‘Cleaning rugs is enjoyable work with your hands, your mind . . . ‘

Vartkess Baronian changed his name to Bart Baron when Americans couldn’t get his name right back in the 1920s. An Armenian called the “Caruso of Istanbul” in Turkey, he left for America at age 19 and got a waiter’s job in a Los Angeles cafe. An unrealized singing career led him to a business that had been in the family for centuries: rugs. Up from salesman to partner, he counted Rudolph Valentino and Marian Davies as customers before his rug company closed in the Crash of 1929. He built a new shop in San Diego where he has been cleaning rugs for more than 50 years. The 86-year-old rugman who draws customers from Arizona, Texas and San Francisco said he may soon retire to his Mt. Helix home--and take his knowledge with him because of a lack of willing apprentices. Times staff writer Nancy Reed interviewed him at his shop in lower Mission Hills and Dave Gatley photographed him there.

When I was a child I grew among rugs. We had bales and bales of rugs. I will never forget the time we had rugs in our possession in Istanbul, and we had to run away from our residence. My father was a graduate of an American college over there, so we put them in the American Bible House. And the moths devoured them in four years.

My grandfather collected rugs and sent them to the United States. I am cleaning the same rugs of that time. I don’t do any advertising; my customers advertise me. They all come back. I have had 90,400 customers. As we say in our portion of the country, if you have the honey, the fly will come from Baghdad.

I do the work myself. I don’t trust or depend on my helpers. I enjoy pleasing the customers, opening it up and showing it to the people. When they say how beautiful it is, oh, it is the greatest happiness! It is just like a medical doctor when he cures a person who was sick and patient comes back and says you did a wonderful job.

I am responsible for everything that goes wrong. Sometimes I don’t know how to clean the rug not to run the colors.

I once cleaned a rug for the Scripps family, and I told her that the evaluation of the rug was $25,000. She told me, I am sorry, Mr. Baron, but that rug has a value of $65,000. Then, I said, you are going to give me $5,000 to clean that rug. And she did. That was years ago.

All rugmen say, I am still learning. I have got to know where this rug is made. You can’t learn that overnight and you can’t just sit and guess at it. I learn from experience that a rug is woven in Pakistan, from the weave, the design and the colors.

The boys who come to work here, all they are interested in is the almighty dollar, they don’t have the ambition to learn. I don’t blame them, America is based on money.

When I left the job waiting on tables way back in 1924, I was making $45 a week. That was big money--but it was a beggar’s job. I worked for $18 a week at the rug cleaner to learn how to conduct business.

The most rewarding thing in all my life was to work and make enough money to send my children to school. My two boys are medical doctors and my daughter is a business administrator.

Cleaning rugs is enjoyable work with your hands, your mind, and you accomplish something. When people write letters, they indicate that they are happy. Oh, I appreciate that very, very much.

I collect Orientals like people collect paintings. See that spot over the fireplace? The nails are still there. I had a beautiful Pakistan rug and it was hung like a tapestry. I sold that rug way back in 1960. And ever since then I have cussed myself. What am I going to do with the money? It’s true, I made a big profit out of it. But I can’t replace the rug. The place is empty. When you fall in love with rugs, that’s what happens. Once in awhile people offer a big price for my collection or a rug. But if I were to sell, it would be just like they are taking my arm away.

I have to put a period after me, because I have two sons that are not interested in my business. I am going to put a nice big padlock on my door. I want my name to be in the clear, and I will walk in the street with my chest wide open and say to myself, I made it. How ‘bout that. I haven’t taken a vacation in about 15 years.