Mr Schwarz was the name that came to me out of the proverbial blue yesterday. I can’t remember his first name, if I ever knew it, but what I do remember was that he was an elderly businessman from New York City and he was the owner of Lloyds the department store that I had recently been employed at in the warehouse. The year was the winter of 1975/6, there were a few feet of frozen snow and ice on the ground, the place was Middletown, Orange County, about an hour’s drive upstate from the City and about a twenty minute drive from where I was living. I had arrived in the States several months earlier, as a 20 year old fresh from London with my then girlfriend Kris, although we had gone through a registry office marriage previously so I could get that elusive green card. As a registered alien I was issued with a Social Security number, which I can still remember all these years later. Work was hard for me to find as I had quite long hair at the time falling onto my shoulders. I did a bit of casual house painting first, mostly outside on dangerously high ladders. The work dried up and I decided I had better get a regular job, so I got my hair cut, blagged a car and after some futile searching a warehouse job opened up for me at Lloyds, it was a huge all round department store, the forerunner of the superstores we know today. The job was simple, to take in deliveries through the back door, stack them on the shelving, and send down orders to the shop floor below via a rickety conveyor belt. The managers were fierce, if anyone stepped out of line they got a severe warning and on a second transgression they were out the door. It was a rather brutal introduction to the working practices at that time in the USA. As I said at the beginning the owner was Mr Schwartz, he would once in a while drop to inspect his business and the staff were somewhat in fear of his temper, which could flare up very easily. One day he was visiting and everything was made shipshape for his inspection, it seemed that we in the warehouse had passed satisfactorily and he made his way down to the shop floor below. There was then a call for several rolls of linoleum to be sent down. I was on my own and place the said rolls, at least six or seven feet long and very heavy, on the belt to go down. I watched them descend when I noticed Mr Schwartz making his way below, when one of the rolls slipped off the belt and tumbled down towards him. My blood froze in that moment as I watched open mouthed as the end of one roll fell just a few inches behind his head and missed him so narrowly I couldn’t believe it. He was known to be partially deaf and I’m guessing his eyesight wasn’t that good, he was totally oblivious of what had just happened and as I was the only witness I said nothing at the time, for no-one else noticed it fortunately. My mind was disturbed for days with the memories of that incident, I had come so close to causing some serious injury, or possibly death to the owner. I can’t imagine what would have happened if the roll had hit him – or to me either. I lived to fight another day, and so did he. I left the job a few months later and moved on eventually to California. But it taught me a huge lesson, which was to take safety seriously and not be so casual. It was a very lucky escape.