Mondays with Mike: A neighborhood grieves

The Printers Row Wine Shop home page.

In 2002, our son Gus moved away from our home in Urbana to a group home in Wisconsin and Beth and I became empty nesters. In 2003 the weekly paper I edited folded and I was out of a job. That spring, Beth’s book, “Long Time No See,”  would be published. I got a gig up north and Beth thought it’d be easier to promote her book if we lived in Chicago.

We both grew up in the suburbs but had never lived IN the city. And so, we ended up in the Printers Row neighborhood that we’ve grown to love. We were drawn to its central location—multiple expressways, bus lines and L stops converge here. And back then, before Uber and Lyft, you could count on catching a cab within a minute or two.

More than that, the place felt like Bedford Falls nestled in a bustling metropolis. It still lives like a small town. Plus, we’ve always been drawn to places where Beth and her Seeing Eye dog could function and get stuff done independently. And Printers Row fit the bill. A bank was just down the street. Even nearer there was Sandmeyer’s Book Store, Kasey’s Tavern, and a little old-fashioned pharmacy/convenience store. I mean, that’s life right there.

Flavio, the proprietor of the pharmacy, was a keen entrepreneur, and he decided to transform the pharmacy into a wine shop/liquor store. (He came by his entrepreneurial spirit honestly.) We were concerned at first about losing a business we liked, but we weren’t hurting for drug stores, as CVS and Walgreens stores had popped up everywhere.

We needn’t have been worried. Flavio divided the space, leased out half, and turned the other half into a warm, intimate, friendly space. He stocked wines at multiple price points and he had a knack for finding delicious bottles at very approachable prices. And if you needed a recommendation, you need only tell him the occasion and the menu and you’d walk out with a winner.

On Friday evenings Printers Row Wine Shop hosted wine tastings. They became a regular destination for lots of folks in the neighborhood. That popularity sparked Flavio to convert the tasting bar into a bar-bar, and hence a business within a business was born.

It’s still a retail store. While people sit and sip and converse in an extremely civilized environment—wood floors, tin ceiling, and conversation-level background music—others stroll in and out, picking up a bottle of wine for a dinner party, or beer for the weekend.

Beth and I thank our lucky stars for the people and places that make Printers Row Printers Row. Ellen Sandmeyer and her late and one-of-a-kind husband Ulrich. Totto’s Market. Sofi restaurant and Senoritas Cantina in our building. The folks at Kasey’s Tavern. Jazz Showcase. Half Sour. And Flavio and the great staff at Printers Row Wine.

These places are businesses, yes. But because of the care and attention of their proprietors, and their care and attention to their customers, these businesses become characters in the lives of we who live in Printers Row.

The neighborhood lost Ulrich Sandmeyer a few years back. And, I’m heartbroken to report that we lost Flavio last week. Suddenly, unexpectedly, and given that he was an extremely vital 51, entirely too soon.

He leaves behind his wife and two daughters, the oldest of whom just started high school. A large, tight-knit family and a plethora of good friends—many of whom we met at the shop—are coming together to support Flavio’s family and each other.

Still, our hearts ache for them.

And, of course, we’ll miss him. He reminded me of my grandfather on my mother’s side. Paolo Latini immigrated from Italy and worked in the coal mines of southwestern Pennsylvania. By the time I knew him he was retired, had black lung, and wore straw hats with green visors and sprayed pesticide on his perfect garden just like Marlon Brando did in The Godfather.

He kinda scared me when I was little. And then I got to know him and realized that inside his gruff self was a heart of marshmallow.

I was fortunate enough to see Flavio with his family and to hear him talk about his daughters to know that the perfectionist shopkeeper had my grandfather’s soft and giving heart.

It’s hard for we and our Printers Row neighbors to fathom this loss—there’s been too much loss this year.

When Ulrich Sandmeyer passed away, the neighborhood mourned the loss of a friend and, selfishly, worried that the beloved book store that has anchored the neighborhood for decades would be no more.

We needn’t have fretted. The tiny but mighty Ellen Sandmeyer has it going strong.

The staff at Printers Row Wine is devastated. And committed to maintaining the neighborhood spot just as Flavio would have.  His heart beats there and his blood runs through that place.

And the neighborhood is the better for it. Godspeed, Flavio.