7 - 'I refuse to bank on other people's pain,' says funeral home owner Franco Bernardo Keeping a cool head in times of grief

Former marathoner marks 30 years in business with an expansion plan, one of few independents left

This is the story of a man who, if he wanted to, could easily become very rich at the expense his clients. They would probably be more than willing to hand him their money. All he would have to do is ask them.

His name is Franco Bernardo and he owns and operates a funeral parlor. "That's right," he confirms. "If I were an unscrupulous man, I could easily take advantage of the disorientation that always accompanies the loss of a loved one. Who would prevent me from doing that? In those moments, relatives are concerned about other matters, and for the sake of their dearly departed, they're willing to shoulder any expense. But I have never inflated my estimates, even by a single cent. My sole objective has always been to earn my clients' trust. That's why I'm still here, after 30 years."

The Bernardo Funeral Home recently celebrated its 30th anniversary. To mark the occasion, Bernardo is expanding its Dufferin site (at 2960 Dufferin Ave. The other site is located at 855 Albion Rd. at Islington Ave.).

"Work will be completed this summer," says Bernardo. "Not only will we have a spacious parking lot, but inside there will be large halls and all sorts of comforts. As always, service will be impeccable and personalized: the best transportation, the best cars and, of course, prices will be reasonable. I have never speculated on other people's pain. Because you see, my life has always had a fixed motto: respect for everyone."

Bernardo tells his story in his own words. It's the story of a boy from Basilicata, (he was born in Pisticci, in the province of Matera, 66 years ago). He came to Canada seeking a better life. There would be nothing exceptional in all this, if it weren't for what Bernardo said at the beginning of this interview: his refusal to make money by exploiting the emotional vulnerability of his bereaved clients during their time of loss "Death is an integral part of life, and that's why it deserves the utmost respect," he mulls.

His true family name is Barbalinardo. "It was my father who changed it to Bernardo," says Franco. "Our original name was too difficult to be pronounced in English. My cousin, CHIN owner Johnny Lombardi, whose last name was also Barbalinardo, did the same thing."

Franco Bernardo's father came to Canada at the turn of the century. He was very young and found work as a "water boy on the railroad."

"When you put it like that it doesn't mean much," says Bernardo. "In fact, he used to bring water to the railroad workers, almost all of whom were Italian, who were building Canada's first railroads. He lived for a long time in the forests that were being cut down to make room for the railroad. Then he came to Toronto, which at the time was nothing more than a handful of houses lined up along Lake Ontario. And here, too, he had to work very hard. He told us that he built sidewalks. When the First World War broke out, he left Canada and returned to Italy to enlist as a volunteer. He got married, came back to Canada but then returned to Italy yet again. He was a staunch anti-fascist and more than once his views irked the Fascists, who forced him to drink castor oil. Towards the end of the Second World War, when the Allies began their advance along the south of Italy, he served as interpreter for the famous fifth army. Then he passed away, and his death had a devastating effect on me."

In what way?
"In the sense that after having attended the prestigious Plinio seniore lyceum in Castellammare di Stabia - keep in mind that the school principal was Luigi Gonella, who later became Italy's Education minister - and after having enrolled in university, I suddenly decided to quit school. I had enrolled in medicine, in Naples, and had already passed exams in chemistry, physics and biology. My professors were enthusiastic about me. But I suddenly wanted nothing to do with school. I decided to leave for Canada, as my father had done before me. It was 1956 and I was 23."

What did you do once you came to Canada?
"I worked odd jobs for about a year and a half. At the time earning some money wasn't too difficult. All you needed was the willingness to work. I saved about $1,000, which was quite a bit at the time. One day, I got fed up with Canada and decided to embark on a ship to Italy - at the time a ticket cost $150. A month later, I had used up all my savings in petty expenses. And it was then that I told my mother: "I'm going back to Canada, and this time for good. And that's exactly what I did."

And then?
"My studies at the University of Naples helped me get a job at St. Michael's Hospital's department of pathology. I made good money there. My work consisted of preparing the bodies for autopsies. Meanwhile, I was studying at the Banting Institute towards my licence to be an embalmer and operate a funeral parlor. I had the fortune of meeting someone who mentioned my name to the people at the Lo Braico Funeral Home, the first Italian funeral parlor in Toronto. The company then hired me and, to make a long story short, that's how I began my profession: first by working for someone else, then going out on my own. I began my business on April 8 exactly 30 years ago . Italians used to come to me and they helped me get my business off the ground. In turn, of course, I also helped them."

How?
"You have to keep in mind that in the '50s and '60s there were no laws protecting injured workers, so people truly risked their lives on the job. And they sometimes did lose their lives, by falling from scaffoldings, by being buried under falling rocks during an excavation, or by being blown apart by an exploding gas tank. Many of them were Italian, since we were the ones doing most of the heavy work at the time. And those who lost their lives, generally speaking, had come here seeking a better life for themselves and eventually, for their families. You see, their intent was to get a job here, settle down, and eventually sponsor their relatives. And whenever any of these people died, there were always problems tied to sending the body back to Italy. So the co-workers used to rack their brains trying to find a solution and would often come to me to sort out all the legal snags. And I, too, used to suffer greatly, because whenever someone had lost his life that way, I would refuse to make money out of it, and instead simply ask for them to pay my expenses. That's why, to this day, many elderly people tell their relatives that, when they die, they want me to take care of the funeral arrangements."

With all this time spent so close to death, how much time did you dedicate to the enjoyment of your own life? Specifically, to your family?
"Oh, my family. They've always played an important role in my life. I married my wife Maria, who was always a friend and companion for me until the Lord took her away. We had a daughter, Patrizia, who bore us a grandson, Pietro Francesco, who is now eight. I remarried Sandra, who is a lot younger than I, and who gave me back the desire to live. We have two children: Giovanni Paolo, who is now 11 and Eleana, who is nine."

Giovanni Paolo, an important name.
"Yes, we named him after the Pope because he was conceived in Rome, at the Hilton Cavalieri. My wife and I informed the Vatican of this and they sent us the blessings of the Holy Father. My children's names were not chosen at random: our little Eleana was named that way because the word comes from Helios, which in Greek means sun. I'm also very proud of my son Giovanni Paolo, because he's an athlete like me."

Like you?
"Yes. Did you know that I took part in five marathons? I have always enjoyed running. Up until a few years ago, I used to run no less than 1,000 miles a year. I attended my last marathon, which was 27.5 miles, when I was 55. To this day, I still run, even though I don't compete in marathons any more, given my age. But I still exercise."

In every part of the world the business that revolves around providing services for the "dearly departed" is huge. This often translates into a veritable battle among contenders. How is this battle fought here?
"You're right. The 'dearly departed' business is a huge one. Here there are three large companies, which are all listed on the stock exchange: The Lowen Group (from British Columbia), Service Corporation International, a Texan company, and Arbor Capital, which is a Toronto company. Then there's us, the independents."

What difference is there between them and you?
"We provide a very personalized service, while on the other hand, large corporations do things differently. Personally, I'm at my customers' disposal 24 hours a day. I even live in a house adjacent to my Dufferin funeral home, and if a family calls me, even at two o'clock in the morning, I'm always available. We have received handsome offers to buy my business on several occasions. But I always turned them down."

Why?
"Because my work is my mission, and a mission has no price. The respect for the dead, the famous Latin pietas, is part of an ancient civilization, which we Italians always carry with us. That civilization cannot be bought. At any price."

Publication Date: 2002-12-22
Story Location: http://tandemnews.com/viewstory.php?storyid=2183