This shop was around for a long, long, long time in Northeast Seattle’s Roosevelt Way. The bottom of the shopfront windowframe surely must’ve started out as a straight line; I don’t know how it could’ve gone that frowny (the photo understates it; it was really bent!) and not let in all of the rain, but it didn’t seem to. The owner of the place—as far as I know, he worked alone—seemed older than whatever god you might care to name. And speaking of names, he wasn’t Paul; he was Karl. Whoever Paul was, he’d gone before I came round.
Karl was an old-fashioned craftsman. He knew what he was doing, and he sure as all hell didn’t need (or take) any bulk wrap from they who felt compelled to coach him on how to treat their car or how to do his work. Wanna start mouthin’ around, makin’ out like you know what’s what? Knock it off one time; you’re a doctor or a lawyer, a writer or a photographer or a short-order cook or whatever it is you do—he’s an upholsterer. Or start the conversation by asking the price, or otherwise signal your likelihood of being a difficult customer? Not having any of that, either. He wouldn’t tell you to take a flying hike in a rolling lake, he’d just quote you a price high enough to get you out of there quicklike, once and for all.
No, the right way was to be a grownup about it. There are limited hours in a workday and limited years in a life, so don’t waste his time; just tell him what you’ve got and what you want, then shut your mouth all the way shut. He’d ask questions as needed, quote a reasonable price and a rough approximation of when it would be done. And then you’d go away. If he hadn’t rung before the rough timeframe was up, then (and only then) you’d check in with him. When it was done, you went in promptly and you paid the tab without any backtalk, even if it was a little over the quote; craftwork is sometimes like that. It wasn’t all that hard; just coöperate and in the end everyone was all smiles.
Along with auto interior refurbishment, he had a reputation for making extremely good convertible tops…boat seats…plane seats…you name it. There was always an assortment of interesting cars in the workshop, some of which were very posh onehow or another. And there were upholstery materials everywhere. Big overstuffed swatchbooks in the front office, too.
This Peugeot 403 was a seemingly permanent fixture at Paul’s, looking bugeyed with its American-spec headlamps (larger than the European ones). I don’t know what year the car was, but it’s a ’63 or later if the amber front turn signals are telling the truth. I don’t recall the details of that car’s story, but it was complicated. Mountains of cubic dollars had been poured into its fastidious restoration—I remember that bit—and then something like the owner died and either didn’t leave a will or the will didn’t adequately specify the car’s disposition; there were issues with the car’s title, there was a bunch of family acrimony, lawsuits and countersuits, etc. Karl was stuck with the car; nobody could come get it (or pay the very large bill on its very fine complete interior renewal), and he couldn’t sell it. He could scarcely touch it! It was in the shop the first time I walked in, and the last.
And whatever this grand old car might be, it is very old and quite grand.
I never got the chance to have Karl do anything for any of my cars. He did terrific work renewing the cushions and upholstery in some great old furniture I inherited from my grandparents—you can see one of the cushions in the foreground of the photo just above, there on the bench on the right. One time he called me in before buttoning up the job so he could show me the improvements he’d made. He was right to be proud; his work has held up well.
Roosevelt Way got torn up for reconfiguration; it dragged on and on, as these things do. Made it difficult getting in and out of the shop’s parking lot, and Karl was peeved about how the whole thing was handled with respect (or lack of it) to the local businesses. Whether or not that dealt the final blow, Paul’s closed down forever. Street View informs me the building was extensively renovated—that frowny front window has gone—and it’s now a used car boutique leaning toward premium models.
But before, in one corner of the shop was this timer switch, I guess for a (neon?) sign that used to be out front. As I say, Paul’s was around for a long time!
Wow, that building looks almost identical to a place in Indianapolis that was called “Jim’s Seat Covers” or something like that. They were recommended to me when I needed someone to replace the foam in the seat of my 68 Newport.
The guy did a great job, removing the original upholstery, then replacing the old foam/padding with upgraded materials, and putting the perfectly fine old upholstery back on top of it, all for a very reasonable price.
I hate that those old-school auto upholstery shops have mostly gone away.
I have a convertible that needs a new top soon, I will keep the ” pointers ” used here in mind when I approach the shops that I have in mind for the work. Unfortunately, even in this day of online reviews, getting a quality job on something that really involves skill can be a crap shoot.
Online reviews have made it worse, not better (Zero, one, one and half, two, three, three and half, four etc). Case in immediate point: when Paul’s Auto Upholstery was a going concern, they had a 1-star Yelp review from some dillweed who was all bent outta shape because he took time out of his day and drove all the way to Paul’s and when he tried to drop it off to have it detailed, the old man had the nerve to tell him they don’t detail cars. Of all the impudence! There was also a 3-star review from someone who was enthusiastic about the quality of the work, but upset because it wound up costing $40 more than the estimate. Get the picture?
