When Ralph Flanders was elected united States Senator from Vermont in 1946, his household was concerned about the proper way to address his younger brother Ernest. "Mr. Flanders" was both too formal and not specific enough. Ernest Flanders, unlike his more ceremoniously clad brother, had a wonderful familiarity with everyone he knew, while still commanding much respect. "Ernest" or "Ernie", the appelation his friends used, was out of the question, for he was a very important person at Smiley Manse, the Senator's Vermont White House. A delightful compromise was struck in "Sir Ernest," that mixture of titled royalty and first name familiarity. It stuck.
Many years later, Sir Ernest and his wife Fran were playing their resplendant roles as Vermont good will ambassadors abroad. They were dining in Europe with a Japanese couple they had met by chance. The man was an industrialist and a rich one, and didn't mind letting the Flanders' in on his status. "You know,"hc said proudly, "I'm a big man in Toykyo." Mrs. Flanders, a bride of half a year, smiled. "And my husband, " she explained tolerantly, "is a big man in Springfield, Vermont."
I first met Sir Ernest on the Aran Islands , a bleak and rocky land deposited off Ireland's west coast by some mad god or glacier. We struck up a conversation in a tearoom and haven't ceased communicating since. We were opposites that attracted; I, young, city bred and not very wise; he, country raised a half century before me and brimming with, as the old time samplers say, "The wisdom that is strength."
From that first meeting I found that Sir Ernest does not fit into any of my old age sterotypes. He doesn't live in his past; he's enriched by it. He never wants only respect and a good listener, he is avidly interested in the entire world around him. No, further than that. because just outside Springfield, Vermont is an 0bservatory pointed towards the stars, and a youthful sketch of one of the 1923 founders of the Springfield Telescopic Club--Sir Ernest.
Everyone in Springfield and a sprinkling of fortunate people throughout the globe, know Sir Ernest. They know of his dedication tb his two countries, America and Vermont, demonstrated in his active participation in projects ninging from his state's bicentennial activities, to proposing that a bicycle path be built for the young people in his town.
They know him as the man with an idea that now enables older citizens to mend faster and stay active after a fall that may have crippled them before. That same idea helped make jet travel a reality. This is the Ernest Flanders who spent much of his life laboring for Springfield's main industry, the Jones and Lampson Machine Tool Plant. He had this idea many years ago in response to a problem. The problem was industry's inability to make precise tools fron the hardest metals. The best refiner is. of course, the diamond, and Ernest Flanders reasoned that perhaps a machine studded with industrial diamonds might work to refine the hardest of metals into precise tools. He was right. The tool Ernest Flanders helped to develop has produced such diversified advancements as the manufacture of artificial connections that help heal broken limbs to refinenents that made the jet engine possible.
The people who are his friends know there is much behind Ernest that is darker and saddeer than his many and varied accomplishments. Economic depressions, the world twice at war, and personal crisis have all taken their toll on Ernest and his fanilly. Two wives-- one the mother of his two children, the other a childhood sweetheart remet and married in middle years, have left his life. But several years after the death of his beloved Hazel, Ernie has once again filled the sad emptiness I found around him during our first meeting.
While making their decision to marry, Fran Byrne, a wry citizen of the Northern Kingdom, said she liked the name Byrne and would be reluctant to give it up. Ernie told her it would be alright by him to introduce her as "...this is my wife, Fran Byrne." It made no difference, except as a source of amusement-- it delighted him to be in step with the young and their ideas. But although the young are sometirnes adamant to boiling points over such "issues, Sir Ernest has lived long enough to chuckle and be willing td give it a try.
Sir Ernest's house overlooks the town of Springfield. True to his state, pine trees are carved into thc shutters and every room is a different shade of green. The Flanders share their home often with their diverse and world-wide friends. None are left unimpressed by the simplicity and dignity of both the dwelling, and the life style of its occupants. A snowy sleigh ride watercolor adorns a dining room wall, a statue of Mr. Picknwick stands stoutly on a desk. The kitchen is simple and functional, European style. Food becomes sumptuous fare, made elegant by the hosts; from Ernie's delicious Vermont sweet corn in summer, to warm and nutty chocolate cookies, Fran's winter specialty.
One shelf of the Flanders library is devoted to family written books, like the American folk song collections on Ernest's sister-in-law, Helen Hartness Flanders, and the autobiography Senator FromVvernont by Sir Ernest's brother Ralph.
I remember on our first discovering day together wondering how Ernie managed to stand so free and yet be so proud of such an overwhelming force as a famous older brother. In my years of knowing Ernie my instinctive musings have proven true--that this man had a great capacity for love as well as a good deal of confidence in himself and his own abilities.
Fostered by that confidence and the hearty appreciation of the people of Springfield (Ernie cannot even go shopping in town without providing) ample time for the well wishers who are always on hand to greet him fondly), Sir Ernest, now seventy-nine, thrives. With the help and companionship of his Fran, Ernie still steps out to make friends with worlds both earthbound and starwide. And people from the world's four corners still get the rare priviedge of the Springfield-eye-view of Sir Ernest's first country, Vermont.