Saturday, March 29, 2014

Slow Saturday Special: You Can Call Me Al

Not for much longer:

"After 90 years, Al’s Shoe Store closing its doors; With devotion to service, East Boston fixture no longer fits in" by Linda Matchan | Globe Staff   March 29, 2014

To younger generations accustomed to buying shoes online or at sprawling self-serve shoe warehouses, the demise of such stores is barely noteworthy. But to Henry Wein, who took over Al’s from his father-in-law Alexander Slessinger in 1946 and turned it over to his own son Bob in 2006, the decision to close up shop Sunday is heartbreaking....

I can call you Betty, and hey, there are plenty of jobs out there as the recovery rolls on

Al’s Shoe Store is 90 years old, just like Henry, who still works there....

A prelude to the future: there will be no retirement unless you are lucky enough to have a job.

For decades, business was so good and customers so loyal Wein could raise three kids comfortably and send them all to college....

But 10 or 15 years ago, the business began to change.

Manufacturing went overseas, which irked Henry, who said the quality of the shoes went down. The neighborhood changed, too. The Italian families he knew so well started to move out and others moved in, from North Africa, El Salvador, and Colombia. Bob picked up Spanish bit by bit, but the language barrier flustered Henry, who has a hearing problem.

“He knew everyone in East Boston, and vice versa,” said Jay. “When he knew no one and no one knew him, it took the steam out of him.”

Buying habits changed too. People prefer to buy shoes at department or warehouse stores, or, like everything else, online. “Now they’re the experts,” Henry said dryly. “They don’t know about sitting down and being taken care of.”

That service is described by another shoe man of longstanding, Richard Michelson, 80, president of 95-year-old Michelson’s Shoes in Lexington and Needham: “You get it done right, not just to get a pair of shoes on a customer and get them to the cash register.”

Gradually the other family shoe stores in the neighborhood called it quits, replaced by chain stores such as Payless, and who could compete with Payless? Recently, Tello’s clothing store put in a shoe department. And they are right next door. “The real hammer came about three months ago when we realized we couldn’t stay,” said Bob. “It’s just not there anymore.”

The “Store Closing” signs went up about a month ago, and everything was discounted by 50 percent. By the end of the week, almost nothing was left except some 20 pairs of kids’ shoes, and rows of spit-shined white baby shoes, reduced from $45 to $5.

Still, Henry, a dapper and gentle man, has kept the same routine. He drives in from Lexington when the sun is coming up, because glare from the sun bothers his eyes. He opens the store, says “good morning” to the plant that a customer gave him 36 years ago, and waits for the first customer.

Weird way to end the article since tomorrow will be the last day.

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You better run right down and buy a pair.

For some reason I never find a Globe pair of shoes that fits.