Rollo And His Donut Machine
Ivan R. Bosanko
September 12, 2008
When I was young,two men became my idols and role models.One was my father,who everyone called Rollo, including my mother. I was twelve before I found out Rollo's real name was Samuel.The other man was Buck Rogers who drove those incredible weird and wonderful machines that looked like they belonged on our moon's landscape. Both men were definitely ahead of their time.
Now Rollo's start in life was about as far from a Hollywood movie set as it can be. He came from the state orphanage to the small wheat farming community of Leola, South Dakota. There he lived and worked on a farm until he was 19. He then left the farm to became the town's first rural mail carrier. Unlike Buck Rogers, who drove whatever magic Hollywood dreamed up, Rollo drove a horse and buggy to deliver the mail to his friends and neighbors.Yet, the similarity between my idols was there as you will soon see.
South Dakota winters can be long and harsh as anybody who ever lived there can tell you. Howling blizzards and choking snowstorms can become everyday occurrences that clog the roads and force schools and towns to shut down completely.Everything and everybody comes to a standstill when that happens. All too often, Rollo's mail pouches had to be left at the post office after days and sometimes weeks of such weather.Rollo figured and thought, and figured and thought some more!There had to be something he could do about conquering winter's unpredictability.
There was! Rollo got together with one of the best mechanics in town. Night after night, and on weekends, Gottfried and Rollo put their ideas to the test in the backroom at the local Ford garage. What finally came together would've made Buck Rogers smile. Only the Ford body was kept. Thin, metal runners were attached on the insides of the front wheels to help this contraption glide over the snowdrifts. Caterpillar-type tracks with metal cleats mounted over dual, three- wheel assemblies, that ran the length of the body,were installed on each side. These would give Rollo all the power and traction he needed.Just before Christmas, the snowmobile made its maiden run, delivering Christmas cards and catalogues along with packages from Montgomery Ward and Sears Roebuck. Rollo never tied of telling us about the astonished looks his snowmobile received from his mail route customers. There was no stopping this determined man!
Then the "chinooks" came with their warm winds that changed the snow-laden landscape into a quagmire of mud, water,and open stretches of road which raised all kinds of havoc with the metal cleats. Rollo's snowmobile spent more days at the Ford garage for repairs then out on his mail run.What to do?
Back to the drawing board the two inventors went. This time they'd have to come up with an all-weather something that'd go anywhere, anytime! What finally rolled out of the garage would've made Buck Rogers jump with joy! Again, they started with a Ford body. They installed a truck transmission so Rollo could shift down as needed. Four huge, balloon tractor tires gave the vehicle all the clearance it would ever need and then some! Because this raised the body so high, a small step was welded just under the door so Rollo could climb up into his contraption.In order to shorten the turning radius, they had to cut the front fenders back drastically so Rollo could turn his metal monster.What they had built,truly looked ready for moon exploration!
One day a group of retired German farmers gathered at the post office. As was their custom, they opened their mail in the lobby, then moved on out of the building to discuss the same things they´d talked about the day before: the weather, the price of wheat and will their sons who´d taken over the family farm have an early spring to get in the planting?.Something parked in front of the post office claimed all their attention and every bit of their conversation :Rollo´s contraption.About that time, Rollo came down the steps with two mailpouches slung over his shoulders. He bid them hello,then stepped way up to open the vehicle´s door. One old farmer followed Rollo around, waiting for him to deposit the pouches on the front seat. He was obviously the group´s spokesman ,judging by the way he hitched both thumbs behind two brightly colored suspenders which held up his trousers.Rollo had this to say,"Well, Karl, what do you think of my contraption? I call it my snowmobile!"
Karl took his sweet old time, giving the whatever-it-was,his full attention along with a very thorough inspection. To add emphasis to what he was about to say,he stretched the suspenders about as far as he dared, then let go. The resounding snap startled every farmer. Now was the time for his words."Vell Rollo, dos four bick tires you got dere look like four bick donuts! Ya?(Well Rollo, those four big tires you got there look like four big donuts! Yes?) Vere ist da bick cup of java to dip dem into?"(Where is the big cup of coffee to dip them into?) All poor Rollo could do was absorb the farmer´s laughs which turned out to be long and loud!
