One of the first jobs I had as a teenager in the mid 1970s was a busboy at a place near St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin called “The Windjammer Supper Club”. It was on the south side of U. S. Highway 8 not far from the intersection of Wisconsin Highway 35. https://www.loopnet.com/Listing/18417063/1984-US-Highway-8-Saint-Croix-Falls-WI/
I was about 16 years old. I had just gotten my drivers license, but did not have my own car. I drove my dad’s Plymouth Fury III about 15 miles to work. I worked in the evenings because I was going to Luck Public High School during the day. They only had one busboy on duty at any one time. My job was not only to clear the tables of food, but steam clean the dinnerware, set the tables, take the empty bar liquor bottles to the dumpster, mop the kitchen floor, and crack the shells of frozen Alaskan crab. I rarely saw the owners, but when they showed up on the nights I was working, they usually yelled at me if they didn’t see me busy. Even if there was nothing to do, I was supposed to be mopping the floor.
One of my tasks before people showed up for dinner was to crack the shell of frozen crab. I used a mallet to crack the shell, then put them back into the boxes and back into the freezer. This made it easier for the diners to get to the crab meat.
The waitresses would call me into the dining room when a table needed to be cleared. It was depressing to see so much food that was wasted by the diners. Once every evening, the bartender would have the busboy take all his empty liquor bottles to the dumpster. I had heard that other busboys would find a place in the back room, then empty out the few drops in each bottle to get enough to get themselves drunk. A that time in my life, I was not interested in alcohol and I thought it wasn’t a good idea since it was illegal to drink hard liquor at my age.
When the dinner rush was over, busboys were allowed to order anything off the menu for free. My go-to meal was beef au juus. I had never had it before working this job. My next frequent order was grilled cheese.
One evening, I left my shift after midnight and drove the Plymouth home. The next morning my dad started screaming at me about damage done to the left rear taillight. I had not noticed it when I left work because it was dark, I was tired, and why would I think of examining the car, anyway! Apparently the car was the victim of a hit-and-run. My dad reported it to the police so he could get insurance coverage.
In Wisconsin in the 1970s, it was important to put special ‘snow tires’ on the rear of the car to get better traction in the snow. This was before the invention of all-weather radial tires. When going to work, I often took country side roads because I could go whatever speed I wanted. One night I was on a road I was not familiar with. There had been a large snowstorm the previous day and all side roads were covered with snow. I wasn’t paying attention until I realized I was coming to an unmarked ‘T’ intersections. I hit the brakes, but the car just skidded and hit a snowbank flush with the right side of the Plymouth. I walked to the nearest farm and had the car pulled out of the ditch by a tractor. There was only a couple of pock marks in the car body as a result. I don’t think my dad noticed. In fact, I don’t think I have ever told this story to anyone, before!
If anyone has an old brochure or photo of the front of the Windjammer Supper Club, please let me know. I would like to include it in this post.
