The Legend of Jack Goldberg
Good Morning, deli fanatics.
Father’s Day is this Sunday, and of course I’m thinking about my dad. Actually, I started writing this on his birthday, which is June 8th. He would have been 105, but he’ll always be a legend to me and so many others. Many of you never got to meet Jack Goldberg, so I want to talk about him, the legacy he built, and who this influential deli dynamo really was.
My father was a man of action. He was a perfectionist — always very well groomed, very well dressed, fastidious and passionate. He would work all day in the kitchen, and by the end of his shift his apron would still be stark white. Not a spot. He believed in quality and the pursuit of passion, and these are just some of the many values he bestowed upon not only me, but every single employee that passed through Stage Deli’s doors.
The Stage was well respected as a restaurant with high standards, and people naturally revered the man behind it. But, a lot of people were also afraid of my father; he was the master of such a prestigious ship. When they saw Jack at the restaurant, they would kid about how he never smiled. But, he was at work! You don’t expect a brain surgeon to be smiling in the middle of surgery, do you? He was amid a sort of surgical culinary theater, and he had a most important part to play: the captain.
Oh, how Jack was renowned for his work ethic. Case in point: In 1965, there was a record-setting blizzard here in Detroit. Everything was closed and traffic wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t going to stop my dad. We walked five blocks up to Livernois and hitchhiked. One employee showed up, and we had two customers all day. But, that was my dad. The show must go on. He viewed showing up to work — even in the middle of a historic snowstorm — as an obligation to the public. Stage is like the U.S. Postal Service: rain or shine, we’re open. That sense of commitment to a higher purpose and to the community are values ingrained in my DNA today.
The people who knew my dad personally knew him as warm and humorous. He was much looser outside of work. He had a large group of friends and relatives, and would love to kibitz and entertain. Our house was always filled with people on his days off, and he was generous with friends and strangers alike. Not many people know this, but he would occasionally pay for other people’s weddings (in particular, he paid for the wedding of a couple that actually met at the Stage). One time, we had a relative that was having a rough go financially, and he secretly paid for their kid’s bat mitzvah. This was all quiet, behind-the-scenes stuff. He didn't do it for adulation. He did it because he believed in it. That was Jack Goldberg.
He was also a total gentleman. “Always carry a handkerchief,” he told me once. Of course, the handkerchief isn’t for you, but for your gal. That was part of his gentlemanly ethos. In Jewish tradition, there’s four things that a father is supposed to do for his son: One is to teach him a vocation, one is to teach him to swim, another is to teach him to have a wife, and the last is to teach him the ways of the Torah — essentially how to be an upstanding individual, or a mensch. I like to think that my dad did his duty well.
How do you honor your father when he’s passed? Well, I like to think that I celebrate his legacy every day by continuing his dream. By making people happy here. By doing this job the best I can, the same way he showed me and so many others. To me, the most gratifying part of this job is seeing all the young people come up in my ranks. They learn and grow. Some of them stay with me and raise families, and some go to school to become doctors and lawyers. It’s the same thing I witnessed when I saw people work for my dad. The young folks he trained took on his values of hard work and community, and grew into better versions of themselves. That’s my dad’s legacy, and I like to think that it continues to spread every day.
If you want to come by Stage for Father’s Day, we’ve got reservations open for brunch, lunch, and dinner. The weather’s going to be beautiful (fingers crossed) — a perfect afternoon to sit on our patio and nosh on some lox (and maybe even a glass of champagne). Indeed, a fine day to honor the man Jack Goldberg and this incredible delicatessen that he’s built.
I’ll be here, too, of course. In our household, we celebrate Father’s Day on Monday (the only day Stage is closed). Back when I was a kid, my dad would grill all-beef, natural-casing Vienna hot dogs in the backyard and serve other summer barbecue accompaniments like coleslaw, chili, and potato salad. Those same Vienna hot dogs are available at our deli counter as they were 60 years ago. On Monday, I’ll grill them like my dad did, and I’ll smile thinking about how he made all of this possible.
Happy Father’s Day,
Steve Goldberg