Uncle Leo . A Liberty Hill Story . By George Brewer . Part 3

Uncle Leo
A Liberty Hill Story
By George Brewer

***

"Eldon L. Berry
Investment Analyst"

The lettering on the door was gold with black outlines.

“Who’s Eldon L. Berry?” asked Uncle Leo.

“Why, you of course, Mr. Berry,” said the young lady who had escorted him to his new office.

“Oh yes, of course.” He hadn’t been called Eldon in many years. He thought the better of asking if he could have ‘Uncle Leo’ put on the door instead.

There was a general rule in the offices of Morgan, Hedgerow and Rutters: ‘Don’t let Uncle Leo touch anything.’ Although he was a successful investment analyst, he was still very much a bumbler. He would sometimes go to the ladie’s room when he was in need of the men’s room. A delegation of French businessmen were highly offended when he attempted to tell them, in French, how pleased he was to have them as guests of the company. He told the group that they were among the ugliest people he had ever seen in his life. One day, when he was the first person to arrive at the office, he made a pot of coffee that sent half of the company to the dispensary with diarrhea. Once again, there were plenty of reasons to fire him, but this was no ordinary klutz. Uncle Leo’s investment track record was A-1.

***

At dawn, on the third Sunday in May, a modest ’41 Chevy sedan, driven by a very wealthy man crossed over the Lincoln Bridge, unobserved, into Fairfield. Uncle Leo wanted to avoid an awkward situation with Big Ed Broderick, so he chose this early hour to carry out his mission. There had been no response to the post card that he had sent to his old friend. He perceived this to mean that the big man was angry at him, or no longer cared to keep in touch. Just the same, Uncle Leo vowed that someday, he’d pay his back rent—and that, he was about to do. He could have mailed the money, but there was the possibility that it would get lost. Uncle Leo was taking no chances. He drove into Chauncey Square, half way around the great stone statue of General Lucius Hollingsworth Fairfield and his mighty steed, to Chauncey Street, south of the square. He pulled up in front of Big Ed’s boarding house, quickly got out of the car, walked up the front steps, and inserted an envelope into the mailbox. After a slight pause to look the old place over, he got back into the Chevy, returned to the bridge and drove out of town.

All day Sunday, and a few hours of Monday morning passed, before Big Ed looked inside of his mailbox. Ed McGruder hadn’t delivered the morning mail, but there was something in there.

He pulled out an envelope that had ‘Big Ed’ typed on it. He looked up and down the street, expecting to see prankster, Charlie Abernathy hiding behind a bush or something. He brought the envelope into the house to open it—cautiously.

‘Dear Big Ed, I’m sorry that this has taken so long. I trust the enclosed will be sufficient to pay the back rent that I owe you. Whatever is left over is yours, as a token of all the many kindnesses … ’ The big man had to sit down. He re-read the note, and looked at the check, over and over. Once he had gathered himself, he yelled to his chambermaid of many years, “Maybelle! Watch the place. I gotta go uptown for awhile.”

He hurried through Chauncey Square, past Shorty Palmer’s barber shop. “Hey Big Ed!” shouted Shorty, from inside the shop, “Where’s the fire?”

“ … Can’t stop, Shorty … ” Big Ed was a man on a mission.

When He got to the Lincoln, Fairfield National Bank, he was not surprised when teller, Helen Pierce, mouth agape, hurried from her cage in the direction of head teller Quincy Proctor.
Quincy’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he was handed the check that Uncle Leo had sent to his old landlord.  “Twenty thou … Big Ed,” said Quincy, “I … we … there’s no way the bank can cash a check of this size for you today.”

“Hold on, Quincy," said Big Ed,  "I don’t want to cash it. I want to deposit it.”

***

A large amount of money deposited in a small town bank can cause quite a stir. The word of Uncle Leo’s check spread around Fairfield like wildfire.

‘He sent Big Ed Broderick a check for $100,000!’ The stories were wild and growing wilder from mouth to mouth.

‘He won the Irish Sweepstakes … ’

‘He lives in a penthouse in Manhattan … ’

‘He’s going out with Lana Turner … ’

‘Harry Truman and Uncle Leo are just like this ... ’

Big Ed gave up trying to correct the rumors. “Shorty, what can I do? I got all kinds of people coming up to me with these crazy stories.”

