The open door sucked a small breeze into the interior. Danny's Shoe Repair was easily missed, tucked away behind a front row of stores, including a liquor mart, sushi restaurant, and cleaners. Across Bristol Parkway, the expansive Fox Hills Plaza mall dominated the landscape, like a sprawling advertising bedecked fortress.
It was as if time stood still here inside Danny's. The surroundings gave the appearance of a shoe repair museum with old wooden shelves and posters as part of the display. Dusty shoe dye boxes, polishing products, and shoe accessories were everywhere. The passing decades had added a mellow patina to the décor. Two tall wooden cases displayed rows of plastic-shrouded unclaimed shoes, as if they were patiently waiting for their owners to pick them up.
A hand-written notice announcing the store's closing date stood on the crowded old wooden front counter. The hand written date has been replaced with a new closing date. It was a few days away.
A hand-written notice announcing the store's closing date stood on the crowded old wooden front counter. The hand written date has been replaced with a new closing date. It was a few days away.
A second louder "Hello" was greeted by some sort of vague answer somewhere in a darker area toward the back of the shop. You would not be surprised to see someone appear in 1940s clothing. A slow shuffling sound stopped and started again. Eventually, an elderly Korean man in double windbreaker jackets slowly walked toward the counter.
Asked why the store was shuttering, owner Danny puzzled over the question. He looked part annoyed, part perplexed, and part inscrutable. His store was on life-support. What did these intrusive questions mean. The writer's proffered sense of humor did not help. The Korean owner of a nearby dry cleaners in the compact center was all alone and could not come and translate my questions. He had seen Danny through the years, but had never really interacted with him.
Asked why the store was shuttering, owner Danny puzzled over the question. He looked part annoyed, part perplexed, and part inscrutable. His store was on life-support. What did these intrusive questions mean. The writer's proffered sense of humor did not help. The Korean owner of a nearby dry cleaners in the compact center was all alone and could not come and translate my questions. He had seen Danny through the years, but had never really interacted with him.
"I don't speak much English," Danny finally muttered. A series of more questions elicited the beginnings of utterances and then more pauses, as if he were translating from Korean to English in his mind.
This shoe repair shop owner was a solitary man, the result of life's turns and twists. His wife has died, as had one of his two sons. Another son was living outside of California, while a daughter lived a good distance away in another California city.
Danny was 82, but he still drove himself six days a week from a senior citizen's residence in Hollywood to his Fox Hills Plaza shoe repair shop.
This shoe repair shop owner was a solitary man, the result of life's turns and twists. His wife has died, as had one of his two sons. Another son was living outside of California, while a daughter lived a good distance away in another California city.
Danny was 82, but he still drove himself six days a week from a senior citizen's residence in Hollywood to his Fox Hills Plaza shoe repair shop.
He arrived in Los Angeles from Seoul, South Korea in 1976 with his wife and 3 children. He rode the growing wave of new arrivals from various countries opened up by the Immigration Act of 1965. Previously, preference had been given to those from Northwestern European countries. South Korea's low standard of living and dearth of jobs probably contributed to Danny's long journey with his family to America. He picked up work wherever he could find it.
"Too much work, painting and cleaning," he commented.
He later spent 10 years at sewing and doing other jobs in a garment factory.
"Too much work, painting and cleaning," he commented.
He later spent 10 years at sewing and doing other jobs in a garment factory.
In 1988, he took his slowly accumulated savings and bought the contents of an existing shoe repair business for $45,000. He learned the shoe repair trade over a three-month training period. He was good with his hands and already knew how to sew from his years in a garment factory.
One of the reasons the shoe repair business fit him was his limited use of English. He commented, "Don't need to talk much in shoe repair business. My English bad. People leave shoes and leather bags and then pick up. Not much talking."
Much of the array of specialized machinery he bought already was old, but it all worked.
"Old machines were very good," the spectacled man said.
One of the reasons the shoe repair business fit him was his limited use of English. He commented, "Don't need to talk much in shoe repair business. My English bad. People leave shoes and leather bags and then pick up. Not much talking."
