Leo Carroll and his partner Helen attended a birthday party on Monday at S&S Restaurant in Inman Square, Cambridge. (Photo: Suzanne Beck)
It's safe to say that when it comes to some of Inman Square's earliest memories, none compare to Leo Carroll's. S&S Deli had only opened five years earlier, on June 22, 1924, when Carroll's mother gave birth to his third and youngest son in the family's apartment that is now the deli's overflow lot. Most everything else in the area remains intact.
On Monday, the restaurant was where Carroll celebrated his 100th birthday, and he had been planning for weeks to toast the assembled family and close friends with a “God bless you all.” [my kids] And my two grandchildren and my beloved [partner] Helen, 35. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.”
The centenarian brought his memories to Cambridge City Hall last month, where he and his eponymous jewellery store were recognised as part of the Cambridge Legacy Business Awards programme, with a total of 18 small businesses recognised for being in business for more than 25 years.
Leo Carroll Jewelers is one of the oldest stores in this year's class and has been a locally-focused business since its inception, reflecting the many relationships its owners have built over the years they've spent in the Inman Square neighborhood. Tucked away on the second floor of 1348 Cambridge St., Leo Carroll Jewelers opened in 1948 after its namesake owner returned from serving in the Marines during World War II.
Carol's 100th birthday cake was unveiled at S&S Restaurant on Monday. (Photo: Suzanne Beck)
Asked recently to reminisce, Carroll began by talking about his childhood home on the square. “Times were tough back then. Rent was $7 a month, so you can imagine what it was like. The house didn't have a bathroom, just a toilet down the hall. But we didn't care. We grew up not knowing.” By the time he was seven, his mother, now a widow, moved the family across the street. “It was a nicer place, with a bath,” Carroll said.
“I remember [Ma Edelstein, S&S founder] “They had a little deli across the street from where we are now,” Carroll says. “I remember going there as a kid.” Years later, he frequented the expanded store across the street, a local hangout spot. In his late teens, Carroll began meeting dates there, always well-dressed and, according to his son, Sean, always late.
“I joined the military [in 1940] “At 18,” he said, “my brothers were already in the military. Nobody I knew was drafted at the time. We volunteered. It was a great time,” he sighed. Carroll remembered the honor that came with military service. “You put on your uniform, and if you were on the street looking for a ride, you just got off the sidewalk and someone would stop and give you a ride. That's how we traveled.”
A young Leo Carroll during World War II. (Photo: Carroll family)
The hardest combat he saw was the Battle of Okinawa: “I spent my 21st birthday in the trenches,” he says almost casually, declining to say more than that. “It was pretty brutal.”
“During the battle, there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of ships – more than Normandy. There were ships as far as the eye could see. And the Japanese pilots were jumping on ships, you know, suicide missions,” Carol said, recalling how she didn't realize her brother Phil had been on a ship. But after the dark moment, a bright one came. “One day, all of a sudden, [Phil] “He borrowed a jeep from the ship and drove across the island to ask where my buddy was,” Carol says, a note of surprise still in her voice. “We talked all night, and then he went back to the ship.”
After being discharged in 1946, Carroll returned home to Cambridge to live with his mother and think about a career. By a process of elimination, he chose to attend a trade school, paid for by the GI Bill, with the aim of becoming “the only watchmaker around” as watches were in short supply at the time and needed to be repaired to survive.
“The 1950s to 1970s were good times,” Carroll said today. “Make no mistake: real estate was cheap.” And he still knew most of the people in his neighborhood. “I knew everyone on the street, the grandmas, the grandpas, everybody's names. You don't see that anymore,” he said. “Yeah, it was a very, very close neighborhood.”
Carol visited S&S and spoke with the owner about how she could apply her new skills to the business. “I loved Bill Wheeler. He was so helpful when I first started. He was really, really supportive. We would sit at the bar and talk, and he encouraged me a lot.” Little did Carol know that just a few months later, she'd be opening up one floor above the legendary deli. When Carol went scouting locations for her storefront, her local connections paid off.
His first place was an office-like space that he got cheaply thanks to the generosity of local property owner John Lynch. “I had $200 that I borrowed from a friend,” Carroll says. “Or friends lent me money, but I didn't ask. Lynch asked me where my bank account was, and I had to tell him I didn't have a bank account. I had no money.” Other neighbors were just as supportive. “I had a lot of friends who were carpenters and different trades, and they came and helped me. It's unbelievable. You don't see this now. I never asked them for help, but they knew what I did, and they came and did the electrical work. I couldn't pay them. They didn't take a cent. God love them. They were all great people.” His cousins also helped out behind the newly built counter, but they were also unpaid. “After a while, we started to make a profit, so we paid them. But it was amazing how much help we got to get started. I was lucky,” he says gleefully.
His work changed with the trends of the local economy, from watch repair to a small appliance store (when Reckmere was an appliance wholesaler) and finally to a jewelry store, thanks to his uncle who knew a diamond broker. Carroll's competitive edge has remained the same: fair prices and very personalized, high-quality service. As an appliance and luggage dealer, he says, “I hired all the police officers and firefighters that came in, and they were great. They got a little extra discount. Sometimes it was just a few dollars, but it kept us going.”
Leo Carroll Jewellers, pictured in February 2020, is primarily run by Leo Carroll's son Sean and his wife Eileen. (Photo: East Cambridge Business Association via social media)
Though Carroll retired from behind the counter many years ago and was taken over by his youngest son, Sean, and his wife, Eileen, Leo Carroll Jewelers remains a loyal fanbase among city officials, longtime Cambridge residents, and a variety of others who are charmed by Yelp reviews that say things like, “Awesome!”, “Very friendly and reasonably priced. A hidden gem,” and “I'll never go anywhere else.”
Carroll is proud of that reputation. “I think we've always been honest,” he says. “And we've always been fair.” Any comments to the contrary, like a recent Yelp complaint about repair work, bothers him. Carroll says the store was busy and there was a misunderstanding. The store offered to fix it, but “the employee misunderstood and gave me a bad review,” he groans, a memory that still shakes him up.
76 years in business. 100 years in business. And yet Carroll insists there's no secret to his success. “I've always just had a good time,” he says. “I've always made time to have fun.”
