Business Sense

My Father worked for the main bank in our home town until 1948. When I was a child there were two banks competing for whatever business a small community could generate. There was the First National Bank of Munising, and The People's State Bank of Munising. The People's State Bank survives to this day.

Dad started with that bank in 1918 as a janitor. Eventually he became head cashier, and our family grew up with banking stories and events that shaped my Dad's business outlook for decades. In 1948, Dad broke off from the bank and began his own Insurance and Real Estate business. His place of business was in downtown Munising. He rented that store front from 1948 until he closed the business in 1965.

Dad did not do too well. He stayed in business 17 years which is remarkable, but when he left the business he was broke. It is hard to imagine, but he was broke at age 65 when most are retiring. He was forced to move from his home of more than 50 years and take up residence in a large city hundreds of miles away and start over.

One of the problems Dad had was he did not have a business heart. If people couldn't pay for their insurance the old man might just fork over the premiums out of his own pocket. He would tell my Mother, they just can't pay right now, the husband lost his job, is hurt or some other reason for inability to pay insurance premiums. Dad felt everyone should have insurance to protect their property or to provide for their family in the event of their death.

One such man was Roy Graves of Shingleton, MI. Roy worked in the logging industry and eventually came to own a sawmill. He made good money furnishing maple lumber to the Japanese bowling industry when that sport became the rage in Japan in the 70's and 80's. Years before though Roy had been an independent contractor cutting and hauling logs out of the forests of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Times were tough, work was subject to the vagaries of weather. The lumber market was always shifting. Eventually the market was in hardwoods, but still for independent contractors life was a roller coaster. One period Roy fell on hard times and had to let the insurance lapse on his logging truck. As luck would have it, the garage it was stored in caught fire and the building and truck burned up in the blaze. A few days later Roy came to my Father and asked, "Vern, you don't suppose that the insurance on that truck was still enforce?" My Dad looked it up, and to Roy's amazement and delight he found my Dad had paid the premium and the insurance would cover the loss of the truck.

For many years every time I saw Roy he would retell the story and how much he thought of my Dad. In the end, the practice of underwriting his own business cost him the business. However, one time his practice did save a man's ability to earn a living and earned my father a friend for life.

An Old Friend Died

Years ago, perhaps 1960 or 61 our high school football team began two a day practice in mid-August. Fuzzy Boyak, a fellow student and a year ahead of me in school came out for the football team. Fuzzy had not participated in sports, although I think his family had an athletic history. Fuzzy was a student, I do not know if he was a scholarly type student or what school social group he fit into. I know he was personable, he was known around school, but in my circles he was pretty much nondescript. Yet he came out for football, but wasn't a jock. Fuzzy was a year ahead of me, I graduated in 1962, Fuzzy graduated in 1961. I think he was a Junior when he came out for football.

I think he and I touched on his motivation, but I'm not sure I remember what it was. I believe he felt his high school years were passing without his making a mark. I think we talked about his concern about not participating, not trying, or some reasoning similar to that.

For whatever reason I took a shine to Fuzzy and it was reciprocated. Years later he would tell me that he appreciated my reaching out because he wasn't in the "in" crowd, not even in his same grade.

One thing I do remember is we walked down to "Mary's Grill" after practice every afternoon and had a hot fudge sundae. It became a daily routine, I honestly don't know if we did that every day because I'm not sure I had the money to afford a hot fudge sundae every day. It seemed like it. We are talking about 48 years ago or there abouts. Regardless, for years I would recall this time, as brief as it may have been, as a time I came to support a person for their effort simply because they made the effort. Fuzzy didn't last, he got knocked around, he was not athletic, he tried, but I think he gave up. I don't think his giving up effected him that much, I think he satisfied himself that he made the attempt and at least had the courage to do that.

This evening, April 9, 2008 I received an email from a man in my home town telling a group of us on his mailing list that Fuzzy had passed away. Apparently it happened Monday evening, cause unknown at this time. Now, here I sit, wondering about our friendship all those years ago.

Fuzzy went to college, I think Northern Michigan University in Marquette, but until I read his obituary I won't know. He moved away and became active in banking, and eventually ended up back in Munising working at the First National Bank. Fuzzy eventually became the President and CEO of the bank and a "mover and shaker" in our small home town. The last time I saw Fuzzy was last summer when I went back north for the 4th of July celebration. Fuzzy was driving the vehicle pulling the bank's float and I yelled at him and got a small wave back. I don't think he recognized me because I was a face in a group of people and he was concentrating on the task at hand. That is the last time I saw him alive.

The last talk I had with Fuzzy was perhaps 5 or 6 years ago. I had stopped in at the First National Bank and went back to his office to sit and visit with him. We talked for perhaps a half an hour. Our conversation centered around hot fudge sundaes at Ma's Lunch. Then we talked about the condition of Munising, of the loss of tax base because of the Pictured Rocks National Park, of the economy of Munising, and of the depth of feelings Fuzzy had for the Nebel family. The Nebel family owned the bank and had been an old family name in Munising since the 1930's. One of the last statements I made to Fuzzy was about my desire to own a piece of property in Munising, and he said that if that ever came my way that the bank would work with me on a loan if I needed it. We parted company, old comrades, with not too much in common anymore accept for our memories of a football season many years before and a common love of our hometown.

I think Fuzzy had just retired from the First National Bank. I know he had either retired or was going to retire. He and I had talked about that event and I think he said that he and his wife were thinking of moving to Arizona. He never made it. If he did retire he didn't even get a year in before he passed away.

Apparently his passing has touched me at some level. I'm sitting here, late at night, recalling a brief friendship, a lasting memory, and wishing he had more time to enjoy his well earned respite from work. I am dealing with many of the same issues, should I retire, when, and what for? I am also sure that he and I shared the same thoughts about death, not me, not my time, I've got years left. Bullshit, Fuzzy has no more years. He leaves friends, memories, and activities that he participated in, but he also leaves a legacy that will be remembered by many for a number of years. For me, he leaves a memory of hot fudge sundaes at Mary's Grill some 48 years ago. Thanks for the memories, Fuzzy!