THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 21, 1996 TAG: 9601200113
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 16 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY MARY REID BARROW
LENGTH: Long : 178 lines
WHEN WALTER F. ``Dottie'' Barnes went to work for Old Dominion Tobacco in 1926, it was a temporary job to hold him over until he was old enough to take the state pharmaceutical boards.
Today, this ``temporary'' job has become what most certainly is among the longest standing jobs in all of Hampton Roads. Barnes, still going strong, celebrated his 70th anniversary with the company Jan. 4.
``I had worked at a drug store until I learned enough to take the pharmaceutical boards, but I had to be 21 to do that,'' Barnes explained. ``So I went to work here for $12.50 a week.
``I got a 25-cent raise,'' he went on, ``And that convinced me to stay!''
And stay he did. From age 17 to 87, Barnes has seen Old Dominion Tobacco grow from primarily a local tobacco product wholesaler to become Dominion Atlantic Distributors, a regional supplier of tobacco and convenience store merchandise.
Barnes was around when the company moved from Main Street in Norfolk to Virginia Beach Boulevard in Virginia Beach in the 1960s and in one of his ``greatest pleasures,'' he said, he's worked alongside four generations of the family-owned company, beginning with Clyde Lee Davis Sr., grandfather of current company president Robin Ray.
Barnes just missed knowing Leroy Davis I, who founded the company in 1875 in Norfolk. Leroy Davis passed away three years before Barnes joined Old Dominion Tobacco. Just this year, Barnes met up with Rob Stiles, Ray's nephew and a member of the fifth generation to work there.
Over the years, Barnes, who has been vice president of sales since 1970, has celebrated so many anniversaries with the company that he can't keep track of them all. But the 70th was the sweetest. At a luncheon, attended by company employees as well as grocery executives from across Hampton Roads, cards, gifts, accolades and 70 red roses were given to the beloved Barnes.
``Everyone loves that gentleman,'' Ray said. ``And part of the reason they love him is that he loves everybody!''
Barnes says he's worked through five heart attacks and two spine operations, but being ill has never stopped him. ``I get so many phone calls, surprised that I'm still living and well,'' he said, ``but I'm not going to allow myself to get old.''
In fact, he doesn't think well at all of folks who retire young. ``We don't need them in America!'' he said.
Ray was able to persuade Barnes to cut back from working five to four days a week after his 65th anniversary, but it took a lot of persuasion to get him to go to three days a week this year. ``I got a river of tears on it,'' Ray said, ``but I think he's enjoyed it.''
``I take enough work home to make up for it!'' Barnes said and pointed to a folder full of papers on his desk.
When asked if he still drove to work, his eyes twinkled and he vigorously nodded in the affirmative.
``Good, God! I'm not that old!'' he said, laughing heartily.
Dapper in a navy blue suit, white vest, shirt and tie, matching his white hair and neat moustache, Barnes belied his age as he sat behind his desk in an office full of company memorabilia. A cigar peeked out from behind the neatly folded, white handkerchief in his breast pocket. It was one of the two or so cigars he would smoke that day, a pleasure he enjoys daily.
``Give me a million dollars, and I wouldn't take a drink,'' he said. ``But I've smoked cigars since I was 14.''
Tobacco was a way of life for Barnes' generation. When at age 17, already an old hand at cigars, he went to work at as a clerk filling orders behind the counter at Old Dominion Tobacco, 80 percent of the business was tobacco - cigarettes, cigars, chewing tobacco, snuff and accessories.
Before long, Barnes had found his niche with the company as a tobacco salesman. He recalled that when Clyde Lee Davis Sr. decided to put him on the road selling in 1930, Davis took one look at Barnes' 1923 model Ford and knew it would never do. Davis told him to go out and buy a four-door Plymouth.
``It cost around $600,'' Barnes said, ``and Mr. Davis said he'd give me the money and take $7.50 a month from my salary.
``I told him I couldn't afford that,'' Barnes went on. ``So he said, `You are working so hard, I am going to give you a $7.50 a month raise!''
He also recalled the day in the 1930s when he used his skills to sell the community on the first cigarette vending machines. Rowe was the brand name of the odd new machine that would take a coin and shoot out a pack of cigarettes.
``In two days, we placed more than 30 in confectionery stores in the area,'' Barnes said proudly.
At that time, Barnes was living in Hampton where he had been given a ``shirttail route,'' as he called it. ``They gave me the little accounts, and I made them big.''
