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Each morning, F. William Sunderman arrives at work at 8 at the Institute for Clinical Science at Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia. He edits a medical journal and brags that he keeps two secretaries busy.

"If I didn't do this, what else would I do?" he asked. "I'd just twiddle my thumbs."

Assuredly, Dr. Sunderman is an exquisitely accomplished man. He has four doctorates, if you count the honorary one; he developed the method for measuring glucose in the blood, the Sunderman Sugar Tube, and he thinks that he may have been the first doctor to use insulin to bring a patient out of a diabetic coma. He worked as a medical researcher in secrecy to protect workers' health during the Manhattan Project to build the atomic bomb.

Two years ago, he played his violin, a 1694 Stradivarius, with a string quartet — in celebration of his 100th birthday.

This go-getting Methuselah is not alone. In Battle Creek, Mich., John F. Mally, 92, puts in 40 hours a week as an efficiency expert at a plant making steel strings for guitars and banjos. In Los Angeles, Robert Eisenberg, 102, works at a zipper factory where he makes sales calls — and worries mightily about cheap imports.

In the little town of North, S.C., Mario D. Fogel, 95, still cuts hair at the barbershop he opened in 1925. In Santa Claus, Ind., Frieda Foretsch, 90, the greenhouse manager at the Holiday World amusement park, has 400 geraniums and 500 ferns ready to plant as soon as the weather warms up.

And at a sandstone quarry in Carroll County, Va., Walter Burnette, a comparative youngster at 89, maneuvers a power shovel for eight bumpy, grinding hours a day. "About everything I've learned is that you ought to keep working and do everything you can and you'll stay a lot younger," he said.

The number of very, very old workers is growing, largely because of the blazing demand for labor in recent years and the stunning growth in the number of older people. When the United States was born, one of every 40 people was over 65. Today, one in seven is, and by 2030 one in four will be, the Census Bureau has predicted. Older people today are also healthier, on average, making it easier for them to keep working.

While longevity makes it possible for more older workers to stay on the job, it also makes it more necessary. As the number of people over 65 climbs — by the middle of the century, they are forecast to outnumber people under 18 for the first time — younger people will be hard-pressed to support them through payments into pension and Social Security systems. That shift may also mean greater need for skilled workers, making it necessary for older people to work. Many employers are already recruiting the elderly.

"The fact is that we are living longer, healthier lives," said Andrea Wooten, president of Green Thumb, a federal program to train older workers.

The Census Bureau says that from 1900 to 2000, the number of people 85 and over grew tenfold, to four million, while the overall population grew less than fourfold. The bureau projects that the 85-and-over population will exceed 13 million by 2040. The number of centenarians is expected to grow to more than 834,000, from just 63,000 in 1900.

And there is growing evidence that people already plan to work longer: a 1998 poll by AARP showed that 80 percent of baby boomers, those born between 1946 and 1964, planned to work past the age of 65. People already past that traditional retirement age are the vanguard. The percentage of people 70 to 74 who are in the work force or looking for work rose to 13.5 percent last year, from 11.3 percent in 1990, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics; the figure for those aged 75 and older climbed to 5.3 percent from 4.3 percent a decade ago.

A significant change in attitude toward retirement seems to be afoot. During the postwar years, retirement became enshrined as the pot of gold at the end of everyone's rainbow. Social Security and private pensions grew inexorably, as did the value of the family house. Del Webb, the builder of retirement communities, coined the term "the golden years."

Some experts argue that the double whammy of prosperity and a deeply embedded belief in retirement may be impossible to change, except for those blessed with very satisfying careers. "Provided they can afford to retire and pursue activities, these individuals will retire," wrote Dora L. Costa, an economist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in the November issue of Participant, a magazine published by TIAA-CREF Mutual Funds.

