IMHO, Bringing in the wickers at the end of the day must be one of the best jobs in all of golf course maintenance.
In the mid eighties I worked at Merion,for Richy Valentine on the maintenance staff, as an intern. I lived in the clubhouse along with about 5 or 6 other interns from around the world. Bill Jones was the assistant, now the super at Friars head, and he would give out job assignments. By far the most sought after was bringing in the wickers at the end of the day in the wicker truck. A leisure ride around the east course in an old pick-up truck, with a cold six pack while, the sun was setting over the white faces...hey maybe that was my GCA moment that was discussed in another thread.
By the way the second best job at Merion back then also involved the wicker truck. Everyday one of us that lived at the club had to take Frank Marchava, a fellow employee, home in the wicker truck. Frank lived about 3 or 4 miles from the club and although he walked to work we would drive him home. Frank was 75 years old and was the bunker man. He was the only person at that time that was allowed to do any maintenance on the bunkers. That was his job everyday all day. He would disappear in the morning only to reappear at the end of the day. He never took a cart and always had an assortment of tools thrown over his shoulder. With a 124 bunkers at the time, it probably took him at least a month to get around to all of the bunkers. There you go, the big secret to the Merion bunker look of old, leave them alone! Anyway back to taking Frank home. Once you got to Franks house he would invite you in to house for something to drink and eat. Frank didn't speak English and I don't speak Italian, so I am assuming his arm waving and yelling meant to come in for something to eat or drink or else. He served what I was told by others his homemade wine mixed with Pepsi along with an assortment of hard dry cookies. I choked it all down the first time I went all the while Frank and his wife were talking to me with both voice and hand gestures. It felt like I was in trouble or something. Anyway by the time I left Merion I had acquired a taste and an appreciation for Frank's wine, cookies, and hospitality. I got the point that if I drank enough of his wine/Pepsi combination I could understand him and his wife and even join in the conversation.