However, I continued to drive there at least twice a week.  One Saturday afternoon, the garage’s personnel door finally opened almost too deliberately.  Electrical pulses coursed up and down my spine.  All I could see was the interior darkness.  Blackness.  Maybe I should just get out of there, I thought.  

And in the darkness of the garage, there he stood.  I had never been that close to this unconventional man.   He was taller than I, much thinner, and far dirtier than I ever imagined a person could possibly be.  His matted and long, thick, and tangled, dirty, greasy hair reminded me of steel wool stretched and tangled between a couple of gnarly, greasy rollers in some macabre machine built to perform strange,  untold effects.  He had a filthy full beard and mustache. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

I told him his landlord was my friend and I was a reporter for the Wisconsin Rapids Tribune and was interested in doing a human interest story involving him and his bike. 

“Come in,” he said.

Dare I?  I did so.  Cautiously.  The garage’s interior had a peculiar odor, cousin to the aroma at our city dump.  There was no such thing as a chair or table or couch inside that garage.  I recall his bike being there and that he immediately sat down on the floor and looked up, his eyes intense.  “What do you want to know?”

“First of all,” I said, “why do you live in this garage?”

“Beats nothing.”

“Two, why do you let your hair grow long and don’t wash?”

“I could die if I cut my hair or washed.  Dirt’s natural and it keeps human diseases from penetrating the skin and entering my body.”

Before I had the chance to ask another question, he started relating his life history, about how his older brother who’d been killed in WWI prompted Reuben’s mother to give him most of the money she saved in addition to a loaf of bread, some sandwich meat, and a large bag of cookies.  She told him to walk north and keep walking in that direction until that war was over.  “And don’t come back until then,” she warned.

“I obeyed her,” he proudly said. 

Reuben was ahead of his time, heading off to Canada in order to avoid conscription many years before young men of my generation avoided the draft by taking off for Canada, avoiding Vietnam service. 

One story Reuben told me stood out among all the rest.  He ventured on to a Canadian trapper’s private property.  Apparently, the trapper’s dogs had just killed one of the trapper’s children.  Reuben said he thought the man cared more for the dogs than he did his dead child.  Recalling that event strongly affected Reuben because he stopped talking and didn’t resume speaking for a long while.  I became uncomfortable. 

He, however, continued.  Returning to the states after the Armistice was signed, Reuben attended an auto mechanics school in Nebraska.  Later, I learned he was most adept in mechanical matters.  His personal necessities became the foundations for his inventions. 

Although this trained automotive mechanic chose to exclusively ride a bicycle for the rest of his life, he powered the two wheeler with a small gasoline engine.  Whenever he required its aid, which was seldom, he’d pull the rope and start the engine and off he’d go. 

He also “rode the rails.”  Reuben welded two flat steel pieces on each end of a telescoping steel rod.  He then drilled holes in those flat pieces and inserted two large U-bolts in them.  He secured one U-bolt end to a stud he had welded to a flanged steel wheel that turned easily on greased bearings.  He secured the other end of the rod’s U-bolt to the bike’s top cross bar. 

Our photographer took pictures of his placing the flanged wheel on one track and his bicycle wheels on the opposing track.  When he mounted the bike, Reuben leaned slightly toward the flanged wheel, a move which he said helped make the bike more stable.  I believe that’s the first time I saw him smile.   

Reuben used pedal power while on the tracks, but if there was a stout wind and it was in the proper direction, he’d fly down the tracks with the aid of a sail.  “I could go forty miles an hour using that sail,” he claimed.  All in all, I figured he carried an extra eighty pounds of gear on his bike. 

Later, I interviewed railroad officials and asked them about what they thought of Reuben’s railroad bike invention.  They weren’t too happy with his traveling on their tracks and told me they would have him arrested if that was at all possible.  Apparently, it was not possible.  The newspaper received many positive reader comments regarding the Reuben series.  The last I heard of him, Reuben had moved to the Portage, Wisconsin, area.  After that, I heard no more. 