“Yeah," said Shorty Palmer, "there hasn’t been this much talk in here since D-Day.”

Chief Poulsen came into the shop. “Morning, Chief … ”

“Looks like your check’s good, Big Ed” said the Chief.

“Who said it wasn’t?”  Big Ed said with a look.

“Now, I don’t want you to be mad at Quincy Proctor. He just did what I would’ve done. Quincy called me last night, and told me about the big check that you got from Uncle Leo. It’s not like he mistrusted you, but he wanted to be sure that it wasn’t one of Charlie Abernathy’s jokes. He told me that he had called the bank in Cleveland that had issued the check. He said that the phone rang for a while, before a lady answered. She said the bank was closed for the day. Quincy asked if someone was there who could tell him if Eldon Berry—the name on the check—is a customer of the bank.

"‘Who?’ she asked.

"‘Eldon Berry,’ he repeated.

"‘The name doesn’t ring a bell,’ she told Quincy.

"‘Oh oh,’ Quincy said to himself, ‘maybe this is a joke.’ He asked her again, if there was any way that she could check to see if Eldon Berry is one of their customers?

"‘Well,’ she said, ‘this is a very large bank, it would take awhile.’ She asked Quincy who he was, and what was his business. Quincy told her his name, and that he was the head teller of the Fairfield office of the Fairfield, Lincoln Bank.

"She says, ‘Fairfield? Hard by the Ripplin’ River. My aunt lives in Lincoln.’ This broke the ice. When they got to talking about Fairfield, she asked if Quincy was acquainted with this, Eldon Berry.

"Quincy said, ‘Well, there aren’t too many people in this town who aren’t acquainted with Uncle Leo.‘

"‘UNCLE LEO!’ the lady says. ‘Oh, yes, he’s one of our customers, isn’t he a card?’

"‘He certainly is,’ said Quincy. He asked her if she could verify a check that he sent to one of his friends down here? She said that he would have to call back in the morning.

"Then, she says, ‘If Uncle Leo sent somebody a check, it’s hard to imagine that it wouldn’t be any good.’

"‘How so?’ asked Quincy.

"'He’s a vice president at Morgan, Hedgerow and Rutters,’ she said.

"‘A VICE PRESIDENT!?’ Quincy nearly choked.

"‘I know,’ she said, ‘he’s so colorful. Who would guess that he’s the best investment analyst in the company?’ Before Quincy hung up, she told him that everybody in the financial district loves Uncle Leo, even though, just yesterday morning, he accidentally locked Tom Morgan, the CEO of Morgan, Hedgerow and Rutters in a closet. She said that Uncle Leo saw the open door, and slammed it shut. He didn’t know that the boss was in there getting his overcoat, and he also didn’t know that the lock on the door was broken. They had to call a locksmith. The poor man was in there for nearly three hours.’"

“Same ol’ Uncle Leo,’ said the Chief.”

“Can you beat that?” said Shorty. “One of the biggest boobs ever to draw breath in Fairfield is a big time financier.”

“He’s no boob, Shorty,” said Big Ed, without anger. “You didn’t know him like I did.”

“You knew he was a financial genius?” asked Shorty.

“I didn’t know any such thing," said Big Ed, "I just knew that there was something there.”

“Well, do you see anything like that in me?" asked Shorty, "I could use a few mil myself.”

“Yeah," Big Ed replied, "I see the best and talkingest barber this side of the Ripplin’ River.”

Big Ed had wanted nothing more than to get in touch with his old friend. But would he? “He’s hob-nobbing with some pretty rich people.” he told himself. “Why didn’t he come in and say ‘hello’, instead of putting that check in the mailbox? Why would he want to associate with some small town hick like me anymore?” After two weeks, he finally sent a message up to Cleveland. Uncle Leo was disappointed. The note was short and terse. Some times, a man with a heart of gold has difficulty writing what he really feels.

***

“Dad? Have we got any copies of last week’s Liberty Magazine?” asked Dora Phinney. “I’ll be with you in a minute” she said to Uncle Leo, who was waiting patiently behind the customer who had requested the outdated magazine.

