Tube Steaks
This is a tip of the hat to a guy I never met. I knew his name, David Mugar, and after reading a coupla stories in the Globe after his passing, I wish I had met him. Neat guy.
David Mugar was the chairman and CEO of Mugar Enterprises in Boston. His family built the Star Market grocery chain. But like my father’s generation, he believed if you were lucky enough to make it in business, you made it your duty to give back to the community that helped you get there. Today they call that being “socially responsible” and most poser businesses spend more time and effort congratulating themselves than helping others. Guys like Mugar didn’t use jargon and hashtags. They just did it.
Mugar quietly helped all kinds of people and organizations his whole career. He was the guy who took Boston’s 4th of July fireworks show from a local celebration to an extravaganza that was seen by millions on national TV. He paid for and produced it himself. He liked things that were available to everyone.
This guy was kind of a Lone Ranger. He avoided public functions and turned down honorary degrees from everywhere. He attended Babson but flunked out. I can relate to that. I never flunked out. I just got kicked out. He always said his closest friends and personal heroes were not fellow A-listers, but firefighters and other working-class people. He would have loved Holyoke where everybody, no matter what status, is just regular.
He drove a Ford. No flashy hotshot vehicle. The hood ornament didn’t mean anything to him. According to Boston Globe columnist Kevin Cullen, he could afford to eat at any Boston restaurant but he preferred Sullivan’s on Castle Island for hot dogs. He liked the people he met there. It was a cross-section of society.
I can’t say I’ve always operated as quietly as David Mugar. Ad guys like me are known blowhards and windbags. Always making noise and creating commotion. But I probably would’ve gotten a lot out of chatting with him over a couple of tube steaks at Nicks’ Nest in Holyoke. But you know what, driving back to Boston in his Ford, he probably would have said to himself, “Christ, that cabbage head likes to hear himself talk.”
Keep your dukes up.