Mossy from Swayzee by Joe DeRozier

Mossy Rogers

I have a story.

It was the early 1990s and I had just begun to do wholesale accounts.

If you're unfamiliar with my business, a wholesale account is a business that gets my donuts delivered to them at a reduced cost, then sells them to their customers. It's good for me because, while it's a reduced charge, it's a guaranteed sale. The convenience store absorbs all the risk of anything not sold. 

I was delivering, at the time, to Logansport, then to Rochester. I'd swing back down to Denver then take that road from Denver to Mexico. (When that sign states 10 mph, it isn't kidding! I've found myself in a field more often than I care to remember.)

This man, Mossy Rogers, called the bakery and asked if I delivered to Swayzee. 

Swayzee? Where the heck is Swayzee? 

He responded as is I had lived in a box my whole life. “Swayzee,” he explained, “is a wonderful city on Highway 13, south of Wabash.”

He was obviously very proud to be there. I liked that. He asked when I could bring him samples. 

I told him that I didn't deliver in that area and that he would have to find someone else. 

He paused for a bit, then asked what time I would be there.

There was something...I don't know what, but I knew I had no real choice. I met him at Swayzee Speedking. He tried my donuts and liked them very much. He told me that I would start delivering on Monday.

“Mr. Rogers, I really can't,” I tried to tell him. “I'm not in this area and I work alone!”

Mossy Rogers was not a man with whom you disagreed. He reminded me of an old cowboy that would jump off his horse and stand right in your face with a cigarette carelessly dangling from his mouth. He would peer into your soul and figure you out...my soul was accosted.

I can't tell you if he was 40 or 70 years old. Seriously. He had a rough life he told me about later once we became friends, and fought for everything he had. He was successful but sure didn't rest on his laurels. He's the kind of man that you never once wondered where you stood in his eyes. My respect for him is still immense.

He informed me that Monday was the day and gave me his order and a key. At this point, I was delivering to Swayzee. No choice.

“Mossy,” I asked, “is there any way I could get more orders to make this trip worth it?”

He told me to get in his car. I just did—he told me to. We drove to Sweetser and talked to John Hueston. “John,” Moss told him, “this is Joe DeRozier and he's delivering donuts to you starting on Monday. Give him your order and a key.”

Apparently, the respect/fear of Mossy wasn't just limited to young bakers. I got his order and we left. Moss did this in Marion, then Gas City. We talked to another young business owner, Mike Hicks.

After we got enough accounts to make it worth hiring more people and starting another delivery route, he took me back to Swayzee. 

Moss has long since retired, as several of my account owners have. The bad thing about starting so young is seeing all of the people who made you what you are, move on. Some have passed away...they can't be replaced.

These "old school" guys were made from a different mold than the rest of us.

Young Mike Hicks now owns Speedking. He and I talk at times about these guys and do our best to be like them. We will fail—the world is different. I still deliver to many of those same stores.

I miss those guys.

***

The Window is happy to welcome Joe DeRozier back for a visit. If you don't have his book yet, be sure and get it. Here's the Amazon link, or just stop in the back of Aroma. I think you get a free donut with a book!