Uncle Lynn and Mr. Flynn

Harley wanted to talk to his Uncle Lynn first, so that is where Mike dropped him off. It was Sunday, so his uncle was sure to be home. Harley was hoping that Uncle Lynn would not have some odd chore he needed help with because he had dressed up, in anticipation of seeing Mr. Flynn later. He didn’t want to get his good clothes dirty. He had to roll up the sleeves on his dress shirt, however, because they were quite a bit shorter than they were when he wore the shirt to graduation. Either his mother shrunk the shirt or his arms had grown longer over the summer. Mike told Harley that he looked taller than when he left. Maybe that’s why his good trousers looked a little short in the legs, too.

Harley knocked on the side porch door, where he knew Aunt Alice would answer, since she was probably in the kitchen. She saw him through the window panes and ran to the door.

“Harley Van Seibert! When did you get home?” she squealed.

“Last night, Aunt Alice. Is Uncle Lynn around, please? I came to get some advice,” Harley revealed.

“Sure he is, honey. And you know he loves to give advice! I’ll go get him. Better yet, grab a cookie from the jar there and follow me,” she told him over her shoulder as she headed for the library. “I think he’s in here with his third cup of coffee.”

There he was, sitting in an over-sized black leather chair with his feet up on an ottoman, reading the Sunday edition of the Des Moines Register. Uncle Lynn read the Register first thing every morning. He always said he wanted to know the latest news before he started his day. He figured someone might want to stop and chat with him, and he wanted to be able to discuss, intelligently, whatever was going on in the world, or in Iowa, or in Des Moines. Harley was proud that all of his mother’s brothers and sisters were so well-educated. It was part of his motivation, too.

“Hello, young traveler!” Uncle Lynn whooped, as he rose to shake his nephew’s hand. “When did you get back?”

Aunt Alice beat Harley to the punch, “Last night, Lynn. This young fella hurried over here this morning to get some advice from you. I’ll let you two be. Let me know if you need anything. We just got back from church, but you’ve had breakfast, right, Harley?”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you,” he replied.

As Aunt Alice left the room and closed the door behind her, Uncle Lynn returned to his chair and said, “Pull that other chair over here, young man. Tell me what’s on your mind and please tell me about your Uncle Gene. Does that big brother of mine have a nice spread out there?”

“Yes, sir. He sure does. That ranch is enormous. He has more than 8,000 acres. It’s a giant spread!” answered Harley. “There was no shortage of work out there, either. I learned all about apples, and even sheep. Uncle Gene is quite a rancher.”

“That’s good to hear, Harley. Hope I can get out there some day to visit him and Aunt Lou. Are they both feeling healthy and looking good?” asked Lynn.

“Yes, sir. They are.”

“Great. Now, I am wondering what you’re doing here so early. It’s not a milk route day. What can I do for you?” Lynn peered at Harley over the newspaper, then folded it up and put it in his lap.

“I need some advice. I talked to Mother and Dad this morning and had to tell them that the $325.00 I earned for my tuition at Uncle Gene’s was stolen from me on the train in California,” Harley said.

“What the hell!” exclaimed Gene. “I’ll be damned! What kind of low-life would take a kid’s college money?”

“I don’t know. He sat next to me all the way from Chelan, and the minute I turned my back, he stole my suitcase and got off the train. I’ll admit it was just plain stupid to leave it like that, but where I come from, people aren’t stinking thieves,” Harley countered.

“Well, you are young and trusting, Harley. Trusting is usually a good thing, but not in this case, that’s for sure. I am so sorry. So, is this what you want advice about?” asked Uncle Gene.

“Yes, please. I went to talk to Mr. Flynn before I left for Washington,” Harley revealed. “Don’t worry, I met him at Roosevelt’s graduation. Then we met at his house. He told me all about his business and how hard he worked to get that car. I told him I have always wanted one since I saw his when we started the milk route. I told him how it was helping motivate me to go to college. Then he let me drive the car around the block! He was so nice. And when we were back in his driveway, he told me that if there was ever anything he could help me with, to please come and let him know.”

“So now you want to ask him for college money?” Uncle Lynn was scowling.

“No, never!” insisted Harley. “I want his advice on how to earn more money as quickly as possible. My hobo days are over…no more begging for handouts for me!”

His uncle looked puzzled, “So what is it you want from me, then?”

“You are a good businessman, too. Look at how successful you are! You have your farm, the milk route, and your mail route. I wanted to come and ask you for advice before I went to Mr. Flynn,” answered Harley.

“That’s very flattering, Harley. Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

The young man continued, “You don’t have to come up with something right this minute. You can let me know after you have time to think about it, but I hope you have an idea or two pretty soon. I only have about six weeks before I need to be in Iowa City. I can come back tomorrow or call you.”

“Call me. I will have some ideas. By the way, how did you get over here today?” asked Gene.

“My friend Mike drove me. He was going home to see his folks. I guess I didn’t think this out very well. I was so anxious to see you and Mr. Flynn,” admitted Harley.

Uncle Gene laughed a little. “I understand. Listen, why don’t you take the milk truck to Mr. Flynn’s, drive it home after that, and bring it back tomorrow morning for the milk route. You are going to be helping me on the route again, instead of Mike, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am, and that’s a great idea, Uncle Gene. That’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll bring the truck back tomorrow. Thanks so much!”

“You had better get going before Alice tries to make you stay for Sunday dinner,” Gene told him. “Get on out of here and go talk to Mr. Flynn. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Harley hustled out of the parlor and through the kitchen, pausing only for a second to give Aunt Alice a peck on the cheek. “I’d stay for dinner, but I have an important errand. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Surprisingly, there was no argument from Aunt Alice, just “Okay, Sweetie, see you tomorrow morning!” as he hurried out the door.

