The flower man pulled his sore legs and his aching back from his truck and asked to see the owner of the oil change shop, who came out to greet him with a frown.

“How you do, sir?” a smiling Bill Walton said to the shop owner, and stuck out his hand in greeting. It was rough from overuse, and he had garden dirt under his nails. The owner wore a crisp white shirt and had clean, soft hands and was the only guy in the lube shop whose face and clothes weren’t smeared in oil and grease. He put out his hand halfway, then withdrew it in rude refusal.

Bill Walton changes a sign to indicate his business, Walton's Plants, is open on Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2019. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

“I brought you some plants!” Walton said cheerfully, pointing to the back of his truck, which was filled with colorful blooms bursting out of their pots. It was an early Monday morning in late summer.

“Eh, the time is over now for the plants,” the owner growled.

“No, you can take them inside the house, though,” Walton explained. “Because if you take them in the house before the frost hits they’ll last all winter long if you put them by a light source, and if you bring them back out in the springtime they’ll continue to grow.”

“No.”

“But sir…”

“No.”

Walton owns and runs Walton’s Plants, a little flower shop on the corner of Woodlawn and McClellan, deep inside an east-side Detroit neighborhood, far from the traffic and visibility of the main roads. To counter his shop's obscurity, the 72-year-old sometimes loads the back of his old GMC truck with flowers and makes cold calls to the businesses in the area — like the oil change shop — hoping they’ll either buy something for themselves, take plants on consignment for him or else let him park in their lot and offer his flowers from the back of his truck at $20 or $25 apiece. But in this part of the east side, where gardening is often an afterthought, it’s been a tough sell.

Bill Walton picks vegetables inside his greenhouse on Detroit's east side on Sept. 3, 2019. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

“You sure you can’t? You can give them as Christmas presents,” Walton suggested.

“Sorry, you come at the wrong time,” the oil shop owner said.

Walton has always loved plants, ever since he was a child in Georgia catching bumblebees in jars in his grandmother’s flower garden in her fenced little yard, and watching his grandfather work the family farm behind it. His dad grew a garden at their house, and to this day his 90-year-old mom does too, in the house next door to his own, where plants flare along the borders and surge from pots on the porch.

Bill Walton, owner of Walton’s Plants in Detroit I feel people can take a shack, put some flowers in front, you don’t really notice what’s behind it; you notice the beauty in front. Quote icon

“My wife and everybody calls them my kids, but they basically are my kids, you know,” he said of his plants. “You have to do what you have to do, ‘cause when these plants ask for water they don’t say, ‘We’ll wait until tomorrow.’ They need it now. You don’t do it now, they’ll tell you about it.”

He thinks flowers can elevate any neighborhood; that beauty needn’t wait for better circumstances; that no matter how rough an area has become, colorful blooms can make even a ragged house or a grimy storefront look better. That the man in the oil shop was mistaken, because there is no wrong time for flowers.

Bill Walton takes a break from mowing an empty field next to his greenhouse, the home of Walton's Plants, on Detroit's east side on Sept. 3, 2019. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

“I feel people can take a shack, put some flowers in front, and you don’t really notice what’s behind it; you notice the beauty in front,” he said. “All I’m trying to do is take away the blight and give this neighborhood something that we’re not accustomed to. I’m out here doing something to try to improve this right here.”

* * * * *

He pulled up to a tire shop just north of the city limits. Out front, three plant pots stood with dry brown shoots of dead ornamental grass poking out, candidates for replacement with something fresher. Walton had spoken to the manager before, brought his truck here for service many times, sold them a plant or two in the past. They should be receptive, he thought.

“Is Jay in?” Walton asked the large mechanic working behind the counter. The man was dirty and cranky.

“Uh, he’s busy right now. What can I do for you?” the man said.

“Can I see him for a minute? I want to talk to him for a minute. Tell him Bill Walton with the GMC is here,” Walton said politely. He’s cordial and gentlemanly, calling everyone “mister” or “miss,” even those whose rudeness to him should disqualify them from such courtesy.

The man let out a theatrical sigh, added an eye roll in case his annoyance wasn’t noticed, then knocked on a closed door two steps away. “Bill Walton is here with the GMC,” he mumbled.

The tire shop office door opened and out came Jay, the manager. He was much shorter than the cranky mechanic, much cleaner, but not much friendlier.