Others suggest that the future is not so clear-cut. Whether out of economic necessity or intellectual curiosity, an increasing number of older workers are remaining in the work force, at least part-time. A telltale signal is that the Del Webb Corporation now routinely offers home offices in the retirement communities it builds. And in a measure of willingness to embrace new technology, people over 65 are the fastest-growing group of Internet users, according to a September report by eMarketer, an Internet research company.

Adding momentum to the possibility of later, more productive retirements are the growing willingness of employers to hire older workers, especially for service jobs, and the removal of certain disincentives. Last year, for example, Social Security rules were changed to stop financially penalizing 65- to 69-year-olds for continuing to work.

But retirement is only half of an increasingly unbalanced equation in the labor market. Baby boomers represent a huge bubble moving up the age chart, and there may simply not be enough young people to support them in retirements that could last almost as long as what were formerly considered normal working lives. The ratio of Americans aged 20 to 64 to those older than 64 was 16.5 to 1 in 1950. It is now 3.3 to 1, and Social Security's trustees estimate that it will decline to about 2 to 1 by 2030.

"Clearly, we can take care of greatly disabled senior citizens, but the idea that most are not able to do a lot of work is not really on," said Peter G. Peterson, chairman of the Blackstone Group, an investment bank, who was commerce secretary in the Nixon administration. Mr. Peterson, 74, has written and spoken extensively on the dangers of a coming demographic crunch.

And fewer older people are unable to work. The proportion of Americans 65 or older with a chronic disability declined to 21 percent in 1994 from 24 percent in 1982, according to the National Long-Term Care Survey.

Of perhaps crucial importance, there are signs that employers like older workers. Companies like Wal-Mart Stores, McDonald's and the CVS drugstore chain have made concerted efforts to hire them.

Moreover, a Harris poll last year of 774 corporate human resource directors showed 80 percent agreeing that older workers (aged 55 and up) had less turnover, and 71 percent saying these workers had as much ability as younger ones to acquire new skills.

But William K. Zinke, president of Human Resource Services, the Boulder, Colo., firm that commissioned the poll, said that there was a "remarkable disconnect" between the professionals' responses and many companies' behavior. The reason is age discrimination, which has become the biggest complaint to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. A common example, Mr. Zinke said, is companies' unwillingness to offer training to older workers.

To draw attention to the value of older workers, Green Thumb, which is named for its early efforts to help Lady Bird Johnson beautify the nation's roadsides, annually picks an older worker for special recognition.

The winners, by anyone's definition, have been as impressive as their ages. Most say they typify nothing more than the stubborn streak of just keeping on keeping on. But given current trends and future needs, they may well be guides to what lies ahead.

Mr. Eisenberg, the Los Angeles zipper manufacturer, was the honoree last year. As a young soldier during World War I, he was about to ship out to Europe when the armistice was declared. As a silk dealer in Manhattan, he reveled in the Roaring Twenties, but lost all he had, $100,000, in the market crash of 1929. He moved to Los Angeles after World War II, in which his only son, Marc, was killed. He and a partner established a garment trim company in the early 1950's; he retired at 72.

Golf and traveling the globe wore thin, and in 1982, at 82, he returned to work, joining his former business partner at Zabin Industries, which cranks out 16,000 zippers each eight- hour shift. He negotiates with vendors, helps oversee the plant and personally handles a couple of important accounts. He still puts in 20 hours or more a week.

"Robbie is invaluable at work because of what he teaches the younger managers, the kind of knowledge you can't get out of a book," said Alan Faiola, Zabin's president.

Mr. Eisenberg said, "I like that they trust me."

In 1999, Green Thumb named Dr. Sunderman, then 100, as the nation's oldest worker. Born in Altoona, Pa., he was drawn to classical music, but helped finance his education by playing violin in burlesque houses. He collects antique instruments, including the Stradivarius, and has performed in Carnegie Hall.

