James Henry Hessel

Yes, I remember Jim Hessel. I remember him in the best way I can. As a GOOD MAN! We did a whole lot of things together thru the years. I think we met when we lived about a block apart near Cleveland Metropolitan Hospital. We shared an alley (those don’t seem to exist anymore but ours did) and a garbage truck. My son Mark, at two years old, had a strange fascination with the garbage men who, when they wanted the driver to more to the next house, would loudly yell “BUCKET”! Jim, who held an equal fascination with Mark’s diction (making the “B” sound like an “F”) encouraged it at louder and louder levels. Jim denied it, but the neighbors attested to it! I remember Jim’s mother’s comment, “Now Dick, you know better than that!” Or, maybe we met at Trinity UCC which was in the same neighborhood. I was the youth group counselor but only five years older than Jim. Our congregation had a female assistant minister who was only a few years older than I and whom we liked to tease. We got her in trouble during a substitute sermon in which she extolled Jesus’ use of spittle to make a dust/spittle poultice when curing a man’s blindness. Either Jim or I or both of us said “what?” and she turned to us and said “well he did!” and proceeded to explain in greater detail the value of Jesus’ spittle. By then it was too late. We couldn’t stop giggling! I don’t remember if Rev. Bucey had any words with us about that. There were other times, I’m sure. Jim and I bought a car together. We answered an ad for a 1932 Packard and went to the seller’s address. It was an unrestored coupe with a rumble seat and was only $150! We had to have it and by pooling our money we had almost $150. Another “buyer” protested mightily, screaming “That’s not the way you do business!” The seller honored our deal and using Jim’s car, with me steering, pushed the Packard (with almost no brakes and no engine) all the way to Hinckley, with a Metro Parks police car behind Jim for the last two miles (he could not pass us until we got all three cars into my driveway!) He wished us luck and left us. It sat in my unfinished garage at my unfinished house for the next 20 years with a spray coat of primer unprotecting it from rust and children playing music on the fenders with croquet mallets. Eventually I got involved with a woman who just didn’t have a Packard owner’s soul. We needed some money, and for the first time the unthinkable got thought. “Maybe the Packard should be sold?” The leaking roof of the unfinished garage had done a number on the car. There was rust, (the primer coat was not meant to last for twenty years), the brown leather upholstery had deteriorated more, and the chromed parts looked pretty bad. The house was no closer to being finished, so work on the Packard was no closer to being started except that Jim had refinished only one wooden spoke wheel.. The ad ran, “1932 Packard Coupe, Model 903, disassembled, Classic, $7500”. Several lookers, one buyer for $4500, a personal friend. Jim finally got his half, $2250! By that time, Jim was in Puerto Rico. But it was still a sad experience watching alone as it was being towed away, unrestored fenders, bumpers, wheels, lights piled inside and in the rumble seat, the Packard motor still on its skid, sitting on the trailer behind it – the whole funeral procession disappearing down the road and around the bend. The restoration dream was left by each of us for other cars! Rosemarie and I had a wonderful personal visit with Jim and Amanda in Puerto Rico several years ago. Since then we enjoyed long phone conversations through the years. Rosemarie says she learned a lot about both of us by listening to our stories about the past. We really miss those phone calls!