The Wolves and the Mandolin: Celebrating Life's Privileges In A Harsh World

by Brandon Vallorani

  A friend of my dad’s, who had press passes because he worked for a TV station in Salisbury, Maryland, came back to Pittsburgh for the weekend. “I’ve got press passes for the Pirates baseball game,” he said and invited my dad to go with him. Dad was thrilled because he got to walk around on the field and interview players and go up into the press box. It’s what he’d always wanted to do, and he didn’t waste his time when he got there.

  When he got up into that press box, he asked the reporters there if they knew of anyone who was quitting a newspaper job. One guy said, “Yeah, I know a guy that’s quitting. Here’s my boss’s name. Call him up.”

  When Dad got home, he immediately called the man’s boss and was invited to “come up for an interview.” That got Dad his first real newspapering job at one of the oldest papers in Pennsylvania, The Bedford Gazette. He went on to work for the NBC affiliate television station where he wrote stories and was an announcer for weather, news, and sports.

  His brother, Gene, lured him out of the TV business and back into the newspaper industry. Gene wanted my dad to help out with photography, sports, and news for his paper, The Central West Virginia Guardian. After a few years, Dad decided to start a business of his own. He and a business partner started a weekly classifieds publication that he owns and operates to this day.

  For whatever reason, it was very common for Pittsburgh men to marry West Virginia women. They would go across the Mason-Dixon line and find themselves a southern girl. My uncle Gene was the first to do this in our family, moving to West Virginia where he met and married my aunt Trina.

  Trina and my mom grew up next door to each other. It was my Aunt Trina’s idea to try to fix up my mom, Linda Burgreen, with her husband’s little brother, Ray, who was living with them for the summer. While they were spending a leisurely evening at home, my mom would “pop in randomly” to visit Trina. When she arrived, Trina would “casually” introduce Ray and Linda to each other.

  I heard that seconds after my parents met in this manner, Linda and Trina had to rush off, giggling, into one of the other rooms as they could hardly contain themselves long enough to get the “accidental meeting” pulled off.

  It wasn’t love at first sight, my mom told me, but they liked each other enough to start dating and would go out to the movies or to Dairy Queen. My dad was a nice-looking and sincerely nice guy—and still is! Over time, Mom fell in love with him, and they got married. My parents have had a strong marriage.

  Once married, they moved to Clarksburg, West Virginia, where I was born in 1973. Now, an interesting thing about Clarksburg is that it has a massive Italian American population. While a lot of the Italian immigrants went to work in the steel mills of Pittsburgh, two hours south, in Clarksburg, many found work in the coal mines.

  Clarksburg still has some of the best Italian restaurants you’ll ever find. As an Italian from Pittsburgh, my dad fit in really well. The thing I love about Clarksburg is they have a big Italian heritage festival every year. They even crown one of the little girls Regina [Queen] Bellissimo [Beautiful]!

  Clarksburg is also known as the birthplace of General Stonewall Jackson. I have a lot of respect for Stonewall and even named one of my sons, Levi Jackson, after him. Though a staunch Confederate, he was not a slave owner, nor did he believe in slavery. In fact, he opened schools for African Americans and taught them to read outside the laws of the day.

  This particular story about Jackson inspires me. It’s one I’ve heard and read many times:

  During the heat of the battle (1st Manassas) a messenger came and handed Jackson a letter to sign. He dismounted just as a canon ball blew up a tree nearby. Wood chips rained down on Jackson but, without missing a beat, he calmly brushed the wood chips from the paper and continued reading. He then got back on his horse as though nothing unusual had happened. Those around him were astonished at his composure. Someone spoke up and asked him how he could be so cool.

  Jackson replied, “My religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me . . . That is the way all men should live, and then all would be equally brave.” His cool fearlessness in the heat of battle earned him his nickname. It was, reportedly, General Bee, who during a charge at first battle of Manassas, cried to his frightened men, “Look, there stands Jackson like a stone wall.” And the battle was won.1

  To this day, in the town of Clarksburg, there’s a giant monument to Stonewall Jackson and a state park called Jackson’s Mill. His life was an example of morality and bravery that no matter where you stand politically or historically, you have to admire him for the man he was. When Stonewall Jackson faced the wolves, he chose the peace of God over fear.

  Even though our first family home was a single-wide trailer, there was no way someone as smart and industrious as my dad would let us linger there for long. He juggled multiple jobs, always trying to get ahead. At various times, he was a sports writer for a newspaper, a TV weatherman at WBOY in Clarksburg, and a guard at a reform school.

  My father’s big success came from starting the business he still owns today, Photo Craft Corporation. Photo Craft publishes a buy/sell/trade publication that is just a little bit younger than I am. This newspaper is what, basically, funded our family through my childhood, though in the early days my dad moonlighted as a wedding photographer to keep us afloat.

