By DOROTHEA (PFISTER) NORDSTRAND

In 1940, when I had been with Green Lake State Bank for six years, the position of Private Secretary to the President was left vacant by the departure of Miss Hazel Clemont, who had filled the job for several years.

By this time, I had worked my way up through the teller line and had been Head Teller for three years. Since there were only three tellers under the Head, this might not seem like much progress, except that nobody ever seemed to leave. The Head Teller before me had been with the bank for 20 years.

In those tough times, we tended to hang onto assured sources of income, rather than chance the uncertainty of looking for new employment. Besides, it was a friendly place to work and close to home for all of us, since it was bank policy to hire only people who lived in the neighborhood.

I was ready to try a new challenge, and the opening offered one. Not only did the position entail the usual secretarial work of the bank, but Mr. Lear, the bank president, was also president of the then-new radio station, KIRO (Queen City Broadcasting Company), and of the Green Head Duck Club and the organization called Ducks Unlimited. Some letters would be written for all of these groups.

Also included would be Mr. Lear's personal correspondence and letters in connection with the insurance business run by the bank's vice president, Mr. Warren.

For a young woman with only high school experience with shorthand and typing, and those skills unused for several years, it was a little scary.

It was the many other responsibilities that I hungered for: all of the paper work connected to both personal and business loans, real estate mortgages and escrows. Not least of the attractions were in becoming a Notary Public with its attendant responsibilities, and in acquiring the exalted title of Assistant Cashier with the privilege of signing my name, Dorothea Pfister, Assistant Cashier, to cashier's checks, certified checks, and minor bank correspondence.

It meant that I would, at the tender age of 23, be an officer of the bank. There were only two others, Mr. Lear, President and owner, and Mr. Warren, Vice President, who was also Mr. Lear's brother-in-law.

I wanted that recognition very badly.

Mr. Lear agreed to put me into the position on a trial basis, with the understanding that I could have my old job back if either of us was not satisfied, which I considered to be eminently fair. I was uncomfortable taking on the secretarial work, as my shorthand and typing were very rusty, but he assured me that he would dictate slowly and recheck the letters after they were typed and before he signed them. It was a little rocky at first, but I gained confidence as all went well.

One day, in his capacity as president of the Green Head Duck Club, he dictated a letter to be sent to several of his cronies, inviting them to a duck hunting party. Some of the words were unfamiliar to me, and it was several hours before I found time to transcribe my notes, but I thought my shorthand was correct. I typed one letter and took it into his office and left it on his desk for approval before doing the others.

In a few minutes I saw him heading my way with the letter in his hand and his face as red as a beet.

Now, with Mr. Lear, that could mean he was extremely angry, or that he was trying to keep from laughing. I knew I had made some kind of mistake, but hoped it was funny, as his temper was legendary and he didn't tolerate stupidity.

He approached, dropping the offending letter on my desk and told me, "Miss Pfister, when I invite my friends to go duck hunting with me, I ask them to bring their PUMP guns ... not their POP guns!" and then the grin that I hoped for began to grow on his face.

I remained his secretary until I left the bank in 1944 to get married.