A printing plant manager, a secretary-typist, and a lunch room short-order cook. Out of a Vernon, California printing plant that employed over 500 people in many capacities, there were only three who were considered Negroes at Arcata Graphics in 1970. The dust of the Civil Rights demonstrations was settling and Life was moving forward.

People were still looking for jobs, just as they did before the Civil Rights Era. The Los Angeles Times still maintained job listings in their classified ads as "Men Only" and "Women Only". The disparities of pay for men compared with women were still obvious. But the racial divisions were gone. Any person who wanted to work in the designated position could do so. All that was necessary was to have the skills needed to perform the job and be the best of the applicants for the position.

Ernie was the printing plant manager. There were only three in the entire plant. It was a distinction for him to have reached that position in many ways. Still, there were snickers about his abilities. However, he was treated with respect. He got things done and ran his section

Willie was the short-order cook in the cafeteria. The personnel on the plant floor usually brought their lunches from home. But if you had the cost of a meal in your pocket, you were welcome to dine there. There wasn't a lot of conversation about Willie. He was focused on cooking the food to match the customer's request. He refused no orders, even when it meant the clean-up for him created a huge amount of work. For him, the desire was to please his customers.

Millie was the White hostess and cashier in the cafeteria. She was well over 55, and a White woman from somewhere below the Mason-Dixon line. She also went out of her way to make certain the customers were happy and comfortable with what the cafeteria had to offer. She also looked out for Willie. She was gracious and charming. She made an extra effort to make certain all of her "customers" were comfortable and had what they needed for a comfortable meal. It hurt her when she saw Willie tasked with extra work when someone was insensitive to his kindness. Millie and Willie were a great pair.

And then there was me, the 20-something secretary-typist who worked in the Manufacturing Planning Department. There was one other secretary, Helen, a mid-western White woman over 40 who worked for the head of the department. And then there was the male White clerk, in addition to the other eight Planners and the Scheduler whose work needed to be typed and distributed. It was easy to get along with all of the department. When it seemed that someone had a bit of a chip on their shoulder, it wasn't discussed. We simply did the work we were supposed to do and did not go into any extra conversation. There was respect for one another, even good-natured rivalry about who's Z was going to be the best buy or how to manage those color keys. We stayed focused on the important matters - getting the work done with excellent quality and on time.

Work at Arcata was good. Everyone knew why they were there: They needed a job in order to pay their bills and support their families. They needed to be mindful of the surroundings so that the work could be done safely and expeditiously; so that there were no costly overruns and nothing that needed to be redone.

There was a more than ample parking lot. The Finance Department counseled about  ways to finance not only auto purchases but also supplements for education costs based on performance.

Testing and screening, interviews, and hiring were done with an even hand. Someone in the HR department was excellent. The atmosphere in departments was favorable in addition to camaraderie across departments. It was an old fashioned business. Everyone knew their duties and responsibilities and lived up to those standards. The reward was a good place to work and one of the best printing businesses around. Customers included Westways and Free Masons. It was a quality printing business, not a corner store print shop. There was collaboration with the Marketing and Art Departments in order to woo new clients and more business.

Overall, it wasn't race that made it one of the best places to work. It was the focus on hiring the best for the job and providing resources to induce the best to become even better.

So why did I leave if things were so good there. Because my lifelong goal could never be obtained at the printing plant. This was in spite of that day when trying to determine who was the best for the situation. That test was to determine whose speed and accuracy was best between the principal secretary in Manufacturing Planning and the secretary typist. It wasn't a matter of tenure. It wasn't a matter of race. Age was not the issue. It was simply who had the ability to support the nine planners and one scheduler without being overwhelmed and also get the work done quickly and accurately. It was mine; Helen was transferred to another department.

But my goal was not to type correspondence and scheduling reports for eight people at a printing company, no matter how excellent the conditions of the workplace. It was to become a legal secretary. (Actually, it was to become a lawyer but I wasn't going to tell anyone that secret - not even family.) The only way to realize the legal secretary goal happen was to change jobs and, again, prove myself the best of those competing for the position in a law firm.

Ernie and Willie had made it to their aeries. I was just beginning to build my own. It was time for me to take flight in order to create my own nest. The important issue is all three of us were identified as the only three Negro employees in the company and all of us had proved ourselves to be more than qualified based on our skills and abilities.

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A caravan of caribou resting in the northern mountains of Canada. Author: Michel Loiselle