He describes his accomplishments as "too long to tell" — and they do fill three pages of the Marquis "Who's Who in America." Among other things, the listings say that he has held faculty positions at nine medical schools and that he served as chief of clinical pathology at the Communicable Disease Center when it was part of the United States Public Health Service in the 1940's.

He works from 8 to 4, and, after quitting driving last year, now has a chauffeur. He complains bitterly about physicians unionizing and medicine losing its professionalism. His view of retirement is shaped by friends who have retired to Florida.

"The first year, they play golf three or four days a week and have a highball before dinner," he said. "The next year, they play twice a week and start having liquor at lunch. Then they forget about golf, become alcoholics and pass away."

Clara Martin of Woodbridge, N.J., minimizes her accomplishment. "I'm just an old lady, that's all," she said. "I'm going to be 93 this year."

She is too modest. This August, she will have worked as a secretary for the same real estate office for 50 years. She can still type nearly 120 words a minute and take dictation at 200; she does the books because she likes to. "I can look at rows of figures, eight across and seven down, and know there's a mistake," she said.

She lives in a retirement community with her daughter Marie, who is retired from her job as a school psychologist. The two crochet hats and scarves for the needy. (Mrs. Martin recalls knitting socks for World War I soldiers when she was 10.) She likes the independence of bringing home a paycheck, although like almost all of the much-older workers, she does not need the money. "There's nothing in terms of outerwear or underwear that I need," as she put it.

When her office got computers a dozen years ago, Mrs. Martin was told she was too old to learn to use them. She promptly enrolled in a computer course at a local college for the sole reason of proving to herself that she could do it. "I may have been the oldest student in the class, but I was also the smartest," she said.

To this day, she said she still refused to use a computer at work because of the initial insult. But she says she is cheerful about it. "If you can't laugh," she added, "what's life about?"

Maybe a good haircut. Mr. Fogel gave his first one at 11, and opened his own shop in 1925. Haircuts then cost 35 cents and shaves 20 cents. These days, haircuts go for $9 and nobody has asked for a shave in years. If they did, it would be $1.50. Another change is that people no longer have time to gab away afternoons in barbershops.

Mr. Fogel did not teach his three sons to cut hair. They all went to college; he paid tuition with calves produced each spring by his 50 head of cattle. The problem these days is that too many people forget that the old barber is still around. He gets maybe 10 customers a day, but figures that he could easily handle 60.

"When I get where I can't cut a good head of hair, that's when I'm going to quit," he said. "I'm not going to quit yet. I ain't but 95."

Clarence Wilcox, 93, lives in Sierra Vista, Ariz., and is the oldest worker in his state, according to Green Thumb. He works 40 hours a week as a civil engineer, but is starting to worry that he may have to give up doing his own surveying. He still does complex math to complete watershed reviews and other engineering tasks, and recently finished fighting the local authorities to have a 200- unit recreational vehicle resort approved.

Mr. Wilcox smokes a pack of Camels a day, and enjoys a half-pint of Bacardi rum before dinner, poured all at once into a large glass. "I attribute my longevity to a combination of the two," he said.

Carley Zell, at 101, does not work as much as he used to. But he still goes to his office in Brunswick, Ga., to oversee his business interests, which include warehouses and real estate. He has been working continuously since he started delivering newspapers at 12.

A colleague recalls going to the airport with him about six years ago, and how Mr. Zell strode past panting 70-year-olds on his way to the gate. "It's entirely too hard to make old people walk that far," the friend recalled him saying in a huff.

Then there is Russell H. Harrell, 92, who works for Sieco, an engineering firm in Columbus, Ind. He started working as a water boy with a road construction crew when he was 16, and ended up as director of the state's highway system. When he began, mules did the hard work. He loved road work, becoming expert at blasting through rock.

"I like the land. I like the rivers. I like the rocks. I like the people," he said.

At 66, he sincerely tried to retire. "I played a little golf, and then I said, `This is kind of silly,' " he recalled. "I've been used to spending a half a billion dollars a year" as head of the highway system.

