The main character in this story, Harry Lane, is based on silent film star Harry Langdon's character The Little Elf. For more information, please see the story notes on my profile. I would like to thank my good friend and author Lady Mallard for her help and advice on this story.

The Reluctant Hero

It was 1925. Little Harry Lane was sitting at breakfast with his parents. His mother, Edith, poured the milk in his glass and brought over the toast and eggs for all three of them. She put the bib around his neck and tied it in back. He smiled sweetly at his mother.

His father, Arthur, a tall brawny man sat across from Harry. "Son, your mother and I have been talking about your future. Considering that you're twenty-seven years old now and have …finally…graduated from high school, I think it's about time you found yourself a job."

"A job?" asked Harry.

"Yes, a job!" said his father. "It's about time that you start earning your own keep. Since you seem a bit inept at helping out on the farm, I have decided you must look for a job and start living on your own. Your mother and I are scraping to make ends meet. And I never thought it would take you so long to get through school…"

Edith shook her head at Arthur. She was very protective of little Harry. He was not like other children.

"I guess it was those three years in first grade that did me in…" said Harry.

"And what about the extra two years each in third grade and in fifth grade?" blustered his dad. "And the extra three years in high school?

"Now, Arthur, don't get angry with Harry. Just because he isn't up to the school standards. They raise that bar very high, you know…"

"Well, why can other children do it in 12 years and it took our son 22 years to do the same?"

"He's very thorough, Arthur."

Harry nodded. "Very thorough, Dad." He smiled sweetly and his huge innocent blue eyes smiled too.

"Nonetheless, Harry, you're going to get a job. I don't care what it is. Just take whatever you can get. But start earning some money. Your mother and I don't have a money tree out in the back yard, you know!"

"Yes, I noticed that," said Harry. "But if I ever see one, I will certainly buy it for you." He thought a moment. "Maybe it would be less expensive to buy money tree seeds instead…."

Both his parents rolled their eyes at this comment. "Harry, you should know there is no such thing as a money tree…" said his father. Edith shook her head at Arthur and put her finger to her lips.

Harry went back upstairs to his room where he combed his light brown fuzzy hair. He put on a clean white shirt, grey trousers with suspenders and carefully tied a huge red bow tie that his mother had lovingly made for him. He put on his small grey jacket with three large buttons and his matching hat, a rather tall affair with a dark grosgrain ribbon around it, upturned brim and a perpetual dint in the top.

Harry came downstairs again and gave his mother a big kiss. She kissed and hugged him back and said, "Now you be careful, honey, and don't take any wooden nickels."

Harry pondered what the consequences of taking a wooden nickel would be. Perhaps a very large sliver in one of your fingers. He stuck a finger in his mouth at the thought.

Harry went out the door to wait for his father to drive him to town. He opened the door and stepped on a loose floor board on the porch and it flew up and hit him in the face. Harry fell down the stairs and got up, holding his nose. His mother opened the door.

"Oh my! Harry, how many times has your father told you to fix that floor board?" asked his mother, as she handed him his lunch in a paper bag.

Harry didn't say anything, but sat down on the porch steps, thinking very hard.

His father pulled up in the slightly beat-up, but still serviceable Ford pickup. Harry still sat on the porch thinking. The truck made so much noise, it was strange that Harry didn't notice that his father had pulled up right in front of him.

"Harry, get in," said his father impatiently. Harry climbed in the passenger seat and put his lunch on his lap.

"Harry, I saw the porch board hit you in the face. How many times have I told you to fix that?" Arthur had to shout for the truck was very noisy.

"What?" said Harry, holding his hand to his ear.

"Never mind," said his father.

"You know, Dad, I was just thinking about how many times you've told me to fix the porch. I think I lost count after 26."

"What?" shouted his father. "I can't hear you over the engine."

"I can't hear you, Dad," Harry replied.

The two sat in noisy silence until they reached the big city called Troublefield. Harry's father pulled over and turned off the truck so they could talk. "Harry, I don't want you to come back home until you've found a job!" He was still shouting.

