To All Of My Second Fathers

To All of My Second Fathers

Happy Father’s Day to all of my second fathers. Thank you for pitching in to pave the road left abandoned by the one who should have paved it. I could have spent this Father’s Day feeling resentful toward the person who had, but did not earn, the title of *Dad*. Instead, I wanted to thank the good male role models I have had, for I didn’t get to this point in my life on my own.

When I began putting together this piece, it really dawned on me. Despite the main male in my life not wanting to show me anything except how not to be, I found that I had a village of true men who took a boy and helped make him a man.

To Serpa, CJS Sr., my second stepfather. Thank you for bringing the type of stability that eluded me when it came to male role models in my life through my teenage years. You started as my mom’s coworker, whom I would end up chatting about sports and sports cards with in the produce section of Stop & Shop for way too long. Here it is, 30 years later, and we still chat about sports and cards. You’ve been there through high school, college, moving cross country, births of kids, deaths of family members, and everyday moments that pass by in the blink of an eye. You taught me that so much of being a man is showing up for those who matter.

To my Grampa, Sully. Thank you for crafting a life that served as a blueprint for all I wished to be. Your hard work, your dedication to your family, your ability to make things make sense. All of these things I have tried to emulate. I often said while you were still here that if I became half the man you were, I’d consider my life a success. That will never change. You were and still are the role model above all others. You taught me that part of being a man is leading by example and living life in a way that makes people proud that they know you.

To my uncles. Bob, Eric, John, and Steve. Thank you for helping to guide me each in different ways. Uncle Bob, you are the one I emulate when relating to my own nieces and nephews. If they enjoy their time with me as their uncle, it’s because of what you showed me. Uncle Eric, I told you that I wished you were my father. You showed me that it was possible to be a good father even if your brother could not be bothered. You looked out for me and helped me through some hard times when you did not have to. Uncle John, the only one who knows more about family history than I, is you. You showed me that the right way to live life is by simply being a decent human. Uncle Steve, you taught me about mental toughness and perseverance. You took your grief and turned yourself into an elite distance runner in your 50s. You showed me that there is more than one road that can take you where you want to go.

To Maui, the man himself. Thank you for instilling in me a work ethic that serves me well to this day. You took a kid who was working in an industry he didn’t want to be in and showed me how to do it and do it well. You taught me how to work hard but still make it fun. You were someone that, although not related by blood, I felt I could lean on, ask for advice, and also count on to set me straight when I needed it.

I have also been lucky to have many friends whom I look at as inspirations. I have friends who are loving and dedicated fathers and husbands, disciplined hard workers, creative entrepreneurs, gutsy risk takers, and above all else, good and decent people. I’m looking at you, Barry, Steve, John, Mike, Greg, Hasan, and others I might be forgetting. You don’t have to be a generation older to be a male role model, and I appreciate all of you.

For me, Father’s Day tends to be bittersweet. As you can see, I have had many good male role models who have helped to shape me into who I am today. However, it shouldn’t have been the job of a committee of others. The main male role model in anyone’s life should be their actual biological father. Sadly, it is more common for a father to shun their duties of teaching and protecting their kids in favor of being lazy and selfish.

The person who is my father is so in name only. He avoided responsibility in every way possible. It included not paying child support for, you know, supporting the child you helped create. It included making promises to his kids that he routinely broke. It included valuing alcohol over his kids' well-being. It included looking at his kids as walking ATM machines as soon as they started working.

I could have easily become a lazy, selfish, ignorant, drunk, professional victim. I was blessed though, with the men I mentioned above. They taught me how to be a man while my “father” showed me all of the things not to do. To this day, he sits back and whines, wondering why his kids and grandkids want nothing to do with him. Get a mirror and you’ll find your answer.

To all of my second fathers, thank you so much for all of your love, support, and advice. Thank you for helping me build the road I am on. I will keep on doing all I can to be a person you can be proud of. I will do my best to validate all of that support every day of my life. Happy Father’s Day!

Thank You, Jack

     Jack Connors doesn’t need me to eulogize him. His passing made headlines in the local newspapers and nightly news. At the end of this, I will link to his obituary for those who might have no idea who he is.
     In short, he was a legend in Boston-based advertising and a dominating force in philanthropy for decades. Money, fame, respect, he had it all. So no, Jack doesn’t need me to eulogize him. So I’m not going to.
     Instead what I am going to do is tell a little story about the Jack Connors that I knew and that I owed so much to.
     My first introduction to Jack occurred in 2006. He had a summer home near the Marshside Restaurant where I had worked in Dennis on Cape Cod for years. Jack was a frequent patron of our rustic but beloved establishment. It was a homey place with delicious food that ran the gamut from pancakes and lobster rolls to prime rib and turkey clubs. We had a staff that was more like family, many of us working together for ten or more years.

Closing time at the original Marshside

     I describe the Marshside in this way not just because it’s how I feel, but because it’s how Jack felt. This came into play when the opportunity came for him to buy the restaurant.
     Now, I was not privy to why Marylou who had owned it for decades was selling. I knew our building needed a good amount of work. We sometimes skated by on inspections due to people knowing people. And don’t get me started about our barn across the parking lot which doubled as a prep room and food storage area. That being said the restaurant was always immaculately clean and we all took great pains to keep things that way on the inside even if the outside looked like it might fall over.
     Whatever her reason was Marylou and Jack made a deal in 2007. He would buy the Marshside and be essentially a silent owner while Marylou continued to run the day-to-day operations. Whether it had been dire straits for the business or not it would continue on thanks to Jack.
     This is where the true measure of who Jack was as a person became apparent to us who worked there.
     The staff was told by Marylou of the plans. The Marshside was being sold to Jack with her staying on in basically a General Manager role. We would close at the end of August. After that, the rustic clam shack was to be torn down with a new more modern restaurant arising in its place in time for the following summer.

