I met my wife, Jeanne, in 1983. She
was working as the general manager of Billy’s, a new restaurant in Akron, the
alleged prototype for a chain. I had learned about the restaurant from my good
friend, Spiro Goumas. As prototype conceptually different from most other chain
concepts, Spiro encouraged me to check it out: he felt it might be of interest
to our readers. He said Billy’s “has the best Sunday brunch ever; and if you’re
thinking about doing a story we’ll go there some Sunday so you’ll have a chance
to meet the owner, Bill Crocker, and general manager, Jeanne Lynch.”
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| Jeanne Lynch, circa 1983 |
Spiro knew Crocker, had known him
for years, believed him to be one of the best restaurant owners he had ever
met. He also knew Jeanne Lynch, the general manager and thought, because I had
recently come off a messy divorce, I’d like to meet her. Meet her, indeed. One
look and I was hooked.
A week later, she and I agreed to
attend a going-away party for a mutual friend retiring from her job as a
restaurant publicist. I picked up Jeanne at her office. There, framed and
hanging above her desk, was my editorial, “Where Have All the Women Gone?”
I took that as an omen of good things to come;
or, as Jeanne said later at a situation coincidentally similar, “Your
ticket is punched.”
We were married a year and a half
later. It wasn’t a big wedding, but I made sure we invited Spiro and his wife.
Aside from Jeanne’s terrific looks, I tell people the reason I married her was
that she spoke in complete sentences. By the way, the story about Billy’s and
his Sunday brunch? Never got written.
Great story!
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