  He still made time to be with Mom and us kids, though, even swapping ad space for motel rooms so we could go on vacations together. My dad read us a Bible story every night, and he was very involved in our lives. He taught me how to chop firewood and how to grow vegetables in our family’s garden. He always had time to throw a baseball with me.

  Family has always been a priority for my dad, just as it has been for me. My dad is even more of a mentor to me now than he was when I was younger.

  He and my mother were determined their children would have the best of everything. My mother, in particular, wanted us to be well dressed and confident in our appearances. Both of my parents did everything they could to give us the best childhood possible and to instill in us the values they had learned from their hard-working families.

  My mom hated any kind of conflict in the house. She had very high standards for herself and for us kids and taught us to bring our best efforts to everything we did. She had been the very first college graduate in her own family and carefully monitored all of our homework, handing it back to us for revisions if it wasn’t up to snuff.

  “Good enough” wasn’t good enough. You had to do your best, every time. No surprise that my siblings and I were all honor students. The collection of trophies for my wins at spelling-bee championships was impressive, and I was a straight-A student all through high school, slated for salutatorian of our class. When we merged with another school in my senior year, a girl from the other school was valedictorian, so I was bumped to third in my class. She had survived a recent car accident involving a drunk driver, and her speech at graduation made a profound impact on our entire school.

  I attribute much of my success in life, now, to my mom’s driving me through my childhood. She believed in us with all her heart and instilled her own can-do confidence in us. In everything I attempted and every challenge I took up, she was my tireless cheerleader. She thought of me as her golden boy and poured a tremendous amount of love, energy, and enthusiasm into everything I did. My mom wasn’t just tough but also very sensitive, and she would talk me through problems, guiding me through adolescence. I don’t think I ever came home from a date or an activity without talking it all out with her. Having that open communication with my parents was something I really appreciated. It hasn’t changed though I’m in my forties. I still call home to hear their opinions and garner advice.

  Her family was entrepreneurial too, hard-working immigrant stock from the Scandinavian region. On my mom’s side, my great-great-grandfather was a farmer, but unlike other far
mers, he sold directly to the consumer when all the farmers around him were selling wholesale. He grew vegetables, raised chickens for eggs, kept cows, and took all that he produced to the city himself to sell at higher retail prices. He also delivered fresh milk from his dairy to people’s houses. My grandfather says they always had good food to eat.

  One thing that impressed me from stories passed down was that if they had a bad crop year, he always had saved enough so that they could get through the tough time. As my grandfather Hartley put it, they not only anticipated bad years but survived bad years well. He told me, “I don’t know any businessman that hasn’t had a bad time or a lean year. It hits us all.”

  Rather than going into the farming business, my grandfather Hartley—Pap—owned and operated his own tractor-trailer. My Pap has a sense of humor that rivals few, and he’s always ready to share a story everyone will laugh over. We go so quickly through life, nowadays, and often feel the pressure of the wolves dogging our heels. Humor, storytelling, and passing down family legends are important ways to slow down so we can savor the haunting melody of the mandolin.

  America is a diverse country built by immigrants. In Luigi’s era, you sailed over, were processed quickly upon arrival, and were immediately considered an American. You would learn as you went forward. Somehow, we’ve lost that simplicity. I don’t think many political groups have properly articulated a good plan for immigration. We need to make it easier for people to make a life here.

  Neither Republicans nor Democrats seem to deliver a balanced perspective on immigration.

  To elaborate: My perception is that the Democratic Party essentially says, “Open up the floodgates. We’ll give amnesty to everybody. Pour in because we want your vote. Latch on to the entitlement society that we have. We’ll take care of you.” Immigrants are offered an easy street by the Democrat platform, which is a major disservice to them. As the old saying goes, “Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime.”

  The Republican Party perspective can be almost xenophobic: “Stop. We don’t want your language here. I don’t want to press one for English. Stay away, or only come in after you fill out this paperwork—and wait three years.”

  I’ve known people from all parts of the world—not just Latin America but also Ireland, Australia, and Canada—who simply cannot start a new life in this country despite the value they could bring. It’s virtually a miracle to immigrate legally. The rules are very different from what they were in Luigi’s time. Many don’t have the luxury of waiting for mounds of paperwork and red tape to be processed. They may be struggling to survive.

  Today, two different attitudes are exhibited. There are many working hard to make a good life here. They brought with them solid family values and a strong work ethic. They have hopes of achieving the American dream for themselves and their children. Then there are some who sadly see the American dream as merely a place where everything should be free and handed to them by the government.

  None of my ancestors would have taken a dollar from the government or charity. It would have been against their principles. Their attitude was, “No thanks. We earn our own, and we take care of our own. If we face wolves, we’ll figure out how to play the mandolin anyway.”

  I think we’ve lost a lot of that sense of self-reliance, particularly among the younger generation. There’s a pervasive sense of entitlement that I find very distressing.

