Higher for Hire

"That's 'Higher' as in up, and 'Hire' as in for money!"

That impromptu catch phrase defines the name and mission of the air cargo service "Higher for Hire," but cannot begin to explain the phenomenal successes this young company has achieved in just its starting year. This one-plane cargo outfit with the humorous homonyms in its title has turned the heads of shipping clients, confounded major corporations, clashed with air pirates and criminals, and won the heart of Cape Suzette. All of this was brought about by a likeable bunch of unlikely associates — owner Rebecca Cunningham, pilot Baloo, navigator Kit Cloudkicker, and mechanic Wildcat — high-flying heroes and fast friends who stick together through thick and thin.

Higher for Hire's story can be traced back to its past life as one of the many waterfront businesses found along the Cape Suzette docks. Previously, the company destined for international fame went under the banner of "Baloo's Air Service," a freelance shipping firm run by a bear called Baloo, who bought a plane called the Sea Duck on a loan from the Cape Suzette National Bank. In theory, a great pilot and a great plane should equal a winning formula for any airline. In practice, unfortunately, Baloo preferred flying his plane to keeping a business afloat, leaving his namesake firm sunk in debt while he soared free to faraway places and biweekly parties at Louie's Place.

Mounting expenses and stacking bills forced Baloo into working whenever he needed the money, but mostly he ran Baloo's Air Service in neutral, using the establishment as his "pad." Part home, part junk depository, the premises harbored all of the creature comforts (and a few of the creatures) the pilot had collected on his extended travels.

Eventually, Baloo's indolent approach to work caught up to him, when he failed to make payment on his aircraft loan for the sixth straight time. His default on the agreement forced the bank to foreclose, taking from Baloo not only the Sea Duck but also the mortgaged airline property.

This rude surprise got a lot more unpleasant for the now-planeless pilot when one Ms. Cunningham showed up at his door, proud new proprietor of Baloo's Air Service and owner of the Sea Duck! A graduate in business administration, Rebecca Cunningham bought the deeds from the bank that morning. She offered Baloo a job as staff pilot, with the added incentive of buying back his plane someday. Flat broke, Baloo took "Becky's" offer, joining mechanic Wildcat and new partner Kit Cloudkicker on board her company — newly recast as "Higher for Hire."

That happened a year ago. Since its christening, Higher for Hire has surpassed the expectations of everyone involved, writing a little history of its own in the process.

THE HIGHER FOR HIRE CREW

Quality businesses are run by people of equal quality — a truism to be sure, but nothing that comes close to explaining the synergy that Higher for Hire's dynamic team generates. Common sense dictates that a great crew is built, not born, but this small group's effectiveness belies the fact they were brought together by happenstance.

The heart and soul of the company is Rebecca Cunningham, owner and chief organizer. Bright, resourceful, and competitive, she does the work of several people rolled into one — manager, accountant, secretary — not to mention her job as a single mother to Molly, her daughter.

Rebecca does everything in her power to drum up business: engaging prospective clients in lunches and phone conversations, attending seminars to learn new skills and make new contacts, and answering Higher for Hire's telephones herself. The personal touch goes a long way toward retaining customers and convincing newcomers to try the service. Conscious of her role as one of the few female bosses in air shipping, Ms. Cunningham wants to prove that the better businessperson will always prevail.

The task of delivering the goods goes to Higher for Hire's capable flight crew, Baloo Bear and Kit Cloudkicker. The talented duo — aboard the Sea Duck, fastest seaplane in the skies — see their cargo safely through any peril, whether hurricanes or hails of hot lead. Baloo is a renowned flying ace and his buddy Kit the world's best navigator; teamed up, they are an unbeatable pair. Baloo makes cargo runs alone when Kit is in school, but each is always in top form when his partner is around — Kit keeps "Papa Bear" on time and on course (and away from Louie's, mostly), and old Baloo educates "Little Britches" on the finer points of flying.

The ensemble is rounded out with the inclusion of Wildcat, trusty mechanic and fourth member of the Higher for Hire staff. Wildcat knows his way around anything from a sewage system to a Superflight-100 engine; his technical expertise gets him a seat on the Duck on delivery runs when a breakdown cannot be afforded.

