Youth As Seen Through The Rose Colored Glasses of Middle Age Part 2

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Lou Ganapoler.
You say, “Mr Ganapoler?” He says, “Call me Lou.”
I say, “Fall in! Hats off! Glasses high! Wipe that tear from out of your eye. Here’s to Papa Bear—Best Boss Ever.”

It’s actually possible that someone didn’t like him, but it ain’t bloody likely. If you didn’t like Uncle Lou, you probably didn’t like dogs or children either, and you were gonna need a lot of help in your particular pursuit of happiness.
I remember when I was still on the dirty side of the dish room, he stopped and peered through that forest of glassware on the top shelf, and asked me if I’d gotten a raise yet. Sure, I was a really hard worker, but I’d only been there for two weeks, so I wasn’t even wondering when I’d get a raise. “Well, you’ve got one now,” was all he said. And sure enough, there it was in the next little brown envelope. (when’s the last time you saw one of those?)

For some reason (that actually made a lot of business sense) Frank and Lou encouraged individuality, and even a little eccentricity, in their employees. The Monday I first went in for an interview I was wearing a beard, hiking boots, tights, and a big poncho. Nothing else. They took my picture, like they did everybody’s, and said that they’d let me know. It was almost like an audition, and they were looking for interesting characters to play parts in that slightly skewed little movie they were always making. And just like Easy Rider, they made a lot of money.

I once spent a little time multiplying the number of tables by average checks by three hundred something days a year, and came up with about one million dollars. (that’s five million in today’s money) So very casually one morning I ask Marshall if my estimate is about right. That harried and not-quite-really-listening demeanor of his changed completely. He looked at me carefully. “Where’d you get that figure?” he asked, with a little edge in his voice. I realized I’d wandered into a classified area, so innocently I answered, “Just simple multiplication.” He wasn’t really happy with my response, but considering that the Sunday night skin divers robbery had occured about a year before, I didn’t mind when he said, “It’s not really any of your business, now, is it?”, and walked off. I wonder what Lou’s response would have been. He probably would’ve told me we’d have keep that between ourselves, and given me another raise for being smart. And I would have. Lou made loyalty feel like love. And, in a way, it is.
1974 was the year of the streaker. Someone even did it at the Academy Awards
while David Niven was at the podium. In his imperturbable British fashion, he commented, “The only thing he’ll be remembered for are his short-comings.” Meanwhile, at the Trident, someone had cruised by completely naked in the cross-trees fifty feet above the deck of large yacht. He got a round of applause, and generated some wild talk. The gist of it was that we needed an in-house streaker, and since I often took a swim after work I was considered just crazy enough to do it. Small, dark Scottish Ed, who looked like Paul McCartney, came to me with the idea. I agreed on one condition—five shots of tequila upon completion of my mission. Buzz, buzz with the bartenders—Bobby just shrugs; big smile, and a thumbs-up from Terry, and it was show-time. I went behind the juice bar, stripped and told espresso bar Gary to watch my clothes, and launched into space. I landed on the carpet beside the hostess, Cathy Civale, and looking right at Lou. He was standing between the employee table and that first big table in the 80’s section. I bounded up and did a little dance around him. He had a slight slanted smile, a twinkle in his eyes, and a general expression of “it would have be you, wouldn’t it?” Once around was enough (I may be nuts, but I’m not crazy) and off I went down to the main floor, out through the sliding door, up onto the rail, and with a wild cry of triumph did the dramatic dive into the bay. I swam around to the north side, and happily for me there was Ed with a towel and a tray. Drank the five shots, and went in to face my uncertain future. Had Marshall been on duty that day I probably would have had no future at the Trident, but we were all smart enough to know “if t’were done, t’were best done quickly”, and only when Lou was there. Like I said before—best boss ever.