You’ve heard of Rosie the Riveter, right? She was the World War II icon created by the U.S. government to encourage women to go to work to support the war effort. Up until then, very few women had jobs, and working women were looked down on. Most of society didn’t believe they were capable of doing men’s jobs.
They didn’t need the encouragement. With the men risking and losing their lives overseas, millions of women poured into the jobs they left behind: in factories and machine shops, as bus drivers and police officers, on tractors and forklifts. They rolled up their sleeves, and together, they kept the country running. In the process, they found out something about themselves:
They could do it.
They developed pride in their work, a sense of competence and independence. Rosie the Riveter was your grandmother, great-grandma, or great-aunt.
This is the story of one Rosie: Dorothy Frei, my mother.
Mom was a timekeeper in an airplane factory in St. Paul, Minnesota. That’s where she met my dad. When the war was over, they got married and went to work in a series of diners and restaurants. Dad was a fry cook; Mom was a waitress. But the marriage didn’t work out, and soon she was a single mom with a little girl to support.
That didn’t stop Mom from following her dreams. She was determined to make a good life for us. She saw that cooks made better money than waitresses, so she became a cook. Then she managed several employee cafeterias and a corporate executive dining room. Finally, she borrowed $20,000 in patched-together loans from family (the bank wouldn’t lend to a woman) and fulfilled her dream of owning a restaurant.
Dotty’s Diner was located in an industrial area in North Minneapolis, on a major truck route. There was a gas station next door, a machine shop on the other side, a large factory on the next block, more factories nearby, and a city bus terminal down the street. It was the perfect location, with lots of people who needed breakfast and lunch.
But it took time for them to discover that the food at this new diner was good – and cheap: a quarter for a hamburger, a dime for a cup of coffee, fifteen cents for a piece of pie.
That first morning, Mom got up at 3:30 to open the Diner for breakfast at 5 am. No one came. She had hired a waitress to help with the expected crowds, but the two of them spent hours sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and waiting for customers to walk in the door. I can still see Mom’s demoralized expression as she told me the take for the Diner’s first Sunday: fourteen cents.
So she made business decisions to bring in more customers.
Mom paid the sign painter down the street to create colorful announcements of specials on the Diner’s huge bank of windows. She bought used equipment, booths and tables, and a long bar lined with red vinyl-and-chrome barstools. She hired my aunt Helen, a talented pastry chef, to bake homemade pies and cinnamon rolls every morning. The aroma was intoxicating.
She poured every ounce of love she had into her restaurant.
And they came.
Factory workers, truck drivers, and small business owners were Mom’s new customers, and they became friends and family. There was Ole, the Swedish-immigrant factory worker who always drank his coffee black; Pete, the truck-driving husband of Rhoda, who worked as a cook at the Diner; Bob, the rakish moving-van driver who flirted with all the waitresses; and Slim, the mysteriously tan-for-Minnesota drifter who walked with a limp and impregnated the cute little waitress, Margie.
Mom loved her customers (hell, she married one), even those who couldn’t pay. Her policy was: If someone says they’re hungry but have no money, feed them. Fill up a plate with a good, solid meal. Give them a cup of coffee and a smile.
But Mom never forgot the bottom line – or her own value.
She taught the waitresses to upsell: Want fries with that? How about a scoop of ice cream on your cherry pie? If a vendor tried to take advantage of her, she found another. When people implied that the Diner’s success was a fluke, she set them straight. She hired women with difficult lives and gave them independence and paid vacations. She changed people’s lives.
In the small community of Washington Avenue N., my mother was a leader. Other business owners came to know and respect her. My parents had a good life, filled with hard work and friendship with the people who came to sit and sip coffee while shooting the breeze, as Mom flipped pancakes and burgers.
That was Mom’s dream. Through dedication, hard work and loving her customers, Rosie the Riveter had become Dotty the Diner Owner.
Is there anything more energizing and exciting than following a dream?
What’s yours? Are you ready to roll up your sleeves and do the hard work to make it come true? Tell me about it in the comments below – I can’t wait to hear about it!
Leave a Comment
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Aww this is such a touching, heartfelt piece LaVonne. Not to mention that you had me hooked right from the start… I love it, and I loved learning about Dottie’s Dinner. What a great example to follow. My father is one of my business inspirations as well, he’s owned a hair salon since I was a little girl. I think seeing him running a business taught me that I had options outside of working for someone else. 🙂
Thanks so much, Nathalie! Yes, watching our parents run their businesses really informs how we think about our options, doesn’t it? All I could see back then was how much work it was. I didn’t understand the joy until very recently.
