Dinner with Herman Alves

An interview with an ultra successful Montreal businessman, a Portuguese man who has made millions and lost millions. 

By Jorge Armand, Staff Writer

“If I try to push you with a rope, the rope has no power, because it will bend and fall. If you want to be pulled, you will go somewhere. But if you want to be pushed, you will go nowhere. Be certain of what you want to do.”

via www.breakingstones.com

It’s 6:00 o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. I speak to Herman Alves on the phone; he finally agrees to meet for a short interview at 7:00 p.m. He tells me to see him at his restaurant. I need a shave; I don’t have the time. I almost walked out the door wearing sandals and a beater, but I figured I would wear something more appropriate.

Alves was born in Fatima, Portugal. It might have been 1957, but the living conditions in Fatima were Stone Age – no electricity or running water, not even toilets.

At the age of 5, Herman’s father left him and his mother in search of a better life in Brazil. Alves and his mother were left to work the land in order to live. After experiencing social alienation in Germany, his father returned. Then the Alves family moved to Montreal, where he lives now.

In the subway, it’s about 30 degrees Celsius. I envy Montrealers and their trendy summer outfits. I stride hurriedly on Notre-Dame Street. I look pretentious. People smoking outside a dive bar shoot me sharp-eyed looks and rattle in French. I check my watch, it’s 6:56 p.m.

Behind a waving Portuguese flag, the wall reads “Bitoque.” I pull on a heavy door and enter the restaurant. I sit down at the bar. A pretty waitress asks me if I want a drink, I accept. I quickly change my mind and ask for iced water; it could be early for booze.

At 7:00 p.m. Herman is facing me. He is agitated because the phone rang and no one at the restaurant was able to answer in time. Herman asks me to sit at a table. He wears a grey suit, no tie. He stammers a bit, but speaks with confidence. His hand gestures are exemplary of European culture. He asks with a big smile, “Would you like something to eat?”

“The back of your recently published book, Breaking Stones, says you have made millions and lost millions, tell me about that,” I say. Herman pauses for a second then says, “On paper, I was a millionaire at the age of 26, because I started buying buildings at the age 18. But I lost everything, in 1984, because of my divorce. I had to start from scratch. I bought a restaurant in a hot area of Montreal, but the concept just didn’t click; I made bad deals, bought too many buildings too fast, had problems with tenants. I was at the brink of bankruptcy.”

 Herman has lived many lives in only 50 years. He has done a hilarious variety of jobs: worm picker, club-owner, calèche driver, marketing consultant, and even a political activist. He has endured incredibly hard times. Creativity and perseverance are Herman’s keys to phenomenal episodes in his life.

We are interrupted by a tall, middle-age, tanned woman with perfect make-up. She hands Herman a fat envelope, then walks away. Herman takes the envelope and says, “That’s my ex-wife, she does the accounting for my restaurant.” He chuckles.

“So how did you recover after the divorce?”

“Well, I say that if you’re going to make mistakes you’re better off making them when you’re young, so you have time to recover.”

Herman flinches to a paper cut caused by an envelope, the one his ex-wife just handed him.

“I divorced at the age of 27 after 5 years of marriage, so when I lost everything, my only salvation was to go back to school and learn enough so I could land a decent job, then start a new business. Education was my way to get out of poverty. I have always admired people, who began with nothing and made millions. For instance, the Bronfman family, who started bootlegging liquor, later formed the largest distiller of alcoholic beverages world-wide.”

In 1993, former mayor, Jean Doré, introduced a surtax on the existing Montreal business tax. “My property tax bills had tripled from the previous year,” said Herman. The city of Montreal was collecting taxes on business properties, whether there was a tenant or not.

“I tried phoning the mayor’s office, but nobody really wanted to listen.”

“So what drove your actions to battle the Montreal surtax?”

“When you are the little guy, and you feel like you are being trumped by the big guy [governments or institutions], you have to stand up and cry foul. I dedicated a year of my life to fight this tax. Not only did we win, the surtax was abolished and declared illegal in the courts. But when elections came around, the electorates kicked out the mayor – they voted him out.”

A phone rings. Herman answers his cell phone in English. He switches to Portuguese and says, “We better switch to Portuguese.” Because of my Spanish background, I gathered bits and pieces from the conversation. Suspicious.

Herman Alves has more than 25 years of experience in customer service, real estate, telecommunications, entertainment and tourism. He is now a father of three, a marketing consultant and a motivational speaker.

Alves is the former president and active member of Share the Warmth, a charity that gives food and scholarships to underprivileged children in Montreal. He organizes the Table of Hope gala, which aims to raise over $1 million to benefit Share the Warmth. According to The Gazette, the Table of Hope gala raised $140,000 for Share the Warmth in 2011.

“There is an old saying that says: if you love what you do, you never work in your life.”

We are interrupted again by the waitress that brings us expresso coffee. I stir the sugar in my coffee, though I make sure to hold eye-contact. Herman takes the thin, long sugar package and says, “Imagine this is a rope. Grab it.” As he pulls on the sugar package, “If I pull you with a rope, it’s easy to follow.” I let go.

“Now hold your palm out.”

[pullquote]If I try to push you with a rope, the rope has no power, because it will bend and fall. If you want to be pulled, you will go somewhere. But if you want to be pushed, you will go nowhere.[/pullquote]

Herman pushes the sugar package against my hand, it bends. “If I try to push you with a rope, the rope has no power, because it will bend and fall. If you want to be pulled, you will go somewhere. But if you want to be pushed, you will go nowhere. Be certain of what you want to do.”

I remain silent.

“What is your plan for the future?” I ask.

“To have fun. I have my restaurant. I let my sons run it. I want to teach them the art of business. You want to grab a beer?”

I accept. It might be late enough for booze.

ARB Team
Arbitrage Magazine
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