OPERATIONS

"If you're buying, we're flying." — that's Rebecca Cunningham's slogan for Higher for Hire. Fast delivery by air anywhere is the name of the game, no matter what the cargo might be. So far, the company has transported fresh produce, fragile wares, sporting goods, precious gems, live animals, dairy, high explosives, boxes of detergent, pickled preserves, lawn ornaments, adhesives, fireworks, ancient artifacts . . . and that's the short list.

Higher for Hire stakes its reputation on reliable service; damaged items, late shipments, and jettisoned cargoes mar an otherwise spotless record. These mishaps are usually blamed on Air Pirates (although true accounts are hard to distinguish from excuses). To reassure customers, Rebecca may personally supervise Baloo and Kit's delivery of a valuable cargo.

In its many months of operation, Higher for Hire has garnered some impressive contracts, its biggest one being an exclusive, lifetime delivery agreement with the government of Klopstokia. Other deals come and go; sometimes valuable opportunities are missed while others are squandered (the first run of the Fandango Mango account, for example, ended up an unmitigated disaster). To recoup losses, Ms. Cunningham may accept high-paying assignments, from the abnormal (shipping a whole iceberg to a desert prince) to the suicidal (flying two tons of dynamite through a hurricane). Hopefully the rewards outweigh the risks.

The Higher for Hire crew engages in other money-making pursuits when cargo hauling hits a lull in business. Ms. Cunningham routinely hires the Sea Duck out for charter, selling flight services to customers who pay up front, preferably in large sums. Other profiting diversions include harvesting and selling rare commodities, sightseeing tours, and flying contests (for publicity as well as prize money). Open-minded to a fault to new possibilites, Rebecca has also launched abortive ventures into skywriting and mid-air refueling.

Ups and downs in income hurt Higher for Hire's profit margin, but hardly threaten the firm with insolvency. In the bustling burg of Cape Suzette, where there are buyers to court and cargoes to deliver, there's always a chance for one small airline to make it big. Besides, Higher for Hire already gives Rebecca Cunningham and her employees something far more important than material gain — the intangible treasures of home, friendship, and family.

THE BUILDING

Situated on Cape Suzette's bayside is Higher for Hire's home base — a run-down but sturdy building that is part warehouse and part watchtower. Its weather-beaten wood boards and corrugated tin roofs, bearing marks of mended breaches on all faces, match the complexion of neighboring shops and storehouses along the wharf.

This property and its appertaining pier used to be Baloo's digs back in his freelance days; he never says who built the place or when, likely because he himself does not know. Baloo gave the deed to the bank as collateral to secure the Sea Duck's loan; faltering in his payments, he lost both items to an entrepreneur named Rebecca Cunningham, his present employer.

The Higher for Hire office sits on a portion of land elevated several feet above sea level. Solid roadway covers the original shoreline, with piers and landings projecting into the water. A few trees, planted in plots of exposed soil, lend some welcome shade and color to the area.

The front door is set in an extrusion of the building, its interior being an entry vestibule to the main office. One curled edge of the slanted metal roof acts as a gutter, draining water through a pipe into a rain barrel — a similar setup on the building's opposite side empties water from the tower roof. Strewn about are empty packing crates and spare tires piled up against the warehouse. On one side of the doorway is a pull-string bell, on the other a mini life ring with "Higher for Hire" written on it.

An outer lamp hangs over the door; another light fixture is mounted on the vestibule's inside wall, as are receptacles where the postman deposits mail. The door itself sports a small glass window on hinges so it can be opened separately.

The main office area fills half the tower structure's core, a space two stories in height. Bare wood supports, block and tackle, and ductwork laid out in plain sight give the room an overtone of practicality that drowns out the so-called decor — what is best viewed as a fusion of Rebecca upscale, modern tastes and Baloo's inimitable, "fraternity house" style of furnishing. Keeping the place tidy requires nothing more than dusting and vacuuming (but a good bulldozing could also help).

Since moving into Higher for Hire's office, Ms. Cunningham has lent a woman's touch to her section of the room. Splashy throw rugs and pale pink wallpaper mark the boundaries of Rebecca's command post at the back wall, next to the kitchen door. Her desk — made of metal, resembling part of an airframe — normally holds a phone and a table lamp, but its legs too often suffer the strain of a workday load of balance books and papers. The desk drawers contain office supplies and other items, such as Rebecca's private calender (kept locked away from prying eyes) and money box. Active contracts and order forms hang on the tack board behind the desk, while the file cabinets under the stairs store old business records and miscellaneous paperwork.

