George got this permission, once, to tear down an old Colonial home over at Pearl River in New York State. The house was a trove of fine old chestnut beams,. cornices, carvings and what-all - wide floorboards, too - so was well worth the effort to dismantle and haul away. "Part of the deal" was that he was to stick to the house materials proper - nothing else - and when finally done, he was to burn all the residue in the cellar hole. (Environmentalists and other forces for good in the community had not yet arisen).      

      Our adventures there serve as a model of what went on elsewhere and at other times. It was in the Spring, I remember, and the lilacs had just bloomed. We arrived one fine Saturday morning. The house stood alone in a wide field - and earth-moving equipment was busy grading it all preparatory to building a huge mall there. The house, of course, had to go... As soon as we arrived, the gravel shifted several times then said,

       "Bernie - unfold those long legs of yours, take your pocket knife, and then cut off all the lilac blooms you can reach ...".

      As the lilacs were the real prime kind - couple of hundred years old where they grew up next to the house foundations - you can see there were a lot of blooms... Meanwhile, Chuck had been detailed to scrounge up a long plank, some boxes, and some empty coffee cans from the trash pile. Soon all was in readiness out front: an impromptu "flower stand" of sorts. Bunches of lilacs floated in the water-filled cans, while at one end lay an empty can - primed with a few quarters in change. All on the "Honor System" you see - and self-explanatory.

     Soon, passersby - mostly women - would stop their cars, run over and take a can or two of blooms, put their change in the dry can and be on their way. By noon we were sold out. We had, of course, "made cigarette money" with minimum investment of time and labor. Ducks enfilade, as we old-style Infantrymen were taught...

       As usual, we had started on the roof. We usually began by standing on the interior collar ties or members tieing two rafters together - and then use our pry bars to knock holes in the old house roofing. Soon when a big enough hole could be cleared , then one could exit easily to the roof and begin to clear away the shingles in earnest. While thus engaged this particular morning, we heard a voice sing out,

       "Hey Mister!" it said from somewhere below.

     George, kneeling near the edge of the roof, and needing to expel some excess quiddity, you might say - looked over while simultaneously launching his quiddity into the air. It landed plop! at the feet of a young guy and his kid standing three stories below.

       "What you want?" rumbled the gravel.

      "Say", said the man, "would you want to sell those lilac bushes (now sans blooms, of course...) by any chance?" There was a moment's silence, then

      "Well - can't rightly say. Might not even be mine to sell...", here a wink thrown our way.

       "Oh - that's alright, Mister. You wouldn't have to do anything. I brought my kid here with me. We'll dig them up. Got burlap and shovels right here in the back of my pickup."

       George peered over again - presumeably to verify the presence of the pickup.

      "Tell you what, he said, " like I say, it would be okay with me - but really they might not be mine to sell.... But tell you what to do - you check with the Missus now -she's inside downstairs somewhere - ". His head withdrew, signifying the interview was over.

      The man and his son disappeared inside. Not long after, in shirtsleeves, both were observed hard at work digging around the bases of the old lilacs. Soon they had one free, then another - and another. They worked well up into the afternoon. As did we also. I remember that day because I dropped my guard briefly and worked out my time for a swap on an old mantle on a fireplace downstairs. But it was a beauty and I finally got it free and intact and took it over to Connecticut with me. I refinished and restored it (even to a secret chamber behind the facing) - and many years later built it into my home in Wilton, where it is to this day, if the place has not burned down...

      Eventually, the sun rolled "...down, all down a glowing sky..." and we quit for the day. The man and his son were long gone - and with them the lilac bushes. We cleaned up a bit - then the Old Man said,

       "Boys, let's have some fun! We're going down to the Station House!"

        Since Station Houses are not ordinarily associated with "fun", something novel promised, so we perked up and off we went. Arrived at the Station House, George squared his ample shoulders, took a fresh bite on the ever-present stogie, and strode purposefully up to the Desk Sargeant.

       "Officer," said he, " my name is George W. Rhine (pause, to let this sink in) then continuing, "and I have a problem I want to discuss with you".

       "That so?," says the Man in Blue. "And what might your problem be, sir?"

      "Well," begins George, " I have permission here (showing paper) to demolish and remove the old so-and-so house up on so-and-so street - the place where they are putting in the new shopping mall."

      "Know it well," says Desk Sargeant.

      "I want you to know," (indignation to the fore), "that someone, Officer, has come and stolen all the lilac bushes around that old house! I know, because they were gone when me and my boys arrived to work this morning - and they weren't supposed to be touched. "Part of the deal" I got right here is to take the house materials only - no one is to touch the lilac bushes. The developer had told me they were going to include the lilacs right in the design of the mall...

       "But it's not the fact the lilacs were taken that bothers me so much", he continued. "They are not really my affair anyway. But, Officer, I want you to know that I have several thousand dollars worth of tools I keep in that house so my men have them here on Saturdays to work with. And I surely don't want those tools stolen out of there!"

      Desk Sargeant could only agree with George's sensible approach.

      "So what can we do for you, Mr. Rhine?" he asked.

      "Well, Sargeant if it wouldn't be too much to ask, I was wondering if maybe a patrol car could check the place out several times a day or so - check the doors and windows and all and make sure nobody has been moseying about while I'm gone during the week."

       "Why, Mr. Rhine, that would be no problem at all," the Sargeant smiled. "We'd be more than happy to extend that courtesy and I will put it in the Duty Roster notes right now."

       We regrouped outside, George inserted a new cigar, unlit. Silently we all got back in the 'Buick'. And silently, we drove off. I mused to myself as we drove along: "Well, he sold the lilac blooms first. Then he sold the lilacs - which were - strictly - not his to sell. Then he wound up with police protection as result of a hypothetical robbery... pretty good day's work....".

      Duckpins, anyone?