I’ve known three Harrys with
last names beginning with H; there isn’t anything significant about this other
than there are times when I think about them together. Perhaps you’ve known
three Franks whose last names begin with F, or three Susans whose last names
begin with S, or maybe you’ve known three dogs named Prince whose owners’ last
names begin with P.
When I think about them
together I think about the season of life I was in when I met each one; I was
in my late 20s when I met Harry Haslam and in the residential construction
industry; I was in my late 40s when I met Harry Heintz and was at theological
seminary, and I was nearing my 60th birthday when I met Harry Hanger
and was in a time of challenging transition from pastoral ministry back into
business.
Harry Haslam was my boss at US
Home Corporation, at the time one of the largest residential home builders in
the United States. I went to work for Harry as the construction coordinator of
the townhouse project he was building. I scheduled contractors, ordered
materials, authorized the payment of invoices, and helped supervise the job.
Harry was the superintendent and he was a nice guy. In a business with lots of
gruff and aggressive people Harry Haslam was a nice guy. He treated me well,
his disposition was professional, he was considerate, and whether you were in
management or were a laborer he gave you his respectful attention.
This particular Harry was a
bit too easy going and trusting at times; I recall that when I first arrived at
the job that there was a group of laborers who were lazy. They pretty much did
what they wanted and I guess Harry was so busy with higher-end matters that he
didn’t notice that he wasn’t getting what he was paying for. It could also be
that Harry didn’t want to deal with confrontation – for he was a nice guy and
laid back. This isn’t to say that Harry didn’t know what confrontation was for
he had been in the midst of life and death confrontation in Vietnam...more on
that in a moment. I was blessed that Harry was trusting in that he trusted me,
he gave me room to do my job and to grow.
After being at the project a
short time and observing the situation with the laborers I suggested to Harry
that we needed to make a personnel change, and with his authorization we did,
freeing the laborers up to seek employment elsewhere – no doubt they sought
jobs that did not require punctuality or actual work, having grown accustomed
to doing what they wanted when they wanted. Looking back on this with the
perspective of decades I see that my suggestion to Harry fits the pattern of my
career – identifying incongruous situations and doing something about it – a
trait not always appreciated or tolerated. In business this is why I have
worked better with entrepreneurs than in rigid corporate environments, in
vocational ministry this is why para-church ministries are often more
comfortable with me than churches.
As I mentioned Harry was in
Vietnam, this was not the Vietnam of today that is open to tourists from the
United States, it was war and Harry was a part of that war. I remember Harry
telling me that his unit was once sent into a neighboring country (I can’t
recall if it was Laos or Cambodia) on a mission and told that if they ran into
trouble that they were on their own. I know these things happen, sending people
into places where “we” aren’t supposed to be, I guess that’s part of running
the government – you can’t tell everyone everything.
I was thinking about Vietnam
the other day and about the college deferment provision in the draft. I’ve read
that the average US soldier in Vietnam was 19 years old, from a poor or
working-class family, who had not attended college. It is said that only about
twenty percent of the soldiers were middle class men, with few upper middle
class soldiers. Imagine, if you were in college you had a draft deferral, but
if you lived in an urban ghetto or were dirt poor living in a hollow in the
Blue Ridge Mountains then you’d better get your living done as soon as possible
because you just didn’t know when the notice would come in the mail telling you
that your uncle required your presence.
But back to Harry Haslam; he
was a really nice guy.
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