Like it or not, Rollo was stuck with that name: The Donut Machine. Within a week, all of Leola and most of McPherson County had hung that label on Rollo´s pride and joy. No matter where he drove or parked,Leola´s version of "The Pied Piper of Hamlin" brought out a parade of people. If it wasn´t the retired German farmers, then the grade school kids made a beeline for it.Next came the high school students during their lunch breaks or after school! Rollo now had a Saturday mail route which meant The Donut Machine would be parked for several hours on mainstreet in front of the post office.The town´s merchants noticed an immediate increase in their business. Every farmer and his family made sure that they arrived in town in plenty of time to feast their peepers on the metal and giant rubber-tired wonder. They would stand and stare by the minute, then go about their usual Saturday buying.
Other changes were in the works for The Donut Machine.Such great dependability didn´t escape being noticed by the town´s three grocery store owners nor the only drugstore too! Often as not,a phone call to the post office meant that a box or two of groceries, along with some prescription medicine would be picked up by Rollo before he left town. He never complained or charged for these many deliveries because the thanks he received from his grateful customers more then repaid the inconvenience.
Still later, The Donut Machine was pressed into emergency medical service, especially during the winter months. Leola had neither a hospital nor a doctor, but they did have a county nurse. I can still remember many a call to my father at three or four o´clock in the morning. Rollo´s routine would go like this:pick-up the nurse;stop at the drugstore; then travel far out into the county over snowblocked roads to bring help and drugs to those in need.If he needed to stay on, he did. Hours later, he´d return to town to eat the breakfeast that my mother fixed, then back to the post office to begin his regular mailroute for that day.Thru the many such winter trips he made, the nurse credited Rollo with helping her to save at least a dozen lives.In recognition of those life and death struggles, my father earned the undying respect and admiration of every county farmer and his family.
Saturdays, during the fall season,were always my favorite time of the year. I´d sit up high in The Donut Machine,waiting for my father to come down the post office steps carrying his mailpouches. Chances were good that a friend or two of mine, green with envy, would be come by to chat with me. And of course, they´d also hope that they could ride along too. Rollo always had his pat answer: "maybe next time," his way of saying no without hurting my friend´s feelings. Once we were out in the country, he´d drive slowly,looking for pheasants in the ditches or maybe close by in a cornfield or patch of weeds or thistles. Once a pheasant was spotted, he´d hand me his 410 shot gun."Okay, Ivan, remember you´ve got only one shot, so make it count.Take the head to save the meat." When we returned back to town, we always shared our game with friends and neighbors. It was Rollo´s way.
In 1946, Rollo,retired at the close of World War Two,after 34 years of faithful, dedicated mail service.He sold The Donut Machine to the man who took over his routes.A close friend told him,"You´ll be back, Rollo! You´ll stay away for awhile, but you´ll come back."
To that he replied,"Only to hunt pheasants! Goodbye!"
It was hard for me to leave Leola,the town where I was born.I knew that I was going to miss the many friends I´d made. With a somewhat heavy heart, I enrolled as a freshman in high school in Coeur D´ Alene, Idaho.
Years later,my two older brothers and I did return to Leola. There we met our parents. While my mother visited close friends and relatives, we joined our father to go pheasant hunting once more. To our surprise,most all the good hunting areas were "posted," which meant no hunting without the farmer´s permission. Rollo cashed in some of his hard-earned "respect and admiration," so that we truly had some great hunting, while many other out-of-state hunters were turned down and left to"road-hunt."
There were other changes too. The graveled streets in town had given way to"blacktop." What a pleasure to miss all that dust trailing behind us as we drove around.The biggest change we noticed, was the number of "greenbelts" that seemed to be everywhere. What I had remembered as a virtual tree-less, wind-swept prairie, now bristled with row after row of trees, which had been planted as windbreaks. What refreshing scenery!
All too soon it was time to return out west. On my way out of town,I decided to drive down mainstreet one last time to look for "an old friend." Imagine my great surprise when I saw The Donut Machine still parked in it´s usual spot, in front of the post office.There she was,still the undisputed champion of McPerson County´s secondary road system, Oh I could see where Father Time had hit her pretty hard.The paint had all but disappeared,and she looked like she was on her last leg. And I´ll bet it´d been a coon´s age since she had to endure all those kids and farmer´s stares. Yet she could still hold court if she wanted to, this regal offspring of days gone by. This Buck Rogers creation! This metal and rubber vintage memorial to men way ahead of their time!
