By William Smith
Burlington resident Glenn Olomon, 93, is a full-service throwback. A man from a gentler time, back when gas station attendants filled up cars and apple pie had yet to become an American cliché.
For the past 27 years, Olomon has been sitting outside the Jet Stop gas station at the corner of Mount Pleasant Street and Roosevelt Avenue. Winter or summer.
“It (the heat) doesn’t bother me. Same with the cold weather. I’m out here in the heat and cold,” he said.
Usually clad in a loose, yellow safety vest and trademark green baseball cap, Olomon does a little of everything at the gas station. He gently sprays down vehicles before they enter the automated car wash. He makes impromptu repairs inside and out of the station.
“I don’t sit around. I get to talk to everybody,” he said.
Olomon has made quite a few friends with his gab and has been known to lend money to total strangers.
He hates seeing someone stuck at a gas station unable to get home.
“I’ve given people a few dollars for gas sometimes,” he said.
Olomon recalled when he recently lent money to a young man who wanted to use the car wash. Given the transient nature of gas station clientele, Olomon never expected to recoup that loan.
He was pleasantly surprised when the young man returned days later with cash in hand.
“He said, ‘How much do I owe?’ And I said, ‘Let’s just say $5 and call it even,” Olomon said, grinning.
Olomon will be turning 94 in a few months. He never plans on retiring from his retirement career.
“It keeps my mind active,” Olomon said.
One of his regular customers asked his wife, a doctor, to make a check-up call on Olomon while he was working at the gas station. He just wanted to make sure Olomon was staying healthy.
Olomon already knew what the results would be.
“She (the doctor) came to see me for about 20 minutes. She said this (the gas station) is the best place for me. It keeps me healthy,” Olomon said.
But there’s one aspect of the service station industry Olomon won’t touch.
“I don’t do anything with the cash registers,” he said.
A respected war veteran
Olomon’s memories of serving the U.S. Army during the Korean War have never faded.
Olomon doesn’t reflect back on those days often. However, when he recently discovered newspaper articles detailing parts of his military service, the memories of that time came back.
“It was an experience you would never forget,” he said.
Olomon has been a native and resident of Southeast Iowa his entire life. He grew up with 11 siblings, several of them served in prior wars — including three brothers in World War II, another brother in the Korean War, and a brother in the Vietnam War.
Olomon didn’t enlist. He was drafted a few months after getting married. He served in the Army from 1951 to 1953, then spent another six years in the Army Reserve.
Olomon’s wife was pregnant when he left for boot camp, and he likely would have been back home in time to watch her give birth after basic training. But he forgot to salute a few military brass and had to stay through the Christmas break because of it.
His wife gave birth, but they lost the baby. Olomon was allowed to come home to his family, but then it was off to war.
“I had to go,” he said.
In Korea
Olomon served on the front lines in the 23rd Infantry in 1952 and was a trucker for artillery pieces moved around Korea.
“I was assistant gunner when I was on the truck,” he said. “We would set up and fire anyplace — wherever they told us to set up.”
They were shelled by enemy mortars and artillery — to the point where it became routine but never comfortable.
“We always lived in a bunker,” he said.
There were no buildings to speak of at all, Olomon said.
“I was gone (from America) for three Christmases. Back then, if it rained (in Korea), you had to stay in the rain. We didn’t have shelters. We didn’t have buildings. There were no such things as buildings.” he said.
Olomon came out of the war uninjured and considers himself lucky. It wasn’t just the bullets putting his life at risk.
He remembers the chaotic trip to Incheon — the western coast of South Korea.
“We went to Pier 81 in Seattle and shipped out. The seas got so rough going over, it blew the motors out of the ship,” he said.
Olomon’s ship was caught in a storm that nearly proved deadly.
“They had to shut all the hatches. The ship would dip down in the front, and the tail would come up and shake the ship,” he said. “Before it was over with, they came over the loudspeaker and said we were going to abandon ship.”
The men ended up not having to abandon the ship, but the damage was immense.
“We had to anchor there for two weeks,” Olomon said.
From there they went to Yokohama, Japan, around Pusan, South Korea, and into Incheon.
“They docked the ships way out in the ocean, and we climbed off the ropes and dropped into these little, bitty boats,” he said.
One of the last
The bond Olomon made with his fellow service personnel lasted a lifetime. They would visit each other on occasion after the war.
“We used to call back and forth all the time. The one in Minneapolis, he came down to see me,” Olomon said.
Olomon even traveled to Baltimore, M.D., to visit one of his war buddies.
“That was a great experience. I’m a country feller who went to Baltimore,” Olomon said with a smile.
Though Olomon and his wife never had any biological children, they did adopt a daughter who lives near Fargo, N.D. After returning home, Olomon went to work for a Keokuk steel mill.
He retired from farm work 30 years ago, then started his second career as a Jet Stop attendant, where he does everything but run the cash register.
Like World War II veterans, Korean War veterans are becoming increasingly rare.
Olomon said he was the last of his war buddies. He found that out when he called his war friend in Baltimore.
“His wife said he had passed away. The one in Minnesota passed away too,” he said.
Olomon is also the last of his veteran siblings and likes to joke about how little time he has left on Earth — even as he displays the energy of a much younger man. He’s not rushing for an exit any time soon.
“It’s been quite an experience,” he said.
