Tom Junod

was a person I could not be in the same room with, especially when I was like five, six, seven years old, you know, without crying.

I mean, there was definitely a time when I was so given to tears that my father at dinnertime would sort of make it a game.

Tommy?

Why aren't you finishing that steak?

And I would, you know, my lip would start quivering and I would cry.

And I think it was just there was a power imbalance that was really just tough to deal with.

He was a handbag salesman.

Square that.

Well, so he didn't make it as a singer.

And he hadn't gone to school past eighth grade.

And he had really nothing but his looks and his charm.

And one of his army buddies said,

had gotten a job in the leather business as a salesman.

And he took my dad under his wing and they went out on the road together.

And, you know, my father quickly became the, to the degree that there were legendary handbag salesmen.

He was the legendary handbag salesman.

Legendary for what?

Legendary for two things.

Legendary for, you know, being Big Lou.

That was his, even though he was, as he would say, six feet in shoes.