As I gathered my belongings on my way out the door of our home-on-wheels, I could sense Moses getting antsy at my impending departure. He was scurrying about the RV after me wagging his tail and looking up at me with those big, expectant dog-eyes.
“Moses–stay!” I snapped at him and immediately felt like a meanie mom for doing so. As I put the strap of my crossbody sling over my head, my motions slowed down. I had that feeling of waking up disoriented from a nap, flashing back to countless mornings when I’d be preparing to leave our apartment in Manhattan for my job teaching elementary school language arts, Robert and our children still snoring in the bedroom. I remembered banging things around resentfully. Moses would always, in that amazing way companion animals have, do something to make me realize that despite the early hour, my wet hair, no time to pack a lunch…I had–and have–a great life.
On my way to meet Vince Culotta at the restaurant for which he serves as Chief Hospitality Officer, I thought, “I wonder what it would be like if I worked at Cured/18 & 21st…” which are physically conjoined but theoretically independent eateries in the heart of downtown Columbia. If Patti Wecker’s beaming smile and lit-from-within demeanor was any indication, it’d be pretty great.
“I’m Patti–Vince is on his way,” she said, extending her hand to shake mine. `I had intentionally gotten to the location–the second busiest intersection in Columbia–early, anticipating I’d have no idea where I was going, as usual.
Clearly, Patti knew I was coming and was happy about it, as she gave me a tour of the interior of what from outside looked like it could have been a building in the ritzy commercial district of a much bigger city. We had cut through Cured, the more casual restaurant of the pair and come to a set of nondescript doors with a red exit sign above them. Patti swung them open, and I could feel myself gasp slightly at what was inside: a polished, art-deco-inspired supper club in 1920s Chicago! Patti grinned back as she looked at me with pride, so I let my mouth hang agape longer than I might normally have. She regaled me with fun, fascinating anecdotes about what went into the design and filling in of this beautiful space. Vince would be there in a moment, she said, as it was just about 10:00 a.m. That’s when he and I said we’d meet to discuss what it was like managing a business in Howard County.
“So much is about chain restaurants in Howard County, and we’re not one,” Patti, Director of Human Resources at 18th & 21st (18th) said, detailing how the Wecker family-owned both Iron Bridge Wine Company and Mutiny Pirate Bar in addition to Cured and 18th. But the Weckers, unsurprisingly to me, based on how warm and generous Patti was, define family not only by those they share DNA with but those they share long, solid relationships with. Vince is one such person, as he worked with the Weckers at Iron Bridge for 15 years prior to 18th’s recent opening.
Just then, Vince appeared in a shirt-slacks-shoes combo that matched the silvers, grays, and browns that dominated the color palette in 18 & 21st. So did the ice blue of his eyes, which I kept catching myself looking into for too long. Hey–I’m only human! And I also I’m transfixed probably more than most by blue eyes.
Patti insisted on getting me a cup of coffee, and we both laughed when I said “two-and-a-half sugars and a ton of cream.”
Related: See what State Senator Guy Guzzone said about his history–and future–in local politics.
Ministrations, Libations, Connections
“I have to stay connected to what’s going on in the county,” Vince said, smiling, as we began talking, with my noting that despite my apparently having driven by Cured/18 & 21st at this point in my HoCo life dozens of times, enough so that I was able to picture the logos for both restaurants in my head without being certain of where it was until driving up to it.
Next, I wanted to understand the relationship between Cured and 18th & 21st. They share the same space, Vince explained to me, but their entertaining philosophies diverge. Cured is more casual, vintage Merriweather concert posters adorning its warm, wooden walls with a focus on a hearty, meaty fare. 18 and 21st (18th), on the other hand, tends to the more formal side of life, filled with sleek, flapper-era decor, and offers rarefied, sophisticated dishes.
“A lot of people have dinner at Cured and then come back here for drinks and dessert,” Vince told me, of the swankier, immaculately maintained spot we were in. I noted how grateful I was that, unlike at other Columbia restaurants, here I didn’t have to strain to hear Vince. He told me that was part of the intent with the interior design at 18th. He said Cured is an upscale neighborhood bar–casual, but not to the point of having “the game” on wall-mounted TVs. 18th is a more luxurious “experience.” The two establishments cater to two of the big demographics in Howard County: Cured attracts a younger clientele with less to spend on discretionary purchases, while 18th’s customers are drawn from the area’s older and more well-to-do population.
