So Long, Shoe Shine

Robin Brace didn’t get her low-cut boots shined this week. Instead, she went to her shoe-shiner’s funeral.

Her shoe-shiner, Vincent ​“Vinnie” Williams (pictured), is believed to have been the last stand-alone practitioner of his craft left in downtown New Haven. He passed away last week at age 85.

Today his stand remains by the elevator bank in 59 Elm’s lobby. Instead of a customer, a floral arrangement occupies the chair as part of a shrine to a departed master of his trade.

Williams’ life was long and eventful. The North Carolina native fought in World War II, raised six children, worked at the Winchester factory and the postal service, then ​“retired” to shoe-shining, a trade he learned in his teens. (Click here to read an interview by the Reg’s Randall Beach in February.)

By all accounts, Williams could give a person a shine along with the shoe-buffing. Every day for more than two decades, he set up his stand in the lobby of the office building at 59 Elm St. His kindness, good humor, and hard work made him something of a local institution.

“I saw him every morning,” said Steve Rickman, an attorney who works in the building. ​“He did a great job. He always had a good word when I came in. He added a lot of personality to the building.”

Rickman went on to say that from what he could tell, Williams always took good care of his family.

“He would ask for collections so that one of his relatives — I don’t know if he was a grandson or nephew — could go on a basketball tournament with his high school,” he said.

Ken Rubin, a local attorney who knew Williams for 20 years, remembered the last shine that Williams gave him a couple of weeks ago. The shoe-shiner remained ​“a ray of sunshine” until the very end, Rubin said.

Brace (pictured), who runs Bikram Yoga in the office building’s basement, said she knew Williams for six years.

“He used to pop down here for a coconut water every once in a while,” she said. ​“But I suspect that what he actually wanted was to look at the ladies in their shorts. He would also go to [U.S. Rep.] Rosa DeLauro’s offices and make sure that they had candy in their bowl. He had a real sweet tooth.”

Brace added that Williams also worked as a cobbler, and that he would resole her beloved low-cut boots whenever they broke.

“But the best part about Vinnie is that he didn’t have prices,” she said. ​“He just took whatever people wanted to give him. You would ask ​‘How much for my boots?’ and he’d reply, ​‘Well, how much you think?’”

Dan Seligsohn, who works for the company that manages 59 Elm St., said that the company has no plans to find another shoe-shiner.

“He is irreplaceable,” he said of Williams.

In the lobby Tuesday afternoon sat Ellsworth Simmons, the building’s concierge and one of William’s co-workers. He looked profoundly sad, alone in his desk.

“I just got back from the funeral” at Immanuel Baptist Church, he said, adding that he didn’t want to talk much.

“He was a sweetheart,” he went on, a faint smile on his face. ​“He was my best friend in the whole world.”