Many, many more years ago than I would like to admit, although it was a very good and lovely thing, I met Elwood Flynn. The iconic men’s clothing retailer was a hands-on sort of person. Every week or so, Elwood would come up to the Composing Room, later renamed the PrePress Department, of The StarPhoenix with his file of advertising content.

I was, for a while, the dispatcher in this department, first part-time then full-time. For those unfamiliar with the way newspapers once functioned, PrePress literally put the pages together — making the ads out of type and bits of artwork, and pasting the long columns of editorial copy, plus headlines and photographs, onto large white sheets marked with grids. The pages would then be shot in “Camera” and turned into heavy metal plates that were sent down to the Press Room. Then the magic of the big spools would churn out copy after copy, all to be delivered to Saskatoon homes. I loved it all. One of my jobs was to gather all the advertising bits together. Most of them came up via dumbwaiter from the advertising salespeople on the main floor, tucked into large transparent plastic envelopes. But not Elwood’s ads. Elwood delivered them personally. He would spend an hour or more standing at my high counter, carefully designing them before handing over the copy and art to me.

I tried to think, the other day, how many times this may have happened. How many times I’d see him coming through the door just barely in my cateye vision, over my shoulder, and heard him say, “Oh, hello Joanne.” Or “Oh, good morning, Joanne.” I can’t come up with a number, but let’s say we got to know each other fairly well. It is a testament to Elwood’s importance, personality, courteous behaviour, and presence that he was the ONLY advertiser ever allowed to breach the process and take his place at the counter — at least while I was in this position, and certainly the only one regularly welcomed to the shop.

Elwood Flynn passed away at the age of 94 on April 26, predeceased by his wife Joan, and survived by his sons, Barry and Jeff (who went to my public school yup), and grandson Kael. When I “graduated” to business reporter and later business editor, and a proper adult, I got to know him better. I wrote several profiles on him; he was always doing something, like moving his business from The Senator Hotel to a shop on 23rd Street (before my time as reporter), then on to Midtown Plaza, Bayside, and finally The Avenue Building. It was tough keeping up with that guy, but I did my best.

He only retired three years ago, citing a “bum leg” and the end of his lease. He ran his store for almost 70 years. He told The StarPhoenix at the time that running Elwood Flynn Ltd. for Men was never work. “It was more like going to a club and being with your friends and customers.” My husband was one of those. He bought countless shirts, suits and coats from Elwood Flynn, and I bought him many gifts from that store. Another customer? B.B. King. Yup, THE B.B. King. Elwood Flynn was also hugely into jazz music and played a part in getting SaskTel on board to sponsor the Saskatchewan Jazz Festival, which now bears the Crown corporation’s name. When B.B. came to town, he would buy shirts from Elwood and then take a little break over scotch in the office. (I’m moved to add that I also interviewed the jazz legend, who was incredibly generous with his time. I am therefore not surprised in the least that he and Elwood became friends. Both generous men.)

My husband saw the obituary in the paper first. I heard him catch his breath, and I asked him what was up. All he said was, “Elwood.” And we just looked at each other with sad eyes. Mine had tears in them. There are rare people who transcend the usual journalist-businessperson relationship, even as you keep the professional distance. You just can’t help but admire them. It is unlikely that I will ever write another obituary quite like this one again.

I will end with a simple comment from Elwood Flynn that not just defines his long, long time in men’s wear retailing, and offers the best advice for business owners, but also contains words to live by. “You have to love what you do.”

-Joanne Paulson