Betty Kendall, 83, holds her grandmother's volt-ammeter while being recorded by Vivian Jones, a California State University Dominguez Hills associate professor, as part of her international Tradeswomen Archives Project. Women were invited Saturday to contribute virtual and material artifacts of their experiences to help build a comprehensive record of women in non-traditional jobs. Ross William Hamilton/The Oregonian
Betty Kendall was the only mechanic at Ed's Auto Electric to wear pearls underneath her coveralls.
It was 1976. Kendall, now 83, had just received her Associate of Arts degree from Portland Community College in auto mechanics. Just one year earlier, she had been named the first woman in the country to become certified by the
National Institute for Automotive Service Excellence as a master mechanic.
She had a knack for fixing things that not everyone in the male-dominated trade appreciated. But Kendall said her drive to be self-sufficient was more overwhelming than the anger of those who thought it was too counter-cultural.
"In those days, a woman complained once and then she was a troublemaker," she said.
Kendall was one of 12 tradeswomen who took part in an archiving event to document their history. The international
Tradeswomen Archives Project hosted the Saturday event at
Oregon Tradeswomen, Inc., a Northeast Portland nonprofit that helps women access careers in non-traditional blue-collar work.
Vivian Price, an associate professor at California State University Dominguez Hills, runs the archiving project. She called it a "grassroots movement" to document tradeswomens' lives, now that many are just beginning to retire.
"Their records and stories could be lost," said Price, a former electrician. "We're trying to make sure that doesn't happen."
Penny Painter started working construction in 1980. She was a single mom and needed to make more money than her $5 an hour receptionist position allowed.
Painter, 55, started out cleaning construction job sites. Her income immediately doubled.
She knew the job would come with opposition from her male counterparts, but she earned respect by being a hard worker with a no-nonsense attitude.
And with her hair braided under a hard hat, Painter blended in.
"You couldn't tell I was a female except for my nails, which were nice and pretty," she said. "They were always blood red – the same color as my Harley."
Painter said the view of women in the construction field is changing.
"It doesn't matter who you are," she said. "Most contractors don't care as long as you can do the job and will try hard."
As for Kendall, she found that many people didn't understand why a woman would ever want to be a mechanic. On the job hunt, she was called a "starry-eyed idealist" and told to go back to being a housewife. She got kicked out of boot shops and ran into trouble buying coveralls that fit.
Her interest in the trade stemmed from growing up in the country. Life there contrasted with the city, she said, where the aftermath of the industrial revolution had deepened gender segregation.
On the farm, Kendall watched her grandmother fix their tractor. She still wore a dress, quilted and made award-winning angel food cakes, but when something needed fixing, she could do it.
"These are things women have been doing for years," said Kendall, who also raised three children with her husband, a professor of medicine.
That explains the pearls hidden under her coveralls: a few times a week, Kendall would rush after work to meet her husband at evening receptions, when she'd quickly wipe the grease off her hands and swap the coveralls for a dress.
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Andrea Castillo
