FRIENDLY FRED

(From Chapter One of The Love-Based Leader)

Friendly Fred

My wake-up call in the 1975 class with my parents was actually not my first exposure to Love-Based Leadership. My parents really did not save the good stuff for when I paid them a tuition. There were many occurrences where they demonstrated Love-Based Leadership, long before I coined the term.

"Love thy neighbor as thyself." ... Leviticus 19:18

Based on how most people love themselves,

Our neighbors are in serious trouble.

I recall one event which had a profound impact on both myself and my father. It happened in 1966, when we were living in Thousand Oaks, California.

My parents, James and Janet Quinn, were successful business owners. My father was president of the Merchant’s Association, president of the Chamber of Commerce, and was on the Board of Directors of California Lutheran College. My mother was president of one of the largest Republican women’s clubs in America. They also belonged to many other business, recreational, civic, and charitable organizations.

The natural consequence of their activities and friendships was a steady stream of people through our home. Add three teenagers (Nancy, Gary, and myself) plus our friends, and you can probably see why our house was referred to as the Quinn “circus”.

While ours was one of the most visited houses in town, I do not recall anyone ever visiting next door. Our neighbor, Fred, was the most unfriendly man I have ever known. He worked in public relations for American Airlines.

Every morning his garage door would open and Fred would leave for work. Every evening it would swallow him up. Fred so desired isolation he created a two-fence barrier between himself and his five backyard neighbors. Apparently, Fred did not feel just one fence was enough, because he actually built a second fence about one foot inside of the original. We jokingly nicknamed him “Friendly Fred”.

Friendly Fred's one love (hopefully in addition to his wife) was his beautiful dichondra lawn. While dichondra lawns are always green and never need mowing, they do require lots of sun and water. While Southern California is blessed with lots of sun, they do not get much rain. To compensate, Friendly Fred watered his precious dichondra lawn at least once a day. The result was squishy ground … so squishy you would leave an impression if you stepped on his lawn.

During the week, the only times we saw Friendly Fred was when he came outside to water his lawn. But on weekends, when we played football in the street or were riding our bikes on the sidewalk, Fred would come out to the curb to check for mail in his mailbox several times an hour. These little walks were always accompanied by a dirty stare or some yelling by Friendly Fred. He was so intimidating that if a ball or Frisbee landed in his back yard, nobody would ever knock on his door to get it back.

He was obviously consumed with protecting his property. If you have ever seen how teenagers can rebel against anyone who tries to enforce authority, then you know his fears were valid. In fact, we eventually got even with him by leaving footprints and tire impressions on his lawn.

Friendly Fred also resented anyone who parked in front of his house because they would leave impressions when they stepped on his lawn while going to and from their cars. It was this resentment that led to one of my greatest life lessons.

Since it was not always possible to find a parking space in front of the Quinn Circus, occasionally one of our visitors would park in front of Friendly Fred’s home. Fred would immediately rush out and yell at them. We figured he must sit by his window just waiting for his chance to bolt outside and explode on any unsuspecting victim.

Friendly Fred might have been unfriendly, but he wasn't stupid. One day he bought a Rain-Bird sprinkler which sprayed water not only onto his lawn, but way out into the street. “Now,” he must have thought, “nobody will park here.”

This worked like a charm, and nobody parked in front of Friendly Fred’s house when he was watering. However, since he could not water his lawn all of the time, those people who parked there when the sprinkler was off would still get to experience his hostility.

One time, Friendly Fred chose to water his lawn AFTER several cars had already parked in front of his house. When my brother and I noticed what he was doing, we started to get angry, but my father reminded us of one of his favorite sayings:

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

So, instead of getting angry, we decided to have a little fun at Friendly Fred’s expense. Gary and I got chamois cloths, and proceeded to wash our friends' cars with Friendly Fred’s water.

Friendly Fred failed to see the humor in this, and he came out and yelled at us. We simply laughed at him to rub salt in his wounds. This is basically how we lived for several years.

Then, one day my parents were throwing a large party. They did not want trouble from Friendly Fred, so the invitations clearly warned everyone not to park in front of his house. Guests parked in front of other people's houses up and down the street. We were certain we would have a pleasant afternoon without having to deal with Friendly Fred.

It was a typical California summer day, hot and sunny. Most of the people were in the back yard cooking, eating and drinking. Some people were playing croquet and ping-pong while others were inside preparing food or shooting pool. Everyone was having a marvelous time.

