Victor Crolla; Valvona & Crolla owner (Edinburgh institution)
Hyfler/Rosner
course, I didn't know about it until after I came back.
Next time.
The Scotsman
November 25, 2005, Friday
Victor Crolla
Businessman
Born: 22 September, 1915, in Edinburgh. Died: 17 November,
2005, in Edinburgh, aged 90.
IN THE last half-century Valvona & Crolla has become an
Edinburgh institution. Now the man who made it so, Victor
Crolla, has died. It's hard to believe; he had seemed
unquenchable. Only a few weeks ago his nephew, Victor
Contini, proprietor of the Centotre restaurant and cafe-bar
in George Street, was telling me how lively the old man
still was, interested in everything, with an opinion on
everything. I didn't doubt him for a moment.
Victor Crolla was born in Rossie Place, off Easter Road, an
Italian who became a Scot while remaining intensely and
unmistakably Italian. His father Alfonso, an immigrant from
the small town of Piciniscio on the borders of Lazio and the
Abruzzi, had an ice-cream shop and confectioner's business
in Easter Road, and Victor, after leaving Holy Cross school
at the age of 14, went to work there, as did his brother
Dominic. Then in 1934, Alfonso formed a partnership with
Raffaele Valvona, an importer of Italian food and wine, who
had a warehouse on St John's Hill, and they opened the shop
in Elm Row at the top of Leith Walk. Their customers were
mostly drawn from the Italian community in Leith and around
Easter Road. Victor joined the business, while Dominic
remained in the ice-cream shop.
In 1940, Mussolini took Italy into the war as Hitler's ally.
This provoked anti-Italian rioting in Edinburgh and the
windows of Valvona & Crolla were smashed. The men of the
family were arrested as enemy aliens and interned, Dominic
in Canada, Victor in the Isle of Man. Alfonso was drowned
when the ship carrying him to Canada was sunk. Victor
remained in the internment camp throughout the war.
Characteristically, he made the best of it. Indeed, he
treated the camp as his university. He learned French and
German. He read the classics. He taught himself chess.
Unlike some, he emerged from the experience strengthened,
well-educated and astonishingly free of bitterness.
He took over the business which had survived the war, kept
going, if only just, by loyal Scottish members of staff. His
energy was, and would remain, formidable. In those days his
philosophy was the same as that of Jack Cohen, the founder
of Tesco: pile it high, sell it cheap. He offered value for
money, importing wine in barrels, bottling it himself and
selling it under the Valvona & Crolla label. He delighted in
giving Scottish customers the opportunity to discover and
enjoy Italian food.
At the same time he acted as guide or mentor to countless
young Italians. They came mostly from his ancestral region,
a peasant district known to urban Italians as "la Cioccaria"
because so many of its inhabitants wore ciocci (clogs). They
worked in the shop, and it became their training-centre. His
nephew, Philip Contini, said: "He taught them arithmetic,
how to dress, the importance of being clean. Many
flourished. Some of them now run catering empires here.
Victor felt he was doing this not only for these boys but
for the reputation of all Italians in Scotland. He used to
say he didn't want them 'giving us a red face'."
In the 1970s, competition from supermarkets was killing off
independent grocery businesses and Victor decided that to
survive, Valvona & Crolla must move upmarket. He started
buying direct from Italy, rather than through wholesalers,
seeking out smaller artisan producers. At the same time he
encouraged Philip to develop the wine department, so
effectively that Valvona & Crolla is now regarded as one of
the outstanding wine merchants, not only in Scotland but in
Britain - a far cry from the draught Cyprus sherry they used
to sell by the litre. Quality was the watchword. Their
Continental High Roast coffee is the best I know, and there
isn't an Italian shop in London to match Valvona & Crolla.
At Christmas 1985, he retired and handed over to his
nephews, Philip and Victor, whose father, Carlo, had worked
with him for 30 years. He was still on hand to offer advice
and to encourage the boys to experiment. "Never be afraid to
try something new," he used to tell them. So he remained
active and lively to the last, reading, playing the
stock-market, following racing and football - he was a Hibs
fan, though the high point of this side of his life was
Italy's victory in the 1982 World Cup - and talking, always
talking.
No mere record can adequately convey the flavour of the man
or the experience of shopping at V & C in the days when
Victor, Dominic and Carlo were behind the counter. It was
theatrical. You shopped - and queued - to the accompaniment
of jokes, banter, shouted orders, bursts of song. Children
were always welcome, given a sweet or an introduction to
Italian cheese or salami. The synthesis of Italy and
Scotland was a delight. I once asked Dominic if he had been
away on holiday: "si, si," he replied giu la costa -
Gullane, ye ken." But Victor was the animator, the director
of the show, the conductor of the orchestra, firm with the
(very) occasional troublemaker, endlessly indulgent to
established customers, welcoming to newcomers, interested in
everyone's opinion (though ready to set them right with
his), seemingly tireless. Hemingway had a favourite line:
"Let us resume the having of the fun." It was resumed day
after day at V & C.
Victor was a bachelor, living with his sister, Gloria, who
survives him. But I suppose he was really married to the
shop. In the 20 years since he took a back seat, the
business has continued to flourish, to expand, to spread its
wings, and recently to spawn new outlets. But it was Victor
Crolla who made it and who remained always, as Philip and
young Victor both fondly say, "its presiding spirit".