I liked writing human interest stories, many of which I worked on at night.  However, I had a difficult time getting my daily city and county stories out in time.  The paper was sometimes held up while I worked on a piece about a car accident or some local political matter.  I was never satisfied with my phrasings and continually edited and re-edited them.  I continually yanked pieces of paper out of that typewriter, replacing them with fresh sheets and started once again tapping out words.  Sentences had to sound right and meet my need for a cadence that I not only heard but had to feel.  As a reporter meeting deadlines, I was a failure and knew it.   I was no Hemingway or Doherty nor would I ever be. 

I recalled how much I enjoyed being a classroom teacher.   I decided to return to college teaching, but I knew I’d have to go on for my doctorate because most colleges and universities wanted even their lowly assistant professors to have Ph. D’s (Piled higher and Deeper).

After I made application to the UW-Madison English department, I was accepted in their doctoral program.  However, I had to put food on the table in the meantime and turned to UW-Stevens Point in order to check out the possibilities of teaching there temporarily.  No openings.  The head of the English department told me there were two vacant English teacher positions open at the time, one in a high school near Milwaukee and the second position at the state prison in Waupun.  I applied for both, had my interviews on the same day, and because Waupun’s prison school and its students were so different, I thought I could get ideas in that place for future short stories and some poetry, as well.  Besides, I’d only have to work there for a short while.   Thus, I quit my job at the newspaper probably one day before the editor would’ve fired me.   

To this very day, whenever I write, I invariably edit and re-edit and re-edit some more until I’m almost satisfied.  I’m hardly ever satisfied.  Even with this piece. 

19 Comments
Suzie Jag
4/14/2014 01:36:17 am

what year did you have this interview, George? Your blogs are so interesting.

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George link
4/14/2014 01:39:04 am

Thanks for your kind words. I believe the stories about Reuben came out in 1968. Thanks for asking.

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Suzanne Dampier
4/15/2014 01:57:52 am

I wonder if the Mc Millan Library in Wisconsin Rapids still has a microfiche machine with Daily Tribune archives. I'd love to look up the articles next time I'm in town.

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George link
4/15/2014 04:17:31 am

Hi, Sue. If McMillian has done what many other libraries have done, they've moved everything to computer programs. You might want to check with them in an email.

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kathleen nimtz rinaldo
6/23/2014 06:47:48 am

A friend from grade school posted a photo on FaceBook and I thought it was of Reuben ..... someone else responded with his last name and a different twist on his story that would have him freezing to death in 1956 but I was sure I saw him with his bicycle in Wisconsin Rapids in the mid to late 60's .... I like your writing and was glad to read your "take" on Reuben. Thanks for sharing it!

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Randy Jack
9/19/2015 06:07:59 pm

He was around in the 60s, I spoke to him when I was young in the mid 60s era.......

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Dave (Mickey) Dunn
8/30/2014 09:07:31 am

I lived on 4th Ave. in the Rapids back in the 50s and early 60s. Reuben used to ride past our house several times a week. My dad thought he looked like Gabby Heys. I recall that he had a device that let him ride on the RR tracks and there was a rumor that he hid it from the RR workers once he got to town. Just one of a couple of other eccentric individuals that I remember from back then.

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Dave Dunn
9/11/2014 09:03:11 am

Just did some research on Reuben. Yes he was unconventional but I don't think he was a draft dodger as some might have thought. Through Ancestry.com, I found a copy of his draft registration card on-line. Although the was living and working in Canada, he filled out his draft registration in June of 1918. The war ended in November. He claimed NO exemption from the draft. He did the same in 1942 when he was 45 years old. Unconventional he was and sadly, misunderstood as many creative people are.

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Randy Jack
9/19/2015 06:04:41 pm

As a 1st grader maybe 2nd,..I would wait for Reuben to ride down the railroad tracks by our home....I would catch him every once in a while and I remember once, he stopped and spoke to me and with me....His bicycle was amazing to someone my age....his long hair, beard as I remember as grey has stuck with me...I believe he impressed me so much that he set the path that I was to follow my entire life...one as an inventor, with patents, and products in Walmart and other retail stores...I have a copy of his patent on file, as well as photos of him in files on my computers and also on my phone......his life was so unique....and at 56 I feel he has been with me pretty much my whole life......I would like to find some one with the series that was in the Tribune about him....I remember seeing the picture and reading it when I was younger........any help please contact me rjack131313@yahoo.com and use his name as the subject............thank you........

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Randy
10/2/2015 03:34:52 am

George, I emailed you my phone number,in response to your email.... can you call me....thanks Randy

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David M. Dunn
10/2/2015 12:41:23 pm

George,

Your name looked familiar. Turns out you graduated from Assumption High with my brother Bill.

Hope all is well with you.
Dave Dunn

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Randy Jack
10/20/2015 11:36:57 am

George: Were you involved with the full page spread of photos and writings on him?,....That is what I am trying to find, Thanks Randy

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randy jack link
11/24/2015 10:28:41 am

Found the article on him with pictures.......wish I could upload the photos here but not able to...........

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Barry Herbert Parmeter, M.A.
12/26/2016 07:31:55 pm

'Smully'!

Yup! Reuben got 'Honorable Mention' in my Mother's 'Eulogy' at St. Vincent's for, after she did everything possible to avoid contact with Reuben who was going door-to-door for handouts, he, unintentionally and even unknowgly, elicited from specific fears she had of Reuben deep down within herself the courage to overcome them and invite him into our house, sit him down in our kitchen, make him a fresh pot of coffee and packed up a half pound of coffee grounds to take with him to 'Bum's Jungle' across Spring Street near Potter's Field by the GB&W Railroad Tracks along with a hearty breakfast of orange juice, scrambled eggs, toast and four sandwiches and some fruit to go at a time when my Dad was serving in Shanghai and we ourselves struggled for food!

Yup! Reuben brought out the best in my Mom! And in me! And many others, not the least of which is yourself, eh, George?

Barry Herbert Parmeter, M.A.
Still Full of Sap!
Still Green!
(RSV Psalm 92: 14)

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Barry Herbert Parmeter, M.A.
12/26/2016 10:30:14 pm

BTW, George!

That's my story and I'm stickin to it: 'As is'! No edits! No re-edits! Ha! Ha!

What ya see is what ya get!

Of course, unlike you, I have no 'deadlines' other than my own!

I have never known 'Deadlines' to be your 'forte', eh?

So, be true to the 'Sui generis' you have always been to the dismay of those many 'Expedient, Politically Correct, Pseudo-Icons' whose ''unusual, unintegrated details' become the 'Whole, but distorted, Picture'!

Take the cash in your pocket, a loaf of bread and 'whatever grabs you" and newspapers and others will compete to accommodate your deadlines! (Big Smile!)

Yup! You jest stick with 'Yer Old Sea Daddy' here, 'Smully' and I will teach you 'New Tricks'! LOL

Barry

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Norm Abler
12/30/2016 02:45:24 pm

Yea, I remember Rubin riding through Wisconsin rapids during the 1940's and fifties. The thing about him that impressed me the most (next to his unruly, unkempt hair) was the way he made the spokes in his bicycle into fan blades which he could use to propel his bike when the wind was blowing from either side. He could adjust the pitch direction of each individual fan blade according to which side the wind was coming from; and the pitch amplitude in accordance with what the wind speed was.

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Pam Brusoe Steinke
2/28/2020 08:55:54 am

I lived on Brown Street for most of my childhood and saw Reuben riding by on his bike all the time. We’d cry out “There goes Reuben!” And we’d run to see him. Sometimes he would stop and hold out candy bars to us and smile. He was just an interesting addition to our neighborhood.

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Toni Hughes
2/28/2020 12:36:52 pm

I lived on 9th ave north and remember Reuben coming by on his bike every once in a while he would stop and say hi when I was outside playing and I would share my snacks if my mom saw him coming she always gave him a snack that was like 1968 or 69 I was about 5 then

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Randy Jack link
2/28/2020 03:10:16 pm

Toni and Pam, thank you for the stories, I have Reuben Patent for a Wind Driven Tractor hanging in my office, blown up to a 3x2 foot poster and framed. I remember him more than anything else in my childhood.

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