Dutch Clarke - The Early Years. Brian Ratty
would have told you last night."
"No, he didn't say word. Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Bess. Just a little shocked with all the changes around here."
She handed me the coffee and I took a few sips; then I asked if Uncle Roy was here.
"Yes, sir, he’s waiting for you in the study,” she replied.
Thanking her, I told Bess that I’d return for some lunch in an hour or so. With that, I topped off my cup and headed to see Uncle Roy.
The large, inlaid doors of the study slid open easily. There in the dim, smoky window light, I found Uncle Roy seated behind Grandfather’s enormous, hand-carved wooden desk, with papers stacked all over it. He rose with a large smile on his face and moved around to the front of the desk to greet me. We shook hands and embraced for a moment. It was good to see him again.
Roy was in his late fifties but looked to be in his forties. His fit body and brilliant “salt and pepper” hair made him look very distinguished. His handshake was firm and his demeanor commanding, as always. I could tell that Uncle Roy was now in charge, not only of the business but the family, as well, which also meant me.
We made small talk as I drank my coffee. He asked about Captain Skip and his family, wanted to know about my flight home and apologized for not meeting me the night before. I told him that we’d been at sea and that I didn't get his telegram about Grandfather's death and the funeral until it was too late. Next I inquired if Grandfather had suffered. With a softened voice he answered,
“No, thank God. The doctor said that he died painlessly in his sleep. Hazel found him the next morning lying peacefully in bed and called me for instructions.”
I asked what had happened to Hazel and her husband, Buck. They had both worked at Fairview for as long as I could remember. Uncle Roy told me that Grandfather had made provisions in his will for $10,000 each, so they might retire in a little comfort. They moved to Illinois, where their children lived, the day after the funeral. He added that they were both disappointed at not being able to say goodbye to “Master Clarke.” I then commented that it had been nice of Grandfather to take care of them.
At that Uncle Roy glared at me, his eyes staring at me over his wire-framed glasses riding low on his nose. He replied sternly,
"You know, Dutch, you just didn't give your grandfather much of a chance. You are surprised he would take care of those people… but why? There is a hell of a lot you would be surprised to know if you would’ve just given the old guy a chance."
"Now look, Uncle Roy, I didn't come all the way from Alaska to get into some kind of family feud with you,” I answered angrily. “I know I must have been a disappointment to Grandfather, but in many ways he was a hell-a disappointment to me, too."
Uncle Roy moved behind Grandfather's desk again and sat down, still staring at me with those steel gray eyes, and said, "O.K., Dutch, let’s not fight. I can see that chip is still on your shoulder… he’s gone now and there’s nothing we can do about that."
Roy reached down through a stack of papers and pulled out a blue bound document about 20 pages thick. He looked up at me and commented, "As you know, I was in life not only your grandfather’s brother but also his closest associate, friend and confidant. In his death, I remain the same. I am the executor of his estate, and will to the best of my abilities follow his instructions to the letter.”
His words were formal, unemotional and now riveting.
“Before I read you the part of his Last Will and Testament that relates to you, I want you to know that my brother bequeathed to me 75,000 shares of Gold Coast Petroleum stock, which added to the 25,000 shares I already own, makes me a 50% owner in the company. Now let me read the part relating to you. You may love it or hate it, but it’s what your grandfather wanted.”
Now to the son of my son, Eric Dutch Clarke, III, who has defied me with his attitude about education, the family business and life in general. In spite of this, I know in my heart of hearts he is the blood of me and the soul of his father and shall truly become a man, in every sense of the word in the Clarke family. Therefore, I bequeath to him all the remaining assets of my estate, cash, securities, 100,000 shares of my business Gold Coast Petroleum, the home known as Fairview with all its furnishings and all other personal and private property contained within. This bequeath is made with only one reservation, which is that he, under the certification of my executor, will perform his family mission, if he has not already done so, starting within one year of my death. The mission will be defined as one year of survival, totally alone, in a wilderness area of his choice, packing in only what can be carried on animals, as both his father and I did. If my executor cannot certify, for any reason, at the end of the mission that the adventure has not been completed as to the terms and conditions set forth, then this bequeath will be given to the Mormon Church of Salt Lake City, Utah. If this mission has not been completed by the time of my death and until it can be completed under these terms and conditions, my executor will have complete control of this part of my estate. I say to my Grandson again, go into the wilderness and return a man... a better man.
Uncle Roy put down the papers and added,
"The first part of the Will has to do with Hazel, Buck and myself. The last part has instructions on paying and transferring his assets through the probate courts. You can read the whole document if you wish."
He handed it to me. I sat there for a moment holding the blue bond papers, thinking about what my response would be. Placing the document back on the desk, I turned to Uncle Roy and said,
"The Mormon Church? I knew that both Grandfather and you came from a Mormon family. But neither of you have ever practiced the Mormon faith that I can remember."
Uncle Roy reached for a cigar and began to prepare it for smoking. He cut the tip, looked up and replied,
"You’re right, there. I was as surprised as you are when I read his terms regarding your bequeath. Our mother was Mormon, but our father nothing as far as I know. After Mother died and Senior and I moved east, we never talked about the Mormon faith again.”
Standing, I began walking around the room with nervous energy, holding my hands behind me. Stopping, I looked back at Roy, who was now lighting his cigar and said, "It doesn't matter. All this ‘mission’ stuff is just so much crap. I’ve always told you and Grandfather that I would never go on such an adventure. I don't want, or need, Grandfather's money, I have over $5,000 upstairs in my room. I made that money in just five months of fishing, so you can keep his damn bequeath. This is just so much shit!
Roy was surprised at my language and looked directly at me, blowing out some blue and white smoke as he replied, "I, I, I. There seems to be a lot of I’s in your life. You certainly talk like a fisherman, but can you think like a man? Anyhow, we’re talking about a lot more money than some lousy five grand. But Dutch, it's not about the money; it's what he wanted you to do for him, a way that he could be proud of you. You know, we all can't go through life just doing what we want to do. Sometimes we have to think about others and what they want."
Smugly, I cut him off, "Look, Uncle Roy, I know where you’re coming from. I wish I could, but I can't and won't."
With fire in his eyes he raised his voice a little louder, "Dutch, if you won't do it for your grandfather, then how about thinking about me?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, think this out. How might I feel about having the Mormon Church as my business partners? Do you think that thought pleases me? The last thing I need are some holier-than-thou folks running around our refineries. How about doing this for me?"
His statement caught me off guard and I shook my head as I sat back down. Panic welling up inside me.
"Uncle Roy, that's a low blow! You know how I feel about you. I would do almost anything for you. But what the hell do I know about surviving in a wilderness? I’ve never been on a horse, except for a pony ride in Central Park as a kid. Besides fishing up north, I’ve never killed an animal and I’ve never