SLOGGING THROUGH WINTER... Good & bad (Part 169b)

SLOGGING THROUGH WINTER… Good & bad (Part 169b)

Walking into the lobby upon my return I had but one thought… let Hobie know what my fraternity brother, John, had told me about the prospective branch site. I had to wait for him to get off the phone and then I hit him with the information. I’d expected that he’d be quite upset with it being somewhat bad news but he, very calmly, picked up the phone and dialed up Bert, the president. Then he got up and motioned for me to follow him. Hobie never used the stairs, preferring the overly slow elevator. Once inside, he queried me about how I’d come to know John and how he had the details on the zoning board. By the time we walked into Bert’s office he had the whole story. He allowed me to pass the details on only adding the last bit of how I came to get the information. I could see Bert was really interested when the tie to the zoning board was mentioned. However, he followed Hobie’s lead and didn’t appear to be too upset. What he did do was to have Lena, his secretary, put a call into Morris, the consultant who’d located the parcel. The three of us just sat there waiting for the call to be put through. When Lena walked back into the office she proceeded to go to Bert’s phone and to push a button. Almost immediately I heard Morris and his city accent ask what we wanted. Morris was what might be called ‘unflappable’, at least to the eye (or ear). He told us he’d look into it and get back to us. The unfortunate part to that was no one bothered to ask just when that might be.

Bert decided not to call the other members of the branch committee and instructed me to keep the information to myself. He explained that there was no point in getting the committee members involved until we had something to go on. I was in total agreement. Then, he hinted that it would be a good idea to keep in touch with my friend in that he may prove useful in the future. As I mentioned, I didn’t really know him. My impression of him was that he was a no-nonsense type and not one to play ‘games’ with. But, I took Bert’s word to heart and remembered that we’d discussed having lunch in the future. Going back to my desk I realized that I was now immersed into the branch planning but not in the way I’d wanted.

As I’ve previously written, this was to be the second year that the service bureau printed the earnings statements for all the customer accounts. The ledger cards that had been what we relied upon to keep everything straight hadn’t been used in over a year but were still kept in the fire safes right behind the teller line. Hobie had wanted to keep them available in case there might be customers who doubted the accuracy of the service bureau’s work. The last time they had to be referenced was over six months ago and now was the time to get them moved.

When the building was constructed, in 1934, little thought was given to the storage of old records. That meant when they moved into it there was no rhyme or reason to where they were put, or dumped was more like it. The bank would have it’s 100 year anniversary in just three years so there was almost 100 years of paper, in various type ledgers and in dilapidated boxes, piled into the basement. I’d started to go through some of it to make space for current materials but had only made a slight dent into the mess. The ledger cards would take up more space than we had available and contained information that should be kept under lock and key. There was a sub vault located right beneath the main vault and I’d had a young woman working in that area to get it organized about a year and a half earlier. However, working conditions in that area were horrendous and she quit. What work she did had made a difference. So, it was logical to put the ledger cards in there. Because of the proximity of the river and potential flooding, I didn’t want to put them on the floor. The only choice was to add shelving and I’d put Bret in charge of that. The work had been completed and all that was necessary was to get the trays holding the ledger cards to the basement. So as to not disrupt the daily work I arranged for Ward, the man who’s company cleaned the place on a daily basis, to do it after the employees left.

On the night it was to happen, Mae, on the way out the door, stopped to ask me what was going on. With Ward and his men there I didn’t really want to waste time explaining but didn’t want to put her off. So, I asked if she had a few minutes and she indicated she did. As Ward’s men filed down the cellar stairs I told her to follow us. The ‘break room’ was at the bottom but the door to the rest of the cellar was always locked so she’d never seen what was in there. I’d already opened that door and turned on the lights so when she walked in it had to have looked like a tornado had gone through. I remember her stopping and her exclaiming “OH MY GOD!”.
But that wasn’t where we were headed for. The sub vault was only 4 1/2 feet high which added to the difficulty in working in there. The new shelves were designed to hold the ten trays of ledger cards and after showing the men where they were to go they headed up the stairs to retrieve them. Awkward for even two men to handle the trays, I knew it would take some time to complete the project. Mae didn’t seem interested in the sub vault but was actually concentrating on the mess in the main part. I remember laughing at her and asking, facetiously, if she wanted another job. It didn’t even bring forth a smile and when she answered “Yes…” I thought she was kidding.

I didn’t take her seriously and had to focus on placement of the trays as they arrived. I do remember asking if she wanted to leave and she said she’d wait. It took about 15 minutes to lug each tray down the stairs and get it placed. After we got a couple down I told her there was no point in staying but she said she wanted to ask about the mess in the cellar. This time I wasn’t laughing but I did ask if she was serious and she nodded affirmatively. I wasn’t really prepared to consider doing anything right then and there and told her we’d talk in the morning. But, she wasn’t through yet. She said she could get her sister and kids to help. That told me she wasn’t kidding but I had to get the current project finished before I could even start to wrap my hands around that. Again, I told her I’d talk more about it the next day and then sent her up the stairs with Ward so he could let her out.

By the time I left the bank it was after 8pm. I’d told Elle I’d get something to eat before I got home and ended up stopping at the restaurant run by the guy who drove my first race car some 14 years before. I’d see him from time to time and his daughter was in Jean’s class at school. But, I hadn’t seen him since becoming a part owner of Cliffy’s race car. He laughed and called me crazy. When I told him who the co-owners of the car were he got interested. When he owned the gas station we operated the car out of Buster lived right across the road and basically ‘lived’ at the station. Cliffy’s father had built that first race car of mine and Dick’s brother had been in school with him. Business was slow so he spent a fair amount of time talking with me. By the time I left he’d indicated that he might be willing to put some sponsorship money into the car. It was a nice way to end the day.

To be continued…