Six: Phranques

1983

Map of the little house and Phranques back yard.

Business was going but not growing. Wholesale cactus orders were frequent but small and sometimes more effort than they were worth. Over time, my customers asked for foliage plants, too. I was opposed to the idea from the beginning and I was slow to come around. How could we be called Cactus Growers of Utah and sell Ficus trees?

Soon though, garden centers were down right nagging me for green plants and I had to give in. Buying foliage was easy enough. I knew plenty of foliage growers from my previous buying trips to Southern California. I could add their boxes to my cactus shipments. Even though tropical plants and cactus grow in very different environments, with a few changes in the arrangement of the greenhouse, we could make their lives happy together. We gained floor space by removing benches. We hung bars from the purlins for hanging plants and we attached shade cloth to protect the tender foliage. The greenhouse had only one temperature setting but it was naturally warmer on the south side. We kept the cactus in the hot spots.

The green plants might have had wings the way they flew out the door, outpacing cactus sales by multiples. They were more expensive too, so our dollar volume ticked up. Trucks were backing down the driveway every week instead of every other. Adding foliage to the mix was a good business decision and I’m glad I was pressured into.

Honestly, I’m a little embarrassed it took me so long, the opportunity was practically leading me by the nose. Now, I found myself staring at my neighbor’s property. I was seeing greenhouses in her backyard.

The place was called Phranques, owned by Frank and Gloria Erickson. Like my property, it had a little house in front but instead of lawn, it had a gravel parking lot. Frank was an oil painter and the house had been converted to commercial use as a gallery to sell his work. Gloria opened the gallery a few days a week. In the front corner of the lot was a 48’ high billboard, three feet from the property line and looming over my driveway.

The backyard was as deep as mine, half of it being a weed patch and the other half a cinderblock chinchilla shed, 30’ wide and 60’ long, probably built right after WWII. Chinchilla are little furry animals that were once raised to be inexpensive fur coats. Fortunately for them, fur coats fell out of style. Frank used the chinchilla shed as his art studio. It did have electricity and large window spaces were cut into the cinderblock on both walls. There was no running water.

On occasion, I’d bump into Gloria. One day she told me that Frank’s arthritis was so painful, he had to give up painting. She would open the gallery a few days a week for a while but they were going to close the studio. She offered me the use of the shed for storage. Her generous offer rattled the idea I had shelved in my brain. The thought of owning her property shifted from a billowy cloud to a solid possibility.

I couldn’t let it go. I ran the idea by Gloria. She was as excited about it as I was nervous. A few days later she told me her asking price. No wonder she was so excited. It was cold coffee to me. She wanted a Boardwalk price while I’d been thinking more in the neighborhood of Tennessee Avenue, maybe Marvin Gardens. Still, I couldn’t let it go. I slept on it and dreamed up half an answer. I proposed that I buy the back yard only. I explained my vision; build two more greenhouses between the cactus house and the chinchilla shed, increase my cash flow, save some money and in five years, buy the front yard. (The gallery, gravel parking lot and the billboard contract). Surprisingly, she agreed. Now what? I’m not sure why I even asked. I didn’t have enough money to buy a backyard. I think it’s safe to say that no bank would loan anyone money, regardless of gender, to buy a back yard. I’d only had a couple of years of making mortgage payments on the ‘little house.’ No collateral there.

What happened next was as unbelievable as Gloria’s willingness to sell her back yard. Elaine and Jack offered to loan me the money. They offered to loan me the money without a survey, a lien, a life insurance policy or any collateral, with nothing but my signature on a promissory note. This was a true moment of grace in my life. Without the generosity of the three of them, I don’t know how I would have moved forward. They made it possible for Cactus Growers of Utah to become Cactus & Tropicals.

It’s best to start a project like this with the office of Planning and Zoning. You never know what you’re going to run into. I went to the City and County Building. The bust of Brigham Young had been moved so I figured I only had one shot at this. This time two guys at the counter came to help me. I did my explaining and they went off to the tome to check my zoning. Walking back to me, I noticed they both had little grins on their faces.

“Guess what!” One of them said. That property is not in the City. It’s in the County. Gotta go there for your permits.”

“What?” I stammered. “Are you telling me the City/County line runs right between our properties?”

Who knew? That’s when it dawned on me why the Erickson’s had a billboard in their front yard. Billboards aren’t allowed inside city limits.

Off I went to the County complex on 21st South and State. My request caused much consternation and hand ringing. They didn’t know what to do with me and I was beginning to understand why. The new greenhouses would actually straddle, not only our property lines, but the City/County line as well. I was very naïve about what I asking. I didn’t think about the issue of property tax. How do you tax part of a backyard or a percentage of a greenhouse? The county guys wiggled their way out of responsibility pretty easily, telling me that since I already had my business license through the city, I should stick with them for permits. I did go back to the city but they too, threw their hands up and waved me away, too. Who knew a wave was as good as a permit.