It was 1975 when I first met Carol and Bob. It was mid-September. Back yards were quiet. Kids were back in school. It was still hot. Summer hot. The leafy smells of autumn were still fifteen to twenty days away. Green was everywhere. Trees. Lawns. Bushes. Stretched out garden hoses.
It was two in the afternoon. I had my shirt off and my hat on. The sun was high and strong. No clouds in sight. I was adding to my dark summer tan. My skin was very brown. My back was almost black. Being a roofer, I spent most of the day bent over, my back to the sun. I loved it. The heat. The salty sweat. The tan. The heights. The danger. I was a roofer.
"Helllllloooooo! You up there!!"
Working as a roofer, working up high, job site distractions are few. This is good. But some distractions are acceptable. A possible new customer being the best one.
"Excuuuusse me. Can I speak to the boss, please?"
I wasn't the one being hailed. It was Mike. Mad Mike we called him. Fred had given him that nickname. Mike could walk on roof slopes that I'd just slip off of. He was our labourer. Our very own "Spiderman". He'd go anywhere on a roof with no fear of slipping, let alone falling. Mike walked the slopes as if he had glue on his sneakers. He wasn't crazy or mad, of course. He was simply good. Very good. He simply liked to show his professional skills.
As did Fred. Fred was the fastest of the four of us. And the most technically proficient. Paul was the workhorse. He rarely stopped. A fourteen hour day was nothing to Paul. Fred set a fast pace. Paul kept us going. Mike kept us supplied. We were a four man company. The four of us were Avenue Road Roofing in 1975.
I, too, was a roofer. Specifically, a shingler. But in this group I was only the third best shingler. I knew that. So did the guys. I was good. Fred and Paul were better. Daily, I was being challenged to become a better, faster roofer. That was cool!
Hi. My name is David Stokes.
I was the organizer. The planner. The record keeper. The administrator. I was also a roofer. But the "third" roofer. So when something had to be done other than actual roofing (like talking to a possible customer, for example), that was part of my duties. In this way, I backed into the job of "salesman". By September of 1975, you see, the four of us had just begun to contract our services directly to property owners. Prior to this time, we'd been sub-contractors. We'd work for other roofers, or General Contractors, or Builders. Someone else would contract the job and then farm it out to us.
This is how we'd learned the trade. We'd learned by being "subs". We'd subbed long enough and well enough by this time to have a long list of clients. Different contractors were calling us regularly asking us to do their work. They liked us because we were good. And clean. And honest. And reliable. And pleasant. These are qualities that contractors were not used to finding in other subs. We were pros. But inevitably it had to end. Home owners began to ask us directly to do work for them. That was more money for us, of course. So we began contracting. Slowly at first. Then all the time. I registered a company. Avenue Road Roofing was born. We were officially in business directly with property owners, both home and commercial.
So when Mike yelled over the peak of the roof to me, "Dave!! A woman wants an estimate!", it was my job, no one else's, to do the quote.  
I stood up. Unkinked my back. Walked up the slope to the peak and then down the far slope to the roof's edge. Looked down. I saw a woman, fortyish, trying to look up. She was shading her eyes with
her left hand. The sun was bright. And behind me. Having got my attention, she began to point to a house across the street.
"I live at #17. Could you give my husband and me a price on a new roof?"
My eyes followed her arm. I saw the house. Typical North Toronto home. Two stories. Thirty eight degree slope to the roof. Two dormers on the front. One on the side I could see. Probably at least one more on the back. A five bedroom home. About thirty two hundred square feet of roofing at $1.20 a square foot = a four thousand dollar job. At 22% the gross profit would be eight hundred and eighty dollars. A wide private drive. Two cars: a 1974 Lincoln and a Buick Skylark that looked to be a 1971 model. Nice neat lawn. Lots of colourful plantings. A manicured hedge. New paint on the house. Yup! These people could pay!
This quick survey and calculations took me five and half seconds.
I looked back down at my prospective customer.
"You mean the one with the red shingles?"
"Yes. That's the one."
"Sure."
"When can you come by?"
"Tonight. Is seven okay?"
"Okay. We might be out in the back barbequing . Just ring the bell."
"Okay."
The hours passed by. The new roof we were working on took shape. Fred and Paul were quickly shingling the last big slope. Mike had the clean up under control. We'd finish tonight. And get paid. Life was good.
