The Owner's Box, Ep. 58.

AI recreates my first meeting with delivery magnate Cristoforo Cringlione.

Fifty years ago, I met a businessman in a very unusual way, and the result was a life-long friendship and decades of column material for my job at The Sun Chronicle.

The gent was a portly and ruddy-faced, but impeccably dressed, Sicilian man in his late 40s. He was driving from Toronto to Chicago in his spectacularly appointed gold 1974 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, trying his best to brave bad weather and slippery roads to make it to the Windy City in time for a meeting with the hierarchy of the Teamsters. The result of this very important meeting would determine whether his fledgling overnight delivery service would take the next step up to national and international prominence, or forever be consigned to small-route insignificance. 

He was weary from the long drive and his mounting business pressures, took the wrong exit and became disoriented in the heavy snowfall, and returned to the highway driving back the way he came. Realizing his error and succumbing to his fatigue, he made a last-second decision to turn into a rest area just outside of Ann Arbor, Mich., where he could get a cup of coffee, re-orient himself and maybe even just rest for a few minutes. But he entered the exit too fast for the road conditions, and skidded the huge Cadillac into a snowbank.

Only a few feet away was a 1968 Plymouth Fury with its occupant inside, also weary from getting a late start on his final drive back to Massachusetts from college in Chicago. He was dressed in the warmest of winter ski suits so he could keep from freezing to death while gaining a little shut-eye, but sleep did not come easily thanks to the 10-degree weather. He was easily snapped back into consciousness by the sound of the huge Cadillac barreling into the nearby snowbank. 

That was me. 

I surveyed the situation quickly and leaped out of my car, intend upon helping the Caddy's occupant. Almost as quickly, the businessman exited from his driver's side door and unleashed a torrent of Sicilian-dialect expletives that I did not understand.

"Hey, mister," I yelled. "Are you OK? Are you hurt?"

The man turned to me and shouted back in a thick New Jersey/New York accent, "Whadda you looking at, pal? Mind youse own business."

A more recent snapshot of Kringle.

It was the first time Cristoforo Cringlione and I spoke to each other. And while it didn't seem very promising at first, I managed to convince him that I only wanted to help and make sure he wasn't injured. He settled down quickly enough and I suggested that I might be able to help him get his car out of the snow, given that the pile was relatively soft from fresh plowing and that the Caddy did not appear to be damaged. After all, I was a strapping lad of 21 at the time and I believed all things were possible.

Well, they were. He got back behind the wheel and I dug in my boots behind the trunk of his land yacht, and I pushed and pushed and he spun his wheels a lot before the golden behemoth finally edged forward and emerged from its temporary trap. The artificial-intelligence generated photo at the top of this column depicts our first meeting surprisingly accurately from my recollections -- the second-best thing to having had an actual camera to record the moment.

Cold and exhausted, we agreed to meet inside the adjacent Howard Johnson's for warmth and coffee (although I really didn't like coffee at the time). It was then that I learned of Cringlione's rich history as am immigrant from Sicily at the age of 8, whose dogged determination to succeed in his adopted land led him to this pivotal moment in his life.

He offered to pay me handsomely for my efforts to free his car, but I refused. At the time, I thought this man was going to need every dollar he had to achieve his dream. Also, having seen "The Godfather" a few years earlier and noting the similarities in the stories of Don Corleone and my new friend, I simply said, "Someday I may call upon you, and that day may never come, to perform a service for me."

Cringlione chuckled and handed me his business card. "Call my girl when that day comes," he said. And them he was gone, heading in his Cadillac for the fateful meeting that would forever change the landscape of the international overnight delivery service.

A few years later, relatively new in my job at The Sun Chronicle, I called Cringlione's girl to ask my favor. Cringlione called back from his company's headquarters in Point Barrow, Alaska.

"Don Cringlione," I said, "I need your help. You have become synonymous with the Christmas spirit. They even call you 'Kris Kringle' now. But I have trouble getting into that spirit, and the newspaper expects me to write a holiday column every year. I just can't do it. Can you help as a means of repaying your debt to me?"

It took only an instant for Cringlione to agree to send me a holiday missive every year, for as long as I needed it, as long as he could offer his unfiltered perspective. I agreed, and for nearly 35 years after that, the "Kris Kringle column" became a staple of The Sun Chronicle's sports section at Christmastime.

Although I am no longer at the newspaper, I have maintained my friendship with Kringle, who is still active in the operation of the most successful holiday-time overnight delivery service on the planet. And for the first time since 2019, I managed to convince him to join me for an hour's worth of conversation on my podcast. His first appearance was in Episode 7, and now, he returns for Episode 58.

I hope you will enjoy it. Cringlione was animated and energetic for a man pushing 100, and he even sounds much younger and vital than he did in his last visit. Clink on the link below to hear a true American icon sharing his wisdom and experience. As he often said, "Ho ho yourself. I'm a businessman." And one hell of a friend as well.

The Owner’s Box, Ep. 57.

Marcus Vaughn, Del Malloy and some old man prepare to announce a high school title game.

Sometimes, there’s nothing better after a big dinner than to sit down at the mixing board and create an audio podcast.

That’s exactly when I did last night, as Episode 57 of The Owner’s Box was borne from the sedentary satisfaction of having stuffed myself with prime rib at my favorite beef restaurant in Mendon.

That followed a day at a basketball jamboree in Medfield that involved many of my area’s girls’ basketball  teams, so it was a good opportunity to get my “unofficial co-host,” Foxboro coach Lisa Downs, to spend a few minutes chatting about her team as it prepares to defend its two straight state championships. I also talk about the recently concluded high school football season, in which four of the teams from my region competed in the state Super Bowls. The North TV crew, pictured above, was there to announce King Philip’s game against Catholic Memorial, just as we were present all season long.

And finally — but for the first time on the audio podcast — I offered my thoughts about the results of the presidential election in November. I promise, it will be the last time.

It’s all for you in Episode 57 of the best little podcast in all the land. Enjoy.