As I walked through one of the historic Akron cemeteries that I spend a lot of time in gathering information of Akron's more notable historic people, I was walking backwards, looking around, when I tripped on a small gravestone. I walked around it to read who I had disturbed and my jaw dropped. It was Lonnie Munn, a young man that I had worked with many years before. I stood there and remembered some of the crazy things that he did at work and I laughed. I had been driving past his grave for years and never knew where he was. Then, this day, as I walked passed him, it was like he tripped me to get my attention.
Lonnie and I worked at Jaite Packaging Co. in Penninsula, Ohio. I started in 1980, he had been there a few years at that time. He was a lot of fun to be around. He was very serious about his job, and did it very well. But in the lunchroom or outside the plant, he could be a nut. One evening Lonnie began bleeding from the mouth slightly. He said he felt alright but was a little worried. He went to the doctor the next day who put him in the hospital right away. It seemed, Lonnie had cancer. It was terminal. He was 29 years old. I saw him only once after that. He had lost a lot of wieght and didn't look very good at all. It would only be another month before he died. He had plans to marry before this happened, so, only a couple of weeks before his death, he and Mary married. She had stuck by his side throughout his entire illness.
At his funeral, by his own request, there was no organ music. They played Rolling Stones tapes through the P.A. system. That's the kind of guy Lonnie was. That's the kind of guy I remember. That's the guy I thought about that day at the cemetery. I guess, you never know who your going to run into, or trip over.
_____________________________
A few short stories about Lon:
One evening myself, Lonnie and his brother, Ronnie, were having our dinner in the company lunchroom. Lonnie had bought a can of soup from the vending machine and was trying to pull open the pull-tab when all of a sudden, the lid popped off and soup went everywhere, including Ronnie's shirt. Lonnie sat there stone faced and said simply, "Wow! There's a lot of soup in one of these little cans."
Lonnie ran a "slitter" machine at Jaite. This machine would take in a large 2,000 pound roll of bottle labels, such as Coca Cola, Pepsi, Sprite, etc., and slit them down to 6 or 7 small rolls. The master rolls would be loaded onto the front of the machine on a roller that had chucks in both ends of the roll to keep it from moving while the roll was spinning at several hundred feet per minute. The rolls were kept in place by chucks that were aired up in the core of each roll. One night, Lonnie and the operater of the next machine, Tom, were having a race to see who could get the most footage done that shift. Both machines were running full speed and both guys were hurrying to load each roll. Every several rolls on Tom's machine would run off the rollers and Tom would have to stop the machine and re-thread the labels, which took around 10-minutes at a time. He couldn't figure out why this was happening untill later in the night when he caught Lonnie letting the air out of Tom's roll chucks. Tom was really mad at the time, but Lonnie, me and others got a huge laugh out of it.
Back in the 1980s, we had less factory rules then we have today and at Jaite Packaging, machine operators were allowed to have radios and stereos at their machines. Lonnie had his huge radio tied to his control panal and every night while running his machine, he could be seen jerking and dancing around behind his work station.
To work with Lonnie Munn was to have an experience. All these many years later, I still remember him fondly. He had nothing but friends. When people utter the term, "only the good die young," they have got to be talking about Lonnie.
Lonnie and I worked at Jaite Packaging Co. in Penninsula, Ohio. I started in 1980, he had been there a few years at that time. He was a lot of fun to be around. He was very serious about his job, and did it very well. But in the lunchroom or outside the plant, he could be a nut. One evening Lonnie began bleeding from the mouth slightly. He said he felt alright but was a little worried. He went to the doctor the next day who put him in the hospital right away. It seemed, Lonnie had cancer. It was terminal. He was 29 years old. I saw him only once after that. He had lost a lot of wieght and didn't look very good at all. It would only be another month before he died. He had plans to marry before this happened, so, only a couple of weeks before his death, he and Mary married. She had stuck by his side throughout his entire illness.