Baloo's corner of the office, however, is the total opposite of Becky's — a spot where the big bear can kick back and relax in his favorite red armchair (one of the few pieces of furniture to survive Rebecca's renovations) and daydream about anything but work. Upon the adjacent walls are scrawled notes and saved magazine pages, a framed portrait of the Sea Duck, and one of the Duck's original life preservers.

Nearby crates hold fruit bowls and unfinished cups of beverage within arm's reach of Baloo. For fun, he might play with the dartboard on the broom closet's door, or toss paper airplanes into a garbage pail — which sits on the floor, empty, amidst a sea of crumpled pages, discarded candy bar wrappers, peanut shells, and other detritus.

Between Baloo's chair and the desk is the door to the warehouse, as well as shelves holding books and bric-a-brac over more clutter on the floor below. The pipes visible on the walls run up through the building and down into the cellar, a nightmarish tangle of plumbing accessed via a trap door underneath one of Rebecca's carpets. Higher for Hire has no central air conditioning and heating system; suspended ceiling fans stir up a breeze when the office gets stuffy.

SAFE KEEPING
There is no such thing as sure money in air shipping. When a company's future may ride on the very next shipment it delivers, every penny counts. Ms. Cunningham, though she puts most of Higher for Hire's savings in the bank, does keep cash on hand in safe places around the office. Where she stores these funds depends on how she will use them. For example, the wall safe behind her desk (covered by a cloth drape) holds the money that Rebecca pays out in wages every Saturday. She draws spending money from a metal box locked inside one of her desk drawers. For a short time, in the office corner stood a giant safe Rebecca intended to fill with money for incidental expenses (a plan abandoned). She keeps everything tightly secured, to prevent borrowers from dipping into petty cash without her permission. The money box in Rebecca's desk drawer. It's not a fridge, but a place meant for cold cash.

The back room on the first floor is Higher for Hire's very own kitchen. One would think that Baloo, of all people, would have kept this, of all places, in better shape while he owned it. Such was not the case; Baloo lived on leftover pizza, burgers, and munchies rustled out of the unlikeliest spots in his main office/living area, turning over the dank, dark back room to a host of creepy critters. Rebecca swept the kitchen clean and brought it back to serviceable shape, reclaiming it from everything but the plump pilot who tries to sneak past Becky's desk for a quick bite to eat between meals.

Left: Higher for Hire's kitchen has everything, including a kitchen sink.

Below: A mid-morning snacker hunts the icebox for sustenance till lunch.

Wholesome, home-cooked meals are a rarity in the office, so warm dinners shared by Higher for Hire's crew provide a nice, albeit infrequent respite from fast food, takeout, and box lunches. The conveniences are quite humble, but functional for anyone's cooking purposes. Kitchen drawers contain clean dishes and silverware; cabinets hold pots, pans, and cooking utensils; and the cupboard shelves are stocked with cups, bowls, and other hollowware.

The items most used are the stove, the refrigerator, and the kitchen sink. For as much time as Baloo spends nosing around in the icebox and eating what's there, he prepares hardly a meal himself — unless it's sandwiches, hot Sunday morning flapjacks, or a batch of his finger-licking chicken (basted in Baloo's never-fail sauce).

WAREHOUSE

Connected to the bayward face of the tower is the Higher for Hire warehouse, standing upon the platform that leads to the pier. This structure strikes the eye as being somewhat older than the rest of the building, and could be easily pictured as a self-contained warehouse, to which the watchtower was attached years later — an interesting, but unverifiable theory.

The warehouse possesses traces of maritime charm, from the sailing ship model at the front point of the roof to the hoisting arm mounted over the front doors. Entry is gained through the front, the side, and the door in the office; inside are crates of spare parts, empty oil drums, and an antique (non-working) engine chained to the rafters. The warehouse telephone, not linked to the desk line, is the only phone available for private calls.