“Take your time,” said Uncle Leo. “Take all the time you want” he said, under his breath, as he studied the cute little honey blonde behind the counter. Dora’s attention was aimed at the doorway of the tiny back room behind the magazine racks. Mr. Phinney came out with the magazine.

“Oh, good,” said Dora “will there be anything else?” The man thanked her, took his Liberty Magazine and stepped aside, allowing Uncle Leo to move up to the counter. Only—Uncle Leo didn’t move.

“Yes?” asked Dora “Can I help you?”

Uncle Leo just stood there, smitten with a goofy grin on his face.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Uncle Leo was stupefied.

Dora turned to her father, “Dad … ’”

“What is it young man?” asked Mr. Phinney, giving no indication at all that he even knew Uncle Leo. “Young man?”

Uncle Leo eyes blinked, he managed a weak, “Huh?”

“What is it that you want?”

A man who had entered the store and taken his place behind Uncle Leo said, impatiently, “I’ll have one of those Garcia-Mundo cigars.” Mr. Phinney turned away to fetch the cigar.

“Garcia-Mundo” said Uncle Leo, as in a trance.

“You want a Garcia-Mundo too?” asked Dora.

“Ahhh, yeah. A Garcia-Mundo. That’s it, a Garcia-Mundo,” said Uncle Leo, who had never smoked a cigar or a cigarette in his life.

“Make that two Garcia-Mundos, Dad.”

Mr. Phinney handed the cigars to his daughter. She gave one to Uncle Leo. “That will be twenty-five cents.”

Uncle Leo stood there, dazed. He put the cigar in his mouth without taking it out of the cellophane wrapper.

Dora repeated, “That will be twenty-five … ”

“HERE!” barked the man who had ordered the Garcia-Mundo in the first place. He tossed a quarter onto the glass counter, picked up his cigar and left the shop in a huff.

“That will be twenty-five cents, sir,” said Dora. The crimson engulfing her face made her even prettier.

“Garcha-Muund” said Uncle Leo with the cellophane wrapped cigar in his mouth.

“DAD!?” Dora began to back away from the counter, wary of this … crazy person with an unwrapped cigar in his mouth.

***

Back in the office, Don Borashevsky asked, “What’s gotten into you? You get mugged or something?” His rotund super investment analyst friend looked like he had been told that there was no Santa Claus. “Hey. Uncle Leo, what is it?”

It took Don awhile, but eventually he got Uncle Leo to tell him what was going on. “I tell you, Don, I acted like an idiot. She thinks I’m a fool. She’s so pretty, and she thinks I’m a dope.”

“Hey, did she call you a dope?”

“No, but  … ”

“But, nothing. Listen, when I first met Janet, I made such fool of myself, I thought she’d never speak to me again. I was at a party just before I got drafted into the army. I saw Janet. It was love at first sight. I ambled over to her and struck up a conversation. I really turned on the charm.

"After I had totally turned her off with my, ‘where have you been all of my life?’ routine, she said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m getting a headache.’ and walked away. I didn’t see her again that night. I really fell for her, so I asked one of her girlfriends where she lived.

"The next day, I went over to her house, just as she and her mother were getting ready to go out to a baby shower. She was about as happy to see me as the Indians are to see the Yankees. I made up some excuse to stay for at least a minute. I told her I had a headache, did she have any aspirins? Janet saw right through me, but her mother was very sympathetic. She invited me to sit down while she got me the aspirin.

"While her mother was out of the room, I began to woo Janet with some lame spiel, like ‘ … your eyes are like pools of blue ambrosia … ’

"She’s rolling her eyes, while I take her mother’s advice and sit down—right on a box that contained a layer cake that her mother had baked to take to the baby shower. The layer cake was now a pancake.

"After the war, I brought Red Olmstead home with me before he went back to Indiana. I took him to the USO. Red went off to do some dancing, while I perused the snack bar. Later, when I met up with Red, he described a girl that he had been dancing with as being a Venus. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘You’ve got to meet her.’

"It was Janet.

"‘Miss Coombs,’ said Red, ‘I’d like you to meet my friend, Mister Borashevsky.’

"She took one look at me and doubled over laughing. We hit it off from that night on. So, don’t go crossing yourself off of Miss Phinney’s dance card.”

