Student story- A Handy Manning

By Hailey Lapin

You may not ever notice him, but he walks with a confident strut through the fifth floor hallway. His volume never rises above a whisper, but it is apparent this guy knows what he’s talking about.

He pauses for a second to stare at a single fingerprint left on a mirror by the elevator and lets out a deep sigh.

That’s going to have to come out.

His eyelid slightly twitches with annoyance as he looks to the left, there’s smudge on the silver frame.

That’s coming out, too.

For 75-year-old Duane Manning, this is not simply a matter of being anal-retentive. He is just trying to do his job. For the last year-and-a-half his life has revolved around the Holiday Inn on the K-State Campus, and he just wants to keep it clean. He’s at home.

“On a good day, I can probably get through five to six rooms,” he boasts. “But that is on a good day.”

Manning makes one thing clear — he’s no cleaning lady. That’s not his job. He’s a man in “Holiday Care,” and his mission is to pick up what maintenance may have forgotten.

They replace shampoos. He makes sure the grout is still intact.
They fluff pillows. He retouches the paint job.
They make the beds. He makes sure there are no holes in the wall.

That happens sometimes.

The sixth floor is a little more problematic. Heavy rains on July 12 caused part of the roof to cave in, and now a bright rust colored crack in the roof runs down the hallway. Only four rooms on this floor are habitable. Buckets catch drips from the ceiling, and high power fans whine endlessly, blending together into one simultaneous, painful drone. Despite the fans, it feels like there is no air conditioning.

It’s time for another deep breath.
The air smells like wet carpet and wood rot.

He sticks his key into room 618. His name was printed with a label maker and stuck to the card, but that’s starting to fade now. A master key, he explains. He enters the room and looks at the ominous watermark staining the ceiling.

“I don’t know when that’s going to dry. When it does I can finally repaint the ceiling.” He sighs.

It’s a sunny Wednesday afternoon as Manning makes his rounds. His hotel shift is during the day, so he rarely talks to guests. Sit and listen for a second and boy does he have a story to tell.

The year was 1979. Manning joined he Army at 19. He moved from Manhattan to heavy boot camp but never saw action. Instead he was sent back to training in Michigan to build tanks and airplane engines. His face glows as he recalls his military memories.

The military gig didn’t last long, so he joined Manhattan’s police department for a little while. Made friends with the doughnut shop ladies. Put on a little bit of weight. Nine years later he became a sheriff. He even came to K-State for a little bit studying business law.

Like your rimless silver glasses, Manning. He hears the complement and his clear blue eyes light up. He likes them too. This one time, trying to backup a fellow sheriff in a drug bust, he got hit in the eye with a pipe. His eye popped out. The doctors told him he’ll never see again. He had surgery. Lays claim to 20/20 vision.

Beat that.

Fun fact: He manufactured and installed more than 450 alarm systems in the state of Kansas. One is in the K-State Library. Another is in the museum.

He’s a healthy guy who just got a physical, listens to country music, likes westerns, those shows about criminal investigations and remembers the times of Mickey Mouse.

The other day, he picked up his miniature dapple dachshund from the vet. She’s a black and white dog with brown paws, a brown nose and a distinctly paintbrush fantail. Her name is Princess.

In his acre and a half of land he’s built a ranch where he pursues his interest in all things American. In the garage, he fixes electronics, cars and he repairs construction worker’s helmets. Manning’s a handy man. But not just a handy man. As he opens the door to Executive Suite 618, he ponders another question: Any other interests?

Manning turns slowly.
“I can do anything.”

He smiles.

Hailey Lapin is a senior at Blue Valley Northwest High School and a student in the advanced writing class of the Flint Hills Publication Workshop.