Much of the array of specialized machinery he bought already was old, but it all worked.
"Old machines were very good," the spectacled man said.
A cozy area off to one side, behind tall wooden storage shelving, contained a coffee pot, tea pot, and a variety of food goods. Further back, the open rear door allowed sunlight to play among the old glass and plastic containers of leather dye, standing like sentries on high shelves.
"I had three men working during the good years," Danny commented. The "good years" ended somewhere between 1998 to 2003. That is when "cheaply made shoes" flooded the market from China.
A Ladera resident remembered how he did not want to fix her favorite, colorful fabric-covered imported slippers."They 'weren't worth fixing,' he said."
By 1998, the flood of shoes from China had severely impacted his small business.
"People did not fix cheap shoes. Throw out. My business hurt," Danny summed up, shaking his head, as he guided a strip of leather through a heavy duty sewing machine.
"I had three men working during the good years," Danny commented. The "good years" ended somewhere between 1998 to 2003. That is when "cheaply made shoes" flooded the market from China.
A Ladera resident remembered how he did not want to fix her favorite, colorful fabric-covered imported slippers."They 'weren't worth fixing,' he said."
By 1998, the flood of shoes from China had severely impacted his small business.
"People did not fix cheap shoes. Throw out. My business hurt," Danny summed up, shaking his head, as he guided a strip of leather through a heavy duty sewing machine.
He could only make small, token payments on his monthly rent. The management company was sympathetic and let him ride. By the time he closed his shop's door for the last time in the fall of 2013, his overdue rent added up to more than what he paid for all his equipment in 1988.
Danny had struggled for years to provide for his family and save enough to own his own shoe repair business. He gained his independence when he bought the shop in the late 1980s. He never knew he was entering a business laden with bad karma. At first, the Chinese imports were a trickle in the American market. Then they became a flood. There was nothing he could do about it. Now he was tired and just wanted to rest in his senior center apartment.
Seoul was a distant memory he would not revisit. He would read the Korea Times and catch his favorite Korean and American television programs. He would look out his window and watch life going. He also would remember how he was busy for years – six days a week, breathing new life into his customers' fine leather American and European-made shoes and bags. But, that was long ago and the world had changed.
Danny had struggled for years to provide for his family and save enough to own his own shoe repair business. He gained his independence when he bought the shop in the late 1980s. He never knew he was entering a business laden with bad karma. At first, the Chinese imports were a trickle in the American market. Then they became a flood. There was nothing he could do about it. Now he was tired and just wanted to rest in his senior center apartment.
Seoul was a distant memory he would not revisit. He would read the Korea Times and catch his favorite Korean and American television programs. He would look out his window and watch life going. He also would remember how he was busy for years – six days a week, breathing new life into his customers' fine leather American and European-made shoes and bags. But, that was long ago and the world had changed.
Often, we see Dannys on the street. They are nearly invisible. Many walk slowly, perhaps distracted by their own thoughts and memories from another time. Each reliving moments, perhaps from decades ago. They each would have a unique story to tell, if you were to know them.
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LADERA NEIGHBOR'S COMMENT
LADERA NEIGHBOR'S COMMENT
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"Oh, how I hate to see you go Danny! I miss the old place and the familiar face, but I shall keep my not-made-in-China shoes that you have repaired for me over the years, as a token of my appreciation of your craft.
I always tried to understand your quiet ways, short answers, no smile, all business attitude over the years because you were a reliable part of our community. You were always there, fixing our worn out heels, our tattered hand bags, letting us hold on to the old shoes that loved our feet, thereby letting us know that you loved us too. Thank you Mr. Danny, you are a real soul man." Your old customer, Margaret Richards-Bowers |
Feeling mighty nostalgic after reading your reflections on Danny's Shoe Repair with the focus on Dan the Man. No mention of the smooth jazz music on his radio that was
a greeter of sorts. He knew the words to most of the songs and hummed or whistled those he did not know. I truly associated the sounds of The Wave with Danny whenever I visited his shop. He will be missed as part of the Fox Hills Plaza. Karlon Talbert Long time Ladera resident |