The Pizza Man
For seventeen years, one thing would not change. You could expect it to be there every day like the sun rising in the east. It was Supreme Pizza on E Johnson Street and it was open 364 days out of the year. On any of those days, you could walk by the big front window and expect to see the little guy in the baseball cap flipping a crust or zipping from one end of the kitchen to the other, making it all happen. For seventeen years, he did this. For the most part, he was there every day for that whole time. He liked making pizza, and he did it for at least half of his life, from the early days in New Jersey to the early 80's and Pizza Pit, through his own stint down on the corner of Norris Court. He was Dave Wilson; he was P-ZA.
The headline suggested a blip in the history of Madison: "Man Killed On Bike Owned Supreme Pizza" it read. And perhaps this passing of an era is merely a blip in history but to anyone around the neighborhood, we lost a good one. To anyone who worked for him, he was stubborn and always had to have things done his way. Lots of people thought they had better, more efficient ways to do things but each time, they realized that the reason he did things the way he did them was because that was the best, most efficient way to do them. "You make pizza for twenty some years and then argue with him", I'd say. I knew he wouldn't budge on procedure so I didn't bother. He ran things the way he wanted to and for the most part, he did it all himself. All of the books, inventory, advertising, major cooking and assembling, was done by Dave and it had to be that way. As a result, Supreme could never grow into a small chain. After all, how could one guy do everything for four or five different stores? He kept it at a level that met certain financial needs and elected not to make more of it. To most people in America, this doesn't make sense. If you have the chance to grow, grow! Make more! A million isn't enough; we can have ten million! Dave had what he needed and when sales got low, he found a way to boost them enough to keep on keepin' Supreme on. In the mean time, he fed the better portion of the neighborhood and delivered his pies from his one store to every corner of Madison, literally. And he could have done it for another twenty years.
I drove by Supreme today and for the first time in about a month, the Open sign was on. They're back in there, a different owner, picking up where Dave left off, changing this, not changing that. It will be interesting to see how much of him lives on in that place and how much is covered with time. Eventually, with the resident turnover rate in these parts, and the passing on of others like Dave, he will be all but forgotten and Supreme Pizza will live on, delivering food from the American Parkway to two miles east of Verona. But as long the ones who knew him and worked for him are here, as I am myself, Supreme Pizza will always be Dave's Pizza and the words "Would you like a soda-pop with that?" or "Aaaand, I thank you kindly sir," will echo faintly when we walk through the front door or past the fan above the window and smell the steam from the boiling sauce.
I suggest heading down there now to get a slice. Supreme Pizza lives and we need to keep it there. We lost a good thing with Dave but we can keep what he left behind.
-Tony Nelson