Robert Browman

For as long as anyone can remember, you could drive down busy Bird Road in Coral Gables, FL., and see my grandfather Roy standing behind the counter of the bright, canary-yellow building which was Campus Cleaners & Laundry, the business he proudly owned for 44 years.

As Roy’s kids grew, and his kid’s kids grew, you could drive by or stop in and see them too, sweating as they pushed laundry baskets, bagged orders or kibitzed with regular customers over the counter.

It was the kind of place where long-time customers sometimes came in just to say “hi,” or to share a joke with Roy, Howard or Terry, even though they didn’t have anything to drop off or pick up. A place where customers turned into good friends, friends were life-long customers and employees stayed and worked for 20 years or more.

But no matter who walked through the door, my grandfather Roy would always be there to greet them at the counter with a sweet smile and “Hey Babe, how you doing?”

At Campus, a customer’s credit was always good until they proved otherwise because that was the kind of man my grandfather was. Honest, hard-working, generous and warm. People were always more important to him than money, even when times were very tough, as they sometimes were.

The business he ran was the kind of place where a 16 or 17 year-old kid could work side-by-side with his dad and grandad and learn the value of a hard days work, why it is important to always try to do the right thing even though it isn’t always the simplest or most lucrative path, what it means to be decent. My life has been infused with the lessons I learned there.

A few years ago, I stood beside my dad inside the remaining gutted shell of Campus Cleaners. There was no steam spewing from a boiler or presses, no clothes spinning on a conveyor, no squealing washers. Just a quiet, empty warehouse of memories…memories of overbearing heat, exhausting work and sharing it all with loved ones.

I can’t imagine the thoughts my dad must have had as he stood there in that empty building. He worked there side-by-side with my grandfather since he was a kid - he literally grew up there. They spent everyday working together for over 40 years.

My grandfather was not there to share the final task of tearing Campus Cleaners down with my dad. He passed away a few weeks prior. He hung on just long enough to know the business was sold, that his family would be taken care of, and then he died. He always said seeing “the plant” torn down would kill him, so maybe he just decided to go first.

As I stood there in the empty building, it felt strange to be in such a state of mourning over a physical place. But while we had already buried my grandfather, I could still feel him everywhere there. I could see him as I did as a 6 or 7 year-old child, standing larger-than-life with a stapler in one hand, and a laundry bag in the other, or back near the washing machines working to go home to my grandmother, his 6:30 dinner, his easy chair and his 68-degree air conditioning.

And while it’s true that for everyone that worked at Campus the best part of the day was going home, it occurred as I was standing in the shell of what my grandfather had built, that to me, that the times visiting my dad, my grandfather and my uncles there at work as a little kid, or the few years I spent working with them, were some of the best, purest memories of my life. Those memories are not only a part of me, they define me.

To this old kid, Campus Cleaners and my grandfather have always been true constants. But times change and so does life. Sometimes we just need to get in our cars and drive away with our memories of who we are, and where we came from, and the knowledge that our names are still etched on a single corner of the Coral Gables sidewalk.

As I drove away from Campus Cleaners for the final time, I thought of how many times over 44 years my grandfather had pulled away from that bright yellow building, and how if he was sitting next to me right then, he probably would have turned to me and repeated the worn out, old joke he used to say every time he spilled some food on his clothes, “Anyone know a good cleaners?”