Oh. I suppose there is one other thing I should mention," says Henry Bloch at the end of the second day of interviews on the subject of his and his family's service to community.

"During World War II, I flew 31 missions over Europe."

When pressed, Bloch revealed that he had enlisted at 19 in the Army Air Force, and that he had flown those missions as a navigator in a B-17 bomber, and that the first of those missions did just happen to be over Berlin in 1944 and, yes, the "easiest" three of those missions were just "short hops across the English channel," what with it being June 6, 1944 and all.

"There were a lot of ships down there," says Bloch, suggesting both awe at the sight and the humility in the face of the truly heroic service being performed below.

Indeed, so ingrained is the notion of "service" in Bloch's generation--and in his family, regardless of generation--that he has come to think of his war time efforts as more or less routine.

Older brother, Leon, felt much the same way. While he was out serving in the Air Transport Command in Hawaii and winning a Bronze star in Guam, he was writing cheery letters to his younger brothers, talking about the future and drawing up business plans for the three of them. Young Dick Bloch, who turned 18 in 1944 and was a student then at the Wharton School of Finance, wrote Leon, "The three of us must always stick together no matter what be the course of what may come up."

Stick together they have. Sixty years later the Bloch family has left an imprint on America in general and Kansas City in particular that the brothers themselves have a hard time believing.

"I never could have envisioned this," says Richard (Dick) Bloch, the "R" of H&R Block. "I am proud," notes Henry, "but always a little embarrassed," especially, he adds, when "I see my name on things."

The three boys grew up happily and comfortably at 58th and Wornall in what is now mid-town Kansas City but what was then an area as new-ish and suburban as south Overland Park is today. Their father, Leon, was an attorney, and their mother, Hortense, a homemaker. Leon's father, Adolf, had left Germany as a teenager in 1866 and made his way to a town called Kit Carson, Colorado where he worked as a trapper and frontier merchant before joining his two brothers--something of a tradition here-- in Kansas City in 1895.

Henry describes his father, Leon Bloch, as "a hard working attorney and a very honorable person." It was their mother, though, who inspired the boys to shine, and it was her fondest dream that they would all one day go into business together.

By 1946, however, when Leon returned to Kansas City, Henry was working for one brokerage firm and Richard for another, Hortense's dreams seem destined to go unfulfilled. But even after Leon started in at the University of Kansas City Law School, he still had a family business in mind and left law school to pursue it.

In November 1946, Leon and Henry launched the United Business Company. Their plan was to provide a variety of support services to small businesses. Early going was so slow, however, that Leon signed off and headed back to law school. Henry, still single and living at home, persevered. In time, he found the need for a full time accountant and placed an ad looking for one. A woman called in response. She had just the person in mind, "your brother, Richard." That woman was Hortense, their mom.

Henry took her advice and hasn't looked back. The brothers had a natural synergy, and the business prospered. The only problem was it was prospering at the wrong thing, bookkeeping for small businesses. So busy were the brothers doing books, in fact, that in 1954 they decided to scrap their then modest, $2,000-a-year sideline in tax preparation.

One of their tax customers, an advertising salesman at The Kansas City Star, endeavored to talk them out of it. A true believer in his own product, he had a solution: an ad in The Star promoting a standard $5 fee for tax preparation. Henry balked at the $200 cost, but Richard said, "Let's gamble."

The gamble certainly seems to have paid off. In 1955, that first tax season, the brothers' tax business brought in $25,000 in revenue. In their 2003 tax season, H&R Block employees prepared 15.9 million tax returns and generated $2.1 billion in fees.

By the way, it was Leon, now an attorney, who facilitated the name change. The brothers opted for the simpler "Block," as Richard quips, because they did not want people saying that the company had "blotched" their taxes.

Like their father before them, Henry and Richard worked hard. As Henry admits, "I was so busy with the company I had no time for community." They both, however, did take time for their families. Richard, the younger brother, married first. He met Annette Modell on her sixteenth birthday back in Philadelphia where he was a student. They married when he was 20 and she but 19. Today, sixty years after their first meeting, Richard still gushingly describes Annette as "the most wonderful girl in the world." By the time, he and Henry launched the tax business in 1955, he and Annette were the proud parents of three daughters, Barbara, Nancy, and Linda.

Henry got off to a later but no less happy start. He married the red-haired Marion Helzberg right after her graduation from Missouri University and on the day of his brother Richard's fifth anniversary. Henry and Marion contributed four children of their own to the 1950's baby boom--Bob, Tom, Mary Jo, and Liz.

Both brothers shared a deep commitment to family. In that Henry's four still live within a mile or two of their parents--and their two uncles for that matter--they still provide a wonderfully affecting portrait of what it might be like to grow up in a truly harmonious family.

Despite her growing involvement in the community--she was president of the PTA among other commitments--Marion made sure to be home every day after school when the kids got home. "The children," says Marion, "are the most important thing." Henry was home every night for dinner precisely at six--except on Saturday, the one night he and Annette would go out.

