Obtaining a position with First State Bank in June of 1972 was my first full time place of employment, one that spanned a good 20 years plus with a short break in between. I certainly cannot write about all the memories I made during that time, however, I’d like to highlight the ones that helped shape me into the person that I am today, good and bad if I’m being honest.

During the first four years of working in the installment loan department I aged from a mere 18 to a 21 year old. I really thought I had my life figured out, plans made for my future and knew what I wanted to make me feel happy and satisfied. I was meeting many new people as co-workers and customers, all who stretched and challenged my idealistic-good girl-naive mindset as new circumstances arose to make me rethink or stand firm in my convictions. I’ll do my best to describe situations or a person that made an impact on me.

Ron: He was a co-worker in the installment loan department. The only other person in the office was our supervisor, Russ. They both wrote loans for our customers and my duties were as receptionist and performing clerical work. Ron was not a trustworthy young man. At age 25 or so he was still living at home, had a wild imagination that produced lies and he had no boundaries concerning women. Ron was always on the prowl looking for someone to take on a date. Even though I had a boyfriend at the time, he didn’t care. His unwelcome advances towards me always went ignored on his end. It was an ordinary work day for us, Russ was out of his office, I was seated at my desk working and Ron grabbed a sheet of paper, wadded it into a ball and walked over to me and threw it away in my wastebasket, grabbing the back of my right calf as he stood up. “If you ever do that again,” I said, “you’ll be singing soprano”. He didn’t laugh, but he did try to back peddle from his obvious attempt to harass me. I continued working, he returned to his desk and I never told Russ or anyone else in supervisory roles about the incident. In 1972 sexual harassment incidents were not on anyone’s radar–at least not mine. I’d never been warned about them, the subject was not discussed at home or school. My response to him came from deep instinct and the knowledge “women deserve to be treated with dignity” (thanks Dad)

Geraldine: This spunky tall slender black woman was one of our most beneficial tellers in the main lobby of the bank. She knew all the “street” people, knew how to chat about their business, their lingo, their “situations”. I think Gerry was one of the first black women I’d met, other than several co-worker friends my dad had introduced me to in younger years. Gerry was married and had two boys. Her husband was not the most likeable or reliable man according to her gut wrenching belly laughing stories told over lunch. The way she described Curits was that the ‘family dog don’t like the man!’ Her reputation with the “looked down upon”, the “questionables” of Downtown Saginaw was visible by the sometimes long line of customers waiting for her to conduct their banking needs, usually cashing a check. As I said, she knew her customers and the trust they put in her was not transferred to other tellers. Often, we’d hear “I can help you over here” answered with “No, I’ll wait for Gerry.”

Debbie: Young, only 17, tall and very pretty, Debbie came to the bank as a high school co-op student to work in the installment loan department in 1975. The department had grown to our supervisor, myself, along with two lenders and two collections officers. Our afternoon was interrupted briefly when a male customer came to the work counter asking to have the lien statement on the title to his car terminated since he had paid the loan in full. I took care of the transaction, thanked him for his business and told him to “keep us in mind when you need to finance something in the future”. After he had left the office Debbie asked me “how can you be nice to n——-s?” I was shocked. I had never experienced such a blatant example of hate based on skin color. I was furious but maintained a calm to tell her “that man is our customer. This bank has MANY customers who are black, you better get used to it because it doesn’t really matter”. I think this was the turning point in our relationship where very few conservations took place between us. 

Steve: When I met Steve I was in my late 20s, married with our first child as a baby. By now the bank had been purchased by National Bank of Detroit (NBD) and administrative offices were relocated from Downtown Saginaw to a beautiful building along the river. No longer part of the loan department, I was now an administrative assistant for an executive vice president, Elwood. Steve was an assistant vice president in charge of the installment loan department. With the exception of the upper executives, our work stations were cubicles neatly arranged on the work floor. I was struggling with some work relationships and had an opportunity to discuss the matter with Steve. Like a gentle father reassuring a child, I remember that he placed his hands gently on my shoulders, looked me square in the eyes and told me “Not everyone is going to like you and that’s ok.” It’s now about 40 years later and I can still recall how his brief instruction with me changed my mindset and allowed some freedom to be enjoyed. 