BALOO'S SECRET STASH
When Rebecca Cunningham hired Baloo to be staff pilot of Higher for Hire, she made him a decent offer: the Duck's pink slip in exchange for $50,000. A shrewd bargain it was, obtaining her the help of a terrific pilot for the promise of selling him back his aircraft. Although Rebecca does not skimp on Baloo's salary, she believes he will never reach his goal due to his spendthrift ways. Unknown to her, Baloo intends to hold Becky to her word. Under a plank in the warehouse floor, Baloo hides his secret stash of coins and cash, saved up a little at a time. As the chest grows fuller with each contribution, Baloo gets closer to the day when he can finally take Rebecca up on her standing offer.

UPSTAIRS BEDROOM

The Higher for Hire building serves not just as an office, but also as the flight crew's residence, which is relegated to the second story. The side stairway climbs to a platform that overlooks the downstairs area, and leads further on to a second flight going to the watchtower's top.

The left door of the two upstairs goes into Kit and Baloo's bedroom. The living space of Higher for Hire's navigator and pilot contains homey comforts that bring a long day of work or play to a restful conclusion (as long as Baloo's snoring does not rattle the window). The room's decorations suit the interests of its occupants; the two pinned air show posters to the bedroom walls, and from the ceiling have hung model aircraft built as a hobby.

Above: A hollow length of pipe acts as a makeshift speaking tube.

The bedroom's furnishings consist of two comfortable beds, a three-drawer dresser with a mirror, a corner armchair, a grandfather clock which still works, trunks of old clothes and belongings, and an empty wardrobe closet. A throw rug on the floor looks out of place next to the junk that lines the wall's edges. Pipes and ducts pass through the bedroom from downstairs; one near the dresser connects straight to Rebecca's desk. The fan unit over the door is designed to ventilate the room, but an open window can accomplish that just as well. Crates, as tables, hold various items and trinkets. Atop the nightstand Baloo keeps a genuine hula-girl lamp, one of a few he's collected.

A nightstand lamp shaped just like a hula dancer.		The bedroom window on the side of the building.

BATHROOM

The bathroom is the second room upstairs, accessed by the first door at the top of the stairs or by the connecting door inside Baloo and Kit's bedroom. The interior of this space differs strikingly from the rest of the building, due to the reddish tinge of the wood paneling. All that one would expect to find is here, including a bathtub — Baloo also resorts to the nearby public shower stalls for a morning wash.

Below: Baloo polishes off a good book while scrubbing in the shower.

WATCH TOWER

The best view in the house can be found at the top of Higher for Hire's watch tower. From the observation deck, which constitutes the third and topmost story of the building, visitors may drink in a gorgeous view of Cape Suzette harbor, sight ships and planes by the cliffs, and gaze at the downtown skyline. One might suppose that lookout towers such as this should be a common sight around the docks, but the Higher for Hire tower remains a fairly distinctive feature.

A pyramidal metal roof caps the tower, crowned at its apex by a windsock. Higher for Hire's radio room is found inside the watchtower as well. There are two ways to get down: the stairs to the second floor, or a fireman's pole that goes straight to the first floor.

Below: The top of the watchtower — a.k.a. the radio room. An express route down is the fireman's pole leading to the office downstairs (right).

WILDCAT'S HOUSEBOAT

Baloo and Kit call Higher for Hire's office their home, Rebecca stays with her daughter Molly in a fancy apartment in the city, and as for Wildcat — he owns a houseboat!

Fabricated from a cross section of an airplane fuselage and diverse articles of salvaged scrap, Wildcat's house is a curiosity — much like its owner. He parks his mobile home alongside the Higher for Hire docks, shifting its position to avoid bay currents and water spray kicked up by the Sea Duck's propwash, or to move his workshop closer to where it's needed. Seeing the tin plate roof and weathervane, one is liable to mistake this shelter as a product of accident rather than design (perhaps the wreckage of an plane that stormed the wrong barn).

The inside of Wildcat's houseboat is even quirkier than the outside. From his repair projects, Wildcat has culled years' worth of leftover parts and gizmos (his little "friends," he calls them), found unorganized and underfoot inside his home. It saves him the trouble of scrounging for loose screws, but makes his house look like one big junk menagerie. Whatever's needed, Wildcat's got it.

Higher for Hire's humble repairman, when off duty, keeps the wheels of his imagination spinning by making offbeat inventions, such as a floor fan built from a prop engine. His houseboat plugs into the main building's phone and electrical lines, giving Wildcat all the utilities of a real house. One might find Wildcat sizzling up fish sandwiches for lunch (his favorite), or popping snack foods like peanuts and jellybeans.