Roland Groves

I have always found it fun to think about dreams… to dig thru the assorted characters, the misplaced locations and disjointed activities. What does it all mean? I try not to dwell on what it really means. I figure I am crazy enough… I don’t need additional proof.

I just enjoy thinking about the peculiarities and the twists. I like the visits from my parents. It keeps my cherished memories of them fresh… and there is that nano second in the morning upon getting up when I think that they are still here.  Still here on this side of the river.

Last night (or was it this morning?) I had a visit from Roland Groves. Actually it was a call… the phone rang, I picked it up (I have no clue where I am) and I hears Roland’s voice… I don’t know if the call was intentional… maybe he misdialed? Or perhaps I picked up the phone on someone else’s call, and overheard the conversation?

But as sure as God made green apples, it was Roland Groves’ voice, and he was talking about his daughter Leslie’s wedding.

Roland Groves was one of three brothers who worked for us at Chipp. Besides Roland, there was Monty Graham & Harland McPhun… same mother, different fathers. They hailed from Costa Rica and they began working for my father at Chipp in the mid 50s. Harland worked in the stock room. Monty worked our customer “pick-up desk” (he had other responsibilities as well… I just forget them).

Roland became our “cutter.”  Doesn’t sound glamorous does it? But let me assure it is definitely an art form. The backbone of our business was custom tailoring… each customer had his own paper pattern (drafted by our custom designer). And with each ordered suit, jacket or trousers his paper pattern would be laid over the cloth and cut… the art came into making sure the stripes and plaids matched… and then it was a matter of pride that would require the correct placing of the pieces of paper to utilize a minimum amount of cloth.

Cutter… this is a trade. Roland went to “school” to learn the fundamentals, and then “apprenticed” to Bill Gorga in our shop. And Roland worked for us ’til about 1994… I am embarrassed to say I can’t be more specific about the date.

I know few men who had more pride than Roland. His appearance alone spoke to that. Tweed sport coats, or blazers… sure. Simple slacks. Nice shirts that in his later years needed to conceal an increasing tummy. But what set Roland apart was the silk foulard pocket square that was correctly thrust into his breast pocket. And with that pocket square he looked better than 90% of the people I saw on a day to day basis. One more thing… when he left at day’s end, he was sure to splash on some aftershave or cologne that we had on our counter.

His wife, whose name I can’t summon from the memory banks, worked as a nurse. And their hours flip-flopped. He worked days. She worked nights.

And there were the stories.  He was having an affair with our “finisher” Rosalie Corsi… a sad story there, too. Rosalie was not only a victim of abuse as a child… she had a husband who ended up sleeping with her mother. Nice stuff, and you thought this only happened in tabloids or on Jerry Springer. Anyway… I thought Rosalie was terrific, I adored her… and I could not begrudge her a small portion of happiness. So Roland and Rosalie playing “kissy face & pressy bod”? Rumor? I just saw them being tender to one another in the hall one day. Was there more? I do not know. But I think there was a mitzvah there.

The Groves’ had one child… a daughter Leslie. And how is this?  The core of Chipp clientele came from the WASP Aristocracy… they went to prep schools like Hotchkiss, Andover & Exeter… and then to Yale, Dartmouth & Williams. And so Leslie, studying hard at her school in Brooklyn, gets a scholarship first to St. Paul’s, and then to Brown.

Yes, I know few prouder men than Roland Groves.

And sadly when pressures in business proved insurmountable, we could no longer justify keeping Roland on our payroll. There are those who said that we carried Roland for several years longer than we had any business doing. Yes, from a business sense it did not make sense to retain him; but from a human sense it hurt to cut a person adrift… someone who had worked for us for some 40 years… first for my father, then for Paul and me.

What is business all about anyway?

I bumped into Roland a several months after we cut him loose… we chatted a bit on the street. I didn’t know what to say… how could I adequately convey how terrible I still felt about letting him go. It was an awkward moment. And Roland, wearing a green blazer, sunglasses against the brightness of the sun that was pouring down the defile of 43rd Street… and the ever present silk foulard pocket square… held my arm, smiled and said, “Hey, Jimmy… it’s OK”.

Thanks for the call Roland. I wish you, Mrs. Groves & Leslie all the happiness in world. Ask Leslie to save me a dance… I love dancing with brides… here, or on the other side of the river.

This entry was posted in Life. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *