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My father first worked in a factory producing paper bags. Factory is a big word: there were three of them working there. One trimmed the paper on a guillotine, another applied glue and the third one put the bag together. Those were popular at the time: triangular, rectangular. My father had an accident there. I may have been four or five; I remember that Father had a bandaged finger. Later he couldn't move that finger. And then I don't know what happened, for one does not consult such things with one's children, whether he was fired or what, but one way or another he got a different job at the Wholesale Flour company.
The owner was Mr. Syrop, whose son, a medical doctor, was a dentist in Cracow. Mr. Syrop had a large flour storehouse. He didn't need many employees. My father would receive a freight-car of flour, enter it in the books and go get a neighbor saying flour needs to be brought from the station. He would hire someone with a horse and wagon to bring the flour from the station. My father only had to count the sacks and enter into the register how many sacks there were of wheat and how many of rye. He was a warehouseman of flour. When a buyer came with a list, say, 200 kilograms, my father would issue 200 kilograms. Then Syrop got sick and closed down his business. He was a rich man. He owned a whole house at the town square. He took up one floor and rented out the ground floor to storekeepers.
In 1935 my father was unemployed. In the small town of Nowy Targ it was hard to find a job.
The owner was Mr. Syrop, whose son, a medical doctor, was a dentist in Cracow. Mr. Syrop had a large flour storehouse. He didn't need many employees. My father would receive a freight-car of flour, enter it in the books and go get a neighbor saying flour needs to be brought from the station. He would hire someone with a horse and wagon to bring the flour from the station. My father only had to count the sacks and enter into the register how many sacks there were of wheat and how many of rye. He was a warehouseman of flour. When a buyer came with a list, say, 200 kilograms, my father would issue 200 kilograms. Then Syrop got sick and closed down his business. He was a rich man. He owned a whole house at the town square. He took up one floor and rented out the ground floor to storekeepers.
In 1935 my father was unemployed. In the small town of Nowy Targ it was hard to find a job.
Period
Interview
Leopold Sokolowski