Enid Lee was 15 years old when she joined the Dispatch as a copy typist in 1947, shortly after the end of World War 2 and just before the National Party came to power heralding apartheid.Now 83, Enid Fricker has fond memories of the time she spent as typist for the manager in charge of the jobbing and stationery department of the publishing company, including the traditional “whetstone”, the annual traditional printer’s party and the flyover of the “golden eagle”, slang for payday.
She had gone into “town” with her father to look for a job and the Dispatch manager, Mr Higgie, had said she could start immediately, because her predecessor was getting married.
“I said ‘can I start tomorrow?’ because my mother would worry where I am because I couldn’t call her as we didn’t have a phone.”
The jobbing department was a bustling operation then, printing letterheads, wedding invitations and invoice books.
But the hangover from the war also featured big in the consciousness of Dispatch staffers.
At Christmas time, the wife of the managing director BA Steer would distribute gifts among staff members who were not allowed to say “thank you”.
This was regarded as a mark of respect for the couple whose son had been killed in the war on Christmas Day.
She said recent stories of the paper’s move away from Caxton Street had brought the memories flooding back.
She had relished the five years she spent at the company before getting married. — rayh@dispatch.co.za
Post-war copy typist remembers good ol’ days
Now 83, Enid Fricker has fond memories of the time she spent as typist for the manager in charge of the jobbing and stationery department of the publishing company, including the traditional “whetstone”, the annual traditional printer’s party and the flyover of the “golden eagle”, slang for payday.
She had gone into “town” with her father to look for a job and the Dispatch manager, Mr Higgie, had said she could start immediately, because her predecessor was getting married.
“I said ‘can I start tomorrow?’ because my mother would worry where I am because I couldn’t call her as we didn’t have a phone.”
The jobbing department was a bustling operation then, printing letterheads, wedding invitations and invoice books.
But the hangover from the war also featured big in the consciousness of Dispatch staffers.
At Christmas time, the wife of the managing director BA Steer would distribute gifts among staff members who were not allowed to say “thank you”.
This was regarded as a mark of respect for the couple whose son had been killed in the war on Christmas Day.
She said recent stories of the paper’s move away from Caxton Street had brought the memories flooding back.
She had relished the five years she spent at the company before getting married. — rayh@dispatch.co.za
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