WISDOM AND A SHOEMAKER – By Nancy Jane Lauren

There is a stretch in the spring when you are sure winter is over.

This year, it hit while I was in the middle of doing errands – and of course, I had changed to my open toed shoes.

In my eagerness to get out of the car and into the house, I managed to catch my heel and rip it right off of my shoe.

Was there a shoemaker anywhere nearby?  Did they even exist anymore?

I tried to remember where my husband used to bring his shoes and ventured back out into the Chicago gray.

Tony’s Shoe Repair was just where my husband had left it — wedged between a tax service and a nail salon on a busy run down street.

Behind the counter in a plaid shirt stood Tony – the shop’s owner.  Our conversation began…

Me:     “Look at this thing – it’s pathetic!”
Tony:  “Yeah, what are you gonna do – that’s life”
Me:     “Just what I didn’t need today.  Can you fix it?”
Tony:   “Sure”
Me:     “Great, How much?  I’ll pay you in advance.”
Tony:   “NO. OK. OK, DON’T MAKE ME NUTS” –  holding his head with both hands as if I am giving him a headache

Where has he been all this time when I needed a shoe repaired?  Most of us just throw them out and buy a new pair.

I ask him and he tells me.

It’s a long story that starts just after World War II in the town of Agrigento, Italy.  Tony is ten years old and he has just lost his father.  Forced to help support his family in the midst of a Post War depression, he learns the craft of shoemaking.   Tony trades in his childhood for the heavy responsibilities of an adult and never looks back.

The economy in Italy is suffering and materials are scarce.  With a shortage of steel, the whisker of a pig doubles as a needle.  With no adhesives, items must be stitched together by hand.

By the time Tony turns 18, he has perfected his craft.  By 24 he was an experienced tradesman headed for the United States and to launch his own business.

In 1967 he opened the doors to Tony’s Shoe Repair.

I find Tony’s triumph over adversity inspiring, yet heartbreaking.  Little boys should be outside playing ball.  It’s hard for me to imagine a little 10 year old having to sacrifice his childhood.

While waiting, I browse the antiques in Tony’s shop.  I ask about their history and with Tony’s description they come to life, one by one.

He points to an old neon clock that dates back to the art deco period of the 30’s.  When the shop-owner next door retired at age 93, he removed it from his wall and hung it on Tony’s.  It serves as a reminder of their friendship.  Over the years many people have offered to buy this clock.  It doesn’t surprise me when Tony tells me he refuses to part with it.

He moves on to a cash register manufactured in 1910.  Tony presses one of its heavy metal keys, setting off a loud ring.  The wooden money drawer pops open just as easily as it did almost a century ago but it’s obvious times have changed.  It can ring up no more than a dollar.

Next on my tour is a 100-year-old Singer sewing machine, still efficiently powered by its foot pedal.  Tony explains that his space has been used as a shoe repair shop since the day it opened in the early 1900’s.

It has never needed repair and all of its parts are original.  It can sew rows of stitches today, just as precisely as it did a century ago.

He then points out a machine that hammers nails into shoes.  This one is only 50 years old.  We move on to a large gray machine that weighs over a ton.  It is 80 years old and is still used to sew leather soles to shoes.  Nearby is his buffing machine – also 80 years old.

All are tools that Tony uses daily when he nails, sews, buffs and shines the life back into a pair of shoes.  A shelving cabinet behind the counter was custom built for the shop in 1930.  Rows of shoes are all lined up, waiting their turn to be fixed.   What did shoes look like in 1930?  How many different styles have graced these shelves over the last three quarters of a century?

Tony has accumulated many memories over his 40 plus years in this shop, but the one he shares with me is the one that changes my outlook about the change in the weather.

Long ago, when a customer picked up his order he refused to pay the dollar he owed.  Tony was so upset by this incident that he began having chest pains, which resulted in an emergency hospital visit.  Fortunately, he was fine but the dollar was nothing compared to the hospital bill.  Tony tells me –

“Some things aren’t worth getting upset about.  Pick and choose your battles.”

Wisdom from a shoemaker.

When I left the shop I thought a lot about Tony.  This very endearing man had managed to poke a hole right through my doldrums.  He had his priorities so well placed; they seemed to ensure his peace of mind.

On the short drive home I planned my afternoon.  I would build a fire, curl up on the couch with a book, an afghan and a couple of cats.

I would gaze out of the beautiful leaded glass windows that have graced our bungalow’s living room since 1925 but I would not focus on the winter sky beyond.

This was a season that could just as easily be enjoyed from the inside out.  I was fortunate, after all.  I had just discovered buried treasure and a healthy philosophy where I least expected it — at a shoemaker wedged between an tax service and a nail salon on a rundown street in Chicago.

Has an incidental meeting ever changed your perspective?

Tell us what wisdom you learned.

Epilogue

Seventy percent of Tony’s customers who had once lived in the neighborhood had moved to the suburbs.  They still drove into the city just for Tony; but parking had become a problem.  So Tony moved his shop with all his treasures. Some things don’t change.  I am still bringing him my repairs.

His antique equipment is still part of his shop.  As for his old Singer sewing machine, now well over 100 years old – he tells me he used it just the other day.  The cash register still can only ring up a dollar at a time.  He has no plans to modernize any of his equipment.  It all works just fine.

Nancy Jane Lauren, a former corporate executive, is a free lance writer.  She volunteers her time as a Board member at The Rogers Park Historical Society in Chicago and is compiling an audio interview program with elderly residents who lived in the area when it was mostly farms.  She contributes to several magazines and newsletters.  She does research, editing and ghost writing for her clients.

Picture by zjMac