Doc: I met Doc through the mail (no, not a dating site!) Doc was in a Michigan prison where he was earning money. Because his mother lived in Saginaw, he set up a savings account for the purpose to mail checks for deposit. I opened his account. I got the checks he mailed. I made the deposit and returned the receipt to him. This back and forth went on for several months until my phone rang. “Sue, this is (our receptionist); I have a Doc U. here asking to see you.” I hung up my phone and waited for a moment. Doc? To see me? Isn’t he in prison? These were the questions that flooded my head as I made my way to the front reception counter where I was greeted by a young, tall slender black man. I escorted Doc to a small conference room where we’d have privacy, shut the door and we both sat down. I sucked in a deep breath and boldy (with some embarrassment) asked “Doc! What are you doing here!?” He knew without a doubt all what I was thinking: shock *fear *What’s going to happen now?….After polite small talk Doc broke into the chase to tell me “thank you–thank you for being so kind to me while I was in prison.” Honestly, now I was shocked again, because taking care of his banking needs, though out of the ordinary for me, was all that I knew to do regardless of the “who” or “what” that came with the person’s name. Thanks again, Dad. (By the way, I DID ask and he DID tell me…Doc was incarcerated for breaking and entering; he told me he learned his lesson…..I pray he did and is doing well in life. I never saw or heard from him after our face to face meeting.

Elwood: The Bear. That’s what everyone called him. He was 6’4”, well over 250 pounds, with a voice that shook the building whether he was angry or laughing. As rough as he could be when supervising branch offices or commercial lenders and their business clients, his gentleness came in a close second for top personality traits. He was well liked and he was my “boss” as we called supervisors back then for the remaining years of my employment with NBD. I loved working for him. He had a charismatic way about him, one that allowed me to arrive to work early, get us each a cup of coffee from the machine (always his two quarters!) and sit in his office for about 15 minutes chatting up the start of our day….family….what needed to be worked on for the day or plan a future meeting. No two days working for him were the same thus boredom is not a word I’d use in the same sentence with his name. 

There are SO many good memories I have working for and alongside El. He never made me feel “less than” since I was younger, a woman, a mom, his assistant. On the contrary, I was always treated with respect, was given so many opportunities to serve above my normal job description and education background, to the point of being placed in management training upon the return from giving birth to our second child. (those months are another entry) 

I left NBD in December 1988. I went from full-time management trainee to full-time wife and mom (more future entries) Leaving NBD was a very bittersweet departure in my life. When I made trips back to Saginaw from our present home. I always made a point to visit my former co-workers. At first, it felt very comfortable to return. Slowly, faces changed. New people were now in those cubicles. A few “old timers” still lingered. Along with the fading of faces, I lost track of “The Bear” after he retired, became seriously ill, and much to my sadness, learned he passed away several years ago. His later years were not all healthy physically or emotionally. As I fondly recall all that he taught me as a “boss” who also became a good friend, I hope he knew that even among his trials, he was of great value which was transferred to me by our rare working relationship with each other. 

The years 1972 to 1988 at First State Bank, then to National Bank of Detroit, are filled with countless memories. Perhaps I will expand and write about more of those in the coming weeks. For today, as I described Ron, Debbie, Steve, Elwood please know this. Times change. Times develop. Times allow us to reflect and learn. Sexual harassment is no longer under the radar. Using the “N” word is STILL forbidden in my vocabulary and I’ll call anyone out who uses it….how we form work relationships is under much scrutiny now–I’m MOST certain that a supervisor would be instructed to NEVER place his or her hands gently on someone’s shoulders in order to speak a word of encouragement….I DO wonder if there is any working relationship today that mirrors the integrity, value, worth, and teachable moments I had with “The Bear”….for the sake of all that is good and wholesome, I hope so.