Oregon daily emerald., October 21, 1980, Image 1

emerald
A real rarity’
Women run this car garage
By JIM GERSBACH
Of the Emerald
It’s a small garage that smells of grease, damp
concrete and stale exhaust fumes.
Outside, trucks and pick-ups roar by on W. 11th
Avenue, an industrial strip of gas stations, garages
and auto-body shops. On a billboard across the street,
a rugged man wearing a hard hat is pictured smoking
a Winston cigarette in front of a giant dam.
Inside, mechanics dressed in gray-blue workclothes
tinker with engine parts. With sprayed-on insulation
covering its ceiling, the garage takes on a cavernous
look. The dim morning light transforms the wrenches
and metal tools into so many scattered mastodon
bones.
What distinguishes this scene — the Country Volks
wagen Cooperative — from neighboring garages is
that all the mechanics are women.
The worker-owned and -operated foreign auto
repair shop started seven years ago with a half-male,
Seven women own and operate Country Volkswagen,
including mechanic Peri Sneyd.
half-female membership. During the cooperative's
first five years there was a commitment to sexual
equality.
But when the cooperative moved from downtown
Eugene to its present location at 3144 W 11th Ave
two years ago, resignations left just one man and three
women. When the man left to work in the woods a year
ago, the cooperative was left with all female mechan
ics.
“We re a real rarity, especially for a town this small,”
says Christine Frazer, one of the cooperative's seven
active members.
Only a few other garages nationwide are run by
women mechanics. In Eugene, only Vollstedt Volks
wagen and Wildflower Garage employ any woman
mechanics.
Like many women working in male-dominated
fields, Frazer had to overcome sexist stereotypes.
“We all grew up with defined roles," Frazer says,
standing in the chilly quonset hut that is the garage
workroom. "I was supposed to be a bookkeeper, not a
mechanic.”
But Frazer say'; she enjoys working with her hands
“and seeing an end product.”
“My dad's an aircraft mechanic, and I used to watch
him tinker with tnings,” Frazer says. “I used to get
high scores on mechanical aptitude tests, but what do ^
you do with a girl who does well in mechanics?”
Jessie Savage is an apprentice mechanic at
Country Volkswagen. A slight woman wearing wire
rim glasses, she also was interested in mechanics as a
girl.
“A lot of times we’d find something people had
thrown out, like old radios, and we’d take them apart
and try to put them back together,” Savage recalls.
“When we used to go to visit relatives I’d fix their
bicycles and vacuums.”
Savage's only encouragement came from an aunt
or two who would pat her on the shoulder after she’d
fixed something.
"My father was a decent back-yard mechanic,"
Savage says.
“I saw him pull engines and work on them, but he'd
never ask me to help — even if I asked. ‘Hey, you’re not
supposed to be out here,' he'd say."
Such attitudes make it hard on women entering
previously men-only occupations.
“Most of the women mechanics I’ve met have had to
work so hard against the psychological thing of 'Hey,
you’re not supposed to do this,’ ” Frazer says.
Photos by Debby Abe
Christine Frazer
Both Frazer and Savage got into mechanics on a
do-it-yourself basis.
“Like many women, I really didn’t start getting into
mechanical things until I had my own car," Frazer
says. “Then I started doing my own light maintenance
It saved money.”
Soon friends and neighbors asked her to work on
their cars. From there she went on to mechanical
training at Lane Community College and finally joined
the cooperative two years ago.
Savage started doing auto-engine work after a
run-in with an auto shop.
“I blew up an engine coming cross country, and I
got taken by a garage in the Midwest,” Savage recalls.
“I didn’t believe people would rip you off with a smile
on their face "
After that incident Savage replaced the engine
herself.
Both women say male customers are generally
receptive.
Continued on Page 3
Librarian checks out after 33 years of service
Eugene Barnes plans to
spend his retirement squeezing
cider and watching the grass
grow.
Barnes, who has run the
University library's acquisition
department for 33 years, will
retire on Dec. 31.
"Yesterday I just finished my
26th gallon of cider,” says
Barnes, 63. “I will be able to
squeeze cider without feeling
the pressure to get it done
before I have to go to work.”
Barnes began considering
retirement when his son died in
an auto accident June of 1979
He turned in his resignation
seven months later
"Thirty-three years is en
ough," he says.
Barnes co-workers, however,
have been trying to change his
mind. University Librarian
George Shipman had lunch with
Barnes in attempt to persuade
him to stay. But Barnes just
shook his head, Shipman says.
Personnel in the acquisitions
office have threatened to chain
him to his desk.
"When I found out he was
retiring, I just sat and cried,”
says Rhoda Beyerlin, adminis
trative assistant.
“He’s kind of a shy, retiring
sort of person," says Carl Hintz,
a retired University librarian
emeritus who worked 25 years
with Barnes.
Approximately 70 percent of
the University library’s collec
tion was added during Barnes’
stint as acquisition librarian,
Shipman says. Acquisition li
brarians are responsible for or
dering books, paying for them
and making sure they aren’t al
ready included in the collection.
"He’s competent as hell,”
says Gustave Alef, a professor
of history who has known
Barnes for 24 years.
Alef says Barnes has an intui
tive knowledge of what mater
ials are important.
In the 1950s, Barnes bought a
large set of documents on
French history. Many history
faculty members were upset
that such a "useless" set was
purchased. But several years
later, the school hired a French
historian who was delighted to
see the documents.
Barnes is modest about his
work. "I’ve done the job, but
let's leave out the adjectives.”
And he doesn't seem sorry to
leave the library. A library has a
life of its own, and one in
dividual’s absence doesn't
make any difference, he says.
"I just want to say goodbye,
and let it go at that.”
Eugene Barnes
Photo by David W Zahn