Unfortunately, my father’s good friend Bill was late for the party. Bill had just returned from a trip and had spent the morning taking delivery of his dream car, a Cadillac convertible destined to be a classic.

Bill was so excited to show off his new car that he drove straight to our party without checking his mail. He never read the invitation with the parking warning, so he pulled his car into the only remaining space; smack in front of Friendly Fred’s house.

Bill joined the party and played the “Guess what I did today” game with us. After about an hour he told us about his new car, and we all hurried out front to see it.

To our collective horror we saw his beautiful Cadillac convertible, with the top down, being soaked by Friendly Fred’s sprinkler. Apparently, just after Bill arrived, Friendly Fred had decided it was a good time to water his lawn … and had been spraying Bill's new car with water for almost an hour.

My father literally exploded. In my 17 years, I had never seen him this angry. He was so furious he could not even talk. I honestly think you could have fried an egg on his forehead.

Suddenly, my father leapt over the little hedge separating our front yards, and ran across Friendly Fred’s dichondra lawn kicking out big divots of the wet sod with each step. When he got to the sprinkler, my father kicked it so hard that instead of shooting water into Bill’s Cadillac, the spray was directed into Friendly Fred’s open bedroom window. He also broke his own toe.

While Friendly Fred yelled at us, we moved Bill's car into our driveway to dry it out. There was surprisingly little damage. This, however, did not cool down my father. It did not help that Friendly Fred had called the police.

Friendly Fred wanted my dad arrested for wrecking his lawn, breaking his sprinkler, and soaking his drapes. Luckily, both officers knew my father so he was not arrested. They got him to return to the party while they dealt with Friendly Fred, but he was still extremely angry.

By now, everyone knew about what Friendly Fred had done to Bill’s car, and about how my father reacted. The party quickly lost its joyousness, and people soon departed. My father ranted all night about how he was going to get even with Friendly Fred.

The next day my father could not work because of his anger. He decided to come home early and make himself a drink. This is a man who never came home early, rarely got angry, and never got drunk. Yet there he sat, drinking in our family room with his anger increasing each minute.

About 5:30, we saw Friendly Fred drive past our house and get swallowed into his garage. I was worried my father might go next door and start a fight.

A few minutes later, Friendly Fred was coming up our sidewalk. In all the years we lived next door to each other, this was the first time he had come to our home.

Friendly Fred rang the bell and my dad opened the door. I was certain a fight was about to break out until I saw that Friendly Fred was crying. He looked at my dad and said, “Jim, I just wanted to come over to apologize for yesterday.”

My father was visibly confused. “Apologize?”

With tears flowing, Friendly Fred continued, “… and to thank you for the flowers.”

“Flowers?” my dad asked, really confused now.

Fred, oblivious to my dad’s confusion, was holding a small card. He read from it out loud.

Dear Fred,

Isn't it silly for people to act this way?

We really do love you.

Fred was actually sobbing as he read. When he finished, Fred handed the card to my father. I could see that the card was signed; “Jim & Jan”. At that moment, my father read it to himself …“Dear Fred. Isn’t it silly for people to act this way? We really do love you.”My father read and re-read the card, trying to figure out what was going on, until suddenly I saw him smile. As I found out later, he realized what had happened. In an attempt to solve the problems with our neighbor, my mother had sent flowers and a nice card to Friendly Fred.

But there was more. She had signed the card “Jim & Jan”. My mother knew my father would probably object to this Love-Based solution, and would have certainly refused to allow her to sign his name, so she said nothing to him about her little gift.

Finally, Friendly Fred said through his tears, “Thank you Jim. I want you to know this is the first time in my life anyone has sent me flowers, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciated getting them. But I really came over to thank you for something else."

At this point, he took the card back from my father and read aloud again. “Isn’t it silly for people to act this way? We really do love you.”

Practically bawling now, Friendly Fred managed to continue: “I want you to know, Jim, that except for my wife you are the only people in my life who have ever told me that they love me.”

With that, Friendly Fred broke down in sobs. My dad just held him in his arms, and nobody said a word for several minutes.

It was then that it hit me. Here we were, enjoying our circus and making fun of Friendly Fred, when the only thing he really needed from us, was the one thing we had been unwilling to give to him … our love.

Finally, Fred went home. Nevertheless, from that day onward, whenever anyone asked my father how to handle a difficult person, his response was always the same:

"Just give them love ... Just give them love ...

Just give them love."