Father and Son(s) (S)

A few years ago, while vacationing/working in Napa, California, I needed the services of a tailor and, as luck would have it, I found one conveniently located in downtown Napa, called Cervone & Son. I remember thinking at the time that signs like the one above, and the one hanging over the tailor shop, were perhaps from another era or symbolic of small-town U.S.A. I am not suggesting that there are no signs like this in big cities, I am sure there are, but there is a certain “quaintness” to them that, in my mind at least, places them in towns that still have “angle” parking (Napa does!). Over a couple of summers in Napa, I frequented the shop a few times, and after the second visit, started to chat a little with the owner, a man in his mid-late 60s. I never saw anyone else in the shop employee-wise except for Mr. Cervone, so one day I asked him about his sign that read Father & Son, to which he replied: “I am the son!” And now you know why I was thinking the way I was. It was only a few years later that I found out that he had retired, and the shop was closed…the end of the line, so to speak.

For some reason, I was thinking about this memory the other night and was trying to figure out why I felt the way I did about father and son businesses, and the type of relationship that is forged between a father and son when they work together. All that got me thinking about the television shows I grew up with in the 50s and 60s that featured fathers and sons. Shows like “Father Knows Best” (1954-60), “Leave It To Beaver” (1957-63), “Bonanza” (1959-73), “The Andy Griffith Show” (1960-65), and finally, “My Three Sons” (1960-73). If you compare these with shows featuring fathers and sons from the 1990s-2010s…well, let’s just say times have changed. Of course, these are scripted shows with actors playing “roles,” but when you’re ten-years-old, as I was in 1960, the depictions that emanated from the black and white screen did leave an impression. However, none of these shows, with the exception of “Bonanza,” had fathers and sons in business together, and the business model, if you can even call it that, for “Bonanza” did not feature a quaint sign hanging over a store and there were three sons. It wasn’t until “Sanford and Son” (1972-77) that we got to see the machinations of a father and son together in a business, and even that wasn’t a store, it was a junkyard. And by then, I was in my twenties and no doubt thinking about other things.

I had several friends growing up who eventually went to work with or for their fathers, but for me that was never really an option. My dad was a travelling salesman in the jewelry business when I was growing up, so there was no store, no business to learn and take over, and definitely no possibility for a sign saying Shubert and Son(s) – I have a brother. There was his car, large sample cases, and motels scattered across Quebec and Ontario. From what I could tell as a kid, he was really good at what he did, but what impressed me the most from the few times that I travelled with him on some of his trips, first for companionship and later to help with the driving, was his ability to forge lasting relationships with many of his clients that went way beyond him selling them product for their stores. For example, when one of his fairly new clients in a small town about an hour east of Toronto found out that he was coming to town, he phoned the motel he knew my dad was going to be staying at and cancelled his reservation. When my Dad showed up at the store, they did their business as usual, and when it was time for my dad to leave and check in to his room, his client informed him that he had cancelled his reservation, because from now on, he would be staying at his house with his wife and two young sons. That friendship lasted the rest of their lives. They talked business when they had to, and the rest they made up as they went along. By the way, both of the sons eventually worked in the store with their dad, and he went on to open a second store in a neighboring town.

Just because there was no store, no business, and no sign, does not mean that there are no father and son stories about “working” together. They may not be the same as the ones I heard from my friends who worked with their dads over the years, but there are stories. The one that I still think about happened when we were on one of his, as he used to call them, “sales trips” and I was the designated driver. It was the summer of 1968, and I was 17. We were headed from Montreal to Rouyn-Noranda in Northern Québec, about 395 miles away. For about 140 of those miles, you are driving through a small portion of this amazing wilderness park called Parc La Vérendrye, which boasts some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen, not to mention about 400 lakes. There is a welcome booth at both the southern and northern ends of this stretch of the park, where you have to stop and sign in, and they ask you if you are spending time in the park or just driving through. Since it was the latter for us, they handed me a piece of paper with our license plate number, the number of people in the vehicle, and the time we checked in. When you arrive at the other end, you need to hand the paper to the attendant. They do this so that they can clock how long it took you to get from A to B, and if it’s too quick of a time, they give you a speeding ticket! Thinking about this over the years, it dawned on me that this is a pretty clever way to stop speeding. Unless, of course, you dad is a smart man.

After we checked in, my dad said he was going to take a nap and that I should enjoy the drive and the scenery. He also mentioned that there was a small store about 40 miles or so before reaching the exit point, and I should stop there because they had the best ice cream. Who could argue with that? I loved the drive on this beautiful two-lane highway number 117, which is a northern section of the Trans Canada Highway. When I arrived at the little store, I parked and woke my dad up, anxious to get my hands on an ice cream cone. My dad looked at his watch, looked at the slip of paper beside him, looked at me and said: “Hey Mario, were we being chased?” Let’s just say that the stop for ice cream went from we will be back on the road “in no time at all,” to “taking more time than we needed to,” hanging around the store for over an hour because of my lead foot. We came home via a different route, so mercifully there was no chance of a repeat! I may not have been an apprentice tailor working in my father’s shop, but it was a father and son moment that I will never forget!

Los Angeles 2023