“Hello Mr. Jay, how’s it going?” Walton said, smiling. “I’ve got some plants for you.”

“Nah, I’m good right now on plants,” said stone-faced Jay.

“What about mums?” Walton asked politely.

“Uh, the season’s over,” Jay grunted.

“Not for mums!” Walton said enthusiastically. “Mums are fall flowers. I’ll bring them up here and let you see them when they get ready in about two weeks.”

“No, I’m good,” Jay said.

* * * * *

It’s hard work trying to build a small business, especially one flowerpot at a time. It’s hard for a 72-year-old with aches and pains to work in a hot greenhouse for hours every day. But Walton has always believed that hard work leads to better things.

“Hard work don’t kill nobody,” he said. “My daddy worked 34 years at Cadillac, and out of 34 years I bet you he didn’t miss two weeks of work from sickness.”

Bill Walton rakes garden beds in a greenhouse across the street from his house on Detroit's east side on Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2019. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

He inherited that work ethic from his dad. Most days he’s outside from early morning until well past sundown, gardening alone under a spotlight in the quiet darkness. He hired a guy this year to help, but the guy shows up only when he wants to, and doesn’t work very hard.

“I never intended to do this all by myself,” he said. “I wanted to hire people, give people a chance. I can’t pay $10, $15, $20 an hour, but at least I can give you $7, $8 an hour until I get things built up. This is extra money; people don’t realize $8, $6, $5, even a nickel, is better than nothing. They don’t realize that it takes the pennies to make the nickels, the nickels to make the dimes, the dimes to make the quarter and the quarters to make the dollars. It takes every little bit.”

But is hard work enough? The year started out well — the greenhouse was full of vegetables and flower blooms, and orders were promising. Then someone tried to steal his truck from right in front of his house one morning and did so much damage to the steering column in their botched attempt that it was left undrivable. The truck was in the shop for a long time at the peak of the season, leaving him no way to deliver flowers to customers or shop them to local businesses. He’s been trying to catch up ever since.

Health problems haven’t helped, either. Over the years he’s had surgery on his hands, his shoulders, his knees and his back — none of which feels great after a day stooping in a hot greenhouse in the summertime. Lately, his back has been pinching again, and his limp grows more pronounced as a day wears on.

Bill Walton poses with vegetables he harvested from a greenhouse at Walton's Plants on Detroit's east side on Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2019. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

“Basically, the last two years have been sort of lean because of my health,” he said. “I had problems with my legs and stuff and it’s been sort of down. It makes it real hard.”

Yet, despite the aches and pains, the struggle to get noticed in this obscure location, the lack of gardeners in the area, and the frustrating grind of shopping his flowers around the neighborhood, he perseveres.

“I always say like this — I may give out, but I’m not gonna give up.”

* * * * *

For years, no matter what his real job was, Walton grew and sold flowers. Even during his years as a bus driver, he’d bring a truck full of plants to the bus terminal, arrange them atop his vehicle and leave out an empty, honor-system envelope so people could pay for anything they took while he was away driving his bus. When he retired, he built the greenhouse in a vacant lot across the street from his house.

He pulled the truck into the empty lot of a feed store that had been selling hay, straw and bird seed for a century. But the door was locked and the building was dark despite being late Monday morning.

As he was walking back to his truck, a woman emerged from the store’s attached apartment. “Can I help you with something?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, I was looking for the owner.”

“Yes? I’m Heidi.”

“My name is Bill Walton from Walton’s Plants. I want to introduce myself and let you know we’re in the city of Detroit, also that you see the product and see if it’s OK for me to come up here on Saturday afternoon and sell a few plants.”

“Well, we’re closed right now.” The owner, she told him, died a few months back. Without his energy and momentum, the store’s been closed. She’s trying to reopen, but didn’t know if or when.

“But maybe a promise for next year, next season? Can you use some plants now, Miss Heidi?”

“I’m good.”

Walton's Plants as seen in a neighborhood on Detroit's east side on Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2019. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

He refused to get discouraged. “I try to understand the people,” he said. “They’re so hooked on standards, they don’t want to change. Home Depot and Lowe’s are the standards for people going for flowers, and they come in with a lesser price. But the product is not as good as these. Right here is nothing but love. I put myself into these plants.”

* * * * *

Walton headed back south of Eight Mile into Detroit. He often has better luck there. The owner of a local supermarket, for example, lets him set up in the parking lot whenever he wants. A nail salon used to do the same for him before it closed.

