Thursday, November 01, 2007
Needs satisfied for shoe repair business
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Shanna Flowers is The Roanoke Times' metro columnist.
Shanna Flowers
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Randy Mitchell and Chris Lowe come at life from different angles.
Mitchell tunes his radio dial to Rush Limbaugh and Neal Boortz. Lowe prefers Soulja Boy's "Crank That," and anything else WJJS 106 FM plays.
Mitchell is an older white guy who dropped out of corporate America. Lowe is a young black man who dropped out of college.
Mitchell, gregarious and lively, wears his gray hair neatly trimmed. Lowe, soft-spoken and unfailingly polite, wears his neatly cornrowed.
Yet somehow in the back-room clutter of Mitchell's business -- Schafer's Shoe Repair on Brandon Avenue -- amid Birkenstocks, Allen Edmondses and Liz Claibornes, these opposites attracted.
"There was something special about the kid," Mitchell, 62, said Tuesday afternoon as he sat behind the front counter. The well-known shoe repairman had a place for years at Towers Shopping Center. He's moved a couple of times, to his newest location a month ago.
"Chris is like a son."
In the back, the 24-year-old apprentice was busy measuring a new heel for a worn motorcycle boot, repairing the scraped leather on a low-heel pump and putting a sole on a pricey, intricate loafer.
In between, he came up front to talk to customer Eric Pritts about the 1 12-inch orthopedic buildup Pritts needs on the sole of his left shoe.
Everything Lowe knows about shoe repair, Mitchell taught him during the past year. Because Lowe is a natural and has learned so much so well so quickly, he will take over the business when Mitchell retires within the next two years.
Mitchell, who is married, has emphysema and has been thinking of getting out of the business for some time. He also has been dealing with the death four months ago of his long-time assistant, Cleo Flint, and that of another assistant, David Goad, one month ago.
Taking a different path
The plan to leave the business to Lowe speaks highly of his ability -- and Mitchell's confidence in him.
Schafer's Shoe Repair is no small undertaking. The shop repairs as many as 200 pairs of shoes a week. It has 30 drop-off sites in the Roanoke and New River valleys.
"I love it," said Lowe, who is single and has no children. "It's different from any other job and career I ever thought of or had."
Realizing he would need an assistant whenever he assumes the business, Lowe tapped his cousin, Marco Lee, to work with him. Lee, 22 and the father of two young sons, gave up his job as a forklift operator to learn shoe repair. He's been on board about three months.
I can't help but admire Mitchell for giving these young men a chance, and these young men for taking it. Young black men too easily give up if they decide the education track isn't for them. Some do nothing; others drift onto a more dangerous or violent path.
"Everything like that, it's going to come to an end eventually," said Lee, who graduated from William Fleming High School in 2002. "There's more out here than chilling on the block or slinging drugs.
Lowe added, "I get so cold-hearted when I hear the excuses. If you want to be garbage, be garbage."
He added, "You don't have to go to college to be successful."
Buying out; buying in
Mitchell started off on the professional track. He was a banker in Richmond for 20 years.
"I did the three-martini drill," he said, chuckling. Mitchell took a buyout and came back to his hometown of Roanoke.
He socked away some of his buyout money into his children's college funds. He has a daughter, who is a lawyer in Boulder, Colo., and a son in the Navy in San Diego.
Still in his 40s, Mitchell said he knew he needed to get another job. He latched on with longtime Roanoke shoe repairman Vic Schafer and learned the trade. Eventually, he built his own successful business.
Lowe graduated from Fleming in 2001 and attended Virginia Western Community College studying video game design. It wasn't challenging, he said. He also wasn't sure whether the program would lead to a job.
So rather than languish in indecision and fritter away his parents' money, he dropped out after 18 months. He landed in a dead-end job.
Lowe's stepfather, Colbert Boyd, was a customer at Schafer's Shoe Repair. He talked to Mitchell about bringing Lowe on as an apprentice. Mitchell was amenable but didn't put too much stock in the request.
Clearing the obstacles
Over the years, he had started training apprentices and they always ended up quitting.
"Believe it or not," Mitchell said, "not everybody can do what we do." Besides, he added, some people are discouraged by the traditionally low-paying trade. The annual wage for a shoe or leather repairman is $21,600, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.
Others who enter the business usually start as shoeshine people.
"I had never dealt with shoe work at all," Lowe said.
When he showed up to talk to Mitchell the first time, his cornrows caught Mitchell off guard.
"It was the hair," Mitchell said. The customers were "the first thing that went through my mind. 'How are they going to react?' "
It would be unfair and unfounded to accuse Mitchell of looking for an excuse not to hire a black kid. First, his 20-year assistant Cleo Flint was black. Second, I don't care for cornrows myself, and I'm black.
Moments after Mitchell began talking to Lowe, he quickly looked beyond his hair.
Lowe volunteered after hours at the store for two months. Each day, he would leave his full-time job and come to the store. Mitchell would teach him. The journeyman would increasingly challenge Lowe. Each time, the apprentice would complete the task.
Mitchell noticed the extreme dexterity in Lowe's hands, his ability to massage and maneuver the leather. He also has a "mechanical head," needed to operate the massive machines used to sand soles and do stitching, gluing, stretching and other functions.
Two weeks in, Mitchell knew he had a keeper. But what really sold him was that Lowe took notes, without being prodded to do so.
Lowe came on board full time in January.
College, he said, just didn't feel like the right path for him. It was predictable, like walking down a sidewalk.
"Go straight. Turn left. Turn right. Watch for the cracks.
"This," he said of his new career, "is like trying to cross the interstate. You can't just jump out there. You have to think. It satisfies my need to be challenged."
Shanna Flowers' column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays.