Harley hopped in the milk truck, which was emptied of all the milk crates and coolers, so it bounced a little more easily over the road out of Uncle Lynn’s. The farm was in the far southeast corner of Polk County and it was about a forty-minute drive to Mr. Flynn’s house in Des Moines. Harley arrived right after noon. He hoped he wouldn’t be interrupting their Sunday dinner, but he also didn’t want to waste time, so he pulled up and parked on the street in front of the house and turned off the truck. He sat for a minute, thinking about how he would start the conversation. Then Harley realized how dumb he was being. He could talk to Mr. Flynn just like he talked to Uncle Lynn. He’d just be honest and state his purpose.

Then Mr. Flynn appeared right next to the truck!

“Hello, there, Harley! Are you just back from your trip? Milk delivery is tomorrow, not today, right?” Mr. Flynn smiled and laughed. He could tell he had startled the young man.

Harley fumbled for the door handle and managed to unload himself from the front seat. He felt awkward and uncoordinated. He straightened himself up and reached out to shake hands with Mr. Flynn.

“Hello, sir. Yes, I just got back last night. I wanted to come and talk to you as soon as I could,” Harley blurted out, as they shook hands.

Mr. Flynn wanted to hear all about Harley’s trip, so he invited him inside and before he knew it, the young man was at the Flynn dining room table with some sandwiches in front of him. As they ate, he began to retell his experiences on the rails and on the ranch. Then he told about the theft of his money. Then he stopped.

He stopped because Mrs. Flynn gasped, and Mr. Flynn abruptly rose to his feet.

“I will pay your tuition, Harley!” said Mr. Flynn.

“No, sir. Please. Sit down. That is not why I came here. I need to pay my own tuition. I just need some help with an idea of how I can earn that money again between now and January, when second semester starts.”

“Let me think a minute. Let me think,” murmured the businessman, as he sat down and looked at his hands in his lap.

Both Harley and Mrs. Flynn remained very still. Several minutes passed, and finally Mr. Flynn looked up, directly into the still-hopeful eyes of the young man before him.

“There is one opportunity I can think of, but it is going to demand a lot of hours and some serious physical labor, Harley. Will you still be helping on the farm and helping with the milk route? This will take up your nights,” warned Mr. Flynn.

“I still have to help my dad and my uncle, sir, but I will work anywhere and anytime. I’m plenty used to hard work, I just told you. I’m young, I don’t need that much sleep. If this is a night job, then it will be perfect! What is it?” he asked. Harley was excited!

“Calm down. I am pretty darn sure I can get you in, but it starts right away. Could you start tomorrow?” inquired Mr. Flynn.

“I can start today, sir,” insisted Harley. “Where is it?”

Mr. Flynn was still looking right at him. “It’s down at the Ford Automobile plant on Grand and 18th Street.”

“But I don’t know anything about making cars, sir. Won’t that be a problem?”

“No. Harley. You won’t be making cars. They have decided to close the car plant, but Ford is making it into a place where they will have offices,” explained Mr. Flynn.

“Do you know anything about office work, Harley?” asked Mrs. Flynn.

“Not really. My mother worked in a law office, and I am really good at reading and writing. And math,” he added.

“Not office work, either,” Mr. Flynn informed both his wife and Harley. “They have thousands of square feet of concrete floors in the factory that they are going to need covered with linoleum, so they can turn that area into office space. Do you know how to lay down a floor, Harley?” asked Mr. Flynn.

“Well, I laid down the floor in my folk’s house after we rebuilt it, sir.” Harley did not mention that it was license plates and not linoleum. He felt a little twinge of guilt for the partial truth he just told. In his upbringing, a partial truth was called a lie of omission. It was a lie, plain and simple, but he really wanted that job. Harley felt it was justified because he knew he was smart and that he could learn whatever he needed to do very quickly.

“It’s long hours, overnight, and I am pretty sure they don’t pay overtime for even this late work. But, it’s a job where you can get lots of hours and earn back the money you need,” Mr. Flynn explained.

“How do I apply? How do I get the job? How do I start tomorrow?” Harley fired one question after another.

“Just go there tomorrow at seven o’clock, in the evening. Ask for a man named John Betz. I will be telephoning him and tell him you are coming. He owes me a favor for giving his crews a break on the lunch truck sandwiches and milk that I send over there every day. You will probably work from eight o’clock in the evening until about four o’clock in the morning. How will you get there?”

Harley spoke right up. “I’ll be there at seven, Mr. Flynn. I can take my dad’s truck. And that will get me home in time for chores and the milk route, too. How can I ever thank you?”

“That’s easy son. Just get yourself to college and pull up in this driveway some day in a Lincoln.” Mr. and Mrs. Flynn both let out a little laugh.

Harley couldn’t get a laugh out, but he did have a large smile to share with them. He thanked and thanked Mr. Flynn many times, until he was finally asked to stop.

“I just never imagined it could be so easy, sir. Jobs are so hard to find; you know that. How can I get a job so easily?” Harley wondered.

“Sometimes,” Mr. Flynn explained, “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Good business is often the result of good connections. People are willing to help other people, especially those they know and trust. They also know that those same people will help them when they need it.”

“You are helping me,” Harley noted, “but I don’t know that I will ever be able to return the favor.”

“Really doesn’t matter, son. However, my money would bet that someday you will,” Mr. Flynn assured him. “Someday, you will.”

“Right now, I am going to get home and tell my parents about this. I know my mother is upset and worried. This will mean everything to her. I can’t wait to tell her,” gushed Harley, as he rose and extended his hand to Mr. Flynn,

Mr. Flynn rose and shook his hand. Then he pulled Harley toward him and gave him a hug. “You will make us proud and you will make your parents proud, Harley. Hurry on home and give them the good news.”