Tinteán

by Maurice Brick

The alarm went off at 6am and I immediately extinguished it for fear of waking Mary Ellen and Eilís. It was the day after Christmas, the Day Of the Wren in Gorta Dubha and I was heading for Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I had negotiated the sale of land for International Paper (IP) to The South Carolina Power Company and it would add several million dollars to IP’s yearend earnings. That’s why they asked me to take on this particular assignment.

A quick look from the window was not encouraging: there was 5 to 6 inches of snow on the ground. But thankfully my driver Dominick arrived and assured me that with the chains he’d affixed to the wheels, it wouldn’t be a bother and off we went to the airport.

All was well, my flight was at 9am and I headed comfortably for the plane. I boarded and the plane pulled out to the runway and there we stood for two hours. I knew then I’d miss a connecting flight from Charlotte to Myrtle beach and as with all closings, ‘Time is of the essence’ and it set me wondering.

Mam came into the bedroom and said, ‘Tá sé’n am éirí a Mhuiris’. (It’s time to get up Maurice) I was going to accompany Dad to the Dingle Fair. We had five heifers: ceartaosa (2-year-olds) and we had a good trek to walk the 10 miles to Dingle. We headed out at 4am and the heifers were as reluctant as myself starting out. We did fine till we came to Barra’n Bháma and there’s a wee bothereen there that goes to Galarus and off they went on a trot. I raced after them and turned’em and Dad was full of praise. Then we came to the Long Road, aptly named and at its end I felt no teaspach on me (a tendency to cavort). We reached the fairground at 8am and picked our spot to await the jobbers, (people who would buy and sell cattle).

When the plane landed in Charlotte, yes, the connecting flight had left, so, as they say, I was in a pickle. As we were coming in to land, I noticed a hanger with several small planes and I asked at the enquiries if they had a phone number and luckily, they had and I called and explained my dilemma. I asked if I could hire a plane and pilot of course and they said it would be $600. I said I had an IP credit card and that did the trick. I was flying in a 4-seater within 20 minutes and heading to Myrtle Beach. The pilot was a Vietnam veteran and we chatted about the war. Once he banked to the right and I was looking straight down on land from my window. I had a minor conniption and he promised not to do it again. He radioed ahead and there was a car waiting on the runway and I got to my destination on time.

A jobber stopped by and surveyed our heifers. He said to Dad, ‘How much Boss?’ And Dad said £20 each. ‘’u does in your arse; they’re not worth £15.’ Dad responded: ‘There’s plenty of cattle around for £15 so why don’t you take off with ‘ourself and go there.’ Then the jobber proceeded to examine the heifers and shaking his head he offered £16 and Dad emphatically said no. A man nearby, a friend of Dad’s, joined the fray and off they started again. My biggest fear was that if Dad held out, I’d have to walk the cattle back home again. Finally, Dad’s friend said, ‘Why don’t ye split the difference,’ and after a long drawn out pause they settled on €18 each. They both spit on their palms and shook hands as a sign the bargain was made. They then negotiated the ‘luck penny,’ a few pounds to the jobber for luck.

I asked Dad if he was satisfied and he said, ‘A Mhuiris ní raibh súil agam le £15 agus fuaireas €18 agus táim sásta.’ (I didn’t expect £15 and I got €18 so I’m satisfied.)

I arrived at the lawyer’s office in Myrtle Beach on time and announced that I was there ready, willing and able to close. The executives from South Carolina Power expressed dismay that I had made it after hearing of the snow storm in New York. I removed my papers and proceeded with the closing and the man in charge announced that they had hit a snag. He announced that at a prior meeting of the company he had been directed to exclude a ‘Right of Way’ granted to IP which would provide access to IP land contiguous to that being sold. I informed him that it was negotiated in the agreement and that it was a part of the contract. He asked if I would accommodate the change and I answered No. He asked if I would contact IP headquarters in New York and I answered No. It was my contract, and I had negotiated, and I started to collect my papers and I walked out the door. I walked a short distance down the street and, truthfully, I was beginning to sweat when I heard the footsteps behind me asking me to return. I did and we closed and kept the Right of Way.

When they left, their attorney (whom I knew) asked how I would get to the airport and I said I’d hire a taxi. He looked at me and said, ‘’ou mean you left here and walked out and you didn’t have a car for the airport Mr Moreese?

I responded yes. And he shook his head in dismay. He then offered to drive me to the airport and he was still shaking his head when he drove away.

Dominick was at the airport to meet me. He had a can of beer for me and asked how I made out. I told him I closed the deal and he said, ‘’an that MBA you got taught you all that, didn’t it! I said: ‘No Dominick, I learned it at The Dingle Fair.’

Maurice Brick (Muiris Ó’Bric) lives in Chicago having left West Kerry for London in 1960 at age 18. He lived in London 7 years and in New York 52 years and left for Chicago when his wife Mary Ellen died several years ago. Though a born and raised New York she chose to be laid to rest in West Kerry.