Uncle Leo made trips to Mr. Phinney’s newsstand almost hourly. If Dora Phinney didn’t know that the rotund money man was smitten with her, everybody at Morgan, Hedgerow and Rutters certainly did.

“Where’s Uncle Leo?” was a commonly asked question in the office.

“Where do you think?” was the reply.

“I feel so badly for the little guy,” said Rita Frisone. “I don’t know why he just doesn’t ask her out.”

“He’s afraid that she might say, ‘No,’” replied Joan Snyder.

Uncle Leo was wearing out the carpets en route to the newsstand.

“Life Magazine,” said Dora Phinney, “that will be ten cents.” An hour later: “Look Magazine, that will be ten cents.” An hour after that: “Readers’ Digest, ten cents, please.” Finally, late one morning, before Uncle Leo could ask for a copy of National Plumbers Gazette, Mr. Phinney said, “Dora, I need quarters. Run over to the bank, will you.” Dora left the shop, leaving Uncle Leo, alone with the old man.

“Young man, I have observed with great admiration, your rise to prominence in the financial community. I have also observed that you admire my daughter.”

“I do, sir,” said Uncle Leo.

“Then, why in all thunderation don’t you ask her out?”

***

Fall was in the air. The trees were beginning to show color. Don Borashevsky and Uncle Leo were throwing a baseball around. Don was surprised by Uncle Leo’s agility. The little man went back well on the pop ups that Don threw way up in the air. Time and again, the round man corralled the ball with the 1930’s Dizzy Dean model glove that Don kept along side of his Ducky Medwick model, in the trunk of his car.

Dora Phinney and Janet Borashevsky sat on a blanket that had served as a dining table for their picnic lunch. They had talked about many things: How nice that the war was finally over; the fun the four of them were having together; the upcoming elections, and a problem that was dogging Uncle Leo.

“He misses his home town,” said Dora. “He told me that he flubbed so many jobs in Fairfield, that he’s embarrassed to go back. He’s got the idea that he’s not welcomed there.”

“I know,” said Janet, “Don and I have tried to convince him to take a trip down there, for just a little visit. He won’t do it.”

“It’s so unlike him,” said Dora. “He’s easily the jolliest, the kindest person I’ve ever known. I wish there was a way I could get him back together with his old friends.”

“Don and I have an idea, but an awful lot of things have to happen to make it work,” said Janet.

“How so?”

“You know that he has a birthday coming up,” said Janet.

“Yes, October 14.”

“Right. Don and I thought it would be a great early birthday present if … ” Janet told Dora of their plan.

“Did you ladies see this guy out there?” asked Don, as he and Uncle Leo flopped down on the blanket. “He’s a regular Joe DiMaggio.”

“Just a minute,” said Uncle Leo, “I prefer Stan Musial, if you please. Hey. What have you two been talking about over here?”

“Oh, nothing much,” said Dora. “We were just discussing the mean temperature of Wisconsin in early February.”

When they got home, Janet told Don that Dora loved their idea for Uncle Leo’s birthday present.

“Can Dora get a week off?” asked Don. “Will old man Phinney let her go?”

“I think so," said Janet, "after all, he’s the one who fixed them up.”

“I’ve cleared things with the bosses at the office," said Don, "If things work out, they’re sending Uncle Leo and me out to Boston for a so-called ‘fish processing plant investigation.’ If the guys in Fairfield really are mad at Uncle Leo, you will have the trickiest job. They might tell you to go jump in the lake, but, I know you. If you asked me to walk to Spain, backwards, I’d do it.”

“Careful, I just may take you up on that some day.”

***

“Ohh, it’s lovely,” said Janet, as she drove around Chauncey Square. “It’s easy to see why Uncle Leo misses it so.”

She pulled up in front of Broderick’s Boarding House. “You must be Big Ed,” said Janet.

“Yes? Are you here to look at the room?”

“No, I’m a friend of Uncle Leo.”

Big Ed’s eyes widened. “Come in.”

Janet not only could get a guy to walk to Spain, backwards. She could also get to the core of the misunderstanding between Uncle Leo and Big Ed. After sitting down with the big man, and enjoying a cup of coffee, Janet said, “So, you and your friends will be there?”

“Be there? Try to keep us away.”

***