When I lived in Michigan, I had a very similar-looking shop reupholster a pair of Volvo 242GT seats that were destined for my 142E project.
There was a design/production flaw in the original upholstery. The hole for the seatback release button was simply punched out, and inevitably led to the vinyl around the hole tearing due to stress. Completely unsolicited, the upholsterer recognized the flaw and reinforced the area on the rebuilt seat covers. And then he only charged me $80 for the whole job!
Protip for finding a good shop these days… look for a scruffy shop in a Latino neighborhood. I’ve found a couple really good shops that way.
Nice tribute. I love old school places like this, but they’re rapidly disappearing.
How much bigger were the US headlights on the 403? I never noticed that before, but then I’m not you. 🙂
I might’ve flubbed that one; more I think about it, I probably did. I guess I was thinking of the Renault 8. Without America’s standardised headlamp requirement, in Europe there were dozens of round headlamp sizes between about 6″ and 7¾” diameter, and many of them came in a variety of mounting patterns. It’s difficult to keep track, even for the likes of me.
The fellow I use just so happens to work out of his garage (filled with catalogs and fabric) for the last 30 years at least and should be in his late 50s. So he takes on one job at a time whether seating in a car or a boat. You can leave your car or boat there at the side of the house when installation is done or in my case for a headliner and vinyl roof. Doesn’t advertise what he does but is well known in the car community which is how I heard in 2003. His experience does go back to the 70s though. Also a Navy brat so we can talk Navy when I stop by for some time. Has an absolutely great name, Forrest Steele, and just a few miles up the road. Oh, he is quite friendly.
What happens to the Peugeot then? What if he closes or dies then what of the car? Legal limbo forever?
Most states (I can’t say WA for certain) have something called a “Mechanic’s Lien” specifically for this case. But it requires time, effort, and paperwork to get it accomplished. Certified letters to the vehicle owner, and stuff like that.
The muddy ownership situation on that 403 threw multiple wrenches in the mechanic’s lien idea.
After working 42 years in the truck business I fully understand the issues dealing with customers and I really treasured working with the ones that just let you do the job.
We had one customer when I worked at a Volvo truck dealership that was a real pain. My boss had the biggest smile spread across his face when I told him the knock in the customers engine was a cracked crankshaft. That Cummins 855 was done. Show the customer the crack, then throw the loose parts in the oil pan and put the pan back up with 4 bolts and shove it outside.
Mr S, you’ve equalled your best stuff with this one. It’s just a superb evocation.
Without becoming entirely subsumed in old-fartism, I’ll comment that I can walk around my own inner-city area that I first got to too long ago, and recall the various buildings that – surely, surely not so very long since – were once an upholsterer or a timberyard or a garage. Or, in one case, on the main road a mile or so from downtown and now crowded cheek-by-jowl with haute cuisine joints, a small foundry.
And, being a bit weird, I can recall the people in them too, because I, the professional type with time and need for things like a walk, would saunter in to talk, usually to fairly reluctant interlocutors of weathered appearance. Mostly, they’d be a bit mystified and grumpily curious as to why I might be in there, but often, too, a bit freer when my status as someone who wasn’t there to regulate or tax or close them – a raised hand of reassurance from me – had emerged.
All of them were variations on the guy you describe, Mr Stern.
All were proud of their work, all were good at it, and all loved it almost as much as they hated it, the latter that inevitable burden of hard, repetitive work, much of which they’d latterly done to make sure their kids didn’t have to.
In good news just in, it seems there’s quite a few young and excellent old-fart operators in such fields out there – necessarily less in number as those fields have shrunk to patches – and all have pride in their good work. They’re just not anywhere near a main street any more like Karl was, but that part really just is the way of things, and probably doesn’t matter, except for nostalgia.
Thanks, JB.
Amen. »clink« That applies across a broad swath of professions, I reckon, whether or not hard manual labour is involved. Ask me about this weird lighting schtick one day.
Yeah, eh! We can mock the overuse of words like “artisanal”, and crack wise about hipsters and all that,* but craftsmanship hasn’t gone dying just yet. As you say, it’s adapted.
*keep quiet about their beards, though; I’m just saying.
There’s an old-school upholsterer’s shop here in Charlottesville, VA known as Danny’s Quality Upholstery. I had the headliner and sunvisor covers of my 1998 Nissan Frontier replaced at Danny’s some 7 years ago. The total cost was just north of $200, and the results are superior to the OEM materials, especially the nicely padded visors.
