Chapter 6: The Duke Arrives and Shelly Celebrates

January 2, 1969

The station reopened on Friday, January 2, 1969, at the normal time. Mike was out of school until the following Monday, so I gave Shelly the day off while Jurgen would have Saturday off. Mike would work from ten am to nine pm, Friday, with an hour for breaks.

On Sunday, Mom and I huddled to discuss the manning and expenses for the station. We had added some costs with the car and hiring Mike. My concern was over how much staffing we could take on and stay profitable. It was a numbers exercise that my mother was best equipped to handle.

"How much more work do we have ahead of us for this month, Rod?" she asked as she looked at her calculations.

"Uhm ... we are booked for this week and most of next week. That puts us to about the 15^th. That's more than we normally have, but we lost a few days over the holidays. Lately, we've been having a week's worth in advance. It used to be day-to-day back in September."

"Have we lost anyone or turned them away because of this?" she asked.

"We might have. I had a couple of people come in and ask about repairs and I don't recall them coming back."

"I think we have to take a gamble here, son," my mother said uncharacteristically.

"How do you mean?"

"I think we need to gamble that the business is going to continue to grow and we need to keep up. I think we should try and find someone who can work in the shop and out front if needed."

She seemed pretty sure of herself, I thought. More importantly, she was thinking along the same lines as I was. Don't turn away good customers unless you have no choice. I nodded and smiled at my mother.

"I guess I'd better put out the word we're looking for another mechanic."

I told the others about our decision and they were pleased to be getting some help. It was Jurgen who brought up a possible problem that I hadn't recognized.

"I think we do not haf enough space for three," he said simply.

I looked at him and realized the importance of the statement. It was a two bay garage. I started to laugh.

"Trust you to find the flaw."

Jurgen shrugged, but was grinning just the same.

"Well, what we'll do to start with is rotate the hours so we aren't falling all over each other. We might be able to do some simple work in the area beside the washrooms. Changing tires, stuff like that."

"I think your mother can help you with the schedule," Jurgen suggested.

"I think you've got something up your sleeve, Mr. Burgmann," I replied.

"Perhaps."

I wondered what Jurgen had in mind. Something was going on in that clever head of his, but I hadn't figured it out yet. That something showed up just before closing on Monday.

A customized, shiny black '50 Ford Coupe rumbled to a stop alongside the building and a tough-looking young man emerged. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a turned-up collar covering a white t-shirt. A tight-fitting pair of jeans with the cuffs rolled up over a pair of polished black boots finished the outfit. As he walked toward the office, I noticed the black, slicked-back hair, sideburns ala Elvis, and an unfiltered cigarette tucked above his right ear. He looked for all the world like one of the "hard rocks" that I remembered from my high school days. Things hadn't changed that much after all.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"You Rod Williams?" the young guy asked, his head cocked at an angle.

"That's me."

"I hear you're looking for help."

"Maybe. Are you looking for work?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what?" I asked, feeling a bit irritated with the abrupt stranger.

"Whadda you pay?"

"Qualified mechanics get six bucks an hour to start. My top guy earns seven-fifty."

"I don't have any papers," he said without hesitation.

"How do I know you can do the work?" I asked. I was beginning to lose my patience.

The young man pointed over his shoulder at the shiny black Ford. "I built that. By myself."

"Let's have a look." I was mildly interested.

"What's your name?"

"Brian Davies. Most people call me Duke."

"How'd you find out about the job? It won't be in the paper 'til tomorrow."

"Mike told me," he said, reaching into the car and pulling a hood release.

"Mike Numminen?"

"Yeah. Said you were a good guy. Ran a good shop. Paid fair wages."

I nodded and looked inside as the hood was raised. It was flawlessly clean with a little chrome, and a lot of new paint.

"Flathead," I observed. "Original engine?"

"Mostly. I found some Edelbrock heads on a wreck and cleaned 'em up. Headers are mine. Tranny's rebuilt with a Hurst shifter. Bodywork's mine. Paint isn't."

He was a man of few words. I looked at the car carefully. It had been thoroughly rebuilt with bigger brakes, heavier springs and all new wiring.

"How long did it take you?"

"Two years ... off and on."

"How do you know Mike?"

"We're in shop class together. He's my muscle and brains." The guy actually smiled when he said that.

"You look a bit older than high school age."

"I'm twenty-one. I dropped out for a while. Dumb idea. Talked them into lettin' me back in to finish. I'm done in June."

"It must have been your gift of gab."

Duke snorted. "Yeah ... somethin' like that."

"What do you want to do when you graduate?"

"I like what you do, but I just want a shop. I don't want to be a pump jockey."

"Well, I do need someone. You know what I pay. I can try you out and see if you can fit in. But you're still in school. You won't be able to work during the week when we're open. I need somebody now."

"Thought about that. I'm not in school fulltime. What if I work at night? Sundays? Nobody here to bother me and I can get more done."

