The Shoe Man : Ventura Shop Is Home to a Dying Breed of Cobbler

Julio Nolasco no longer notices the sweet aroma of old leather and fresh shoe polish that fills the air at his tiny shoe-repair shop in downtown Ventura. After a lifetime as a cobbler, he has become immune to such things.

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His fingertips are tough from the pricks of the thick sewing machine needles used to stitch together tattered and torn boots worn way past their prime. Yet his hands are soft, soothed for years by rich leather cream and wax.

Nolasco’s dingy Main Street shop, with its cracked ceiling and beige painted walls, has become an institution in Ventura, where the business opened in 1924. And Nolasco, 66, is among a dying breed of cobblers, carrying on a trade passed down for four generations.

Someday soon, Nolasco says, he’ll close down the shop--called simply Julio’s Shoe Repair--and head off with his girlfriend for vacations in Alaska or at the Grand Canyon.

But for now Nolasco is content just spending most of his time repairing the footwear of his loyal customers, who have been bringing the same shoes to him for more than 20 years.

Since the recession started, his business has been booming, with more people paying to repair their loafers than buying new ones. Some weeks he is so busy he turns away customers. Some weeks he works until his back aches.

“My father, my grandfather, my great-grandfather all worked in this kind of business,” said Nolasco, who moved to the United States from Mexico in 1962. “I’ve done this all my life. In Mexico, I made shoes. So for me it’s easy to fix shoes, since I know them from the beginning.”

He notes the change of seasons simply by the types of shoes dropped off for repair. These days he is fixing his share of sandals, some so tattered he wonders why people bother to keep them.

He chalks it up to the economy, or perhaps breaking in new shoes is just too painful. Nolasco stays busy fixing more than 50 pairs a week, including some shoes he nearly rebuilds from scratch.

On a recent morning at his shop, several of his longtime customers stopped by with their footwear.

“Julio, how are you-lio?” asks Brigitte Best, who came in to pick up a pair of shoes she had him stretch. Nolasco responds with a wide grin.

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Best said. “We don’t always go out and buy new shoes. You see we are loyal to the ones we’ve got. I appreciate Julio’s craftsmanship.”

Sally Richards and her husband, John, walked in with their motorcycle boots.

“These boots have been to Panama and the Yucatan,” Sally Richards said, slapping the black leather stompers down on the counter. “We want to get them fixed up for a trip to Australia.”

Larry Diaz strode in carrying a bag filled with his wife’s shoes and wearing loafers Nolasco has patched and polished a dozen times over the past 20 years.

“They would probably cost me $350 to replace,” Diaz said, looking down at the shiny shoes. “But Julio has kept them together for me over the years. He knows his craft.”

Nolasco began making and selling shoes at age 15 while living in Uruapan, Mexico. Years later, after his wife died during childbirth, he moved to the United States to start a new life. After a year working in a shoe-repair shop in Los Angeles, he heard about an opening in Ventura.

In 1963, Nolasco went to work at a shop at Main Street and Pacific Avenue. During his vacation he would work for his friend Juan Macis at his downtown Ventura shop. In 1982, Macis offered to sell the shop--situated in the 300 block of Main Street--to Nolasco for about $24,000.

Nolasco, anxious to be his own boss, accepted. He is only the third owner of the tiny shop--founded when city residents still rode down Main Street on horses.

He works there with the help of his girlfriend, Manuela Rubio, who answers the phone and greets customers. Although Nolasco used to keep the shop open most days, he now closes it on Saturdays, Sundays and Mondays. And his hours are sometimes irregular.

“Sometimes I come late, sometimes I come early,” he said. “It all depends on how I feel.”

Unlike most area repair shops, Nolasco no longer dyes shoes, giving him more time to do the more challenging leather work.

“I never like to say “No,’ ” Nolasco said. “I always say, ‘Let me try.’ ”