Good Contractor : Frank Filipas
“Carpenters, you know, usually make the right choice in everything.”
Some years ago, Frank Filipas brought home a Stonycreek Furniture catalog that featured a rare oak table. He eyeballed it, guessed at the measurements (399 x 2900, he recalls) and then he built it by hand. Because he loved the challenge.
Frank isn’t just a carpenter. He comes from a line of carpenters who date back over a century … literally. When Fucic—the workshop where he apprenticed in former Yugoslavia—celebrated its 100th birthday two years ago, the entire town came out to celebrate. Pieces of furniture made during the 1800s were found, dusted off, and internationally televised. Their construction is still flawless.
Today, Frank lives with his wife in Burlington. Their house is tucked neatly into a rounded cul-de-sac of an equally neat suburb. When we met for our interview, they were both wearing matching, off-white, cowl-neck sweaters.
“I’d like to tell you about when I came to Canada,” Frank says. He speaks with a halting, breathy, Eastern-European accent for which he is apologetic.
I was not ... never good at talking. I prefer to show how the way [of] doing something. I was no good at talking. Many young people want to learn how to be a carpenter and I was no good to explain to him. I get nervous, you know? I prefer [to] show him and you copy. That’s what I was doing when I was young.
It’s no surprise that people want to learn from Frank. The man has been in the business since he was 14. After immigrating to Canada in 1961, he bounced around various unions in Ontario, finally settled in with Toronto-27. He stayed there for more than thirty years building a career out of an unwavering adherence to “quality, quality, and quality.”
I learned the trade by the book. Properly---no cutting corners. When I came to Canada, I find out they say “no, no, no, that’s not the way to do it. They were always against me—and you see them 'spike, spike, spike, hurry up. Quality’s no good; just a quantity.
His policy is one built on persistence, and painstaking attention to detail. A culture of tongue and groove over hammered in screws.
I never cut corners. Sometimes I have to work 10-12 hours a day to get paid for 8 hours. In the end it pays off because then all the people want you.
During winters that many contractors spend wiling away the jobless hours, Frank was always busy. His customers often came from the highest echelon of society---millionaires who wanted furniture nobody else had. A hand carved bar that their brother-in-law would envy. Frank relishes the memory of these jobs—the challenge of a truly unique design with something “extra to think about and do something different” paired with a wealthy benefactor who’d foot the bill. It lends him the air of an old world Renaissance master.
Which isn’t to say that he’s without flaws. As his wife, [sp?], says gently, “yes, he’s great at what he does, yes he has a style but ohhh does [he] have a hard time changing [his] style.”
It’s true; Frank will fight tooth and nail to make sure things get done “right.” That is, that things get done his way. (The fact that his way is often the right way, notwithstanding.)
Take for instance, a recent job he did for a friend who disagreed with Frank’s insistence on putting an apron on a kitchen counter “to make a little bit more sturdy, the legs.” Met with resistance, Frank replied, “if you want me to do it this way, you do it yourself. I don’t do it.” And just to underscore his point, he pulled up Google images of similar counters. Every one of them had aprons. His friend’s counter now has an apron.
It’s easy to mistake this kind of stubbornness as pigheadedness rather than what it really stems from … pride. After being in the business for so long, Frank has learned to live by his work.
When asked how to identify good contractors, Frank seemed near confused because the answer was so obvious: just look at their work.
The trust has to be built. You give them a small job. You see ... the work they do.
When Frank retired, he spent nearly two years helping his company search for a replacement. After a series of strikeouts, he finally found the one he was looking for.
I found this guy, Jake. He had good hands. I asked if he could do what we do, if he can make it better. He’s working now two years because the job he’s doing is fantastic and he does the finishing with an artistic flare. He’s good and he loves it.
And that’s the final secret. Frank loves what he does and the contractors he stands by are the ones who love it too.
Place any piece of wood in front of him, and he could tell you what kind of tree it came from and perhaps even the area of the world it grew. When he talks about wood, his hands mold the air in front of him like a sculptor, to illustrate.
You can’t cut the wood any time you want. Room temperature, all these things affect the wood when you cut the tree.
Much depends on the cut and the grain. Some can make paper and the grain comes different. But if you slide it and then open up ... beautiful. Slide the tree and then you open, then you see two of the same grain that goes together. They change slowly. Then you glue like this.
And then Frank’s palms press shut—like a tongue and groove—as he looks up and he smiles.
