In the wake of Tops, a moment to remember Dan
In his poignant, Civil War-era letter to Mrs. Bixby — a Boston mother and widow who had lost five sons in battle — Abraham Lincoln agonized to express himself, saying, in part, “I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming.”
So, too, we all feel about the devastating loss of life from the all-too-frequent mass shootings. Few states, few otherwise peaceful gathering places and fewer of us have been somehow left untouched. That includes theaters, churches, concerts, festivals and, even closer to our industry, grocery stores – normally as calm and secure in our minds as can be imagined. Debates are, yet again, emotion- and passion-fueled, trying to make some sense, any rational sense, of it all, to little avail.
The recent Tops supermarket shooting and devastating, senseless loss of life shocked and saddened us all, and we mourn yet again. Memories of another shooting instantly came to mind, once again, about an old classmate — my one-time coworker who, nearly three decades ago, suffered the same fate, exposing the ugly fact that these horrific actions have sadly been around for some time.
This is about him.
I remember Dan Suazo in many ways. The King Soopers grocery store where we worked together in 1974 was just one.
Dan was a year older than me, a senior at our high school. Dan was tall and handsome. He was a varsity basketball player and popular student. He had an easygoing manner and liked to joke and gently tease other employees as he worked at various points within our store. He often worked “the floor” – our internal jargon for the weekend, day grocery clerk who was charged with keeping high-volume items, including chips, endcaps of ad items, beer and soda, restocked. Helping wherever needed. It took lots of hustle to keep up. Dan did it with ease.
Twenty-seven years ago in 1995, just around this same time of the year, Dan was murdered when a lone gunman entered his store.
At that time, supermarket shootings, or any public shootings, were unheard of. In fact, this shooting was reported as an isolated case when a distraught, estranged husband entered the store that quiet Tuesday morning and took the life of his wife, who managed the store’s deli. The gunman then turned his weapon on Dan. Exiting the store, the gunman killed a Jefferson County sheriff’s sergeant in a shootout before finally being subdued by police.
Related: Buffalo, N.Y., Tops Markets community rallies after racially motivated shooting kills 10
I was a courtesy clerk when I first met Dan. He already had put in enough time in our store that he, like many at the time, pushed to get into management. It was a tough path. Dan had to become a head clerk first (an entry management role), eventually overseeing the grocery department, then stepping up to service department manager before someday ascending into an assistant store management position.
From there, an aspiring individual would expect to commute to distant stores, or work in special projects. Finally, after many years of paying their dues (and some luck), a person might be promoted to the coveted role of all — managing a multimillion-dollar-a week store.
It was a highly competitive and rocky road, but Dan was a competitive person.
However, not long after graduation, Dan left our company to join a rival chain. This was very uncommon at the time. The little bit I understood was that Dan didn’t think anyone would take him seriously at our company to even get his foot in the door as a head clerk, much less move up the ladder. Dan liked to kid around — a little. Some people (including yours truly) believe that having a sense of humor is a good thing.
It helps diffuse tension, helps keep up morale. Others believe otherwise and prematurely write such a person off as not being a serious candidate. Still others said (in not-so-hushed tones) that our company, or any company, would be unlikely to promote someone into too high a position, especially if they were female or, in Dan’s case, having a last name that ended in a vowel.
I like to think we’re past all that nonsense now. But back in the 70s, that was the harsh reality.
In fact, Dan did very well at the Albertsons chain. Years later, I occasionally dropped into his outlying, quiet Denver suburban store to do my competition produce checks. Dan had developed into a seasoned and well-respected store manager. Dan still sported his Tony Danza-like, shoulder-length, jet-black hair (now just slightly highlighted with hints of gray) and flashed his wide, friendly smile. Dan had indeed become the solemn leader, but his humor was still there — just a moment away from an accompanying, easy laugh as we chatted about our humble beginnings not so many years earlier, recalling some of the zany, colorful characters who worked and shopped there.
Amid all the reports of disturbed, attention-starved or copycat gunmen who senselessly end lives in a moment’s notice, not enough is said about their victims, who make the innocent, unknowing mistake of going shopping that day. Or who are simply going to work. Dan was just a friendly, intelligent guy, described by his coworkers as a peacemaker. He was someone who beat the corporate promotion odds, who worked hard and made the grade, and then, one day, his life was suddenly over. Dan was 39 years old.