At his funeral, by his own request, there was no organ music. They played Rolling Stones tapes through the P.A. system. That's the kind of guy Lonnie was. That's the kind of guy I remember. That's the guy I thought about that day at the cemetery. I guess, you never know who your going to run into, or trip over.
_____________________________
A few short stories about Lon:
One evening myself, Lonnie and his brother, Ronnie, were having our dinner in the company lunchroom. Lonnie had bought a can of soup from the vending machine and was trying to pull open the pull-tab when all of a sudden, the lid popped off and soup went everywhere, including Ronnie's shirt. Lonnie sat there stone faced and said simply, "Wow! There's a lot of soup in one of these little cans."
Lonnie ran a "slitter" machine at Jaite. This machine would take in a large 2,000 pound roll of bottle labels, such as Coca Cola, Pepsi, Sprite, etc., and slit them down to 6 or 7 small rolls. The master rolls would be loaded onto the front of the machine on a roller that had chucks in both ends of the roll to keep it from moving while the roll was spinning at several hundred feet per minute. The rolls were kept in place by chucks that were aired up in the core of each roll. One night, Lonnie and the operater of the next machine, Tom, were having a race to see who could get the most footage done that shift. Both machines were running full speed and both guys were hurrying to load each roll. Every several rolls on Tom's machine would run off the rollers and Tom would have to stop the machine and re-thread the labels, which took around 10-minutes at a time. He couldn't figure out why this was happening untill later in the night when he caught Lonnie letting the air out of Tom's roll chucks. Tom was really mad at the time, but Lonnie, me and others got a huge laugh out of it.
Back in the 1980s, we had less factory rules then we have today and at Jaite Packaging, machine operators were allowed to have radios and stereos at their machines. Lonnie had his huge radio tied to his control panal and every night while running his machine, he could be seen jerking and dancing around behind his work station.
To work with Lonnie Munn was to have an experience. All these many years later, I still remember him fondly. He had nothing but friends. When people utter the term, "only the good die young," they have got to be talking about Lonnie.
As I walked through one of the historic Akron cemeteries that I spend a lot of time in gathering information of Akron's more notable historic people, I was walking backwards, looking around, when I tripped on a small gravestone. I walked around it to read who I had disturbed and my jaw dropped. It was Lonnie Munn, a young man that I had worked with many years before. I stood there and remembered some of the crazy things that he did at work and I laughed. I had been driving past his grave for years and never knew where he was. Then, this day, as I walked passed him, it was like he tripped me to get my attention.
Lonnie and I worked at Jaite Packaging Co. in Penninsula, Ohio. I started in 1980, he had been there a few years at that time. He was a lot of fun to be around. He was very serious about his job, and did it very well. But in the lunchroom or outside the plant, he could be a nut. One evening Lonnie began bleeding from the mouth slightly. He said he felt alright but was a little worried. He went to the doctor the next day who put him in the hospital right away. It seemed, Lonnie had cancer. It was terminal. He was 29 years old. I saw him only once after that. He had lost a lot of wieght and didn't look very good at all. It would only be another month before he died. He had plans to marry before this happened, so, only a couple of weeks before his death, he and Mary married. She had stuck by his side throughout his entire illness.
At his funeral, by his own request, there was no organ music. They played Rolling Stones tapes through the P.A. system. That's the kind of guy Lonnie was. That's the kind of guy I remember. That's the guy I thought about that day at the cemetery. I guess, you never know who your going to run into, or trip over.
_____________________________
A few short stories about Lon:
One evening myself, Lonnie and his brother, Ronnie, were having our dinner in the company lunchroom. Lonnie had bought a can of soup from the vending machine and was trying to pull open the pull-tab when all of a sudden, the lid popped off and soup went everywhere, including Ronnie's shirt. Lonnie sat there stone faced and said simply, "Wow! There's a lot of soup in one of these little cans."
