Remembering Dwight Enold, 71, a Fixture at Chicken Manor

Dwight Enold, retired kitchen manager who died Friday at age 71, grumbled about his younger co-workers’ contemporary hairstyles, offbeat habits and constant use of technological gadgets.

On the surface, he appeared not to like the teenagers for whom an entry level job at the North Canton restaurant was akin to a rite of passage toward adulthood.

Yet they seemed to love him.

“Dwight was a wonderful man,” Pam Joy Sleighter said via a Facebook message. “He pretended to have such a tough exterior, but actually had such a caring heart once you got to know him! Every time Dwight would see me, he would always ask about how my family was doing and how my parents were doing.

“We called him ‘Big Guy,’ and he always had a nickname or two for many of us! My two sisters and I worked there, and he referred to me as the ‘pretty one.’ My other sister as the ‘smart one’ and my youngest sister as the ‘princess.’ He used to joke with us that, if we gave him a kiss on the cheek, was he ‘going to get warts?’”

Enold’s daughter Gwen Goss said, “He nicknamed the ones he liked.” He affectionately dubbed them with such monikers as “The Missing Link,” “The Mouth” and “Plastic Tina.”

He kept his line of workers moving in the kitchen, while he cooked chicken, french fries, noodles and hot sauce according to the owners’ specifications.

Enold always seemed to be keeping a few of his young helpers under his wing, sharing his expertise on food, occasionally covering for one who arrived at work with a hangover and frequently offering his advice on life.

The North Canton resident was born in Canton, the son of a general contractor who built the front portion of the Chicken Manor property in the 1950s.

As a teenager, Enold took a job as dishwasher at the restaurant before graduating from Lehman High School.

He was 19 when his father died, leaving him as the chief provider for his mother. That resulted in his repeatedly receiving deferments from the military draft until after his mother’s death in 1964.

After that, Enold was drafted into the U.S. Army and became an aeronautics instructor — a peculiar job for someone who was not mechanically inclined, his family said.

“In the Army, he learned how to take apart jet engines and reassemble them,” his daughter Valerie Wolford said. “He trained people to do it overseas. He never left the states.”

Upon his discharge, Enold returned to Chicken Manor, where he worked until retiring last October.

“He was a simple guy,” daughter Gwen Goss said. “He always wore a blue stocking cap he took from the lost-and-found at Chicken Manor in the ’70s. He wore the same shirt in every picture. He didn’t like change.”

Enold met his wife, Deanna, on a blind date at a Marine Corps ball in the late 1960s. They were married April 18, 1970, but always celebrated the anniversary of the day they met.

For most of his married life, Enold worked at Chicken Manor from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. five days a week. He spent his time off with his wife and two daughters.

He had favorite instructive sayings that he drilled into his daughters’ brains with repetition. These include, “No one can ever take your education away,” and “There are a lot of stupid people in the world; No one’s any better than anybody else.”

In addition to his wife and two daughters, survivors include two grandchildren and a brother, Ernest "Teddy."

Calling hours are 4-7 p.m. tomorrow at , 801 Pittsburg Ave. NW, where services will take place at 11 a.m. Thursday, April 21.

 Donations may be made to the American Lung Association, 1950 Arlingate Lane, Columbus, OH 43228.