"It went all black last night half way through Carson. My neighbor said you're good and don't charge as much as Tom's. When can you get here? Don't wanna miss him tonight too."
Such was my introduction to Ruby Delecour.
My old VW van coughed itself to life after wheezing and gasping for a few tense seconds, and I was off to 1463 Maple, down in the older part of town. Half and hour and a few more bucks for my college fund, I figured.
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Television repair came easy for me back in those days before TV's became a throwaway commodity. Ham radio had been my hobby in high school, so I already knew quite a bit about electronics. My job pumping gas gave me free time to read on most nights, so I sent my application to "The International Correspondence School of Radio and TV Repair". Six months later, and after building my own set from parts I got weekly through the mail, my diploma arrived.
A couple of years into running my own business, I figured out I wasn't really a TV repairman at heart. The money was pretty good, but getting it wasn't much fun. The people who could afford to pay always bitched like hell about the bill. The older people for whom the three, snowy channels were their only entertainment, were more than willing to pay, but I felt really bad about charging them. I decided my future should be designing rather than repairing, and enrolled in the state engineering college.
There was no lack of work in my business because radios and televisions weren't all that reliable back then. To pay for my education, I stayed with it by scheduling service calls around my classes. My tools and parts stayed in the VW, so I was ready to go as soon as I tossed my books on the passenger seat. The only change was the girl I hired to take calls for me during the week. I'd call Wanda every hour, and she'd give me names and addresses. Ruby had called on a Friday afternoon when I didn't have a class, so I took her call instead.
Another older woman, I thought, as I carried my tube tester and case of tools and parts up the walk. Like most of the homes in this part of the city, it was a small bungalow set in a row of houses of the same design. People who'd retired ten to twenty years before and lived on a fixed income usually owned them. I was hoping the set hadn't fried anything serious.
The woman who answered my knock wasn't old by a long shot. She looked to be somewhere between thirty and forty, although it was difficult to tell for sure. She wore no makeup, her long, dark-brown hair looked as if she'd just gotten out of bed, and she wore one of those chenille housecoats that were popular back then. She transferred the heavy old-fashioned glass to her left hand and opened the screen door.
"You must be the TV man. I'm Ruby. Come on in. It's in the living room."
I followed the "flop-flop" of her house slippers through a small entryway and then to the left through an open door. Ruby plopped down on the couch opposite the television and took a long drink from her glass.
It was an older set. That meant I'd probably have with me what I needed to get it working again. After checking all the usual things people never checked, like was it plugged in, was the antenna lead connected, and was it turned on, I eased the set away from the wall.
"So, Mrs. Delecour, what did it do when it quit?"
She frowned.
"Call me Ruby. I'm not a Mrs. anymore, and it didn't do a damned thing but go black. No sound either."
She took another healthy pull from her glass.
"If Harold'd bought a new one like I told him, I wouldn't be havin' this problem, but no-o-o-o... he was a typical man and knew everything. Damn him anyway. God, I hate men."
I decided right then I needed to get done fast and get out of there. After removing the fiberboard back from the set, I had a look at the dust-covered chassis with my flashlight. Nothing stuck out as a problem, like the scorch marks of a short circuit or fried resistor. It was probably a power supply tube. I opened the tube tester and pulled the first tube. I was putting the tube into the socket on my tube tester when she spoke again.
"You wanna drink?"
"Ma'am?"
"I said, do you wanna drink?"
"No, I'm -- I'm fine."
"Well, I'm having another. You change your mind, you tell me."
Ruby's idea of a drink was two ice cubes, an inch of orange juice, and the rest of the glass filled with vodka. She walked back to the couch and sat down.
"What's your name?"
"Bill...Bill Wilson."
"Bill, you gotta girlfriend?"
"No, not lately."
I shrugged at her frown.
"Too busy, I guess."
The first tube was OK. I replaced it and pulled the second from the rectifier circuit.
Ruby smiled, swirled the ice in her glass and took another drink.
"Good. At least one girl isn't gonna get herself slapped in the face."