Hiring How-To
They two restaurants are one space, ultimately, though still, and share an important hospitality philosophy. “I want everyone who comes here to feel like family,” Vince told me. He meant both customers and employees. This is why, he said, he hires staff more based on their personalities than their already having the hands-on experience of service-industry work.
“I can train you to be a member of the wait staff, but I can’t necessarily train you to have the kind of person that I’m looking for. ” he said, providing the perfect example before I could ask in Army veteran Kyle Flanagan. Kyle’s studying to get his sommelier certification, but Vince hired him based on his passion for and enthusiasm about working in a restaurant.
When Vince remarked that 18th had opened on June 9th, my voice cracked with excitement as I told him that was my birthday. His confident, relaxed body language didn’t change and without missing a beat, he looked me squarely in the eye and wished me a happy birthday: “Belated, but happy birthday,” he said, with the perfect mix of formality and familiarity. No wonder Patti and a hostess stationed at the entrance to Cured were so unmistakably happy to be at work.
18th is a Gemini, I thought to myself. All the best ones are! I imagined Vince was a fire sign, given both his self-possession and that we got along well.
I noted that my novice’s impression of hospitality-industry work was that it was rather brutal, what with being on one’s feet for most of it and the long, unusual hours. Vince’s response impressed me.
“I walk a good five or six miles a day in here,” he said looking down to his side with an endearing humility, “and sure, I left late last night and got here early in the morning, but I…”
“…you love what you do,” I said in unison with him. He nodded slowly, smirking boyishly, as I arrived at the conclusion he’d escorted me to, with the easy manners of a contemporary gentleman. It occurred to me then that Vince–even his name–had the -air of a character in a period piece about 21st-Amendment-Era America. That’s where half the restaurant’s name comes from, too, and the previous half is the 18th Amendment, banning the sale of alcohol. His clean, well-fitted vestments and the way our conversation never faltered or bored either one of us was very…Bogart! Needless to say, given my age, I’m a big fan of Humphrey Bogart’s work. And now I can say the same of Vince.
Commemorating Experiences
I asked Vince to expand on what exactly he meant by hiring based on personality.
“What I want to know is, can you help our customers create memorable moments?” Vince offered as what he looks for what he looks for when interviewing someone for a job with him. It was one example of how he has a gift for succinct, revelatory explanations.
This is what he had in mind, he said, when he hired Kyle Flanagan to be both Cured and 18th’s Bar Manager. Kyle is an Army veteran who has a passion and pizzaz for hospitality. Based on Vince’s gift for picking up on hard-to-define qualities, I sensed it was more than that, though. There was something ineffable but undeniable in Vince, too, that announced his fitness for this job/
“The entire project has just been genuine creation and I’m proud to be a part of it. It’s been rewarding to handpick every detail of a beverage program and a restaurant with a story we are proud to tell. Being a Columbia native it makes me feel good to watch our community react to what we have put together,” Kyle told me in a phone call later in the day.
Back at 18th, the next thing I, meanwhile, wanted to know, was what it was like co-owning and managing a business in a place growing at the rapid rate HoCo is, its population undergoing so much change. I asked Vince to tell me where he saw 18th in five years. He said that a too-rigid “roadmap” wasn’t his vision for the establishment. He preferred a flexible outlook that leaves room for growth.
“Things are going great…but businesses that aren’t willing to change, die. You can’t expect to keep doing the same thing in any economy and survive,” Vince said with an eagerness that belied his conviction about this point, his voice and expression rising. When I offered my own little take on this, saying that Robert and I found the same to be true of our website, I quickly felt I’d been silly and immodest. I hesitated, then, rolling my eyes and shrugging as I said, “I mean, I guess we’re business owners…”
“Sure you are…absolutely you are,” Vince said, validating my thought with not a hint of condescension. He’s good, I thought, again harkening back to a scene from a movie about Chicago in the ’20s.
A successful business, Vince said, has a durable product to offer, but adapts to the ways in which its milieu evolves.
