I started working in summers
when I was 14, in Coney Island.
My father had an ice cream parlor there but he didn’t let me
work for him, he believed I should work for somebody else since fathers are too
soft or much too hard on their own sons.
I went to work for a Greek friend of my father’s and his son
went to work for my Pop.
He got the better deal than I did; his father was rough on
the help.
My first job was working at a souvenir stand in Steeplechase
amusement park, my second year I worked for another friend of my Father’s and
his son worked for my Father, this went on for about 3 years.
At 17 I decided to get a job more closely related to what I
was studying, I was attending the High School of Industrial Art, SIA. I found a
job with a sign painter; I assumed sign painting would be sort of like
advertising (I could use my Caslon skills).
I got this job at a sign painter on Ave U in Brooklyn named
Gus. It was the first time I worked for a non-Greek, even though he had a Greek
name, maybe he would pay better.
The first week I painted backgrounds, mostly white enamel,
Gus was a minimalist sign painter. I never touched any lettering. Gus would
occasionally let me fill in some lettering he outlined; I was making progress.
He tells me one day that we have to go take down some
three-dimensional letters from an A&P in Queens.
This store was on a hill and Gus sets up some ladders,
rather precariously; he hands me a screwdriver and tells me to start removing
the letters as he scoots up his ladder.
I am terrified of heights and keep dropping the screwdriver
and make absolutely no progress in removing the letters.
I tell Gus I cannot do this, I hate heights, especially on a
ladder that is precariously balanced.
Gus looks at me sadly and
delivers this killer line.
“ Sorry kid, you don’t have it in you to be a sign painter,
you better find something else to do in your life”.
Could this be the end of my
advertising career so soon?
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