  People can achieve anything they put their mind and effort toward. I would welcome people to this country, legally, with simple requirements: they must understand our form of government, commit to learning English, and integrate into our society.

  Our country is as strong as it is today because people like my immigrant ancestors risked everything to come here and were more than willing to work hard to make their dreams come true. I believe this attitude is what makes—and keeps—our country great.

  What I Know to Be True

  I owe so much of who I am to my parents and to the values they instilled in me, both through what they said and, more importantly, what they did.

  My mom made me believe I could accomplish anything. She expected me to do my best, and I was eager to live up to her expectations because there was so much love implicit in them. My dad’s example as a small-business owner inspired me as well.

  Both of them are devout Christians—my dad was raised as a Roman Catholic and my mother as a Protestant—so I was raised in a very moral home with a strong work ethic.

  Without those tools—love, faith, and willingness to take on a tough job—I’d not have enjoyed the successes I have. I’d rather leave my kids a legacy of solid values than of merely money.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Education of an Entrepreneur

  A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.

  Mario Puzo, The Godfather

  My parents recognized my artistic talent at a very early age and paid for me to take private art lessons for years. I learned oil painting, charcoal sketching, pen-and-ink drawing, and so forth. All of my friends called me “the artist” and expected that was what I would be when I grew up. But as much as I loved it, I knew I didn’t want to be a starving artist. So my dad had me watch training videos on graphic design by Jan V. White. Those videos had a real impact on me.

  At fifteen years of age I went to work for my dad’s business after school, full-time, through the summers and in between my classes at West Virginia University (WVU), post high school.

  Working for my dad in his entrepreneurial endeavors was great. At first, I just did whatever odd jobs needed to be done. Sometimes, he would hand me the car keys and I would wash and detail all the company cars for the sales department. Other times, I was planting and maintaining the landscaping around the office, keeping the office looking good. These kinds of chores were my work for the first couple of years.

  However, Dad always knew I could do much bigger things. Soon I was promoted to ad design and page layout. At that time, layout was a much more hands-on affair than it is today, when everything is done on a computer. It was a blend of computer layout and the old-fashioned, paste-up method of putting a newspaper together. We literally pasted blocks of text, articles, and advertisements on a piece of grid paper. The newspaper was between 88 and 112 pages, so it was fairly labor intensive. Also during this period I learned the basic principles of effective marketing.

  One of the best things about working with my father was that he’d take me to business meetings, even when I was a kid. I’d suit up in my tie and jacket, and I learned how to behave in a business setting with other adults. I’ve always felt that gave me a real advantage when I entered the business world. A lot of my friends were baggers at the grocery store at that age, whereas I was out there in the corporate world, observing successful businessmen, sitting at the table with them, and hearing them and my dad talk real business.

  In these settings, without even trying, I absorbed a lot about business, especially about running one. It wasn’t as though my dad said, “Okay, son, here’s a lesson for you.” I just saw it play out in front of me and took it all in. I learned a lot about image, leadership, management, hierarchy, employees, and money. I remember thinking how distinguished all of these businesspeople looked, and I wanted to be like them. I wanted to be a businessman someday and own my own business. They all inspired me. It was a tremendous education.

  As common as blue-collar work was in West Virginia, I never saw myself as a blue-collar guy. As much as I looked up to my maternal grandfather, I couldn’t see myself driving a truck. Being very patriotic, I even considered joining the military. However, I felt my real calling was going to be found in the corporate world, where marketing, idea development, and creating something new could provide an ample living.

  I learned so much from my father, not the least of which was how to be a good boss. My dad never raised his voice at an employee. He led (and still does to this day) by inspir
ation and kindness. People want to please my dad. They don’t fear him; they love him. He’s achieved that balance everywhere he’s ever been. Even when he was a guard at the boys’ reform school, the boys there loved him. I do not think my dad has a single enemy in the world. At least, I have yet to find one.

  Something else that I learned from my father was to never owe my boss. As an employee, I have always had the attitude that I wanted my boss to owe me, not the other way around. I always worked more hours than I was paid for and made an effort to be available at all times. It was important to me that I went the extra mile so my boss felt he had to take care of me and give me a raise and some time off. Because of this extra-mile attitude, I found myself being rewarded throughout my career.

  Likewise, as a boss, I am dedicated to being generous to my employees. I’m proud that they often go the extra mile for me. I have always had several who stay late to work on a project or work an extra day because they desire to please me and get the results I’ve requested. When employers are indebted to their employees, they get the pleasure of rewarding those employees for their attitude.

  When I have to lay off employees, I always give a generous severance payment, which is not something my ancestors would have understood. Unfortunately, many employees in today’s world believe they are owed the severance pay. They’re not. They already got paid for the services they provided. Severance means employees are paid for services they didn’t get to provide. I try to go above and beyond by giving them a chance to get up and running somewhere else.