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CHAPTER 3

Ridin’ ahead of the herd

The food industry and franchising are often synonymous in the consumer mind. However, its pioneer in America was the Singer Sewing Machine Company, after the Civil War, according to John F. Love, writer of McDonald’s: Behind the Arches. He wrote that the first food franchise was based on root beer syrup, in 1924, and Howard Johnson was the first to franchise roadside restaurants and ice-cream parlours in 1935.

Kentucky Fried Chicken started franchising in 1954; Ray Kroc, who would in time enjoy legendary status as a franchisor, signed his deal with the McDonald brothers a year later; and Burger King was out of the blocks too by that time. George Halamandres learnt about the concept of franchising in America and introduced it to South Africa a few years before Wimpy came to the country in 1967.

“Nobody in this country understood the concept or even knew what the term franchising meant,” recalls John, George’s youngest son. He explains that in the beginning, they helped franchisees with restaurant design and staff training during the set-up time and then supplied them with the sauces they manufactured. They charged royalties of five per cent, but no marketing fee. “That early on nobody else was even offering franchises and marketing was still rather unsophisticated,” says John.

In the late 1960s, George and Peter Caradas’ brothers, Johnny and Arthur, opened another restaurant. This one was called Steers, and it was located on Tyrwhitt Avenue in Rosebank. Three more businesses were opened at the time, and the family were part owners of all of them. Each had a different name around the Steer theme, including Branded Steer and Golden Steer.

But a setback was waiting for George.

In 1964, Arthur Balaskas, Georgie’s friend, cousin and a partner in Black Steer, realised that his heart wasn’t really in business. He wanted to emigrate to Majorca, Spain, with his girlfriend. The hippy age of yoga, psychedelic rock and free living was dawning and this alternative lifestyle sounded much more appealing to Arthur than the unrelenting discipline of the hospitality industry.

Peter recalls that his uncle was quite upset about this, because he had expected great things from his nephew. “It was a bit of a sore point,” he says. “Arthur had a hell of a personality.”

“My father wasn’t happy, and told Arthur so, but in the end he didn’t stand in my cousin’s way,” says John.

In the end Spain didn’t work out for Arthur and his girlfriend. They subsequently moved on to the United Kingdom and settled in London. They married, had children and became much respected in yoga circles. Arthur wrote yoga books and even had a yoga programme on BBC television.

Peter recalls that after Arthur left, George sold Black Steer for R80 000. Peter’s share of 20 per cent was worth R16 000.

Georgie took over Arthur’s shares in the other businesses, as his father still didn’t want to be an active partner. George used to cash up some evenings or open the restaurants in the mornings. He also attended the openings of franchises but he really only wanted a back seat, recalls John. George also kept coming up with new menu ideas all the time, remembers Barbara.

It fell to Georgie to start running the franchise part of the business in the late 1960s. In September 1967, at the age of 28, he married Barbara. She says, Georgie “only ever wanted to please his father”.

George senior was not only a good businessman, he was a kind soul too, says Peter. “He was the most generous man you would ever meet; he looked after everybody. He gave shares to whoever worked for him; he wasn’t selfish.”

Peter says the staff got paid well compared with other places too, and they were very loyal because of that.

George was adamant about the cleanliness of his own restaurants as well as those of franchisees, remembers Barbara. “When he shook your hand, he could tell whether you had washed your hands in the last hour. He would actually make a point of shaking your hand to check.”

His granddaughter, Stacey Barbaglia, remembers how he would, to her teenage embarrassment, walk into restaurants he didn’t own and demand, as a consumer, to check on the cleanliness. “Every Sunday morning we would go to the Koffiehuis in the Carlton Centre for breakfast, but first he would go to the fancy restaurants, like The Three Ships, and ask them to open up so that he could inspect their kitchens.”

Stacey remembers him as “a bit of a taskmaster, a tyrant” when it came to the work environment, but her mother denies this. “Everyone loved him; that is why he was called Uncle George,” she says.

“All he talked about was business and opening more outlets and he always wanted to see what other people were doing; he was so ahead of his time,” says Stacey.

At that time, all the sauces were still manufactured by the Lulu and Poppy team in the kitchen of Seven Steer. George told his family that he got most of the sauce recipes in America. Some of the recipes he refined from catering magazines. In the early 1950s, copyright wasn’t much of an issue yet. If you liked a sauce and asked a diner owner for the recipe, he would gladly give it to you.

Until the office in Main Street was opened, Barbara recalls, they did all the accounting for the restaurants after dinner at 30 De La Rey Street. “We used to collect the books from all the restaurants. In those days there were no computers; everyone had a big book where they would write down the takings and the expenses; that was how they submitted their figures. I used to work with Georgie, or Lulu, and between the three of us we would sit and balance and see what was going on.”

Barbara says Georgie had to do everything, “and everyone knew he was a softie”. He cared about people, she says, and time and again a franchisee would come up with a sob story about why he or she couldn’t pay the franchise fees that month. Georgie would always say, “Pay me back when you can.” Some never did.

John also remembers his brother as being very generous. “My father used to say to him, ‘Georgie, if you give away your bum, you’ll have to shit out of your ribs.’ He was too soft, and he helped too many people.”

But one thing Georgie wasn’t lenient about was when the police came to intimidate his staff who didn’t have a dompas, the pass books black people had to carry outside of their designated residential areas during apartheid. If caught without one, people could be arrested. The police often waited until a Friday night, when an outlet was at its busiest, to come around with a police van and round people up. Georgie or George would routinely go and pay the bail of employees who were in police custody.

Lukas Sandawana, who “started out scrubbing floors at Seven Steer”, learned to speak Greek and is still a driver for Famous Brands almost 50 years later. He remembers that policemen avoided Georgie, because he had been a boxer and could still pack a punch if he needed to. “MaBogwene I used to call him, or lion, as he didn’t want to hear anything bad about his workers. He wanted to fight for people,” says Lukas.

Barbara remembers that John started to spend a lot of time at her and Georgie’s home after their marriage, since George found it difficult to understand his youngest son. “John’s father was a boxer and a businessman, and John was quite soft,” she says. When John started making friends in more liberal hippy circles, the rift between George and John grew.

Meanwhile a new challenge was waiting. Less than a month after Georgie’s wedding, the plans that Seven Steer waiters Allen Ambor and Max Rivkind had started making some years before, were about to bear fruit.