Portsmoiuth Ohio Nostalgia by my brother, Jim K ... Thx Jim!

High Notes 08-15-2013 Wylie Binns

 

“Nothing is ever lost by courtesy.  It is the cheapest of pleasures, costs nothing, and conveys much.”  Erastus Wiman

 

I first published that bit of advice in my August 16, 2012 High Notes column, and I dredged it up, to remind myself of the importance of courtesy.  Now that I’m in my seventy-fifth year of life, I, as some of we older folks do, tend to be somewhat less patient with others.  If one were to ask me straight out if I like people, I’d certainly say, “Yes, and I try to be courteous!”  But, and here’s the rub, I can be saucy and short at times.

I tell this story about my early friendship with, Wylie W. Binns, the erasable old antique dealer who held forth at 604 Second Street, Portsmouth.  It was October, 1960, and I was 21-years old, Mr. Binns was 60, he’d been born in 1900.  My six-month stint of basic U. S. Army training, and “advanced” combat engineer training, which qualified me as a Private in the 216^th Engineering Battalion of The National Guard on Seventeenth Street, Portsmouth had ended in April, and I had just started my newspaper career at The Portsmouth Times. .  I got that job as one of the “outside want ad salesmen”, as we were called.  I was replacing Eddie Gemperline, who had taken a job with John Irwin, at The Auto Club.

Eddie, I found out later, had replaced Erwin K. (Dutch) Dodenhoff, and I was to join legends in the business, Carl Adams, and Joe Keller in beating the bushes for our large five and six page daily want ad section. 

Now I know the age of 60, is not so old, but Wylie’s reputation, I found out, was that he was “hard of hearing”, as we used to say.   I had inquired about the man, after Kenny Long, the Classified Advertising Department manager, assigned Binns Antiques as one of my list of regular contract-customers.  I soon found out that the Binns’ account (thanks to Carl Adams for clueing me in) was always given to the newest member of the staff, as sort of a “baptism under fire”.  They figured that anybody who could get along with Wylie, should be able to handle anybody. 

When I found out about Wylie’s hearing handicap, I remembered my Speech teacher at PHS, and his admonishment to the class, to always speak loudly and clearly to older folks.  On that first time to call on him, I walked right up, extended my hand, and in a loud voice said, I’m Jim Kegley and I’m going to handle your advertising account. 

Wylie told me later, that he liked me right off, because “Most young people talk too fast and too softly.”

I was truly interested in the Binns’ store, because I had developed a taste for antiques because of my friendship with James “Count” McConnell and his wife, Florine, who had a fine art, pattern and cut glass shop, called Hilltop Antiques.  I knew them through their daughter, Linda, one of my early girlfriends.  I used to plan my trips to visit Wylie, so I could spend some time getting to know him, and his inventory.  In other words, I started hanging-out there.

Here’s the story:

Whenever a regular customer came into his store, I would sort of back away and try to blend in, rather than interfere with his transactions.  One day a little old lady came in carrying a small brass nut-bowl in a sack, and she sat it down on a table and announced, “This is not what I thought it was, and I’d like my money back!”

Well, she obviously had not dealt with Wylie Binns before, because he quickly said, “You bought it, it’s yours!”

“But I don’t want it now!”

“No, I’m not giving your money back.”

Thus began a loud argument between the two, and she finally slammed it down on the table and slammed out the door.

Wylie was seething, and he picked up the bowl and ran out onto the sidewalk and shouted to her as he threw the bowl at her, and it went clanging and banging up the street.

Several months after that incident, I had noticed a story in The Cincinnati Enquirer regarding a new ear operation that would reverse the effects of ear damage for some people and restore much of their lost hearing.  Wylie investigated, had the operation, and for the remaining several years of his life, he was a much calmer and more tolerant person.  Wylie died in 1975, at the age of 75.  I’m proud that the Binns’ family asked me to be one of the honorary pall bearers at his funeral

I failed to mention that Wylie’s son, Dr. Benjamin Binns’ the local optometrist is also a friend, whom I’d known even before I met Wylie.