It took nine tailors (1948)

36 IT TOOK NINE TAILORS to get me a farm job, too. He had a sturdy frame, so he thought nothing of tackling hard work. I, on the other hand, was strictly a mass of vitamin deficiency, but I told him I would try anything for three square meals a day. Two days later Henry wired me that he had found a job for me on a neighboring farm. The next afternoon Mr. Joe Greenhalgh, my new boss, drove his wagon up to the Poughkeepsie YWCA and found me waiting for him with my trunk and my suitcase. I was wearing my best city clothes— my blue double-breasted and a derby hat. When I introduced myself, Farmer Greenhalgh's mouth dropped open and for a moment he just stared at me. Finally he shook his head and said glumly, "You don't look much like a farm hand, but maybe you'll fool me." It was pitch dark the next morning when I was awakened by a loud pounding on the door of my room. The horny fist of Farmer Greenhalgh was gently rousing me for a short day's work. I think that man must have been a sun worshiper. He greeted it every morning as it rose and he hated to see it go down at night. I stumbled out of bed, groped my way into some old clothes, and followed my boss to the cow barns. He pointed to nine cows that were waiting to be milked. "You start at this end and I'll start at the other," said Joe, "and we'll meet in the middle." I had once seen a fellow milk a cow and it had looked like a very simple job. I am still convinced that it takes no brains, but I never learned how. When Joe had milked eight cows, I was still trying to get milk out of the spigots on cow number nine. Joe saw at once that he had a cluck on his hands. He said, "I thought you were supposed to be one of those educated farmers from Cornell University." I knew then that Henry had lied to get me the job, so I said, "That's right. I went to Cornell but I don't take the course in cow milking till next semester."