Jesse

What’s the last thing you learned?

My first glimpse of Jesse made me think hoo boy.

Angela didn’t have a chance.

During IBM’s PC manufacturing heyday at our plant in Boca Raton, FL, we employed three shifts and over 10,000 employees. I was the site environmental engineer and asked to develop a recycling program for all the paper, cardboard and beverage container waste we produced.

I had reached the part in the project where I needed to find a vendor who would buy our materials. After making some phone calls, I located a guy in New York who sounded interested. 

He had an Italian accent and during our 10-minute conversation, the power dynamic subtly changed. He somehow took command of the call and by the time I suggested a meeting at IBM, I had been relegated to the role of underling. I was in my early 30s, but suddenly I felt like the kid brother again.

We agreed to meet in the lobby of the Procurement building, where we would include our buyer, Angela Belluci. Corporate was very fussy about making sure all meetings with vendors involving money included IBM Purchasing Reps to prevent any shenanigans.

I’d briefed Angela about Giacinto “Jesse” Salvucci the day before our meeting. “I dunno, Angela,” I said as we ate lunch in the cafeteria. “This guy is smooth. And these waste recycling people aren’t exactly boys scouts.”

Angela speared a tomato. “Don’t you worry about me,” she said firmly. “I’ve dealt with a lot of vendors.” She pointed the tomato at me for emphasis.. “You let me handle him.”

My colleague Ken Palumbo and I sat the Procurement lobby the next morning waiting for Jesse. As 8:59, the door opened and a lady appeared. She turned to someone behind her who was obviously holding the door for her. 

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice sounded a little strange and when she turned around, her face was flushed. Another figure came in behind her and we had our first glimpse of Jesse.

He was in mid-50s, tanned, with an expensive tailored linen suit. He had expertly coiffed gray hair and movie-star good looks. He strode over and instantly took charge. 

“Darryl…Ken,” he said as he shook our hands. “It’s nice to meet you both.” I noticed several rings and an expensive watch. He tugged at his suit sleeves before we settled into our chairs to wait for Angela.

He asked Ken if he spoke any Italian and for the next minute or two, I felt like an extra in The Godfather as Ken and Jesse conversed in Italian with lots of hand gestures and quiet laughter.

At 9:06 the door behind Jesse opened and Angela appeared. She carried her leather binder and was taking a last look at some paperwork. She looked very determined and business-like.

Jesse stood up and turned. Angela looked up and did a double take.

She was single and in her mid 30s. Jesse took her hand in his. “Angela. Darling.” He pronounced it dahling. He kissed the back of her hand before releasing it and giving her a smile. “I’m so glad to meet you. I am Jesse.”

Angela’s facade crumbled and she stared at Jesse like a school girl. “Hi,” she managed. I thought she was going to giggle. “Shall we…uh…” she gestured toward the door she has come through.

“…meet?” Jesse finished. “Of course, my darling, lead the way.” Ken followed Jesse and I brought up the rear as we walked to the conference room.

For the next two hours, Jesse held court as he described the services he had done at other IBM plants. He dropped the names of some environmental guys in Corporate. He stopped short of being a braggadocio; but his mixture of self-effacing humor, knowledge, and anecdotes, all delivered with an Italian accent with a few Italian words dropped in here and there made him irresistible. I wished I had half his coolness. 

Angela stayed strangely silent and when asked a question now and then, she got flustered and pretended to consult her notes. Ken and I looked at each other with a little grin. 

At around 10:45, we wrapped it up. As we stood, Ken said “So, what’s the next step? Do we—“

“Ken,” Jesse said almost sorrowfully. “First thing we must do is to go to lunch. Like gentlemen. And ladies.” He looked at Angela and she tried unsuccessfully to put her IBM buyer mask.

Jesse had flown down from New York and went to get his rental car. As Ken, Angela and I stood on the curb, she spoke. “OK you guys, now don’t order anything expensive. And watch how you much you drink. And if he starts talking money, let me handle it.” No problem. This ought to be interesting.

Jesse pulled up in what must have been the biggest, most luxurious car Hertz offered. He opened the door for Angela and before we could say anything, he spoke. “We’ll go see my friend Mario. He has a nice little place.” In the back seat, Ken and I looked at each other.

Angela gave little sideways glances at Jesse as he maintained an animated conversation with her. His way of disarming people was remarkable and by the time we turned into the parking lot, Angela was completely under his spell. 

Jesse pulled up to one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Boca Raton and handed the keys to a valet. Mario appeared and he and Jesse shook hands like they were long-lost brothers. They spoke in Italian for a few moments before Jesse introduced us.

“Ciao, my friends,” Mario said. “I’ve got something special for you. Come, please.”

It was beginning to fill up with the lunch crowd, but Mario pushed open a door and we followed him down the stairs to a large room where a table was waiting. We were surrounded by racks of wine, oil paintings and soft lighting. Two waiters stood by, hands behind their back.

The rest of the lunch was a blur. There were no menus, nobody actually ordered anything; we were in Jesse and Mario’s hands. Throughout the lunch, they spoke in Italian. Jesse paused, thought, reached decisions and Mario went up and came down the stairs, personally speaking to the chef. He snapped his fingers at the waiters and gave instructions.

As course after course appeared and the wine flowed, time stood still. Another waiter was added and the popping sound of corks sped up. My glass was never empty. Mario was solicitous and asked after each course if we were satisfied. He beamed when we nodded.

I finally sat back, stuffed and feeling decidedly mellow. I glanced at my watch. 3:30. What? 

No check was ever presented and Mario and the staff sent us off with thumps on the back, handshakes and kisses. Angela in particular received attention from Mario as they said their goodbyes in Italian. As we drove off, I saw white napkins being waved.

Jesse and Angela spoke very vaguely about prices and contracts; no need to ruin a fine lunch with such gauche topics. Jesse said he’d call Angela next week. He walked us back to the lobby, shook Ken and my hands and gave Angela a kiss on each cheek. 

Our recycling program was a success and I noticed according to the national pricing guide that we were getting about 10% over our region’s average spot price. Angela must have done some fast talking.

During the cold winter months in New York, Jesse evidently became concerned about his Boca clients and visited us frequently. No lunches ever compared to that first one at Arturo’s, but two-hour lunches at places right on the Intracoastal waterway weren’t too shabby. 

After about a year, Angela was promoted and a new buyer, Rick, was assigned. Jesse and Rick discussed business after 18 holes over drinks in the lounge of Jesse’s country club as the folks back home shoveled their driveways.

Ken and I stayed friends over the years. We spoke a few days ago and were laughing about Jesse. We wondered what ever happened to him.

Today I finally tracked him down. I learned that he had passed away at 75 in Naples, FL. In addition to reading that he was born in Italy and emigrated to the States at 22, his obituary included this: 

An avid golfer, he was a member of Black Hall Club in Old Lyme and Forest Glen in Naples. Jesse will always be remembered for his passion for fine wine, cooking, family, and friends.

I smiled to myself. And the smoothest operator you’d ever wanna meet.

Hope they have an Arturo’s in heaven 😎

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