Now Rollo's start in life was about as far from a Hollywood movie set as it can be. He came from the state orphanage to the small wheat farming community of Leola, South Dakota. There he lived and worked on a farm until he was 19. He then left the farm to became the town's first rural mail carrier. Unlike Buck Rogers, who drove whatever magic Hollywood dreamed up, Rollo drove a horse and buggy to deliver the mail to his friends and neighbors.Yet, the similarity between my idols was there as you will soon see.
South Dakota winters can be long and harsh as anybody who ever lived there can tell you. Howling blizzards and choking snowstorms can become everyday occurrences that clog the roads and force schools and towns to shut down completely.Everything and everybody comes to a standstill when that happens. All too often, Rollo's mail pouches had to be left at the post office after days and sometimes weeks of such weather.Rollo figured and thought, and figured and thought some more!There had to be something he could do about conquering winter's unpredictability.
There was! Rollo got together with one of the best mechanics in town. Night after night, and on weekends, Gottfried and Rollo put their ideas to the test in the backroom at the local Ford garage. What finally came together would've made Buck Rogers smile. Only the Ford body was kept. Thin, metal runners were attached on the insides of the front wheels to help this contraption glide over the snowdrifts. Caterpillar-type tracks with metal cleats mounted over dual, three- wheel assemblies, that ran the length of the body,were installed on each side. These would give Rollo all the power and traction he needed.Just before Christmas, the snowmobile made its maiden run, delivering Christmas cards and catalogues along with packages from Montgomery Ward and Sears Roebuck. Rollo never tied of telling us about the astonished looks his snowmobile received from his mail route customers. There was no stopping this determined man!
Then the "chinooks" came with their warm winds that changed the snow-laden landscape into a quagmire of mud, water,and open stretches of road which raised all kinds of havoc with the metal cleats. Rollo's snowmobile spent more days at the Ford garage for repairs then out on his mail run.What to do?
Back to the drawing board the two inventors went. This time they'd have to come up with an all-weather something that'd go anywhere, anytime! What finally rolled out of the garage would've made Buck Rogers jump with joy! Again, they started with a Ford body. They installed a truck transmission so Rollo could shift down as needed. Four huge, balloon tractor tires gave the vehicle all the clearance it would ever need and then some! Because this raised the body so high, a small step was welded just under the door so Rollo could climb up into his contraption.In order to shorten the turning radius, they had to cut the front fenders back drastically so Rollo could turn his metal monster.What they had built,truly looked ready for moon exploration!
One day a group of retired German farmers gathered at the post office. As was their custom, they opened their mail in the lobby, then moved on out of the building to discuss the same things they´d talked about the day before: the weather, the price of wheat and will their sons who´d taken over the family farm have an early spring to get in the planting?.Something parked in front of the post office claimed all their attention and every bit of their conversation :Rollo´s contraption.About that time, Rollo came down the steps with two mailpouches slung over his shoulders. He bid them hello,then stepped way up to open the vehicle´s door. One old farmer followed Rollo around, waiting for him to deposit the pouches on the front seat. He was obviously the group´s spokesman ,judging by the way he hitched both thumbs behind two brightly colored suspenders which held up his trousers.Rollo had this to say,"Well, Karl, what do you think of my contraption? I call it my snowmobile!"
Karl took his sweet old time, giving the whatever-it-was,his full attention along with a very thorough inspection. To add emphasis to what he was about to say,he stretched the suspenders about as far as he dared, then let go. The resounding snap startled every farmer. Now was the time for his words."Vell Rollo, dos four bick tires you got dere look like four bick donuts! Ya?(Well Rollo, those four big tires you got there look like four big donuts! Yes?) Vere ist da bick cup of java to dip dem into?"(Where is the big cup of coffee to dip them into?) All poor Rollo could do was absorb the farmer´s laughs which turned out to be long and loud!
