January 19, 1977

Glad King Beat Inflation

The Glad King sipped his iced tea thoughtfully and then admitted, "I guess I am an old fashioned success story!"

I'm a collector of success stories, hoping to find in one of them an idea I can adapt to my own advantage.  Unfortunately, the real-life achievements of fame and fortune usually involve the right idea at the right place and time.  So far, my timing has been off.

But, here was a genuine Horatio Alger letting me in on his career secrets between snatches of "R.O.T.A.R.Y.  - That Spells Rotary."

It should be understood that my luncheon club companion was not a hip reincarnation of "Old King Cole, The Merry Old Soul."  He was, rather, the man who established the gladiolus flower industry in Florida more than a half century ago.

We had gotten acquainted during a discussion of inflation.  We were agreed it was too high and difficult to control.

"That's why I left Germany as a young man in 1922," said Fred Wesemeyer.  "Inflation was just starting, but I knew it was out of control and would make it difficult to start a business of my own.  Germany was too small to absorb financial strain, so I left."

Wesemeyer's insight was wise.  Within a few years German currency was worthless.  Housewives went to market with their shopping baskets, filled with large denomination paper money to buy that same basket of groceries.  Into this hopeless situation strode an out-of-work paper hanger named Hitler who solved inflation with the worst war in the history of mankind.

"My father was a florist in Frankfort," said Wesemeyer who now lives in Ft.  Myers, Florida.  "In the winter a trainload of flowers would leave the French Riviera and start across northern Europe, dropping off box cars of blossoms along the way.

"I was impressed when two box cars of gladiolus would be left at the Frankfort freight depot and by night all the flowers would be sold."

So Wesemeyer came to America where inflation and financial strain seemed so far away.  He kept going south until he found an area that frost never visited.  There he stuffed glad bulbs into the sandy but incredibly rich soil and six weeks later had fat stalks of gladiolus almost ready to bloom.

"I had two box cars full," he recalled, "A good consignment for Frankfort."

Wesemeyer shipped his flowers to markets in New Jersey, sold them all, and made a nice profit.  That was 55 years ago.  Today, Wesemeyer at 77 is the senior partner of the A & W Glads Company which now raises 400 acres of flowers.

"At one time I was the largest supplier with 700 acres of gladiolus," declared Wesemeyer, "but after awhile it was discovered there was good money in winter cultivation, and others got into the field.

"I'm only Number Two, now, but I try harder."

Any regrets?

"None whatsoever," he replied.

I didn't escape the World Wide depression brought on by uncontrolled inflation, but, by luck I chose a career relatively unaffected.  Interestingly enough, even in the depths of the Great Depression, people up north in the winter still found a little money for glads.  They were an inexpensive flower, lasted a long time, and provided some cheer when that commodity was in short supply."

Today, Wesemeyer still goes about the business of selling botanical cheer at a dollar a bunch.  Snow Birds from Ohio make his warehouse on Gladiolus Drive one of their first stops.

I allowed that Wesemeyer's personal solution to the inflation of 50 years ago was unique.

"What can we, as a nation do today?" I asked.

"We can do two things," he said, pursing his lips.

"We can produce more without raising prices, as I did in the Depression.  I had to produce four box cars of glads to make as much money as I did on my first two box cars.  But I kept even when others around me were going bankrupt.

"Or, the government can print more money - as Germany did after World War

"What's in store for us today," I asked.  "Damned if I know, he replied, as we finished our lunch.

We shook hands, and I felt a folded paper in his palm.  I looked at him questioningly.  "Something for your children," said Wesemeyer with a wink.

I opened my hand.  In it were two three dollar-bills.

Author: Lindsey Williams