The Deli | Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle

The Deli 

Tzedakah Box: Most Jewish homes had a blue and white tin box for the deposit of tzedakah coins for charity. From early childhood, Jewish children learned that one of their responsibilities was to care for other Jews in need. 

When Spencer Frank asked me to help him in a catering job, I was excited to try it. He told me he needed help packing up his station wagon, helping him set up and serve, and finally breaking it all down and repacking the car. He asked me to wear a white shirt, a bow tie he had for me, black pants, socks and shoes.  

And so, on the following Saturday night, he picked me up and as we drove to the party where we were to serve the buffet, he outlined the specifics of my responsibilities. He assured me that we would work well together, and so we did. The job was at a large hall in Shorewood, and it was almost fun to do the work with Spencer. He insisted I call him Spencer and not Mr. Frank.  

It turned out he had extra help coming to the job and it actually went well. We unloaded the food and all the other items necessary for the buffet. He showed me how to lay the paper tablecloths and set up the utensils as others unloaded and set up the trays of food. Let me see now, oh yes, there was roast beef, sliced turkey, rolls, mashed potatoes, beans, a large relish tray, macaroni salad, and even a large fruit bowl.  

Spencer was fun to work with — he was courteous to my mistakes and guided me in my responsibilities, especially setting up the paper plates, plastic knives, forks and spoons.  

For dessert, he showed me how to lay out the sheet cake, cut up more fruit, and put out coffee and tea. The night went quickly and as soon as we finished serving, it was time to retrace our steps and take it all down. By this time, I was tired from the work and the anxiety of wanting to do a good job and earn my keep. As we loaded the station wagon, Spencer told me I was a big help. He took me home and said he would send me a check for my time. I could see that he was more tired than I was. I walked in the house and my folks let me quietly tell them about the experience. “Oh yes, it was a great time,” I said.  

The next night, Spencer called, asked how I felt and wondered if I would help him again. “Sure.” Not many just-turned 15-year-olds had such an important part-time job. My life changed. 

After a while working every Saturday night, Spencer told me he had bought the deli on 79th and Burleigh and would be cooking from the kitchen there. He asked me if I would help. “Sure thing.”  

Soon I was in the kitchen helping the cook prepare the buffet meals for the weekend jobs. I tried to be helpful and not get in her way, and so she began to show me how to put foods together. I will never forget the first time she cooked shrimp and asked me to peel and clean them. There was 30 pounds of shrimp. It was a tedious job, but also fun as we talked about my school, trumpet playing, where I went on my bike, and even who my friends were.  

From there she showed me how to use the massive blender to make mashed potatoes, and eventually Spencer showed me how to make relish trays, fruit bowls, salads, and even coffee. The more I learned, the more he and the cook taught me. We were soon joined by his son Harley who was great to work with. When Spencer began opening the front of the store to customers he asked if I would help staff it. “Yes.”  And so then Spencer taught me to recognize and cut the multitude of cold cuts, cheeses and salads. An underage employee today would be unable to use a slicer, but back then it was simply part of the job. Spencer warned me and taught me how to set up the slicer, and how to clean and break it down at the end of the day. Only once did I cut myself and Spencer looked at my finger and bandaged it up. I never hurt myself again and was glad he did not hassle me about it.  

“Happens to us all at least once in this business,” he said.  

Harley and I would go to bakeries early on Sundays to get various kinds of rolls. On Sundays, we sold deli cuts, rolls and potato salad mostly. On Friday nights, Spencer taught me to prepare orders for fish fries that included perch, walleye and cod, french fries, slices of rye bread and coleslaw. He showed me how to use the deep fryer safely and efficiently during busy customer hours. Spencer was consistent in the foods we sold, so it was fairly easy to follow his specific directions in making everything. It was also important to memorize the cost of many of the products we sold. While the canned goods and bottles were plainly marked, I had to learn the prices of milk and various breads and baked goods. I remember that while I knew how much a dozen rolls cost, Mrs. Frank made a list of what each roll would sell for and then added to the list two rolls or three, etc. One day, Spencer was working with me and noticed I no longer looked at the rolls cost sheet. He asked why I didn’t look, and I sheepishly told him I had memorized the list. Spencer shook his head OK and we continued to work. It was Mrs. Frank who checked me out on the prices and then said she would leave it up for future employees. There were times I amazed even myself with my memory. Still have most of it …  

The very last thing Spencer taught me to make was a watermelon basket. You had to cut a melon and scoop it out, leaving a handle on the top. Then you would fill it with melon, cantaloupe, grapes, pineapple and cherries. To this day when Kathy asks me to make a salad or relish tray or vegetable platter, I can hear Spencer’s quiet voice instructing me.  