At 6:50, I climbed down the ladder to clean myself up. I hosed off the dust from my hair, head, shoulders and back. I used solvent to get the roofing tar off my hands. I washed my face as best I could. I put on my T-shirt. I was as ready as I'd ever be.
I grabbed a 28 foot extension ladder (we always had six or seven ladders) and hoisted it on to my shoulder. Crossing the road, I looked at the red shingles. They looked in pretty good shape to me. I'd see soon enough.
I leaned the ladder upright against the eavestrough of the front porch, climbed the steps and approached the front door.
Knock, knock, knock. A man opened the door. No smile.
Cheerfully, I said, "Hi, my name is Dave Stokes. Avenue Road Roofing. We're doing the house across the street (I turned and pointed) and a woman came by earlier today and..."
"Ya. Carol told me. We'd like an estimate." Abrupt. Defensive.
I said, "Sure. Can you tell me where it's leaking?"
"It's not." Emphatic.
"Oh," I said. As an afterthought, I added, "This is good. No leaks. Definitely a good sign."
At this point, Carol appeared and joined in the conversation.
"We just thought it was time. Bob's worried about possible ceiling damage if the roof should start to leak."
I said, "That makes sense. How old is the roof?"
Carol looked at Bob. Bob narrowed his eyes at me. I smiled back.
Carol said, "We're not sure."
I said, "No problem. How long have you lived here?"
Bob took charge. He wasn't so much looking at me as he was getting me in his sights, as in gun sights. He said, "Listen. We've already got three quotes. We asked the people across the street about you. They're happy with the job you're doing. We want one last quote.
"Can you do it?"
I could take a hint. I said, "I'll do that right now. I won't be long. I'll knock again in fifteen minutes or so."
Carol smiled. Bob grunted something I didn't catch. The door closed.
Climbing and roofing go together, hand in glove. I love climbing. Up went the ladder to a second story dormer having a small flat roof. Easy access. Up I went. I tied the ladder to the eavestrough. I tested the ladder. It was secure. From this dormer roof, I scampered up the remaining five feet of slope to the peak of the house. There I stood. I was a mountain goat surveying my realm. I could see the entire roof laying beneath my feet.
Red shingles. I like red roofs. Most people don't. Too bold. Too "look at me." I liked that. I still do.
I scampered and slid about the roof checking all the usual weak spots: plumbing pipes, chimneys, skylights, valleys, dormer sides, roof vents.
I could see nothing wrong. All the flashings were tight. This roof must have been done by a pro. I gently lifted a shingle. It was still flexible. Not brittle. And no missing shingles anywhere. Unusual. Most roofs have at least one shingle blown off somewhere.
But something was wrong. Something didn't add up. Bob had said that he'd gotten three quotes. On what? This roof didn't need doing! Therefore I'd missed something. I scampered about the roof again. I found it! A tear in the valley. About five inches long. I looked closer. The edges of the rolled roofing were not discoloured. This tear was recent. And was man-made!
My guess was that one of the three recent roofers had stepped hard into the centre of the valley. He'd deliberately made a hole. The idea here is, "If there is nothing wrong, we'll make something wrong". Similar to some muffler repair shops. If there was no hole in your muffler before it went up on the hoist, there certainly will be a hole in the muffler when it comes down off the hoist. Created work. Criminal.
I checked the edge of the roof at the eaves. Just as I had thought. Two layers of roofing. The red shingles had been applied over top of the original, cedar roof.
Down the ladder I came. Up the steps to the front door. Knock, knock, knock.
Bob answered.
"So. How much?" To the point.
"Nothing."
"Huh?"
"You don't need a new roof, Bob."
Bob paused. A long pause.
I let him think about what I had said for four or five seconds. And Bob was really thinking hard. Trying to figure out my "angle", no doubt. Then I asked, "Who first told you that you needed a new roof?"
Bob hesitated. I'd told him something totally unexpected. He was now going to give me a few minutes of his time. He said, "A guy who cleaned my eavestroughs."
"What did he say?"
"That all the granules were coming off the shingles. He showed me a handful of them. He said the trough was filled with granules."
"Anybody else?"
Bob thought about this and then said, "The three roofers who gave me prices all seemed to think that the roof needed work."
