W. James Daly helped found the Fremont Chamber, and worked hard in many other ways to build our community over many years. When Jim passed away, we lost a dear friend to all - as well as our friendly Godmother, as he was often called.

I cannot sum up a life, and I don't want to try. All I can offer is a story.

As a writer, I am always in desperate need of a 'real' job. In 1992, my Mother gave me the Fremont Chamber of Commerce newsletter ad for an 'Executive' Secretary. The notice said to call Jim Daly for an interview.

I approached this meeting somberly. Jim knew me as a kid. I wanted him to take me seriously as an adult. When I arrived at his office, he greeted me with his usual friendly warmth. His office companion, Ginger, sniffed my feet and demanded her rightful attention. I let her sniff my hand and scratched behind her ears. However, I sat stiff in my seat, anxious. When I handed over my resume, Jim glanced at it, to see what it was, and dismissed it from his attention. My spirits sunk. Then he sat back in his chair and said, "Did I ever tell you about the time my Father sued your Grandfather?"

I collapsed. "Uh, no, I don't think so."

"You haven't heard this?" Jim said, warming to his story.

In the late 1930's, my Grandfather, J.R. Burke, landed a huge job for his company, Burke Millwork. He won the contract to build all the cabinets for the Physics building at the University of Washington. In the Applied Physics lab, the surfaces needed a careful finish so J.R. hired the best in the business. Walter Daly, Jim's Dad and owner of Daly's Inc., knew everything about wood finishing and turned in a bid on the job.

They did the work and the University was satisfied. The counters came out perfect and Burke paid Daly the amount they'd agreed to. And Daly demanded more.

Daly insisted the work cost more to do than the original amount, and though he'd cashed the check, he insisted on another. Daly, by Jim's own account, was a consummate 'entrepreneur'. He would do anything to make a buck. Burke, as I will admit, could be tough, and stubborn. If that is what the bid said, that is what he paid. Period.

They went to court. Daly's Inc. versus Burke Millwork Co. began with Walter Daly on the stand, explained to a sympathetic Judge the painstaking exactitude of the finish on these particular counters, in a Physics lab, to satisfy the meticulous scientists. "Why," Daly waxed eloquent, "to do the job right you had to smooth gold dust over the whole thing."

The Judge nodded and Burke's lawyer looked nervous. J.R. watched all of this with uncharacteristic calmness. Lunch break came and, afterward, Burke's lawyer had to cross-examin Daly. First, J.R. handed his lawyer a small brown bag.

The lawyer asked Daly to repeat the steps required to finish a wood surface and when Daly got to the part about the gold dust, the lawyer stopped him. "Why would you use Gold Dust?" the lawyer asked. "Why not one of the other, better known products, like Dutch Cleanser, or Bon Ami, or Ajax?" The lawyer then pulled a can of Gold Dust cleanser from the paper bag for the Judge to examine. The Judge ruled in favor of Burke Millwork.

Jim laughed.

I stared, imaging the sins of the grandfather heaped on the granddaughter. "I hope you don't bear us any ill will," I asked.

"Oh, no." Jim said, still chuckling. After they settled the court case, Burke Millwork still went to Daly's for wood finishing supplies and paint. After all, Daly's is the best and Burke never settled for less.

"About the job?" I finally squeaked.

"The what?" Jim asked, sitting up a bit.

"The job, working for the Chamber?"

"Oh, if you want it, the job is yours." He said, settling back in his chair. "I've interviewed a few people but you're definitely the most qualified."

"How do you know?" I gasped, mystified at how it could be this easy.

"I've known you long enough to know you can do it." He waved his hand at my resume, dismissing it and all work, for a while. "Did I ever tell you about my Army days?"

Jim and I often worked together over the five years I served as the Chamber's Executive Secretary. However, the memory I choose to carry will always be of him, stretched out in the chair behind his desk, telling a story. As for me, there I sit, much more relaxed, petting Ginger and listening attentively.