Rainbows and Butterflies

Over the years, some folks have mentioned to me how wonderful it must be to own a jewelry business, let alone your own business. My answer should be: Yes, I’m blessed or even better… that I’m living the dream! Now my daughter Lindsay has people remarking how wonderfully lucky she is to be taking over the family business. Anyone who has started any kind of business from scratch knows it is by no means rainbows and butterflies, and it’s still no spring picnic even after one gets it off the ground with coughs and sputters on shaky wings.

I could go on about how I started here on the island in 1994 on a shoestring budget renting a $350 dollar a month 300 square foot storefront opening with two three feet by four feet flea market show cases on a folding poker table containing ten rings, a dozen earrings, and two bracelets because the highly recommended island carpenter I paid to make my beautiful custom oak showcases took my money and absconded to places unknown… but I won’t, sorry I guess I did. The story gets better.

I do not consider myself a gambling man (I don’t call it gambling; I call it losing. I would get more enjoyment handing some sad sack $500 in cash leaving a casino than losing it myself in 15 minutes!) Let me tell you, those early years just getting a toehold here on the island were tough and having an endless supply of good luck that is a must when starting one was not one of my virtues.

I was actually a full-time letter carrier at the Naples Post Office. I didn’t open the shop until I returned to the island after a day of delivering mail and parcels. I was in the store roughly 4 p.m. to 9 p.m., open all day Sunday. A year or so later, my daughter hired a semi-retired bench jeweler without my knowledge; his name was Sam from beautiful downtown Goodland. My daughter Lindsay graduated high school. I convinced her, or should I say bribed her, to open the shop around 10:00 but that wound up being 11ish. (She also worked evenings at a local restaurant).

Needless to say, the summer off-season 25 years ago was pretty quiet business-wise than it is presently, if you can believe that? One would have a better chance selling snow ski equipment than jewelry in June, July, or August here. One day I got a call from an island customer while delivering mail (yeah, we had cell phones back then) asking me if I was aware there was a young woman sunbathing in a bikini on a lounge chair in front of my shop. I said no, I was not aware and thank you for the info. I immediately called the shop and asked Lindsay if she was out front “enjoying the sunshine.” She replied, “Dad, I’m bored to tears. There has not been a soul in the shop for two days and that one person that came in asked if we appraised homes!” Needless to say, my daughter sunbathing outside the shop for just one day caused quite a ruckus on the island. I often joke to her when things are slow it might be a good idea to get out the suntan lotion and beach chair and park it out front.

As the years rolled along at the Front Street shop, I retired from the Postal Service and hired two salespersons. I still had Sam at the bench along with a talented goldsmith, an old friend Lew, whom I convinced to relocate from Boston. Also, my young son Andrew was apprenticing and learning the art of being a goldsmith. Soon my mom and my cousin Annette joined the sales team. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be employing eight people in my small business. Business improved every year. I even opened another 2,000 square foot jewelry store at the Marco Walk Plaza, and my wife opened a ladies clothing shop next door to my current location at the Island Plaza. We managed to survive Hurricane Wilma in 2005, then the 2008 recession hit me like a ton of bricks. Like most island shops, we all suffered. I had three businesses that were on the ropes, two of which were newly started; in case that was not bad enough, entering on stage left was the Deepwater Horizon oil spill disaster that produced 0% tourism that season. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I had to close two of my businesses, one at Marco Walk and my wife’s clothing store, and the hardest thing in my life I ever had to do was let go of a total of ten employees. I was forced to relocate my original Front Street location because the owner sold the building, but I was fortunate to find a space at my current location at Island Plaza. That move was a godsend because business was great there right off the bat and improving, but like I mentioned before, the only luck I have is bad luck; only to have the mall get sold and the new owner decide to renovate the whole mall, it was a war zone for two years with scaffolding and construction barriers and heavy equipment everywhere. Folks avoided shopping here and went elsewhere. So now, without further ado comes the frosting on the cake. During the final month of construction, enter stage right Hurricane Irma. I’m sure anyone who lived here and was subjected to this lady’s wrath remembers her! We were somehow lucky enough to only have to replace a missing air con system that probably wound up in somebody’s backyard or the Gulf somewhere; my home on the island was less fortunate. The next disaster was the dreaded COVID epidemic; I’m sure there was another hurricane or two since then.

I can now gratefully say thirty two years later as I slide into retirement, it’s been a wild ride on a crazy train my family and I took the wrath of whatever Mother Nature could throw at us, plus hurricanes, floods, recessions, oil spills, pandemics, you name it, except maybe an alien invasion or whatever other catastrophes I’m sure I may have left out. Thirty-two years later, I now hand the keys to the infamous jewelry store sunbathing beauty. My daughter Lindsay, who has kept the ship on true course during my sojourns and disappearances, and my hopes she never has to endure what we had to in the past three decades running a resistant and remarkable island jewelry business that’s now all rainbows and butterflies.