I asked, "How long have you lived here?"
"Moved here in 1967."
"So, in eight years, ever have any problems with the roof?
"No."
"Been on the roof yourself?"
"No. And I'm not about to, either. Don't like heights."
"I see. You're going to spend thousands of dollars just because guys you don't know claim you need a new roof. And you haven't seen the roof yourself!! Wow! I wish I had more customers like you. You're pretty trusting." I was taking a chance. I was laying on the sarcasm thick.
Now that last statement of mine hit Bob right where he lived. We both knew that one thing Bob was not, was trusting.
I looked at what Bob was wearing. Jeans. That would do. Leather soled shoes. That wouldn't do.
I said, "Go put on a pair of sneakers."
Bob immediately got the idea. He said, "I'm not going up!"
"Either you are going up or your wife is going up. I suggest you. Go put on a pair of sneakers. You won't die. I promise."
Bob turned around and went inside. This time he left the door open. A good sign. Progress.
Four minutes later, Bob appeared. Wearing a pair of Addidas.
I could tell he was not keen.
We stood at the bottom of the ladder, looking up.
I said, "Watch me."
I went up that ladder lickety-split. I stepped off on to the flat dormer roof. I came back down. Fast. Elapsed time, up and down, was less than fifteen seconds. I had to show Bob that it could be done.
I said, "Up you go. I'll be right behind you."
I'll give Bob credit. He didn't freeze. I've pulled this trick on many customers over the years and about twenty percent of them absolutely refuse to go regardless of anything I say. And, believe me, I'll say anything to get a customer up on to their own roof, so they can see for themselves. I've been known to get quite rude. But Bob simply began to climb. Slowly, to be sure, but he was climbing.
Now when I said that I'd be right behind him, I was being quite literal. My face was right in his behind as he climbed. This is socially unacceptable but a practical necessity in coaching someone up a ladder. Bob knew that I was real close.
"Don't stop climbing until I tell you."
This is the main error that many homeowners make. They don't climb high enough up the rungs and then simply step off onto the roof. They stop a rung or two short and then try to pull themselves up on to the roof. This is an error. Bob did as I told him. Before he knew what was happening I had him standing on the dormer flat roof. Safe and sound. Not completely at ease. But not terrified. This was good.   Standing there, I pointed out all the areas that I'd checked twice. I told him that all looked good. I had him notice that all the shingles were intact. That no shingle was lacking their granular coating.
Bob was getting interested. He asked if we could sit on the peak of the roof so he could see the entire roof, not just the front slope. I coached him up to the peak. There we sat. Right on the peak. Our legs dangling down each slope. Not the most comfortable position. But to someone new, like Bob, somewhat exhilarating. Eight years in his house and this was his first venture onto his roof. We had a great view. He began to look critically at his neighbour's roofs. The roof two doors to the east was in particularly bad shape. It was obvious to see.
Carol came out on to the front lawn and looked up. Bob called down, "Hi, honey." He didn't wave. He wasn't letting go of his handhold on the peak. But he did smile. A first look for me.
Carol shook her head and went back inside. Bob actually chuckled and said, "I could catch hell for this, y'know."
I said, "I'll tell her that I insisted, no, that I threatened you! That might work." We smiled together.
I explained that the original cedar roof of the house, built in 1933, was beneath the existing red shingles. I told him that the valley flashings that were used in 1933 were galvanized sheet metal. Heavy gauge steel. Thick. That meant that even though another roofer had put a hole in the valley flashing, the home was still protected by the steel beneath. I told him not to worry about the hole. Bob saw the sense in this and nodded.
He said, "I thought that putting new shingles overtop of old
shingles was bad."
"Not true," I said. "It's often the preferable route to go. Three layers is about the limit but I've personally seen a roof with six layers and no ill effects."
"Six!"
"Yeah. Six. The weight's the problem. That house must have been really solid to take all that weight."
Bob was amazed.
I said, "I wanted you to look for yourself. Do you see why?"
He looked around the roof and even to his untrained eye he could see that there was nothing obviously wrong with his roof.
He said, "Ya, it looks pretty good."
Mission accomplished!
I slowly and carefully coached Bob back down the slope to the small dormer flat roof. Then back down the ladder to the ground. Uneventful.