He sometimes drives 1,000 miles a week in one of his two Cadillacs and has been known to work 12 hours a day. "My life's been work since I was a kid," he said. "I've had a great life."

Some older workers come to their callings later in life. Mrs. Foretsch grew tired of staying at home after her daughters left for college. So she began volunteering at Holiday World, as do others in the Santa Claus community. Before long, she applied for the paying job of managing the greenhouse and was soon mothering 3,000 plants. She experiments with plant hybridization and cross-pollination, and has developed her own mixture of potting soil. She designed and made aprons for the crew that sweeps the park, so that they could carry their supplies with them.

"My friends don't ask me to go quilting or to card games anymore," she said. "I just don't have time."

Others just keep right on doing the same thing. Mr. Burnette has been operating a construction shovel for 65 years in his native Virginia. He helped build the Blue Ridge Parkway, the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel and the Pentagon. His first job, at the age of 9, was feeding logging horses; his current one is operating a power shovel at a rock quarry. "It's good exercise because you're using your legs and arms all the time," he said.

Other workers once went to the company's safety officer and asked why someone so elderly was operating heavy equipment — even though he has never had an injury. "He ain't no more apt to have a heart attack than a younger man," the safety officer replied, Mr. Burnette recalled. "And I can't find anybody who would be any safer."

Mr. Burnette, like many of the other older workers, has never smoked or drank. In the summer, he works up to 12 hours a day. He gets up at 3 a.m. to read, most often the encyclopedia. "When you quit work, you've ruined yourself," he said. "You sit around and get old."

Charlotte Haugland, 92, a certified public accountant in Tacoma, Wash., loves her work, too. She does accounting and taxes from her home office for both corporations and individuals. For recreation, she enjoys reading journals on taxation. Another favorite activity is attending the 60 hours of courses needed each year to maintain her C.P.A. license.

"I enjoy that so much," she said. "I'm a listener, not a talker. I know what I know, but I don't know what the other guy knows."

Ms. Haugland figures that she will just keep doing what she's doing. "I've thought about going into assisted living," she said, "but, golly sakes, you're living with all those old people."

Mr. Mally, the efficiency expert, tried to retire four times, but employers keep seeking out his expertise. Among his jobs after he left General Foods was helping the Steinway & Sons piano company in New York develop auditing standards and methods. He cut costs by 15 percent by reducing the number of times a piano under construction was moved.

At his present 40-hour-a-week job at the GHS Corporation of Battle Creek, Mich., which makes strings for guitars and other instruments, he devised a method to reduce scrap by more than 80 percent, saving more than $250,000 a year.

He likes to point out that he was born in 1908, the last year the Chicago Cubs won the World Series; his uncle was the team's batboy. His former doctors and dentists are all dead, but the fascinations of making things more efficient never subside.

"I don't have time to get idle," he said. "It's pretty fast."

For some older workers, work has become just about the most permanent thing. "I haven't got a buddy I used to hunt or fish with still alive," said Rhode B. Causey, 96, who has been selling office machines in Little Rock since 1927. "I'm afraid to retire."

Norris C. Hatcher, 94, who had retired from a managerial job at a furniture company after 43 years and "loafed" for six months, took a job in his mid-60's on a furniture company assembly line in Mount Airy, N.C.. "I lost my wife about 25 years ago and I didn't have any hobbies," he said. "That's my hobby — working."

Clearly, work seems to do more than pay the bills and fill the time. For many of the oldest laborers, it imparts wisdom — and then gives that wisdom a useful context.

Milton W. Garland was Green Thumb's first honoree as oldest worker, in 1998. He earned 41 patents in his field of refrigeration, was named "Mr. Refrigeration" by his industry and, until last May, worked 20 hours a week evaluating refrigeration patents. He died last July, at 104.

"Live like you're going to live forever, not like you're going to die tomorrow," he once pronounced.