And so, I was working every day in the deli and on the weekends catering. I was careful to save as much of my salary as possible and told my folks I was saving for my first car for when I turned 17. I offered to pay them something for my keep, but my dad said no, just keep your earnings in the Building and Loan down the street and don’t spend too much foolishly.  

When I turned 17, I had saved enough to buy my first car, a ‘54 Ford, and gladly stopped taking my bike to work.  

Spencer shared many of the issues that he faced as a small business owner but was careful not to burden us with them. He said it was valuable for Harley and me to know a small amount about the multiple issues he faced in business.  

One summer I also worked part time at Abe Borkin’s Shell Station on 49th and Center Street. I would close up the deli at 5 p.m. and finish the night at the station. I asked Spencer how much he would charge me to make a few sandwiches to take for AV Williams and myself at the station. Spencer thought a dollar was fine and he offered to make them for me. He had them bagged and when I got to the station, I told AV I had some food for us. When I opened the bag, I found two gigantic cheese sandwiches. Spencer had also included potato salad and coleslaw, pickles and olives, plates, forks, and even napkins. What a guy! What a great guy. There were also two wonderful fudge brownies at the bottom of the bag. When I got to work the next morning, I found Spencer hard at work. I reached for a new and clean apron that he had put out for me, and noticed there was something in the small pocket. I pulled out a dollar. I asked Spencer what was this about. “Just put it in your Tzedakah Box at home.” I did.  

When I closed the deli myself, I would empty the register and fill a special cloth bag with the money and store it in a safe place in the kitchen of the deli. I never took anything that wasn’t mine and enjoyed the trust that they placed in me.  

I worked for the Franks through my first year of college, dividing my time between playing dance jobs, dating, seeing friends, family, and of course the deli. I knew that transferring to the Madison campus of UW would end my work for them. I approached them both and told them that in the fall of 1958 I planned on transferring to Madison as a sophomore to finish my studies.  

Mrs. Frank was quiet for a moment and then told me they had relied on me and were sad I was leaving. They wondered if I would come back to Milwaukee on the weekends to help run the deli. They would pay my transportation costs and increase my salary. It was a great offer but one I had to say no to. I planned on being on campus all week and then on the weekends playing dance jobs, hopefully dating, and studying. And so, we parted as friends, and I always appreciated and was thankful that Spencer had made that first call almost four years before.  

I am pleased to hear that Spencer Frank was mentioned in the Jewish Museum of Milwaukee’s exhibit “Pushcarts to Professionals.” Spencer and his company opened the very first cafe in the Milwaukee Public Museum.  

I looked up the deli’s address, 7902 W Burleigh Street. Now it’s up for sale. I assume no one remembers when the building housed the deli Spencer Frank Delicatessen, and a large hardware store, Wuckers Hardware, to the east of it. But now you know. 

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The deli that Alan S. Wolkenstein worked at in his youth was in the 7900 block of W. Burleigh St., shown in this 2024 photo. Photo by Rob Golub. 

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This 1954 Ford Customline “Fordor” Sedan may habe been similar to Alan S. Wolkenstein’s first car. Wikipedia photo by Lars-Göran Lindgren, Sweden. 

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These essays — are works of creative nonfiction and memoir from Alan S. Wolkenstein, obm. He was a clinical professor of family medicine with the University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health, a father, a grandfather, and a native West-Sider. We are grateful to Alan for all the colorful stories he has brought to our pages before — often on his life in Jewish Milwaukee — and to his son Evan, for allowing us to publish these works. For a note from Evan, click here.