Like it or not, Rollo was stuck with that name: The Donut Machine. Within a week, all of Leola and most of McPherson County had hung that label on Rollo´s pride and joy. No matter where he drove or parked,Leola´s version of "The Pied Piper of Hamlin" brought out a parade of people. If it wasn´t the retired German farmers, then the grade school kids made a beeline for it.Next came the high school students during their lunch breaks or after school! Rollo now had a Saturday mail route which meant The Donut Machine would be parked for several hours on mainstreet in front of the post office.The town´s merchants noticed an immediate increase in their business. Every farmer and his family made sure that they arrived in town in plenty of time to feast their peepers on the metal and giant rubber-tired wonder. They would stand and stare by the minute, then go about their usual Saturday buying.
Other changes were in the works for The Donut Machine.Such great dependability didn´t escape being noticed by the town´s three grocery store owners nor the only drugstore too! Often as not,a phone call to the post office meant that a box or two of groceries, along with some prescription medicine would be picked up by Rollo before he left town. He never complained or charged for these many deliveries because the thanks he received from his grateful customers more then repaid the inconvenience.
Still later, The Donut Machine was pressed into emergency medical service, especially during the winter months. Leola had neither a hospital nor a doctor, but they did have a county nurse. I can still remember many a call to my father at three or four o´clock in the morning. Rollo´s routine would go like this:pick-up the nurse;stop at the drugstore; then travel far out into the county over snowblocked roads to bring help and drugs to those in need.If he needed to stay on, he did. Hours later, he´d return to town to eat the breakfeast that my mother fixed, then back to the post office to begin his regular mailroute for that day.Thru the many such winter trips he made, the nurse credited Rollo with helping her to save at least a dozen lives.In recognition of those life and death struggles, my father earned the undying respect and admiration of every county farmer and his family.
Saturdays, during the fall season,were always my favorite time of the year. I´d sit up high in The Donut Machine,waiting for my father to come down the post office steps carrying his mailpouches. Chances were good that a friend or two of mine, green with envy, would be come by to chat with me. And of course, they´d also hope that they could ride along too. Rollo always had his pat answer: "maybe next time," his way of saying no without hurting my friend´s feelings. Once we were out in the country, he´d drive slowly,looking for pheasants in the ditches or maybe close by in a cornfield or patch of weeds or thistles. Once a pheasant was spotted, he´d hand me his 410 shot gun."Okay, Ivan, remember you´ve got only one shot, so make it count.Take the head to save the meat." When we returned back to town, we always shared our game with friends and neighbors. It was Rollo´s way.
In 1946, Rollo,retired at the close of World War Two,after 34 years of faithful, dedicated mail service.He sold The Donut Machine to the man who took over his routes.A close friend told him,"You´ll be back, Rollo! You´ll stay away for awhile, but you´ll come back."
To that he replied,"Only to hunt pheasants! Goodbye!"
It was hard for me to leave Leola,the town where I was born.I knew that I was going to miss the many friends I´d made. With a somewhat heavy heart, I enrolled as a freshman in high school in Coeur D´ Alene, Idaho.
Years later,my two older brothers and I did return to Leola. There we met our parents. While my mother visited close friends and relatives, we joined our father to go pheasant hunting once more. To our surprise,most all the good hunting areas were "posted," which meant no hunting without the farmer´s permission. Rollo cashed in some of his hard-earned "respect and admiration," so that we truly had some great hunting, while many other out-of-state hunters were turned down and left to"road-hunt."
There were other changes too. The graveled streets in town had given way to"blacktop." What a pleasure to miss all that dust trailing behind us as we drove around.The biggest change we noticed, was the number of "greenbelts" that seemed to be everywhere. What I had remembered as a virtual tree-less, wind-swept prairie, now bristled with row after row of trees, which had been planted as windbreaks. What refreshing scenery!
All too soon it was time to return out west. On my way out of town,I decided to drive down mainstreet one last time to look for "an old friend." Imagine my great surprise when I saw The Donut Machine still parked in it´s usual spot, in front of the post office.There she was,still the undisputed champion of McPerson County´s secondary road system, Oh I could see where Father Time had hit her pretty hard.The paint had all but disappeared,and she looked like she was on her last leg. And I´ll bet it´d been a coon´s age since she had to endure all those kids and farmer´s stares. Yet she could still hold court if she wanted to, this regal offspring of days gone by. This Buck Rogers creation! This metal and rubber vintage memorial to men way ahead of their time!
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