We walked around the side of the house to the far end of his back yard, turned around and looked back up at the roof.
I asked, "Do you know when the roof was last done?"
"No idea. I never thought to ask the previous owner."
"Okay. The house was probably built in or about 1933. Asphalt shingles became very popular in the fifties. My guess is that the red shingles were put on in 1956, '57 or '58. That was seven to nine years before you moved in. So the roof now is fifteen to seventeen years old. That makes sense. They look and feel about that old. So the roof's got three to eight more years of life left in it. My guess is that you've got six years before you'll need to get it done. So call me in 1981 and I'll have another look then!"
I was on a roll. Not a peep from Bob. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest. His head was slightly cocked to one side as he had listened to me intently.
I had something more to say.
"My advice is not to do anything to the roof. Nothing! A better way of spending your money would be on a February vacation in the Bahamas. You know. February. Two feet of snow. Ice. Bitter winds. Yeah. The Bahamas. Or Aruba!
I smiled and stopped talking.
Bob got that far away look in his eyes. I think he was in Aruba right then. He returned. He noticed me.
"Can I get you a beer, Dave?"
"No thanks, Bob. Gotta go. Nice to have met ya"
I extended my hand. He didn't hesitate. He shook it.
And I left.
The story does not end there!
I remember that red roof well. I found out later that Bob passed on the name of Avenue Road Roofing to his friends and his family and a whole bunch of his neighbours. In the next ten years, we did his brother's home. And his sister's home. And his boss's home. And about seventy-five houses within five blocks of Bob's. So I often drove along Bob's street and past his house. That bright red roof always caught my attention. I truly love red shingles. What a great colour.
Time passed. And, yes, I finally ended up doing Bob's roof. In 1986! Eleven years after I had first heard him say, "We'd like an estimate." Eleven years! Imagine that. (I believe that I had guessed wrongly as to when those red shingles had been put on. I had told Bob between '56 and '58. I now think they had been put on in either '61 or '62.) In that eleven years, not once but twice, I had to convince Bob that very minor repairs would deal adequately with the few aging problems that had appeared over the years. Once in 1981 and again in 1984. Bob finally put his foot down in 1986 and insisted that he be allowed to get a new roof. I told him  that I thought the roof had "one more winter left in her." Bob prevailed. I shook my head. Another vacation opportunity lost.
I wrote up a contract. Bob agreed to the price. I asked about colour.
He called to Carol, "Honey, have you decided on what colour you want?"
"Dark brown," she said.
"Good choice," Bob said, smiling with his wife.
I looked at him. I looked at her. They smiled. I smiled. It was hard but I did smile.
"Okay. Dark brown it is," I said.
Oh well, I thought, the customer is always right. But only when choosing the colour.
More years have sped by since. Lots of people have called Avenue Road Roofing. Lots of roofs needed doing. We did our share.
The company grew.
I needed help.
I found it.
I found three men who thought the same way I did.
Ed Standish. Tony Pateropoulos. Ron Turnbull. Each had had his own roofing company. I asked them each to join with me in a partnership. They each agreed. So, over the years, Ed, Tony, Ron and I became partners. More years went by. Thousands of calls each month. Thousands of roofing jobs done each year.
Well over 30,000 jobs done since 1975.
I retired from roofing (not from life or work) in 1998. I left the company in very good hands. Ed, Tony and Ron run the show now. Well, actually, they don't run the show. They manage the show. I'll tell you who really runs the show:
Kathy and George and Kauko (Kow`-ko) and Craig and Tim and Dan and Robert and Catherine and Gene and Kaija (Kigh`-ya) and Fred and Rob and Mario and Gord and Harold and Larry and Marilyn and Mike and Chester and John and Philip and Johnny and Shane and Rex and Casey and Reg and Brian and Ron and... and... and... Maria-Teresa and Brent and Peter and Mike and Bill and Clare and Alina and Kas and Cyril and Tom and Geoff and Pierre and Frank and Gerry and John and Sean and Brad and ... .
These people, good people all, run the show. And I trust that they run the show on the basis of the original idea in back of the success of Avenue Road Roofing. And that original idea is best expressed in the words:
"You don't need a new roof, Bob."

And that, my friend, is the history of Avenue Road Roofing.

David A. Stokes
19 April 2000