Harry's ears were still ringing, but he heard his father this time.

"I can't come home until I find a job?"

"No. And you must learn how to take care of yourself. Here's some money until you make your own. You can call your mother if you have any questions. I'll be gone all day working on the farm, working, did you hear me…like what I want you to be doing!"

"Yes, Dad," said Harry. He got out of the car and gave his father a little wave and watched him as he drove off. He stood on the corner of the sidewalk and looked in all directions. He put his forefinger between his teeth and wondered what to do next. There were so many directions to go, so many places he could go to find a job, so many decisions…..

He was standing at the corner in his indecision when a large, tall man with a moustache and slicked back dark hair knocked him over.

"Oh, I'm very sorry," said the man. He pulled Harry to his feet. Harry smiled and thanked the man. He tipped his hat and then resumed his thinking pose.

The man said, "Are you looking for someone?"

"No, I'm looking for a job."

The man laughed. "You'll never find one standing there. But come with me, I'm on my way to work now. I run an employment agency."

The man walked fast and Harry ran to keep up with him. He turned into a tall, Victorian building with lots of gingerbread on the outside. He led Harry to the third floor. Harry was impressed with the electric elevator and thought the job of running it would be delightful, going up and down all day. He pointed his forefinger and went up and down with it in the air, thinking about the motion of the elevator.

The man's office was large and fancy. "We're here early, and my appointments don't start till 8 am. So I have plenty of time to interview you." He hung up his coat and invited Harry to have a seat across the desk. Harry took off his hat and held it in his lap.

He stuck out his hand and said, "By the way, I'm Vernon Zent, owner of this business."

Harry shook his hand. "I'm Harry Lane. I don't own anything."

"I see. Well, Harry, let's get down to business. What type of position are you looking for?"

"The elevator operator…that looks like a wonderful job."

Zent gave Harry an odd look. "Let's start with your previous experience."

Harry put his finger between his teeth again and thought hard.

"Harry, what jobs have you had before?"

"Well…. I helped my mother do the dishes…and I chopped wood for the stove…"

"Now we're getting somewhere…anything else?"

"I should have fixed the porch when Dad told me to. But I keep forgetting."

By this time Zent was getting a bit irritated with the young man. "How old are you, son, about 16 or 17?"

"No, I'm 27."

"27! Surely you must have done more…what does your father do…have you helped him?"

Harry started to think again.

"Good grief, boy, can't you give me any straight answers?" Zent threw his pen on the desk with such force that it squirted ink in his face and all over the papers on his desk and the papers went flying. He rose sputtering, and went to the washroom where he washed the ink off his face. Meanwhile Harry picked up the papers from the floor and placed them back on Zent's desk, getting ink all over his hands in the process.

Zent came back from the washroom, but still looked flustered. Harry had often seen his father look like that. He went around to the other side of the desk and gave Zent a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Everything will be okay," said Harry, using the very words his mother often used to quiet his father when he got into a frazzled state. Of course, Harry still had wet ink on his hands and it rubbed off on the back of Zent's light grey suit coat.

Zent smiled and took a deep breath, sitting down once more. He threw the inky papers in the trash and started over. "Let's try a different tack. I have several job requests here. You tell me if you are qualified for the job. All right?"

Harry nodded, smiling.

"The first one is dog catcher. Could you do that?"

"Oh sure. I love dogs. They love me too. They follow me all around…"

"All right. Lets try that." Zent was clearly relieved. "Here's the address." He looked at Harry, anticipating his next question. "It's just around the corner and down the street."

Harry shook hands with Zent and he noticed Harry's hand was still black from the ink, now dry. "Better wash your hands so you give a good appearance, Harry." Harry washed his hands, tipped his hat to the now beaming Zent. Zent was beaming because he had gotten rid of Harry. Harry stepped out into the waiting room where hoards of people were waiting to see Zent. He wouldn't be beaming for long.

Harry found the dog pound with no trouble. He was hired immediately. The owner, a Mr Weimerainer, explained what Harry had to do. "You search the city for dogs. You put them in the back of the truck. You bring them here. Got it?"

