You can drive by the two
single-story 1950's buildings and never know they are there: Non-descript blonde
brick office types separated by a driveway, each small enough to take in both
at a single glance. A curved awning over
one of the entrances, with a threaded needle laminated in place, separates the
importance of the one building from the other.
To the right is sales and parts; to the left is the machine shop and
service. The driveway allows for
deliveries.
Inside, it is an entirely
different story. The machine shop is
full of technical wheels and honing tools that mold and manufacture various
precision parts for this and that. Its
gloomy concrete interior has men in goggles bent over their work. Except for bald florescent lights and flying
sparks--everything is grey. Beyond the
machines is service for the sewing department.
There are older men and younger, who are cleaning, re-wiring, adding new
parts to damaged irons, pressing equipment, sewing machines, cutting knives, or
whatever.
Across the way is the front
office: People drive in from all over, to consult, order, gossip, schmooze and
network, just like at the general store in a small town. Behind the office is the parts
department--grey metal shelving with bin after bin of needles, folders, sizes
of machine foots, bobbins, scissors, multiple types of colored thread, all kinds of grease, oil, and even
cans of air. You name it, and Ralph's has
it; if it doesn't have it, it will be ordered.
Customers saunter in and lean on the antiquated glass counter tops that
separate them from the clerks, while they check over the bulletin board where
folks either advertise themselves or pick up an advertisement from others for
jobs, skills, and equipment.
Beyond the parts department
is the machinery that is for sale--both new and re-furbished. The wooden floors creak, all of it is old,
cramped, and ever so homey. It's a place
where blue collar folks congregate to talk about their trades and common
interests: They're all of a same mind,
knowledgeable, and proud.
Ralph Badillo, now in his
late 70's, still comes in every day.
Irma, his wife, does the books; daughter Peggy runs the shipping and
special orders; son Joe is in parts; and younger son Paul invents equipment and
has obtained 17 different patents for his inventions that keep the machine shop
busy.
Besides the family, there are
the machinists, of course, and then, there is Jack--Mr. Customer Service. Jack, who sports a handlebar moustache that
he waxes once a day, and a gold watch fob with a knife, scissors, and screw
driver for adjusting machinery, has degrees in industrial and mechanical
engineering with minors in design,
physics, and management. Before
he came to work at Ralph's in 1991, he
spent 20 years traveling around the world setting up different shops and
factories, and that is his strength--that, and his ability to win the trust of
every customer he meets.
He not only understands
equipment, but he knows where it goes and how to use it; he can set up an
entire shop, figuring how many machines to use, which one a customer needs to
buy, and how many employees are needed to run the place. He has become the showman of the company-- he
is Mr. Personality, and he definitely knows his stuff. Jack said it best when he remarked, "I
love working at Ralph's because it's a small family business without the
corporate nonsense. If I go on a sales
call, I never have to worry. Everybody
here supports each other. What makes us
special to our customers is our advice and our knowledge."
In 1927, Singer Sewing
Company had its machine shop for retail and wholesale trade located in Denver,
Colorado, a centralized hub for the Rocky Mountain region of the United
States. It did well in the largely open
and non-competitive West, but as the years wore on and more shops opened up,
Singer's management realized that it needed an expert mechanic who understood
machines in more than a basic way; there were too many different kinds of
machinery, too many different kinds of things being made.
Ralph Badillo, already
employed by Singer in New York, took the job, and he brought his young family
with him, remaining with the firm for several more years. It was Ralph who, while still with Singer,
made all the contacts with the customers, did all the repairs, and knew all the
machinery. He left Singer in 1975,
taking his large clientele with him. He
started Ralph's Power Industrial Sewing Machine Company, and went into direct
competition with Singer (which was exclusive and would not allow itself to be
sold with other sewing machine brands at that time). Ralph took on machines made by Juki, Brother,
Pfaff, and Adler--all fine competitors to Singer. The Singer shop, realizing it was not able to
compete, ultimately gave him the right to sell the Singer machines, too, under
the name of Power Sewing of Denver. It
remains that way, today: Singer is sold
under its own company name, but it's all at Ralph's.
Unimaginably enterprising,
Ralph sold equipment for every aspect of sewing: Dressmaking, uniforms, saddlery, interior
design, draperies, upholstery,
mattresses, police and fire garments.
There were no limits to what he could do. He offered on-the-job service with his trucks
and mechanics, he offered parts and repairs.
He was unique in his concept of customer service, and he worked the
entire western portion of the country.
He also picked up the prisons in multiple states when they began to
contract sewing work; wherever there was a machine to be purchased, or one to
be repaired, Ralph's was there.
Ralph captured the entire
market from California to east of the Mississippi, where he still controls the
area. As time went on, other shops like
his either went out of business, or became so specialized that they extinguished
themselves. Ralph's, by diversifying,
has remained steady and continues to grow.
The machine shop was a result
of son Paul's genius. He is basically an
inventor with a keen mind and the ability to come up with a solution for just
about anything. Patent after patent,
Paul has created attachments for various machines that manufacture such things
as soft eyelets for hats, fabric grommets without metal for police and fire
shirts, non-metal mattress handles and borders, airbags, automobile covers,
collars for dogs and belts for people.
Whatever a company needs, Paul has come up with, and Ralph's machinists
create it along with the patent.
"In-house product development is the secret to our success,"
says Ralph. "Our solutions require
deep technological thought."
Ultimately, Ralph's has become a contractor and converter of parts for such plants as General Motors, General Electric, Ball Aerospace, Hartz Mountain Pet Supplies, O'Cedar mops, the Fuller Brush Company, and Samsonite Luggage. The best invention is a forever sharp glass blade, co-manufactured with Coors Ceramics, to be used for cutting through thick fabrics such as jeans and mattresses. What was originally meant for making sewing machine parts, additionally now sells tiny precision items made specifically for satellites, automobiles, university research, and more.
All of this goes on in the little building
across the driveway. It has also allowed
the company to survive during economic downfall and recession. Interestingly, the apparel business,
including uniforms, has become a relatively small part of Ralph's, now. Says Jack, "Apparel in America basically
went out during the '70's and early '80's."
Today, Ralph's ships all over
the world. It does work in Africa,
Canada, Honduras, Argentina, Brazil, England, France, and Germany. Ralph's has become an institution in
American machinery and sewing needs, and sees only a bright future ahead as it
continues to diversify and reach out to new customers and trends.