Jack of all trades

By NEIL O. NELSON

On his day off this week, Richard Haugen waxed the floor at the fire hall.

Haugen would like to think he’s an expert at waxed floors.

He had a good teacher: Corky Bakken.

That was 20 years ago, when Corky was instructing Richard on the art and science to waxing floors at the armory.

Richard considered inviting Corky over this week to inspect the fire hall floors.

Corky, meanwhile, needed time to consider the invite and the seriousness of the situation.

The bottom line, both agreed: would it pass muster. 

“I think so,” Corky granted. After all he had a good teacher.

“I hope so,” Richard submitted. After all, he had a good teacher.

Richard Haugen smiles when he thinks of the spring of 1987 when he started working full-time for the city.

Winston Marsden was president of the city commission. Ray Foss and Carl Tessin were managing the work behind the scenes.

Haugen helped open the swimming pool that summer, a job he still helps with every year.

That same summer 20 years ago he helped tar the city’s streets, another job he still chips in to help finish.

The promise of outside work prompted Haugen to accept the offer of full-time work. He worked part-time for the city five years earlier, before taking jobs with Thompson Construction and American Crystal.

He was told he would have to be a jack-of-all-trades when on the job with the city.

Having grown up on a farm west of Portland, Haugen was certain he could handle most handyman jobs connected with the city.

He was accustomed to shoveling manure; certainly, he could jettison sewers. He cleared snow from his family’s farmstead and the road leading to it; most assuredly, he could move snow from city streets.

Standing outside attempting to fix a water main break in 35 degree below temperatures and a wind chill factor of 90 below was another matter.

Comes with the territory, he was soon to understand.

Standing over a jackhammer the better part of a day would also come with the territory, he quickly learned.

Today, the city’s jackhammer is mounted on a Bobcat.

And Richard Haugen can supervise from a safe distance.

Haugen actually knew Hillsboro before he moved to the Traill county seat in the mid-1980s.

His grandparents lived here. George Christoff was a line foreman with the railroad.

Richard spent many Sundays and summers in Hillsboro.

He remembers taking the railroad to Fargo with his grandmother, free of course, thanks to grandpa George, and once there, they would take the city buses to move around Fargo.

He sold his 4-H squash to Hillsboro homes every fall.

His grandmother’s lefse and doughnuts were second to none, he tells.

His grandfather told him of the early times of railroading and of Hillsboro and east Traill County.

In time Richard knows he’ll be able to tell his grandchildren of what Hillsboro was like in another time.

A volunteer firefighter for 18 years, Richard knows the streets of Hillsboro like few others.

A map of the city is engrained in his mind.

“Seems like yesterday,” when he reported for his first day on the job.

“It went by fast.”

Meantime, Hillsboro has grown and its infrastructure expanded.

The city crew of Jim Anderson, Jim Baumgartner, Jon Hams and Richard Haugen have accommodated the growth.

“You do whatever needs to be done,” is the common bond the four men share.

While the number of men working for the city has stayed the same, the city has invested in additional equipment.

Much to the envy of cities all around.

Example: the streets of Hillsboro are cleared of snow in record time, Haugen professes.

Still, residents complain.

While others compliment.

“We could spend millions, I suppose, and the streets would be cleaned faster, but I don’t think that’s what we want to do.”

So, you do what you’ve got to do.

He’s had Fargo residents leave the largest city in the state, arrive in Hillsboro and observe: “Why is it your streets are cleared and ours aren’t?”

The team of Anderson, Baumgartner, Hams and Haugen have the city’s work down to a science.

“We see eye-to-eye on pretty much everything,” Haugen explains.

Things work better that way, he adds.

“We get along pretty well.”

Equally important, the city crew recognizes what residents want from their city maintenance department.

They want water coming out of the kitchen faucets, sewer lines effectively leading out of town and lights coming on when the light switch is turned on.

That and a few other things, like the snow cleared in the winter, streets swept in the summer, the armory and swimming pool open on demand, street bright at night and water main breaks fixed in record time.

“We’re pretty accommodating,” Haugen tells of the city crew.

We must be doing something right, he tells.

The city is growing; people are building and moving here.

“We’re going pretty good for a small town.”

Sure, people complain.

In Richard Haugen, an easy target at 6-foot-plus, they have an audience.

He quietly listens to the complaints and tries answering best he can.

“There sometimes isn’t a whole lot I can do. But, mostly, they understand.”

There’s a rhyme and reason to the things we do . . . .

Sometimes, policy is handed down  . . .

If that isn’t good enough, he suggests they take their issues further up the food chain.

Listening or smiling, Richard Haugen is generally wearing a smile.

He rationalizes his optimistic outlook on life.

Life’s a routine, same job, different day, some with paperwork, some without, some over-whelming, some not.

Meantime, crises come and go.

“You just never know what to expect.”

Good or bad, you do what you got to do.