He said he worked hard to sell store owners just the right amount of merchandise and no more. ``That way, when I went back the next week, I'd be welcomed, and they wouldn't be overstocked,'' he said.
Barnes moved back to Norfolk in 1947 to work with a new generation of Davises - Ray's father, Leroy II, and his two brothers, Clyde Lee Jr. and F.M. Davis. Barnes became a sales supervisor and then sales manager before he became vice president of sales for Old Dominion Tobacco in 1970.
``Work hard. Work smart. Work honest and work for repeat sales on every call'' was his motto.
``The greatest high on earth is selling,'' Barnes said, ``and the love of people.''
Although the Rowe Vending Machine and others line a hallway at Atlantic Dominion Distributors, most of the company's memorabilia can be found in Barnes' office.
Old photographs adorn the walls. Catalogs, produced by Barnes, date to the 1950s when Old Dominion Tobacco had expanded and wholesaled everything from tobacco to clocks, from dishes to toys.
Robin Ray recalls that as a little girl, she would follow Barnes around.
``I told him what I wanted for Christmas,'' she recalled, ``and somehow they'd end up under the tree.''
Large mass merchandising operations forced the company out of the business of selling household goods, jewelry, etc. Now they distribute food stuffs for convenience stores, beer and, of course, tobacco.
In addition to photos and catalogs, Barnes' office features an array of old tobacco products. Among them are Hygeia cigars with the price tag of 5 cents as well as an ancient metal box of Phillies. Phillies sold for 5 cents apiece, too.
``That was the first cigar I ever smoked,'' Barnes recalled. ``I had to sit on the curb, before I could go home, I was so sick, right in front of the Park Avenue Baptist Church right there on Olney Road!''
Barnes was born 14 years earlier on Holland Avenue in Norfolk, where Norfolk State University is now.
He has been known affectionately as ``Dottie'' since the day he arrived in this world.
``My name is Dottie because I was supposed to be born a girl,'' he said. ``Everybody calls me Dottie. A friend of mine didn't even know my name was Walter F. He couldn't find Dottie in the phone book!''
Barnes found his talents as a salesman early in life. He made his first money at age 9, selling horse manure gathered from Norfolk streets to folks in his neighborhood who raised vegetable gardens.
He and his 88-year-old wife, Madeline, whom he affectionately calls ``Shorty,'' lived three doors from each other on Holland Avenue. They were married in Elizabeth City 70 years ago this April. Two children, seven grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren later, neither one can count all the wedding and job-related anniversaries that they have celebrated in a big way.
``He's retired four times,'' Madeline said, looking at her husband.
``Not that many,'' responded Barnes.
``Yes, you have,'' she answered.
The good-natured banter crops up throughout the conversation in a den in their Chesopeian Colony home where more memorabilia decorate the walls and table tops.
``I wish you could have heard all the nice things said about him,'' she said, referring to the anniversary luncheon.
``All lies!'' Barnes retorted.
Madeline knows why her husband has been able to work for so many years. ``I can't tell you how hard-headed he is,'' she said. ``He just won't take care of himself.''
Barnes won't listen to such talk. He would like to work another 70 years, knowing what he knows now.
``I would not change anything,'' he said, ``just do it better.'' ILLUSTRATION: Staff photos, including color cover, by CHARLIE MEADS
Walter Barnes is reflected in the mirror of the first cigarette
machine used by the Old Dominion Tobacco Co. The machine was put on
a ferry in 1936 that ran between Norfolk and Newport News. Rowe was
the brand name of the odd new machine.
Robin Ray, the fourth-generation president of Atlantic Dominion
Distributors, and Walter Barnes flip through an old catalog that the
company used to produce when it was Old Dominion Tobacco Co.
This photo was taken in 1952 and shows Leroy W. Davis II and Walter
F. Barnes in the office of Old Dominion Tobacco Co. Davis later
became president of the company, which moved to Virginia Beach
Boulevard in Virginia Beach in the 1960s.
Barnes, 87, belies his age as he sits behind his desk in an office
full of company memorabilia. He had to be persuaded to work in the
office only three days a week. But, he said, ``I take enough work
home to make up for it!''
Barnes and his 88-year-old wife, Madeline, whom he affectionately
calls ``Shorty,'' were married in Elizabeth City 70 years ago this
April. They have two children, seven grandchildren and seven
great-grandchildren.
by CNB