A CEO of a large company and a good friend of Mr. Syar, the owner of Syar Industries, was dating one of the employees of Syar Industries. One night while driving home from his date, he was in a bad car wreck and was laid up in the hospital a couple of weeks. After he went home where he lived alone he could not get around very well.
Mrs. Syar bought him two large blueberry pies and asked me to take them to him. He lived in the rich part of Napa, Calif., in a large house with a couple acres of land.
I took the pies to his house and there was a metal fence with a large iron gate around his house. I opened the gate and here came two large dogs, barking at me. The gate had already closed behind me and all I could do was hold the pies over my head so the dogs could not get to them.
The dogs leaped and took the pies from me. They ate the pies and the tin pans the pies came in. I heard a yell from the house. The man had crawled to the door after hearing the dogs barking, but could not reach the latch on the screen door to open it.
I went to him and told him what had happened to his pies. He told me he was very sorry, that his dogs had not eaten in a couple of days because he could not get up to feed them.
When I went back and told the Syars what happened to their pies, they almost passed out from laughing. Over the next few years, that story was told many times and everybody got a big kick out of it.
I had told my boss about the old Mercedes Benz I bought for 400 marks ($100) when I first got to Germany and drove it to work the three years I was there. I told him it was the best driving car I every rode in.
He wanted one, and asked me to take him to the dealership so he could test drive one. He took one for a drive and liked it and told the salesman that he would take it.
The car cost a lot of money. The salesman sat down at his desk and started taking out all of these forms and Mr. Syar asked him why all the forms. The salesman told him they were for the loan that he needed to buy the car. Mr. Syar told him he would not need the forms, that he was paying cash. The saleman’s face turned white and he almost passed out. In the years I knew Mr. Syar, I saw the same thing happen a lot of times.
The late Everett Vanover, a contributing writer for many years for The Mountain Eagle, was born in Jenkins and lived in California.