Part 2: The case is closed

THE CASE IS CLOSED
Written by Bert Plomp

When the war was over, my father exchanged one army for another. A soldier with a rifle on his shoulder became a soldier with a Bible in his hand. My father and mother underwent officer training with the Salvation Army. Upon completion of their training, they both became captains. On that occasion, they also took over the leadership of the Salvation Army’s Utrecht division, which was located in a large building on Long Newstreet. This building also became their home. From Long Newstreet, they travelled far and wide to preach the gospel. Armed only with a Bible and a guitar, they confronted unbelievers. Although we are native Utrecht citizens, my brother Charles was born during one of these campaigns in Amsterdam, and I was born in Hengelo.
In the building on Long Newstreet, my father not only organized various edifying gatherings but also diverse activities for the youth. You could attend a weekly movie screening in the building’s large hall. Films featuring ‘Rin Tin Tin’ were by far the most popular. A large German shepherd played the lead role and had many exciting adventures. On craft afternoons, my father taught young people how to do woodworking and other forms of handicraft. He also organized summer camps for the youth. Due to a disagreement with the leadership, this evangelical position came to an end in 1953. My father became a businessman. He went into insurance and became an agent for a mutual insurance company.
Together with another former Salvation Army soldier named Winter, he travelled far and wide again. This time not to spread the faith but to sell insurance policies. In doing so, he often employed quite sophisticated tactics. Thanks to his Christian background, now the Dutch Reformed Church, he had managed to obtain a vast database of addresses of fellow believers. When my father, along with Winter, knocked on the door of such a religious acquaintance in the evening, he wore his most pious expression and pulled out a pocket Bible. Once inside, the potential customer was first treated to a passage from the holy scripture. Then they knelt down and prayed.
After this religious introduction, my father deemed it the right time to philosophize about life and death. About the necessity of insuring a newborn baby properly. About the duty to leave future survivors well provided for. Because a Bible-loving friend like my father inspired a lot of trust in a young, ignorant, Christian family, many policies were taken out in this sly manner. Due to his success, my father was soon promoted from ordinary agent to chief agent. That’s what happens when the Lord fights by your side. But it didn’t stop there. Later on, my father even managed to rise to the lofty position of deputy inspector. The future of the Plomp household immediately looked much brighter. They could even afford a second-hand Opel.
As an insurance man, my father once had the opportunity to strike it big. Truly one of those opportunities you only get once in your life. He had managed to infiltrate the Kip Caravans company. This company was located near Amersfoort. He had been knocking on their door for more than a year to close a significant policy. “The case is closed” was a fairly popular phrase among businessmen in the mid-sixties. With those words, it was expressed that a contract had been concluded to mutual satisfaction. However, every time my father returned from a mission to Kip, it was “The case is almost closed.” Eventually, I teased him about it. I would ask if the case was still open. And indeed, the case never closed.
My father was regularly on the lookout for fortune. That was, of course, his prerogative. The last time he smelled an opportunity was with a substantial inheritance. Out of the blue, the rumour spread that he was descended from a fabulously wealthy French family. Unfortunately for him, and for his family, that case never closed either.
To keep his family financially afloat, my father always had a side job alongside his regular job. Sometimes even multiple side jobs at once, although this was not allowed by his insurance company. One of his side jobs was guarding a construction site. It concerned the construction of Transitorium-1 in what was then still the under-construction new university centre Uithof. During the period when construction began, the site was lonely and deserted. In the middle of a polder, on the outskirts of the city. To prevent unsavoury characters from making off with materials, the site and the construction trailer had to be guarded not only in the evenings and at night but also on weekends. Like most fathers, my dad had only two hands. For that reason, my brother Theo and I alternated taking over evening and weekend shifts for him. Father took on the risky nights himself. He stayed there in a construction trailer, in absolute darkness and far from civilization.
Together with my friend Joop, I mostly took care of my share of the guard duty. Or at least, what passed for it. Joop and I mainly focused on checking the stock of refreshments in the canteen. Additionally, we helped the engineers get rid of their unhealthily large stock of tobacco products. Between smoking and snacking, we did our homework. Meanwhile, the sounds of Radio Veronica filled the trailer. We consumed a massive amount of filled cookies, lemonade, and coffee there. And we burned through a ton of cigars and cigarettes. Fortunately, there were no smoke alarms or video surveillance back then.
My father’s luck on the construction site was not as good. During one of his rounds, he fell into a deep concrete construction pit in the darkness. It truly is a miracle that he emerged alive and made his way home under his own power. He was covered in scratches, bruises, and contusions. Additionally, he was half lame. In that miserable condition, he had to go back to work the next day. He couldn’t exactly call in sick to his boss with the explanation that he had fallen into a construction pit on his way to a customer. Of course, if you were, with the Bible in hand, looking for new customers in dark Utrecht, you could easily take a nasty fall. Especially if you were determined not to let go of the holy book while falling. Apparently, that very plausible excuse didn’t occur to my father. Therefore, despite all the pain, he had to get back on his bike to sell insurance policies.
My father ended his career with a quiet job at the head office of AMEV. I was working at this insurer at the time. Through my intervention, he and his colleague Winter were able to work there again. Although he initially had no interest in such a regular office job, he was ultimately very satisfied with his new job. I was also very satisfied. For my intervention, I received a double bonus.