Son follows dad’s legacy of never missing a day of work
This is a “like father, like son” story that is unlike almost any of its genre.
It spans 108 years and features a pair of dedicated Washington Countians, a war veteran and his son; a devastating generational blizzard; a horse that transported the father to work in the midst of that storm, then spent the night stabled in a newspaper mailroom; and an executive there who correctly ordered the father, wobbling on an injured leg at work, to go home.
But more than anything, it is a saga of two men who never took a sick day during careers that each lasted more than a half-century.
“My dad was a workaholic,” Jack Burt said with a smile, referring to the late Harold Burt. His father did not miss a day in 53 years in the Observer-Reporter press room in downtown Washington. “He was proud of his work record, but did not boast about it.”
Yet there is ample evidence that the youngest of Harold and Eleanor Piatt Burt’s five children is the same caliber of workaholic. Jack Burt has already passed his dad’s formidable mark, and on Tuesday he will retire from Southwest Training Services Inc., also in Washington, with a perfect attendance record of over 55 years.
Jack, unlike his father, worked for several employers since the Eisenhower administration. He will be completing this journey at a time when businesses seemingly everywhere are seeking, even trying to entice, would-be employees, and still not hiring a sufficient number.
“Jack is a great guy. He’s very dependable, obviously,” said Lisa Neil, president of Southwest Training Services, where Jack was a job developer for eight years. “He worked with a lot of employers and job seekers. He has a lot of talents.”
Harold Burt lived in a different era. Born in 1918, he began working at the hometown O-R when he was 20. He was employed in the press room for a few years before being drafted to serve during World War II. His commanding officer in the Third Army was fabled Gen. George Patton.
Jack said his father entered the service a little later in the conflict and did not earn medals while serving in Germany and France. According to Jack, Harold did capture a German prisoner who, essentially, approached him and surrendered. Harold eventually returned home to soldier on at the newspaper.
He was the consummate dedicated employee, punching in every workday and diligently performing his duties regardless of weather, or whether he was under the weather.
Harold reported the November day the infamous blizzard of 1950 inundated the eastern United States. He traversed three miles from his Amwell Township home to Washington via horseback, stabling the quadruped inside the O-R. A photo of the beast, carrying its owner, accompanied a local weather story on page 1 of The Washington Observer the next day.
The company honored him for a half-century-plus of service, a celebration that included a page in the O-R featuring two photos of Harold. Then, one day during that 53rd year, his perfect attendance record acquired an asterisk. A leg injury had him in such distress that an executive ordered him to go home. Harold did so, grudgingly.
“Dad wanted to stay and wrote on his time card, in big letters, I-L-L,” said his son, Jack. Laughing, he added: “My dad was a workaholic.”
Jack was 11 when he started a part-time job at Kleen-Rite Car Wash on Jefferson Avenue in Washington. He affably admitted that he WANTED to call off a number of times.
“Obviously, I’m human. Sometimes I was tired, stressed, concerned about what was ahead. I worked when I was sick, when I should have stayed home. When I was younger, I may have stayed out late and not felt like working the next day, but I always did.”
Harold and Eleanor Piatt Burt, who are both deceased, raised four sons and one daughter on a 37-acre tract south of Washington. That’s where the father built a “basketball barn” for their kids and anyone who wanted to drop in. It was a recreation site he finished Nov. 22, 1963, the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The barn was not limited to basketball, though.
“We also played dodgeball, volleyball, wrestling matches and soccer on roller skates,” said Jack, 66, a Trinity High graduate. “We later had parties, banquets for sports teams and dek hockey.”
The basketball barn likely help stoked the family’s love of athletics. All four of the Burt sons have been enshrined in the Trinity Sports Hall of Fame, Jack specifically for coaching. A nephew, Dan Burt, has followed the same vocation, as head coach of the Duquesne University women’s basketball team.
Six decades later, the barn – the workaholic father’s handiwork – still stands, and is still in use.
“Dad also built a backstop,” Jack said. “Mom said he was the best baseball player she had ever seen.”
Jack Burt and his close companion, Donna Morosco, sat for an hourlong interview Monday morning at a Peters Township dining location. He was not skipping work, but taking one of his final vacation days. Morosco, 64, a State Farm insurance agent for 36 years, retired last March. She gave up acting decades ago to raise a family, but is getting back into that. They reside in North Strabane Township, off Route 19 near Peters.
“I’m a lucky guy,” he said, smiling at her.
“Well, I’m a lucky lady,” she countered.
In a resignation letter he submitted to Neil weeks ago, Burt said: “This is one of the most monumental days in my life! I am announcing my retirement. My last day of work with Southwest Training Services, Inc. will be Tuesday 2/28/2023.
“Hands down, this has been my favorite job … I get a bit of an adrenal rush helping people. I have always enjoyed training employees and coaching sports.”
Burt also told Neil he has a bucket list “that is more like a deep well! I help with multiple nonprofits and will help create one for (Donna) to offer acting and performing lessons and mini-performances for those with special needs.”
Morosco and Burt also have made travel plans, including a trip to Crystal River, Fla., to swim with manatees, and a two-week European tour featuring a wedding in London and excursions to Paris and Rome.
Sick days are off the table.



