My First Entrepreneurial Experience

[Teach]

Coke. Pepsi. Hire’s Root Beer. Nehi Orange. Brown’s Cream Soda. We had them all, even Moxie (a type of soda flavored with gentian root extract that sold well in New England).

In the early-1950s, the city of Boston was building a “Project” (low-rent housing) near where my friends and I grew up in the Dorchester-Mattapan section of Boston.

During one summer, my friends and I -- we were then fifth and sixth-grade elementary-school students -- came up with an idea. We were going (although we didn’t know the word) to become “entrepreneurs.”

We had a plan. The six of us would pool our income (allowance money, no-interest loans from our parents, etc.) and buy large quantities of soda, we called it “tonic” (in those days, bottles of “tonic” cost a nickel) from a local deli.

After we worked out our business plan, I was chosen as our group’s “business agent.” I would collect the money from each of six guys in our group (your individual return was based on your contribution). I would then go into the deli (Can I get a deal if I buy more than 40 bottles of soda?) and buy upwards of 60 bottles of “tonic”. My only request… Actually, there were two. First, the soda had to be cold and, secondly, I needed various varieties.

As I think back, we had to time things, perfectly. The purchase had to be made about 11 a.m. in the morning. If we bought the soda too early, it could get warm before we sold it. We took precautions to keep it cold by raiding our parents’ ice-trays. We would then load the “tonic” onto three or four red wagons (we dumped the ice cubes between the bottles and then covered the bottles with a tarp).

We then made our way up the hill on Dorchester-Mattapan’s Morton St. before we reached a plateau at the junction of Morton and Gallivan Blvd. Sometimes, we had to “double-team” (sounds like “The Oregon Trail”) as we went up the hill. One of us pulled on the wagon’s handle, while the other pushed from behind. All the while making sure that none of the soda bottles tipped over (we wanted to avoid spoilage at any cost; that would reduce our bottom-line, our profits).

We often arrived at “The Project” by noon. We then split into two groups of three (this was a large construction job). We would canvass the area just as the workers sat down for their lunch break. I remember that I was one of “the hawkers”. I remember calling out (it must have been thousands of times) “Soda. Soda. Soda. Get your ice-cold soda. Ice-cold soda here.” “How much, kid?” the worker would say. “A dime,” I’d reply.

I’d then go back to my friends who were waiting at the wagon to fill the workers’ orders. I’d say something like: “Two Pepsis, a Coke, a Hire’s and one Moxie.” Then – I sometimes needed help – I’d race back to where the workers were having lunch and bring them their sodas.

This went on for about an hour. In hindsight, we had to catch this just right. We needed to time our soda appearance just as the workers were starting to take their lunch-break (timing is everything, especially in the business world).

I recall we had to be lickety-split. No wasted energy. There was a relatively small “window”. Too early: not yet ready for lunch. Too late: don’t want soda.

When all was said and done, we met up at a designated location, usually back on Morton Street, to assess our daily business activity, and divvy up profits. We usually “plowed” those profits back into our business venture.

However, it wasn’t much later that our entrepreneurial soda business came to an end. Part of the reason was because we had supply issues. Our sources were drying up. As business picked up, our main supplier, the local deli, couldn’t keep up with our soda requests. The owner couldn’t replenish our soda needs fast enough (As I heard later, he kept some bottles in reserve for his own luncheon “regulars” when they’d order a corned beef sandwich or a pastrami).

In the end, we shut down our activities. Yes, the supplier problems hurt us, but also some of kids would go to Nantasket (south of Boston) or Revere Beach (north of Boston) over the summer. We couldn’t get decent replacements (it’s tough getting good help). Further, it would have taken too long to break them in. They just couldn’t “hit the ground running”. We were hoping for “a take-over,” (maybe a “white knight”), but none was forthcoming.

Oh, we made a profit. But, as I remember, I spent most of my profits on baseball cards.

As a postscript, a couple of guys in our group, as adults, went into the canteen business. I wonder what impact that first entrepreneurial experience had on their choice of professions?