Some of the crew from those final days of the original Marshside

     We made plans for a big final shindig at the old Marsh. Everything must go. We closed that night for service and then ate, drank, were merry, and took nearly everything that wasn’t nailed down. I still have counter chairs and glass fish plates kids used to this day. We also took food and of course booze(open bottles only). I mean hey it was going to be thrown away right? I only took a bottle of Jack Daniels.
     The next week all that was left of the Marshside was a hole in the ground. Even the barn that had served as our prep room and food storage area was torn down.
     But what of us? What of the loyal staff?
     Before we left on the day that Marylou had first announced the sale of the restaurant she asked me, and several others if we planned on coming back when the new place opened. I said yes. That is when my mind was blown.
     She told me that the plan was for Jack to pay me, full-time, for the entire time the restaurant was being rebuilt. I was to be paid to stay at home. Out of sheer kindness and respect this man who didn’t know us really, or owe us anything, was going to spend likely what amounted to easily over six figures to keep us on for when the new Marshside opened.

Standing in the hole where the Marshside once stood

     He didn’t have to do that. Jack could have easily let us all go and brought in his own staff. He surely knew some heavy hitters in the Boston restaurant scene that could have helped launch his new venture. But no, he lived up to his word.
     I was paid a 40-hour salary for what ended up being nine months. Nine. Months.
     This allowed me the opportunity to write several books and spend countless afternoons at the Cape Cod Community College library. This was thanks to Jack.
     Now, don’t get me wrong, as much as I knew it would end I had days where I wished I could just live the life of a writer getting paid and hanging out in the library. When the time came to reopen in June I was there.
     I vividly remember sitting in the sparkling new restaurant with the rest of the crew. Jack held court and gave us the rundown of what was to happen from that moment on. He also explained why he undertook this endeavor.
     In what I would come to really appreciate Jack gave a very dry humorous explanation. He said he was looking for new ways to lose money. We had no idea at the time that it had already cost him several million dollars to go from a clam shack to a modern casual dining establishment. Sure it hardly made a dent in his overall wealth, but that’s a large chunk of change.
     I cannot say for sure but I believe it took at least a few years for the restaurant to turn a profit for Jack.

     We on the staff definitely earned some of the money Jack had paid during the time off during those first weeks of reopening. I know that I worked 110 hours in that first week alone. That’s no typo, and that was a lot of overtime. Roughly 8am to 11pm, give or take, every day. Still, we did it because it was our form of payback for Jack’s confidence in us.
     Then came a hard left turn. In the spring of 2010 Marylou, our leader, our guiding light, and one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever known, suddenly passed away. This took Jack from a silent owner to having to be right on the front lines. There is no way it was what he wanted or expected, but he did it out of respect for Marylou.

Before opening at the new Marshside

     The 2010 season was tough, but we all banded together and made it through for Marylou. After that though, after the care and respect that Jack showed us. After he continued the Marshside when he could have easily said ‘This isn’t working for me,’ and sold it or closed it. I can only speak for myself but I know I stayed to return the favor of respect to Jack.
     Despite being worth a staggering amount of money. Despite being known and respected throughout the country. Despite having the option to be the stereotypical ‘rich man’ Jack went the opposite way. He would come into the restaurant through the kitchen like the staff, making a point to shake hands or hug everyone he crossed paths with.
     Jack would make you feel important when he had no obligation to. He did it because he was a decent human. He wasn’t born rich and I think that helped him remember that we all are humans doing the best we can to navigate through life.
     I ended up staying working in the kitchen at the Marshside for much longer than I intended to. This boiled down to two things. One was my true and honest feelings that those I worked with, especially those I worked with for many years, were family and I owed it to them. The second thing was the gratitude to Jack.
     I don’t know if the Marshside needed saving when he bought it. If it did or didn’t the bottom line is that it is still going strong today because of the work and the money he put into it. His legacy is so far beyond rebuilding the Marshside, but to me, that is his defining achievement because it affected me personally.

     I kept my job because of Jack. I was paid, full-time, to sit at home for nine months because of Jack. I learned that wealth doesn’t have to make you a cold and uncaring person because of Jack. I called him Mr. Connors the first time I met him but he softly insisted I call him Jack.
     I was honestly surprised at how much hearing that he had died hit me, but I shouldn’t have been. Just how he approached us in the days after Marylou’s death earned him all of the loyalty and respect I could offer.
     There are so many who knew Jack far better than me. He had a wonderful family, at least who I met, and my heart goes out to them, especially his wife Eileen. Like I said at the top, Jack Connors doesn’t need me to eulogize him, and his family doesn’t need me to either. That being said it can’t hurt for them to hear how Jack positively affected me, and I’m just some random line cook who happened to work at his happiest ‘money loser’ that he had.
     I will end this off by simply saying thank you Jack for everything. You lived a great and important life sir, rest in peace.

c. Camp Harbor View.org

Jack Connors Obituary