Great story, well told :o)
Thanks, Colin! It kinda told itself, actually. I’ve been wanting to tell it for a long time. 🙂
That’s a great story. What a wonderful woman! I love “mysteriously tan-for-Minnesota,” LOL.
During my childhood, my parents were cubicle drones…Dad stayed in more or less the same job for 35 years. So I was never witness to any kind of entrepreneurship growing up.
But Mom did run a summer theater for two summers about 10 years before I was born, and when she talked about it, THAT was when she came alive. To this day, actually. She’s 91 now and still comes to life when she talks about her theater.
She was business manager, producer, director, costume and set designer and lead actress. She hired actors from New York and gave them room and board for the summer. So I guess that’s where I got the idea that I could create my own livelihood and indulge in creative risks. 🙂
Thanks Sue! I love that your mother still loves to talk about her summer theater.
The funny thing is that I didn’t appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit at ALL when I was a teenager. All I could see was the hard work. Mom wanted to pass the Diner along to me when they retired [and call it Dotty’s DAUGHTER’S Diner, lol!] and I was all, “Are you kidding?”
I loved this story. Your mom sounds like a total badass! And her diner sounds amazing.
Thanks, Michelle – she was! She’s been gone almost 30 years but I still miss her every day. The Diner was a second home to me, and the factory workers and truck drivers who were our ‘regulars’ were like uncles to me. 🙂
This was an amazing story LaVonne! (and not even a little bit because I live less than 20 miles from downtown Minneapolis). I love hearing the details of any success story, but I admit I’m a bit partial to those that feature a strong female lead. 🙂 Thank you so much for sharing.
Wow, where do you live? I haven’t been back to Minneapolis since I moved to California in ’96, but I spend a lot of time there in my dreams, lol. I miss the Diner most of all.
Yes, Mom was definitely a strong female lead. I really should write a book about her. Hmm…
LaVonne what a great story of tenacity and excellence! You must be wonderfully proud of her! Thanks for sharing your mum’s great story.
Yes, I am very proud of her. It made me so happy to write about her, I don’t know why I haven’t done more of it. Thanks for visiting and commenting!
Wonderful story Lavonne, I wish I’d known your mum. And, yes, why not write a book? It would remind us all of what we can achieve.
Ryah, you would have loved her. She was the warmest, most loving person I’ve ever known. I didn’t mention that she also took in strays – young people who were tossed away by their families. And yes, I am going to write that book.
LaVonne, when I read this I felt like I was watching a movie! What a lovely visual you’ve given us. Screenplays in your future?
Wow, thanks Marlene! I guess watching hundreds of movies paid off, lol. Actually, I tried writing a screenplay about the diner many years ago and got stuck. This post – and the reaction to it – seems to have dislodged a few mental boulders.
Hi LaVonne,
What a great story! It warmed my heart and made me feel powerful as a woman at the same time. She’s definitely a very smart business woman and ahead of her time! I love that!
Hopefully we all have dreams and can find the strength to do what it takes to achieve them, just like she did.
Oh Deb, I’m so glad to hear that! And yes, dreams are what fuel the strength to do what it takes. Thanks so much for commenting. 🙂
Great story, LaVonne, and I’m with @Marlene: it should be a movie!
So inspiring. Thanks for sharing this. What a great role model your mom is!
Hmm… I’m seeing Cameron Mannheim as Dotty and Liam Neeson (with an American accent) as my stepfather. And Lindsay Lohan as me, lol. I was an ungrateful, angst-y, hippie chick. Thought it best to leave that part out. 😉
Hi LaVonne.
My dad was born in 1900 and my mom in 1920. Between them my parents had deep roots in the service industries, janitorial, restaurant, shoe repair, to name a few. We even opened a roadside diner and I waited tables there.
Your post made me think of all those times, and my take away is to always keep exploring and trying things – course correcting as you go. Don’t quit because you’ll never know what’s around the next corner.
Linda, I love the similarities in our experience. Powerful memories, huh?
Trying to grasp how your parents, born in 1900 and 1920, aren’t your grandparents, lol.