It was at the dinner table that life's lessons were learned. "Mom taught us to be generous," says Liz. "We all focused on dad's day," adds Mary Jo. "Half of it was about business, but half was about civic affairs. "He is a special man."

As the children came of age in both families, it was growing obvious that their fathers were not exactly like everyone else's. The Blochs had purposely put their name on the company, and those names were becoming household words, especially after Henry started doing the company's TV commercials. Says Liz, "I remember one night asking mom why dad was on Johnny Carson."

Yet despite the pressures of celebrity and wealth, the two families remained remarkably unchanged. "Your family is so understated," Liz recalls a friend declaring in surprise.

After the business got to be a certain size, the brothers realized they did not have to work themselves to death. Without particularly meaning to, says Henry, "I found that I enjoyed being involved in the community." He found particular satisfaction in his work with the Civic Council, the Prime Time committee, and the Chamber of Commerce. He understood too that he had something many of his peers did not, "the luxury" to help out.

Richard found his cause much more suddenly and dramatically. In 1978, a very good doctor in Kansas City diagnosed him with lung cancer, told him that he had no more than 90 days left to live, and added regretfully, remembers Richard, "There was nothing I could do about it."

Not one to give up easily and something of a gambler by nature--remember the $200 in tax preparation ads--Richard headed down to M.D. Anderson in Texas to angle for another shot at life.

"You know how sick you feel now," the Houston doctor told him. "Well we're going to make you a whole lot sicker." He was as good as his word and put Richard through chemical purgatory. Annette and the kids hung with him every step of the way, and Richard doubts if he could have made it without them.

After two years of aggressive therapy, the doctor told Richard that he would not be needing to see him professionally any more. Says Richard, "I could have flown home without an airplane."

The experience changed Richard's life. Annette believes that God gave the cancer to him for a reason, and he himself now sees it as "a gift." From the day of his recovery forward, Richard and Annette have dedicated their lives to what he calls the "narrow goal of helping the next person who gets cancer the very best chance of beating it." And the job they have done in this regards is extraordinary.

The pair launched the Cancer Hot Line, founded the R.A. Bloch Cancer Management Center at UMKC, the R.A. Bloch Cancer Support Center also at UMKC, and the R.A. Bloch Cancer Foundation. Richard's work on cancer databases for the National Cancer Institute led them to name their building in Bethesda, the R.A. Bloch International Cancer Center. Annette has been Richard's partner on all these projects, and the couple received Coping magazine's 1995 Hero Award for Lifetime Achievement.

Daughter Linda, the one sister who lives in town, has been deeply involved with her parents as well and is now republishing one of the several books the Blochs have produced, "Cancer: There's Hope." The rewards for the family's efforts are simple enough. "When I get a letter from a child thanking me for saving her mother's life," says Richard, "It doesn't take many of those to add up."

Henry and Marion have taken a broader approach to philanthropy. Henry's cites his own fondest projects as his work with the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Saint Luke's Hospital's capital campaign, and, of course, the Henry W. Bloch School of Business and Public Administration at UMKC. On each of these projects his presence and his engagement have been indispensable. Marion and all four of the children have been involved with the Bloch School as well.

The whole family has likewise been involved in another family academic project, a charter school called the University Academy launched by Tom Bloch and Barnett Helzberg. In 1995 Tom Bloch stunned corporate America when he stepped down as H&R Block CEO to become, well, a high school math teacher.

"It was a very difficult decision," Tom admits, "but it was the right decision for me. I was interested in seeking a different kind of fulfillment."

As a Bloch, however, Tom had entrepreneurialism in his blood. One thing led to another, and by the year 2005, the school that he has helped start will be moving into new quarters with high standards, a rigorous curriculum and a full contingent of 1,000 students.

"Our parents set the example years ago," says Tom. "Not only did we feel a sense of responsibility, but we also gained a great deal of satisfaction."

It would take an article twice as long to detail the accomplishments of all the Bloch children from both families--Leon has served contentedly as bachelor uncle to the whole clan--not to mention their spouses and their many grandchildren. Let it be said that their efforts are considerable.

Unmentioned, too, is the exceptional work done by the H&R Block Foundation where Henry and Marion's oldest son, Bob, serves as program officer. Henry talks about this at some length in this issue's Industry Outlook Report (see page 65), particularly its college scholarship programs for economically challenged youths, but if there were space enough, it too would deserve its own article.

What one finds most impressive about the Blochs, both families, is not so much the money they distribute or the programs they manage, but the love they share. That love flows abundantly outward throughout the community and touches many people, but its source is clearly the home.

"My greatest joy in life," says Richard unbidden, "is getting my children and grandchildren together." "I'm very proud of my husband and four children," Marion gushes about her own assembled brood.

Says son Bob in response, "We're very proud of our parents."

When Bob says this, Marion can only blush, choke back a tear, and urge that the interview session never end.