"I think so," said Harry. He thought a minute. "Who drives the truck?"

"You do, bozo," said Weimerainer.

"No, my name isn't Bozo, it's Harry. But I don't know how to drive."

"It's simple, let me show you." Weimerainer gave him the five-minute condensed driving lesson and sent him on his way.

Of course, Harry put the truck in reverse and he smashed into the Model T parked behind him. Then he took off a little too fast, not realizing that he had locked bumpers with the Model T and it was stuck on the back of the truck. He saw a dog and pulled over. He lured it over by calling softly to it and it came to him and licked his face. He brought the dog to the back of the truck and he spied the Model T attached to the back of the truck. He put the dog inside, then stood back and looked at the problem.

He stood like a statue, gazing at the truck, his finger between his teeth, wondering how to unlock the bumpers. He scratched his head. He ran around to the other side. He stood in the street for a while and looked at it some more. Then he crouched down and looked at the bumpers close up. He touched it tentatively with his index finger. He stood up again. He kicked at the bumper gently. Nothing happened. This was a problem.

A man came up in a truck with logs on the back. He stopped next to Harry.

He laughed. "Got yourself a locked bumper, eh, Sonny?"

"Yes, sir. That automobile is stuck onto my truck and I don't know how to get it off."

The logger got out of his truck. "Here I have just the thing." He pulled out a huge sledge hammer and smashed the bumpers off on one side, then the other. The bumpers were still locked, but they were both detached from the vehicles and laying on the ground. Both vehicles were freed.

"Why thank you sir!" Harry smiled and tipped his hat, as the logger drove off.

Harry managed to find several more dogs before it was dark. This was going to be easy! Harry had found something he was good at!

He came back to the dog pound and Mr Weimerainer put them into cages.

Harry looked at their little forlorn and wistful faces. "So what happens now?"

"If they have owners who come for them, they can pay to get them back. If not…" he made a motion across his neck and made a whistling sound. Harry was taken aback. He didn't know this could happen. His eyes grew even larger and he was about to say something when Weimerainer handed him a key.

"See that they all have food and water, Harry. The food is in the corner. Then lock up and you can go home."

Harry nodded silently and took the key handed to him. He looked at it then he looked at all the dogs. He got out the food and fed and watered all the dogs. Then he looked at the key again.

"No, I can't do it," he whispered.

There was a telephone in the office of the dog pound and Harry called his mother.

"Hello, Harry, did you find a job?"

"Yes, Mom, I did. But I don't know where to go for the night."

"You can get a hotel room, Harry, until you find an apartment of your own. Do you still have the money your father gave you?"

"Yes."

"There is a hotel on Main Street. Just go there and get a room."

"Ok. I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Harry, I miss you."

Harry let all the dogs from the pound out of their cages. They were all barking and fussing. He held up his finger to his lips. "Quiet, boys, we don't want to be caught!" he whispered " …Sorry, you girls too…"

There were about twenty dogs in all. Harry let all the dogs out the door and they followed him quietly down the street. He found the hotel and then told the dogs to stay in the back and not make a sound. He procured a room and found the back steps. He let his canine friends in the back door and up to his room. Luckily they didn't meet anyone on the steps, as it was rather late.

Harry played with the dogs for a while and had a lot of fun. Then he went to bed and some of the dogs slept in bed with him, some on the floor, a little one on the dresser, etc. Needless to say, when Harry awoke, the room was a mess. The dogs had gotten into fights during the night and had scratched the furniture, and ripped the curtains. He snuck the dogs outside again and took them for an early walk. Then he gave them a lecture and told them to all go home and not get caught again. They ran off to find their owners.

Harry paid his bill at the hotel and went to the dog pound. Weimerainer was there and steaming mad. "Where are all the dogs?"

"I got them all back to their owners, Mr Weimerainer."

The man pulled at his hair. "Harry, I get money for getting them back to their owners! And what did you do to my truck?"

While Harry was thinking of a suitable answer, Weimerainer yelled, "Never mind…You're FIRED!"