“Iron Bridge is still a wine bar at its core, but all sorts of things have changed with it from its price structure to its menu,” he said, offering me a tangible example. I jotted down on the pad I’d heretofore been too engrossed in the conversation to pay much attention to until then. This was a great example of Vince’s aptitude for “operations,” which he contrasted with his business partner, Steve Wecker’s, “big-picture” skills.
“I think I’m probably successful in management because I’m a little bit of that and a little bit of the hands-on aspects of a business,” he said. That’s quintessentially HoCo, I thought to myself: philosophical intent manifested with aplomb in real-world instances.
His observation that a business needed to respond to market demands intrigued me as a student of HoCo. It seemed like the county itself was responding to itself since its founding, what with the eternal issue of balancing growth and sustainability taking center stage in this preeminent Maryland county.
When I asked Vince if Howard County was a nurturing place for a business, the Democrat in me almost took flight from within me for the joy felt at his response.
“There are –I’m not even going to call them obstacles…There are rules and regulations that the county has in place for a reason, the Health Department is there for a reason. It’s not just to make it hard for businesses to exist. It’s to protect the public,” Vince noted. He let me sound off then on what I see as the intentionally naive conservative view that some benevolent, Pavlovian force of reward and punishment will impel businesses to treat its employees and customers well. The Invisible Hand of the Market, as economist Adam Smith called it, was a simplistic notion possible only in Early Capitalism, I expounded. When I looked down at my notepad and mumbled that I probably sounded like too much of a 1960s hippie, Vince jumped in to lift my spirits back up.
“Look, I’ve been in kitchens that are not clean. I’ve been in restaurants that I won’t eat in because I see the way they do business. Zoning rules, too, exist for a reason. And it’s not always about you,” he said, outstretching an open hand to his side, “It’s about what’s good for the county, what’s good for the community.”
I Wasn’t Beat, Incomplete
It was time for me to go back to meet Robert and Moses in the RV, and as we mosied back into Cured, I remembered aloud how our friend Lucy had been at a cousin’s house within earshot of Merriweather Post Pavilion one night. It happened to be one of the date’s that Madonna’s Virgin Tour was in town. Lucy and her cousin sat out on the friend’s Old Columbia deck, drank sodas, and listened to the distant yet buoyant music. I could see their big, braces-filled smiles in a picture she’d shown me.
Vince asked me if I liked concert posters, and I gave myself a punitive little tap on my thigh when I emitted a too-enthusiastic “I do!” He chuckled kindly and pointed out the stunning, vintage Merriweather posters framed and hung about with an effortless style that I won’t have if I live to be a hundred.
“They’re actually prints,” he said, despite the signatures from the likes of Eric Clapton and The Doobie Brothers scrawled beautifully across them, and I could tell he enjoyed my delighting in that fact.
I told Vince I’d like to come back soon to dine at 18th & 21st before I published this article. I immediately thought of a million reasons that I might not be able to before I hoped to publish this article.
“That would be great,” Vince said. Then I hedged to give myself some journalistic wiggle room. He acknowledged the work-in-progress-ness of it all with, “That works too.”
Indeed, it seems, both the willingness and ability of HoCo and its residents to improve on initial, conscious strategies–as Pattie, Steve, Vince, and Kyle do in their work with Cured/18th & 21st–will keep this restaurant and this community thriving for a long time to come.
I reluctantly took my leave, pulling open the heavy, glass doors of the entrance. As I squinted against what was now the midday sun, unforgivingly reflected off the concrete walkway outside the restaurant, I put the back of my hand against my forehead as a further buffer against the harsh light. Walking back to my car, the Gemini in me was at peace knowing that despite their awareness of the value of change, those in charge of a fellow child born under the sign of the twins, this restaurant, knew not to give in to that sug sign’s instinct to try to please everyone. It never works. No, they had a vision, and they’re going to stick to it–just like Howard County does.
Also: See what Josh Benson, founder of Howard County Dads, and Colleen talked about.
Thanks for reading! Check back with us each here at rocoinhoco.com every week as Robert, Colleen (and pup, Moses) get to know the many facets—one each week–of this prismatic place called Howard County. We want to take you along with us, so follow us on Twitter at @rocoinhoco, join our Facebook group, and follow us on Instagram at @rocoinhoco.