in common, but they became pals—bow hunting was among their favorite pastimes—and they frequently brought their families together for picnics and parties.
The family friendship was briefly interrupted in 1964. Empire Devices moved again, this time to Bridgeport, Connecticut, and once again we followed dad’s job. Much to our delight, Pete called several months later to say that he was switching jobs and moving his family to Armonk, New York, about forty miles from Bridgeport. One Sunday in July 1965, after nearly a year’s separation, we were invited to visit the Bucks’ new home and enjoy a family barbecue. That was the day Pete and I formed a business relationship that would eventually make a huge impact in the fast food industry.
I had just graduated from high school and my only real concern was to figure out how to pay my way through college. While I was growing up, my mother instilled in me the value of an education. She not only told me how important it was to go to school, she also gave me the confidence to believe that I could graduate from high school, and college, too. But in the summer of 1965 there wasn’t much hope that I could get through college because my family simply didn’t have the money. I worked at a local hardware store as a stock clerk earning $1.25, the minimum hourly wage. It was a good job for a kid, but it wasn’t going to provide the money I needed for a college education.
The more I thought about college, the more I wondered about how I could find the money. As we pulled into Pete’s driveway it occurred to me that I might ask Pete for some advice. The Bucks lived in a large white house built on three quarters of an acre, which to me seemed like a sprawling property. I was really impressed when I saw the two-car garage with two cars parked inside! Pete must have landed himself a great job, one that paid a lot of money, I thought to myself.
It was late afternoon when I saw the opportunity to talk privately with Pete in his backyard. His young children were playing in another part of the yard with my sister. My parents and Pete’s wife were sitting at the picnic table not far from the house, still catching up with each other’s lives. As Pete and I stood in the middle of his green lawn I said, “Pete, I want to go to college, to the University of Bridgeport, but I don’t have the money. And I was wondering if you had any ideas about how I might get the money to pay my way through school?”
When I asked that question I had a secret hope that Pete might offer to loan me the money and tell me to pay him back after I graduated. After all, he had known me for half my life and he liked me. Pete used to get a kick out of the way I thought through problems. He’d challenge me with mathematical games and I amused him by spitting out the answers in rapid fire. Pete knew that I was a hard worker, and while I wasn’t a straight-A student, I was competent and dependable. Once he heard how badly I wanted to go to college, and that I wanted to be a medical doctor, I thought there was a good chance he might help me financially.
But Pete looked at me, and without hesitation he said, “I think you should open a submarine sandwich shop.”
What?
Of all the possible answers, this was not one I expected. What an odd thing to say to a seventeen-year-old kid, especially one who came from a modest home where no one had ever owned a business. Sure, I had my own paper route and I participated in Junior Achievement where I learned a little about business, but I was just a kid! I didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, my natural curiosity took over, and before I could say yes or no, I heard myself asking Pete: How does it work?
Pete explained the submarine sandwich business very simply. He said that all I had to do was rent a small store, build a counter, buy some food, and open for business. Customers would then come into the restaurant, put money on the counter, and I would have all the money I needed for college. To Pete, it was just as simple as that, although Pete had never owned a business nor run a sandwich shop himself.
Thinking now about our conversation it’s almost unbelievable. We were just two guys at a Sunday afternoon barbecue, speculating, really, about something we knew little to nothing about. Under similar circumstances I can imagine a teenager thinking Pete’s idea was impractical, or impossible. Or another teenager might easily have shrugged him off and quipped, “Good idea, Pete, but not the idea I was looking for.”
The more Pete talked about the sandwich shop the more I could see myself opening such a shop. Pete recognized my enthusiasm and eventually said, “Fred, you sound like you’re interested in this idea. If you want to do it I’m willing to be your partner.”
Pete’s offer caught me by surprise, but it didn’t take me long to figure out it was a great opportunity for a kid from “The Projects.” Of course I was interested! Besides, I didn’t have any other ideas, or any better offers to choose from, so I said, “Sure.”
Next thing I knew Pete walked into his house and returned with a clipping from an upstate New York newspaper. It was that clipping, I would soon understand, that got him thinking about the sandwich business. We moved from the yard to the picnic table to include the other adults in our conversation. We all listened as Pete read an article that a year or so earlier featured Mike’s Submarine Sandwiches, a familiar name to all of us because when we lived upstate we had frequently enjoyed Mike’s sandwiches. The story explained how a hardworking entrepreneur named Michael Davis opened thirty-two restaurants, mostly submarine shops and a few roast beef sandwich restaurants, in ten years. He started with almost nothing and created a mini-empire in upstate New York. The reporter related some of Mike’s struggles as well as his many triumphs as king of submarine sandwiches in his part of the world. When Pete finished reading the article he looked up at us and wondered: “If Michael Davis can do this, why can’t we?”
I now know that the question didn’t come out by accident. Pete wanted to set a long-term goal beyond the opening of one store. When no one could think of a reason why we couldn’t perform as well as Michael Davis, we began discussing what we could accomplish. That’s how we set a goal to build thirty-two submarine sandwich shops in ten years!
The importance of that goal didn’t immediately register with me. I was still thinking about how to open the first store. I just wanted to get through college. I didn’t really plan to make a career of the sandwich business. But nonetheless, we set our long-range goal, and eventually the significance of those numbers would become meaningful.
During that night we also spent several hours discussing our menu. We thought Mike’s menu was a good one. It consisted of seven foot-long, cold sandwiches, and we decided to offer a similar menu. However, Pete then told us about Amato’s, his favorite sub shop in his hometown of Portland, Maine. Pete thought Amato’s sandwiches had a better taste profile than Mike’s. At Mike’s, they only put onion, lettuce, and tomato on their sandwiches, along with meat and cheese, but Amato’s included pickles, peppers, and black olives, without the lettuce. We talked about visiting Amato’s in the near future.
Amazingly, we even established the prices for our sandwiches! Like Mike’s, our prices ranged from 54 cents to 69 cents. It just never occurred to us that it didn’t make sense to set these prices before we knew a thing about our food and operating costs.
As we were getting ready to leave the Bucks’ home that evening, Pete asked us to wait for a second. He then pulled out his checkbook and he wrote a check for $1,000. That was his investment in our new venture.
On the drive back to Connecticut with my family, little did I know that if I succeeded at opening a submarine sandwich shop I would accomplish more than funding my college education. Success would mean financial independence and everything that comes with it, not just for me, but for many other people around the world. Success would mean adventure and excitement on a nonstop roller coaster that would eventually be called Subway. But on this particular ride home, I wasn’t looking very far into the future. I was thinking about the next morning when I would set out
