Better, Cheaper, Younger, Brother

Mill Valley, California, was and is a geographical wonderland. Mount Tamalpais crowns the valley below, and two nice creeks drain opposite canyons, meeting in the center of town to produce a large, permanent stream all the way to Richardson Bay. Besides a very healthy steelhead run, these dual arroyos supply water for a super abundance of blackberries.

Mill Valley wasn’t very hot in the summer as there was always morning fog, so these berries ripened slowly and evenly. One had to wade the creeks and bring ladders at times to harvest, but the extra labor was worth it, as the crop was endless and the fruit extraordinary. My parents were coffee drinkers, so throughout the year I saved every one of their MJB cans for my summer and fall berry stand.

Location and hype

They say that in sales location is everything. Eddie, Jimmie, and I had a big stand in a great spot: at the conjunction of four neighborly streets shaded by a huge redwood. My prices were a one-pound can for 75¢ and two cans for a bit of a break at $1.25 – rates that undercut my stiffest competition, Green Frog Market. It was hard for people to say no to such enterprising lads, and so we sold lots of cans of blackberries. No doubt other stands were selling similar fruit likely from the same source, but we offered a bonus that no other stand could, would, or thought to provide. My mom made many a pie with the juicy morsels my partners and I picked in the creeks; and I, on her heels, would fashion the scrap pieces of dough into succulent blackberry turnovers, glazed and sprinkled with sugar. That’s right! With every two cans a customer purchased, they received a free, berry, hand pie. “Buy any two cans and get a free dessert!’” beckoned the hand-drawn sign. The customers gobbled up those scrumptious incentives.

When the supply of berries was depleted for the season, we didn’t despair. We merely folded away one enterprise and unrolled our winter business: fragrant, redwood, holiday wreaths sold from the same stand. Again, Mill Valley’s bounty shined upon us and our P&L statement. The city’s redwoods provided an endless supply of boughs for fragrant Christmas wreaths. It was simple to make a wreath, but time-consuming. I climbed redwood trees and cut boughs that I piled in stacks of five and tied them overlapping on a wire hoop previously covered by thick pages of newspaper. Thirty minutes plus ribbon and a few pyracantha berries equaled a $1.50 wreath.

Cut the fat

Division of labor was a must; however after a season-and-a-half, I realized too many hands would cause a serious drain on profit. So I “X’d” out my buddies Eddie and Brian in favor of my little brother Dave. My brother Dave was five years old then (making me seven or eight), and I swiftly identified his value to my enterprise. I knew he would make a cute foil going door-to-door with a little red wagon, so I pressed him into sales for the family business. His numbers were outstanding but at such a tender age, he had limited range. So after a tough day of retail sales and production at the stand, I would take over door-to-door sales, toting the wagon to the harder-to-crack nuts in the more upper-crust highland areas.

Despite the number of trees in the valley and therefore the resulting heavy competition in the wreath market, our firm did well due to a superior product and a cute younger brother and salesman. 

When Dave got a little older though, I X’d him out, too. His cuteness had worn off, his numbers plummeted, and our neighbors four houses down had a just-turned-five-year-old willing to convey the wagon for the shop. Dave took it hard, but he understood it was business. He went on to perfect his marbles game and became Lord of the Ring of the West Blithedale Canyon neighborhood. I continued my toggling berry and wreath enterprise, and it all worked out. We each carved a domain that allowed us to remain brothers, independent and successful. And capitalism rolled on: a rival force to the power of the majestic, natural world that created and cradled our Mill Valley childhood.

(Excerpt from a forthcoming book entitled Work by Dick Creighton and Tia Creighton)

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Image

“Childhood, Grange Road, Cwmbran 1940s (with adaptations) – Photo by Torfaen Corvine (used with permission), FlickrCC https://tinyurl.com/y6g53hoe