“My Greatest Work Hasn’t Happened Yet”

Ken Kennedy

I asked my brother, Kenny, to trace some of his work history while growing up in Braidwood.  He responded with this story, a story that I hadn’t completely known about. He still conducts his business along Route 53 in Braidwood, adjacent to the Polka Dot restaurant. Along with the opinion of many others, I consider him an artist and a master craftsman.

Early Work

From age 7 through early high school freshman and sophomore years, I delivered papers for the Joliet Herald News.  My first real job was when I worked for Johnny Rossi’s Sinclair Gas Station at “Alt66” and Mitchell Street. I was about 13 years old. About the same time, Dad bought a 1930 Model A Ford 2-door Sedan for me at the 4th Ave Auto Sales in Joliet. It was on the 4th Ave., one block east of South Chicago Street. 

(About that time, Ma made me take trombone lessons at the Joliet Conservatory taught by George Hendricks for about a year. But soon I found out I wasn’t very savvy with that longhorn.) 

I drove that old Ford to that Sinclair Station after school and weekends and was paid $0.25 an hour. One of the local policemen, Tootie Pomato, warned me to be careful because he knew I was too young to have a license. He was right. I thought I would take a joy ride before work and I rear ended a 1957 red and white Ford 2-door.

Dad found out what I did and he got fairly mad at me. But he contacted the fellow I hit and paid him for the damage. It was very minor but I screwed up and dad bailed me out.

Working at Rossi’s with Jerry Butz and Glenn Logsdon was the beginning of a lifelong friendship with Jerry. Pumping gas, changing and patching tires, oil changes, washing every windshield, and checking oil and fan belts were mandatory to John Rossi’s rules.

Swearing as an Art

With my newly acquired knowledge, I would eventually move on to a better employment at McElroy’s Standard Station on Old Route 66 and Main Street starting at $1.00 per hour.  I was to follow the same rules of service for customers. Plus, it was almost expected that I learn how to professionally swear and cuss. Just in order to fit in. 

I had learned this swearing profession years earlier by going with Dad to that station from about 5 years old, so it turned out years later that I was a natural. (More on that later.) 

My coworkers and I pulled off some real shenanigans at those stations such as: fire extinguishers fights and de-pantsing Mike Grygiel and locking him outside on a Sunday morning so all churchgoers could see him. Owners Kenny Knorr and Joe McElroy – both good guys – were both hotheads but were justified at being upset with us.

When I was 13 in 1962, (before my gas station employments) Dad took me out to meet a person who did auto body work, the son of dad’s school teacher for 8th grade. He was Dale Milton, a man who would turn out to be my mentor in body work.

He stood 6’5”, very talented and could swear so well that he made it an art, actually poetic.  I loved it. He said I could work for him cleaning up sweeping fetching tools for a dollar a day. I lasted 2 days and told dad “the hell with that.” That’s when the gas stations looked much better.

The swearing experience I learned isn’t something to be proud of, but on the right days I consider myself to be an ace, just like my heroes. It’s the explanation point after the sentence of just how *** **** mad you are. Get me mad and I’ll show you. 

Note: I always watch my language around women. Some women swear and I don’t like that. There is a time and place for everything. And tattoos are not cool, especially on women. Only on military and old shipmen who circled Cape Horn. My code of beliefs.

Work and School Schedule

When I went to high school, I got a job at Ed Cromp’s Marathon Gas Station on Reed Road and I-55. “EBB” was a great guy. I worked with his two sons, Buddy (Alvin) and Danny. I would get out of school, rush home and start working at 4:30 or 5:00 PM until 10:00 PM. Very little time to study or homework. That is part of why I did terrible in high school and I was an avid model car builder. Those things were more important to me. I worked at Cromp’s for about two years.

I learned early on at that point that I wasn’t college material. I wasn’t very good or coordinated at sports like my brother. 

Junior year, drove dad’s 6-Wheeler GMC part-time during school, then summers. In between that and my senior year, I got a job at Jimmie Warriner’s Shell Gas Station in Wilmington on Baltimore and Main Street. I worked there about a year while still driving dad’s truck hauling coal to Interlake Industries in Rockdale. Eventually, I hauled black top and gravel for Klover Trucking. I got really good at spreading road mix gravel, setting the tailgate chains just right to be able to put that gravel down at 2 inches 3 inches or 4 inches.

Work for Myself

After graduation, BJ Fitzpatrick and I went to the Arsenal to apply for a job. While talking and taking a test, I realized that with that job and demands, someone was going to tell me what I had to do every day. I got up, wadded my application, and threw it in the garbage can.  That wasn’t going to happen.

Backing up to high school days, when I was a sophomore, Dad saw I had some talent with cars and for paint work. He bought a spray gun (which I still have) and a used air compressor. He did more for me than I ever realized. That was my start for life – my college, my career – so when time allowed, I painted and made some cash while still building model cars. 

I used dad’s garage to work in and started striping and lettering. Very crude at first but nobody was around to show me or answer a question. Just car magazines. I was going nowhere and very discouraged, but I still had that desire to do something. 

About 1968, a good friend, Jimmy Long (Jane’s cousin) was going out to Tucson to see a friend before going into the army. I scraped up some cash and went with him. Then bussed over to San Diego and met new friends for life. Gone for about 3 weeks. 

Got back home, I started doing some body work on Corvettes in that old garage.  Some things that I did (a few) were pretty good. Then, I got hooked up with a guy building a monument at that time. I taught myself (with dad’s help) how to weld. No pay but I kept trying. About 1971, Roger Patterson and I bought an old building from Ray Favero. We fixed it up and started doing conversion vans for Ted Benson Dodge in Joliet between 1972 and 1979. Roger and I split up about 1975.

By then I was doing a lot of custom motorcycle work and paint jobs and going to California about one or two times a year. I was making new friends of people that I had always read about in magazines. On to the West Coast, going to Colorado with Dale, making friends today and for life. Many are gone now.

Not Done Yet

Now and then I have people tell me how good I was, and I tell them I wasn’t all that great. The fact is, I always keep the door to my shop locked until I correct all the mistakes I make. So when you see the project finished, it looks fairly nice. Eric, my nephew, asked me one time, “What is the greatest thing you ever accomplished?” I answer: “3 great children for my wife and me. As far as my work’s greatest accomplishment? It hasn’t happened yet.”