“In the neighborhood it’s just, they feel they’re helping you get ahead,” he said. “I’m just trying to bring something to the neighborhood, to show what we can do with our own selves.”

He walked into a defunct gas station that someone had converted into a makeshift party store.

“It’s the flower man!” said a guy as Walton walked in the door. “You’re right over there, right?” he said, pointing across the street in the direction of the greenhouse, which was just blocks away. The owner was out, though. He’d have to come back.

They knew Walton here; they'd seen him working in his greenhouse. Both men were trying to improve the neighborhood, and each recognized it in the other.

Y’all got it looking good in here, yes sir,” Walton said encouragingly.

The man smiled. “I appreciate it!” he replied.

Bill Walton rakes an empty garden bed inside his greenhouse at Walton's Plants on Detroit's east side on Sept. 3, 2019. Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press

Walton took a detour down the neighborhood’s side streets to look at the houses of his most loyal customers, almost as a reminder of past success in selling his plants.

Over here was a house with boards on the windows. Over there, a home with peeling paint and sagging gutters. Between them were several empty lots. All up and down the street, whole lawns were little more than patches of weeds, and the street was a blur of browns and grays.

But there in the middle was Miss Thompson’s plain white box of a house, the fading home of an old woman. It had three pots of red-bloomed geraniums hanging from porch and post, stark against their backdrop like fireworks frozen mid-burst. And a couple streets over was Miss Nettie’s house, with four flowering pots colorfully interrupting the drabness around them. They were easy for him to spot because they were the exceptions on their blocks, the homes of elderly women maintaining a bygone tradition.

“I grew up on the east side, basically. And all up in here was beautiful. The city of Detroit was beautiful, ‘cause people had a tendency to want to care for their property. But now they just, I don’t know.”

* * * * *

He drove along a main avenue well south of Eight Mile, pulled up to a corner gas station he’d visited before the health problems and the broken-down truck, and got out slower than before. “My knees be on fire now,” he said.

He made his way inside.

“You the owner, right?” he said to the man behind the bulletproof window. “How you doing today? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

The man came out. Shook Walton’s hand. Said his name was Ali.

“I think we talked before about plants?” Walton said. “OK, this is one of my products right here.” And he held up a massive petunia pot.

“Looks good,” Ali said with encouragement. It was the first plant compliment he got that day.

Bill Walton, owner of Walton’s Plants in Detroit I created this flower business, and I know one day it’s going to go boom! It’s gonna be so much of a demand that I can’t keep up. I know that. I just know that, ‘cause I put ME into it. Quote icon

“Thank you very much!” Walton said, perking up. “I was wondering if possibly, maybe, on the weekend I could come up here, bring a few plants, ‘cause the mums are coming out in about two weeks, and just make a display; pick a spot out on the lot, maybe in the far corner, and just sit, try and sell some plants.”

Ali thought for a moment. “OK,” he said.

After half a day of effort, someone finally agreed.

As Ali looked at the petunia, Walton’s enthusiasm became contagious.

“They’re gonna sell. They’re gonna sell,” Ali said. “The whole summer you can do it. I don’t mind as long as you keep it clean.”

“That’s me!” Walton said enthusiastically. “You ain't got to worry about me. It’s gonna be clean. It’s gonna be cleaner when I leave than it was before I got there. I’m not boasting, but that’s just me.”

It wasn’t a sale. It came with no guarantees. But it wasn’t a refusal, a scowl, a show of disrespect. It was all Walton ever asks for — a chance to let his hard work speak for itself.

“Ever since I was 12 years old, I basically created every job I had. I drove a bus 15 years, seven months, and that was the longest job I had in the 50 years of my working experience. I owned a service station, I had a repair business, I created this flower business, and I know one day it’s going to go boom! It’s gonna be so much of a demand that I can’t keep up. I know that. I just know that, ‘cause I put ME into it.”

With that small success, he could take a break from his rounds around the neighborhood. The flower man got back into his truck and went home to spend the rest of the day in the greenhouse, taking care of his leafy, colorful, beautiful kids.

Walton's Plants is located at 8830 Woodlawn, Detroit. Phone: 313-460-5845.

John Carlisle writes about people and places in Michigan. His stories can be found at freep.com/carlisle. Contact him: jcarlisle@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @_johncarlisle, Facebook at johncarlisle.freep or on Instagram at johncarlislefreep.