Nixon Vogelman Slawsky Simoneau Attorneys June 2018

77 Central Street, Manchester, NH 03101 • • 603.669.7070 • June 2018


W hen I was growing up, summer break usually meant the end of the school year, and the start of a busy summer. Every year, I would leave my home and my friends to help my dad,

every one of the houses. My grandfather told me that this was the first and only time he had ever thought, “That poor deaf bastard. He has no idea what he’s doing.” Simco Parking was a huge hit — within one year, it had made more money than in the decades my grandfather owned and ran the rental cottages. Simco Parking was a huge part of my life, as it was for my dad and the rest of my family. I went from helping out at the parking lot as a kid and in my early teens to being in charge of the whole lot for one or two seasons in my late teens. It even paid for my college and the condo where my mom lives now.

wasn’t a dream summer vacation, but it meant a lot to my dad.

My family had owned that piece of land for a long time, even before it became a parking lot. It was a bunch of rental cottages — a couple of blocks of them. During the Great Depression, my grandfather bought them, and for decades he owned the rental properties and hated it. He didn’t like to chase down people whose checks bounced or deal with the upkeep those cottages required. Eventually, he decided he’d had enough and wanted to sell it, and that’s where my dad came in — he wanted to buy it.

Then the day came when Dad wanted to retire and give up the property that had been in the family for decades. But he wanted to sell it for 3–4 times the price of what it was worth — it was insane! I didn’t think that there was anyone who would be willing to pay that much for the spot, but Dad knew what he was doing. Across the street, there was a guy who owned an arcade, and Dad had the great idea to send me over to him and talk him into buying the parking lot.

My grandfather gave him the price, and for the next year, my then 21-year-old dad worked hard to raise enough money to put a down payment on the cottages. Dad ended up buying it around the beginning of summer

Dad told me to tell the guy, Ray, that he should buy the parking lot for the inflated price. I should tell him he could give out coupons to go to the arcade, people could stop by before or after the beach, and he could give them free tokens. These people would end up spending more money in the arcade. So I went over there, told him about the plan and the price, and the next thing I knew, Ray shook my hand and gave me the deal. Now, fast forward 5–7 years later to my dad’s funeral. Ray showed up, went right up to me, and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss, but I’m so glad I was able to make that deal with you and your dad.” He then tells me that

” He drove an hour up there only to find that Dad and 15 of his deaf buddies, with sledgehammers and crowbars, had leveled every one of the houses.

and got to work on his plans for the land — little to my grandfather’s knowledge. At one point, he started to wonder if Norman might need some help with the cottages. He drove an hour up there only to find that Dad and 15 of his deaf buddies, with sledgehammers and crowbars, had leveled

Dad had worked out the whole deal before I even talked to Ray. He had wanted me to go make the deal and learn how to do it myself.

I’ll always remember the summers spent working on that parking lot, where my dad’s sign “Simco Parking” still hangs. It turned out that “the poor deaf bastard” was, in fact, a superb business guy.

–Kirk Simoneau 603.669. 7070 • 1

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