Pre-need

Liberace as coffin specialist Mr. Stark from The Loved One.

If I’d never seen Liberace in The Loved One, I might have taken the job.  After Ingrid and I were married at the end of 1971, I spent the better part of the following year trying to find work.  I had used seven years of fine arts in college to string along the draft board until I stumbled onto a legal way to avoid it altogether.  However, the same strategy that enabled me to bypass the Viet Nam War left me completely unqualified for anything other than day labor. 

On one of several visits to my new in-laws in San Diego that year, I met Wally.  He showed up at a large Dutch-Indonesian picnic on Shelter Island one afternoon and like me, was among the few white Anglos that made up my in-laws’ large circle of friends and fellow immigrants.  Wally asked me if I liked clams, I said yes, and twenty minutes later I was pulling them out from under his feet.

 Wally was born and raised in San Diego and led me to the opposite side of the bay where we waded out into the water until it came up to our armpits. Since the tide was in, we took turns with one of us locating the clams with our feet and the other going underwater to pluck them out of the mud.  After an hour we had quite a haul and took it all back to the picnic and tossed them on the grill.  Plenty of clams, beer and sun made for a good day. 

A week after the clams, I was driving to El Cajon to spend the day with Wally so he could show me what he did for a living.  He wouldn't tell me anything about it in advance other than it was his own business and he thought I should consider doing it with him.  He drove us to one of what at the time must have been hundreds of trailer parks for retirees in San Diego County.  Wally walked up to a trailer, knocked lightly on the front door and we were greeted by Vera, a pleasant lady and definitely a senior.  Wally asked if she had made arrangements for her funeral.  I am astounded by the completely natural and matter-of-fact way in which he delivered this opening line.  He then handed her his card which said something about a “pre-need” approach that offered a savings of 80% off of the typical funeral cost.  Knowing my luck, I began wondering if Vera might by chance have a 25-year-old overly-protective grandson inside the trailer, who weighs 330 pounds and just stopped by on his way to a karate tournament.   

To my great surprise, Vera begins hopping up and down (at least her torso does as she is too old for her feet to actually come up off the floor) and says, “Thank God you’re here, I’ve been meaning to do this for so long.  Follow me and let me show you what I’ve got.”

Vera leads us to her refrigerator, on top of which is a cigar box with the cash she has been stashing away for this very reason.  She continues, “The last thing I want is to be a burden to any of my family when the time comes.  I can’t tell you what a relief this will be for me.  I’ve got nearly $1,200 here, is that anywhere close to what I need?”

Wally assured her that was more than enough and asked if she would let us drive her over to the local funeral home so all of the details could be finalized.  Wally was connected with several funeral homes in the area so he could satisfy any of the buyers religious or other preferences.  The details turned out to include a contract, a questionnaire and funeral services. 

Observing Wally take Vera down through the questionnaire was nothing less than surreal.  Wally would read off each line item such as glasses, make up, jewelry, clothes, etc.  Vera thought it was very odd to be talking about what she would be wearing in a closed coffin six-feet underground and started giggling.  With each additional question she’d giggle a little harder until it rose to a healthy laugh.  The whole thing took about an hour and Vera thoroughly enjoyed every bit of it as though Wally was helping her plan a Mediterranean cruise. 

Before we took her back to the trailer park, Wally walked us into the coffin display chamber so Vera could pick one out.  There were a variety of styles and prices from the cheap and plain to the expensive and elaborate.  The expensive coffins were something to behold - solid oak; silk lined interiors; pillows; mattresses; arm and foot rests; hermetically sealed; polished aluminum; steel gauge; etc.  When Wally finished describing them Vera said, “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon go with the cheapest one.”  Wally was of course ready for this and came back with, “I couldn’t agree with you more.  In all the years I’ve been doing this, there’s never been one complaint.” 

Wally told me there were so many retirees like Vera in San Diego County he needed help getting to them all.  Wally believed in what he was doing.  He was helping people make plans for the inevitable while they were still alive and in good spirits, and there wasn’t any reason that both he and his customers couldn’t have some fun while they were at it.  From Wally’s perspective, his customers truly benefited from what he did and there wasn’t anything at all unpleasant about his responsibilities.  In the future when a customer did pass away, it would be the mortuaries and the funeral homes that would step in to fulfill their obligations as specified in the contract.  He was legitimately saving people a lot of money and offering them peace of mind.  He wanted to know when I could start.