If you’re at all familiar with the first-generation Frontiers, the headliners fall down like those on GM cars of the 70s and 80s after less than a decade. My original sunvisors were becoming threadbare from handling and sun exposure.
Seven years on, the replacement headliner and visors still look great.
I used to live near Paul’s in the Eighties (NE 57th and Roosevelt). It was always fun to peek inside and see what he was working on.
Roosevelt Ave NE between Ravenna and NE 45th is now virtually unrecognizable.
The unidentifiable grand old car is a 1929 Chevrolet Landau Sedan. It’s very rare with less than 300 built. The roof over the backseat folds down. Nice find. Nice story.
Thanks! I was sure someone would be able to pick it.
Beautiful ! .
I too remember places like this .
It’s too bad asking for estimates is bad practice because some of us have to go and gather the necessary funds to avoid not being able to pick up the finished job quickly .
I remember a late payer coming back over a year later and being upset I’d lien saled and sold his old VW Typ III on….
-Nate
Asking for an estimate is fine and necessary, just don’t lead with “How much will you charge?”, and understand that an estimate is just that—the job may cost more once things are taken apart. Upholstery work is not the same as, say, brake repair: you can still get back and forth to work or school even if the seats and carpet are tattered.
The front of that building was set in the same way as the Auto Electric shop I worked in back in 1961. I had been offered $100 per week by the proprietor to come to work for him, he swiped me out of the DeSoto dealer where I got paid $65 per week…. Anyway, imagine having finished a tuneup on sone old 1950s car, I sit in the car with the engine not yet fired up, “will it even start?” Larry, the shop owner opens the garage door. All there is, a narrow sidewalk, a roll down curb and a busy 2 way street! Larry looks, “No cars coming” he shouts and out he pushes the car! When the tail end hits the fresh outside air, I am to hit the starter and back the car into the street! Fortunately they always started.
Larry’s rule #1, NEVER EVER START AN ENGINE INSIDE THE SHOP! I worked for him until the end of October. I entered the US MARINE CORPS November First! Guess why?
Don’t keep us in suspense….WHY?? 🙂
From 1990 to 1994 I worked summers .in a place just like that but bigger, with 2 co-owners and a few employees. What blows my mind is that when I started they had an abandoned Peugeot there too! Left behind by a customer who couldn’t or wouldn’t pay. In this case a red 204 Cabriolet.
The biggest DB customer I ever saw them encounter was also in that first year.
He had brought in the buckets from a ’64-’65 Olds Cutlass or 442. He was insistent
on ordering some pre-made covers from a vendor, and having the shop install them.
The owners tried to convince him that they could make up a set there that would be just as good or better. Being flat vinyl with no special embossments , this was true. Nope, he had to have them from the vendor. They arrive, they install them. They fit too loosely. More wrinkles than Nancy Pelosi. They call the guy and tell him that they’ll have to upcharge him a bit for extra foam so the covers will be taut.
He accused them of upselling him and trying to rip him off, and tells them to put them on as is. Then he comes in and throws a fit over the fit, so to speak. Takes them as-is and curses that he will tell everybody who’ll listen what a shoddy rip-off joint of a shop they are. (in reality, they were the best in the province). Biggest cry baby I ever saw, but then again, so many people in that hobby seem to be. I witnessed them deal with a few self-entitled twots over the years, but this guy was the worst.
True, lots of whining snobs in the hobby, but thankfully not in the majority based on my experience.
Karl at Paul’s Auto Upholstery was old school cool. First met him in 1974, when my newly purchased 1967 MGB needed new carpets. He did the job for less than the cost of the set from MG Mitten. Good, honest, quality work. He left a lasting impression on my 20 year old self.
Fast forward twenty eight years and I was dealing with a saggy headliner on my recently purchased Lotus Europa. Had a flashback to olden times and gave the shop a call. Was pleasantly surprised to hear a familiar voice; I believe Karl was of German or Austrian descent. Karl didn’t want to quote a price over the phone. Said he’d have to look at the car in person first. When I took it down, his bid was very reasonable for what appeared to be a simple, straightforward job. Gave me a chance to drool over a 300SL he had in the shop getting fully reupholstered.
One week turned into two, and I finally called to check on progress. Call me in another week, he said. No problem. Karl was known for taking the time to do things right. When I finally picked up the Europa, he had done a brilliant job. Told me of the difficulty he had fitting the material around the window seals and how he’d eventually accomplished it without removing either front or rear windows. Didn’t charge a penny for his extra efforts either.
My no longer 20 year old self was still impressed.
Hey, neat! Thanks for the stories.