"Let's try a couple of Friday nights and Saturdays to start. I won't kid you. I've got an ad in the paper tomorrow for a mechanic. I can't afford to hire two."

"Fair enough. I'll prove myself first and then we can talk turkey."

"See you Friday at five," I said.

Duke stuck out his hand silently and we shook. I had the strangest feeling about Brian "Duke" Davies. I wasn't sure what that feeling was, but maybe Mike could tell me more. There was no denying the workmanship on his car. It was beyond professional. There was a neatness and simplicity in the design of the engine bay that was impressive.

After supper, I picked up the phone and dialed the Numminen home, asking for Mike.

"Hi Mike. I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"No ... just finishing up some homework. What can I do for you, Mr. Williams?"

"Do you know Brian Davies?"

"Sure. Duke and I are in shop together. Did he come down to see you about that job?"

"Yeah. Trouble is though, he's still in school and I need someone almost full time."

"I know. But he's really good, Mr. Williams. There isn't anything he hasn't tried or learned. If you can find a way to hire him, he'll be a big help, I'm sure."

"I'm going to give him a try, Mike. But it still doesn't solve my problem with him not being available during the weekdays."

"Actually, he's not in school full time. He's only here about three days total. Most of his classes are in the morning. He's just trying to make some money to live on."

"Where'd he get the money to build the car?"

"His dad died and left him some money through insurance. His mom can't work any more, so he's trying to keep things together by himself. He's a real hard worker, Mr. Williams. I know he looks a bit rough, but I know how hard he works on everything he does. That includes school."

"OK, Mike. I'll see you Friday and you can show Brian the 'ropes.' If he's as good as you say, we'll see what we can work out."

"Thanks, Mr. Williams. I'm sure he'll do well. I know he'll try hard. See you Friday," Mike signed off.

Mike was right. Duke did work hard and didn't have to be shown anything twice. Jurgen assigned him some fairly straightforward work and it was done quickly and properly. Shelly went over the paperwork with him for calculating the costs of each job and logging the time.

By the end of Saturday, I was reasonably sure Brian could do the work required despite his lack of accreditation. More importantly, both Shelly and Jurgen had given their vote of approval. There was one other bonus. Brian had brought his own tools to the shop. All three of us were impressed with the organization and neatness of his toolbox, despite the age of the equipment. It was clean, in good condition, and complete.

Late Saturday afternoon, I called Duke into my office.

"Well, Brian. It looks like you know what you're doing. It still gives me the challenge of trying to find enough hours for you that will give my people a break. They've been going solid since September."

"I hear you don't exactly sit back and watch," he smiled.

"No ... I help out when I can. Just the same, everyone needs some time for themselves. What can you do to help?" I asked.

"I've been thinking. I need to study, but I can do that in the afternoons or at night. Most of my classes are in the mornings. I could work afternoons and you could give Shelly and Mr. Burgmann the afternoon off. Or, I could work at night when the shop is closed. Either way, the work gets done," he said.

I was a bit surprised at his politeness toward Jurgen. His idea was worth talking to Shelly and Jurgen about. It had to work for them too.

"Can you be at my house tomorrow afternoon ... say two o'clock?"

"Yeah ... I can be there."

"I think the best thing is to talk it over with Shelly and Mr. Burgmann and see what works for them. I want you there so we can discuss it openly ... OK?"

"Sure. I'll be there. Two o'clock," he nodded.

Promptly at two, Sunday afternoon, Brian "Duke" Davies rang the door bell. We met in the living room after I introduced Duke to my mother. The meeting lasted over an hour, but when it was done, we had a workable schedule that allowed Duke to continue his studies and give Jurgen and Shelly some additional time off. Mother had endorsed the strategy.

The plan was simple enough. Brian would work afternoons from twelve-thirty to closing, plus Saturday. That would give him thirty-five hours of work, almost a full week. Jurgen and Shelly would take two days off, alternating Monday to Thursday. They would only work to five-thirty on Friday. That would mean a full staff Friday and Saturday, our busiest days. Taking time off for breaks, it would be a thirty-eight hour work week with three full days off. It would be a trial, and after a month we would all meet again to assess how it was going.

My hours were never discussed. I wanted to see how this would work out first before worrying about myself. After all, this was our business; mine and my mother's.

The risk of taking Duke Davies on turned out to be no risk at all. In the first place, the business continued to grow and we needed his hours and more. Secondly, he was, as Mike had promised, a hard worker. Not very talkative and not the best with customers, but he got the work done and done well.

By the end of April, Mom and I sat down and went over the books.

"We're way ahead of where I thought we would be. Our income is much greater than I expected and we are making good money, Rod. Sure beats the cattle business," she laughed.

"Good to hear it, Mom. I forgot to tell you, I got a letter from the Andersons, the people that own this house. They plan to stay in Juneau, so they want to sell the house. I'm thinking we should buy it. What do you think?"