Pawn Broker: one who lends money in exchange for personal property that can be sold if the loan is not repaid by a certain time.

As we journey through life, they say history sometimes repeats itself. Do we lean into what’s familiar or known? Either way, consider carefully what you know and what makes your heart sing. It may repeat itself in your life or the lives of your children. With that in mind, let me embark on a little journey through the past.

Today is Father’s Day, and this story starts with my Dad. One of his first professional jobs was on the police force in Aberdeen, Maryland. During his time as a police officer, he met a Jewish pawnbroker named Ellis Friedlander, who owned a pawn shop next door to the police station. My Dad, frequently browsing for deals, became very close to Mr. Ellis and his wife, Lucille. This was in the early 1970s. I don’t know much about their relationship, but my story picks up when my parents would take us for our annual dental appointment to see Dr. Hart in Aberdeen every Columbus Day. While one of us was in the chair, the others would either read books in the waiting room (my favorites were “Danny & the Dinosaur” and “Where the Wild Things Are”) or walk over to the pawnshop to see the Friedlander’s and all the peculiar things that were for sale. I must have been around seven years old, so this was in the early 1980s.

Notably, from my Dad’s friendship with the Friedlander’s, he was given an old Omega Speedmaster Professional stainless steel wristwatch, aka the “Moonwatch.”

a photo I took of the Omega moon watch from The Smithsonian in Washington DC

Fast forward another decade to the early 1990s. My Dad had befriended another Jewish pawnbroker, Eugene (Gene) Petasky, the owner of Metro Brokers, a jewelry store and pawn shop in downtown Baltimore, at the corner of Baltimore and Eutaw Street. The story goes that my father, having developed an affinity for pawn shop finds, spoke to Gene about another watch. This time, it was the classic Rolex Submariner in stainless steel with a date function and sapphire crystal. Through the watch search and my father working many cases alongside the Secret Service in the courthouse building, he would walk to the famous Lexington Market and stop to see Gene and the boys at Metro. Eventually, Gene found the coveted Submariner, and my Dad put it on layaway. More visits to Metro kindled friendships.

One day, my journey entwined with my Dad’s new friends when I had an appointment with Dr. Blanchard, a well-known doctor in Baltimore, to see about removing a large mole on my right lower cheek. After the visit, the doctor said it gave me character and saw no reason to remove it. Since Metro was around the corner, I was off to my first visit. We were welcomed in, and I heard a loud buzz that engaged a side door, giving access behind the counter—a sound I would soon hear hundreds of times going forward. You see, this day, as I was introduced to the Metro gang, I was offered a job! This would start my education about the art of a deal, friendships, goal setting, a crazy sense of humor, singing on the way to work, and being one of the only gentiles in the shop. The Jewish culture and customs became part of my new experiences.

Honestly, this post could be and might lead to many sub-blogs, so I will try to stay on point.

Over the next four to five years, I started working every chance I could. First, it began with just Saturdays since my Dad had to take me since I was about 15 years of age. I think this was Gene’s plan—to try to have my Dad around more often. During the summer, I would get dropped off at Gene’s house and ride to work in his fancy Cadillac. I say fancy because I grew up in a little two-traffic-light town called Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania. At this point, my parents were both government employees making ends meet and driving clunkers (my Dad had a Datsun 210 station wagon, green with panel wood-look siding and bit of rust). So my drives into work became an adventure in themselves.

Gene would be dressed to the nines with fancy dress slacks, crisp pressed shirts, wild Nicole Miller ties, and he would play his favorite albums on CD. By the end of the first summer, I would know every word of the entire albums of Harry Connick’s “We Are in Love” and James Taylor’s “New Moon Shine.” The rides to and from with Gene as my chauffeur were monumental and a huge influence. One thing I didn’t pick up on was two-foot driving. Gene would drive with one foot for gas and one for brake. I didn’t adopt this style because my first car was a standard (stick shift) and I am glad I didn’t lol.