Lonnie ran a "slitter" machine at Jaite. This machine would take in a large 2,000 pound roll of bottle labels, such as Coca Cola, Pepsi, Sprite, etc., and slit them down to 6 or 7 small rolls. The master rolls would be loaded onto the front of the machine on a roller that had chucks in both ends of the roll to keep it from moving while the roll was spinning at several hundred feet per minute. The rolls were kept in place by chucks that were aired up in the core of each roll. One night, Lonnie and the operater of the next machine, Tom, were having a race to see who could get the most footage done that shift. Both machines were running full speed and both guys were hurrying to load each roll. Every several rolls on Tom's machine would run off the rollers and Tom would have to stop the machine and re-thread the labels, which took around 10-minutes at a time. He couldn't figure out why this was happening untill later in the night when he caught Lonnie letting the air out of Tom's roll chucks. Tom was really mad at the time, but Lonnie, me and others got a huge laugh out of it.
Back in the 1980s, we had less factory rules then we have today and at Jaite Packaging, machine operators were allowed to have radios and stereos at their machines. Lonnie had his huge radio tied to his control panal and every night while running his machine, he could be seen jerking and dancing around behind his work station.
To work with Lonnie Munn was to have an experience. All these many years later, I still remember him fondly. He had nothing but friends. When people utter the term, "only the good die young," they have got to be talking about Lonnie.
Lonnie and I worked at Jaite Packaging Co. in Penninsula, Ohio. I started in 1980, he had been there a few years at that time. He was a lot of fun to be around. He was very serious about his job, and did it very well. But in the lunchroom or outside the plant, he could be a nut. One evening Lonnie began bleeding from the mouth slightly. He said he felt alright but was a little worried. He went to the doctor the next day who put him in the hospital right away. It seemed, Lonnie had cancer. It was terminal. He was 29 years old. I saw him only once after that. He had lost a lot of wieght and didn't look very good at all. It would only be another month before he died. He had plans to marry before this happened, so, only a couple of weeks before his death, he and Mary married. She had stuck by his side throughout his entire illness.
At his funeral, by his own request, there was no organ music. They played Rolling Stones tapes through the P.A. system. That's the kind of guy Lonnie was. That's the kind of guy I remember. That's the guy I thought about that day at the cemetery. I guess, you never know who your going to run into, or trip over.
_____________________________
A few short stories about Lon:
One evening myself, Lonnie and his brother, Ronnie, were having our dinner in the company lunchroom. Lonnie had bought a can of soup from the vending machine and was trying to pull open the pull-tab when all of a sudden, the lid popped off and soup went everywhere, including Ronnie's shirt. Lonnie sat there stone faced and said simply, "Wow! There's a lot of soup in one of these little cans."
Lonnie ran a "slitter" machine at Jaite. This machine would take in a large 2,000 pound roll of bottle labels, such as Coca Cola, Pepsi, Sprite, etc., and slit them down to 6 or 7 small rolls. The master rolls would be loaded onto the front of the machine on a roller that had chucks in both ends of the roll to keep it from moving while the roll was spinning at several hundred feet per minute. The rolls were kept in place by chucks that were aired up in the core of each roll. One night, Lonnie and the operater of the next machine, Tom, were having a race to see who could get the most footage done that shift. Both machines were running full speed and both guys were hurrying to load each roll. Every several rolls on Tom's machine would run off the rollers and Tom would have to stop the machine and re-thread the labels, which took around 10-minutes at a time. He couldn't figure out why this was happening untill later in the night when he caught Lonnie letting the air out of Tom's roll chucks. Tom was really mad at the time, but Lonnie, me and others got a huge laugh out of it.
Back in the 1980s, we had less factory rules then we have today and at Jaite Packaging, machine operators were allowed to have radios and stereos at their machines. Lonnie had his huge radio tied to his control panal and every night while running his machine, he could be seen jerking and dancing around behind his work station.
To work with Lonnie Munn was to have an experience. All these many years later, I still remember him fondly. He had nothing but friends. When people utter the term, "only the good die young," they have got to be talking about Lonnie.
