She’s A Working Wonder When Woman Got Chance, She Made The Most Of It

‘Help wanted” read the signs, but no one wanted Mona Vee Bass. She had no front teeth. A sty covered one eye, and because of her weight, she had trouble walking. At 47, she read as well as only a 5-year-old.

“We’re not hiring,” said one business after another when she answered ads in Coeur d’Alene. Bass would return to the small rental house she shares with her husband, turn on the radio and crochet. When the emptiness finally got to her, she’d walk, hoping to meet someone on the street just to visit.

Then one day, a letter arrived from the Idaho Division of Vocational Rehabilitation, urging her to call if she wanted to work. She did.

This month, the woman whom no one wanted to hire was named employee of the year at Goodwill Industries of the Inland Northwest, where more than 340 people work.

With a hearty laugh and a “Hello beautiful!” to colleagues, Bass clocks 40 hours a week at the Coeur d’Alene Goodwill - a taxpaying, vacation-taking, insurance-carrying employee. She reads on breaks - children’s books passed along by co-workers. When she speaks of “Anne of Green Gables,” she grins. New dentures.

“She was given a lifeline,” said Jean Conger, human resource manager at Medical Service Corp. who helped select the winner.

A 1995 U.S. News and World Report cover story on charities called Goodwill Industries one of the “standout good guys” for its international mission of helping the disabled find work.

Eighty percent of workers in 11 stores from Sandpoint to Moscow, Moses Lake to Coeur d’Alene are disabled. Last year, more than 1,300 people used Goodwill services ranging from job training to computer training to specialized testing.

Among the clients: an injured millworker, a headhunter from a New York management firm who had a stroke and an Eastern Washington University graduate with severe anxiety. And, in spring 1995, Mona Vee Bass.

Raised in Utah, she was pulled out of school in eighth grade by her mother, who said she had learned as much as she ever would. She still can recite a book of poems learned by ear, but she couldn’t read. Goodwill determined she has dyslexia.

“My studies were coloring books and crayons,” Bass said. “In those days, they didn’t know how to teach a slow learner.”

Her husband, Bruce, worked and supported the couple in California and Nevada before they moved to Idaho to be near friends.

Evaluated, then hired part time at the Coeur d’Alene Goodwill, Bass couldn’t work a full shift because of painful swelling of her legs from “this stupid weight.”

“I’m a nervous eater and an overeater,” said the 5-foot-9-inch woman.

When she started, staffers had Bass sit down part of the time. They found a children’s dictionary to help her label items.

“We cannot erase the disability or barrier. We can teach them to be the boss of the disability,” said Paula Swearingen, human resources manager for the crisply organized store.

Each night, Bass would wash out the one pair of denim pants she owned. Co-workers helped find more clothing and applauded when she lost 25 pounds.

“I’m in awe of what they do,” MSC’s Conger said of the Goodwill staff. “They find the golden kernels and bring them out.”

When a full-time position opened, Bass applied and got it, learning responsibilities in seven departments. The state helped fix her teeth, and her own insurance paid for eye surgery. She returned to work the next day.

“This job made her feel like a person,” said Kathryn Zimmerman, a state of Idaho rehabilitation counselor.

Bass adopts trainees, sharing breaks and meals, teasing them along. When a trainee who wouldn’t speak joined a program, Bass got her talking.

“When people’s self-esteem changes, their attitudes and their abilities change,” Swearingen said.

Bass joined literacy classes at North Idaho College, where she arrives early and always completes her homework.

“She’s infectious,” says instructor Julie Ives. “Everyone is more enthusiastic when she’s in the room.”

Her son, Gregory Blackwell, frequently finds her studying at the kitchen table when he arrives home. A student himself at NIC, he sits down with his books and joins her.

“I’ve seen a light come into her eyes that has probably not been there before,” Blackwell said.

That he is there to see it seems a miracle. The couple had five children in four years and were living in Las Vegas when the state of Nevada declared them unfit parents and placed the children in foster homes more than 20 years ago.

“I didn’t know how to take care of children,” Bass said quietly. “I didn’t have any breaks.” Failing to understand Nevada laws, they lost custody after six months of no contact.

Now adopted and grown, four children have restored contact with Bass. She and her husband recently attended their twin daughters’ college graduation.

“They’ve got scars and we’ve got scars that will never heal. But we’re talking and we’re trying to be a family,” Bass said.

A Pentecostal, Bass credits her restored family and her award to God. Her husband, who works at Port Hope rehabilitation center, couldn’t wait to show his employers her plaque, which came with $250. David French of Coeur d’Alene and Jim Henton of Moses Lake were finalists.

Last Saturday, Bass bought her husband breakfast with her own money. She bought the autoharp she always wanted to learn to play, and she dreams of buying a small home.

“I love my life,” she said.

“If people knew this woman,” said Swearingen, “they’d hire her in a heartbeat.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color photos