Working at the pawn shop taught me very valuable lessons as a young man. This pawn shop wasn’t like many others. Of course, I didn’t know that back then, but later in life, I realized not all pawn shops are the same. Metro was very bougie or high-end. Gene and the boys didn’t buy or loan money on junk. They dealt with quality items. As I started to work, my education began. I would help organize pawned items, renew pawn tickets, clean and spray down the fingerprints on the jewelry glass showcase cases, take out the trash, run to the market for lunch and lottery tickets for Joey, and in between tasks, I would take in whatever I could. Each of the boys and folks who worked in the shop had a specialty or responsibility that added to the successful operation of Metro.

The Metro gang included Mitch and Greg Stevens, the brothers. Mitch was Gene’s right-hand man or second in command. Greg, the youngest at the time, would try to be patient while teaching me the ropes. Then there was Craig Schwartz, the guitar man, who handled custom and high-end musical instruments. I learned the names of Fender, Gibson, DeAugusto, D’Angelo, Selmer, and more. Then there was Marty Cushner, a jack of all trades he had a keen eye for diamonds and high-end stereo equipment. You had the old guys, Uncle Joey and Gene’s Dad, Mr. Petasky, who didn’t do much work but had paid their dues and added character to the surroundings. I loved leaning in to hear their stories. Then there was Myra, Joey’s wife, who handled the money and paperwork. In the back was Jeffrey Rendalman, the jeweler, who fixed, repaired, and custom-made jewelry. Victor Moore was the security guard a second job as he was a bail bondsman from 11pm-7am. For such a small shop, the dynamics were forever changing due to the unique and diversified personalities of the employees and customers. I learned this quickly.

Many of these guys became my very good friends over the next four years. During those years, new folks would pop by, and new relationships were made.

Rona Perman was monumental in my life. Honorable mentions go to Mr. Pat, Willie Waitley, Dr. Ray, Smulkee the Diamond Dealer, and Mr. Sheldon. These relationships molded and shaped my life for the richest, most abundantly awesome experiences. Even in a short time, you never know how much influence one might have if you just take some time to pour into someone else, and these folks poured into me. They did so by teaching me, sharing endless stories with me, laughing at the silliest of things or sayings or cut outs from the newspaper you name it, it probably was shared or talked about. It was an education of a life time !!

As I started to learn how the pawnbroker business worked, I observed that “cash was king.” If you had cash and someone was in need, that cash could acquire goods at a great price and then be turned for a profit. I caught the bug to start dressing nicely like the guys—nice clothes and crazy neckties. Of course, everyone had Rolex watches and Montblanc pens. As they say, monkey see, monkey do. I wanted to be just like the guys.

I saved my $35-a-day salary and bought my first Submariner Rolex at 15 for $1,350. As I earned, I set many goals and purchased guitars, stereos, a topaz pinky ring, diamonds, and more. I was in my element, and life was good.

Gene was good for my Dad in many ways. He pushed him to enjoy some of the finer things—good food (bagels and lox, Edmart’s Deli days, fight nights at his house catered, etc.). But things truly changed when Gene convinced my Dad to buy Craig’s old 3-series BMW when the Datsun broke down on 695. That small push created something my Dad and I enjoyed together for the next several decades: nice cars. From BMWs to Mercedes to Toyota Supras and Lexus, we had what my Dad would call the “illusions and delusions of life.”

These are the things that seem important at the time but might just be illusions. I am grateful because these things help build interest in life’s pursuits, develop relationships, and help shape and grow both my father and me. Hopefully, I will do the same with my son. The opportunities I was afforded made me a rich man, not just in material things but in experiences.

As I reflect on these memories, it’s clear how history and legacy intertwine, echoing through generations. The friendships my father formed with pawnbrokers, the lessons he learned, and the passions he developed all have had a profound impact on my life. It’s a testament to how the influences of one generation can shape the next, creating a legacy that continues forward. Hopefully to the next generation…..

*Home video probably in late 1990’s at Metro

*While looking through old photos, I came across this postcard that Mr. Ellis Friedlander used to send out for many people’s birthdays. I started receiving them at some point, and this one was from my 10th birthday. I’m not sure of the story behind why he sent them, but it certainly made me remember him, which is why I kept it.