Lombardi's owner likes life "on the
edge"
By Providence Cicero
Special to The Seattle Times
After 34 years in the business, Dianne Symms today
owns a trio of Lombardi's restaurants.
Change is afoot on the Ballard food scene. Smart new bistros, ethnic eateries,
trendy bars and artisan bakeries are sprouting like, well, Dandelions in Tall
Grass.
Even Lombardi's Cucina, a Market Street fixture
since 1987, has had a makeover. Known for mainstream Italian food at moderate
prices — and most famous
for its annual fall Garlic Festival — Lombardi's has dropped "Cucina" from
its name and refreshed its decor. There are new menu options, too, among them
a $1.95 "Italian Social Hour" and a $13.95 three-course "Italian
Supper Club" deal for early birds: all part of owner Diane Symms' effort
to nudge Lombardi's in a direction that's "more modern, fresh and current."
Symms is enthusiastic about Ballard's emergence
as a dining destination. "More
restaurants are better than fewer. People want to be where it's happening. The
whole neighborhood is much more festive and alive."
To her it's part of a natural flow. "When
I first came here there wasn't one single person on the street under 50. Now
most of the residents are pushing strollers."
Symms began her 34-year career as a restaurateur when she acquired a ramshackle
sandwich shop. She has been her own boss ever since.
Today she owns a trio of Lombardi's restaurants
in Ballard, Issaquah and Everett that generate just over $4 million in annual
sales. A survivor of two divorces, a brush with the IRS and cancer, this self-made
businesswoman says, "I've
always liked being out on the edge doing things."
Today Diane Symms owns three Lombardi's restaurants
that generate just over $4 million in annual sales. This self-made businesswoman
says, "I've always
liked being out on the edge doing things."
Late last summer the trim 60-year-old presided over a gathering in the private
dining room of her Ballard restaurant. Key staffers from all three Lombardi's
were present, including her daughter, Kerri Lonergan, the company's vice president
and corporate controller. Their mission: to finalize the fall Garlic Festival
menu.
As the group sampled more than a dozen creations, from tomato and roasted
garlic soup to garlic lemonade, Symms solicited opinions and ideas, offered encouragement
and advice, sought consensus and made decisions. Her manner was that of a polished
hostess, but she was every inch the CEO.
The year before, at this same gathering, she was recovering from surgery and
could barely sit up in her chair. The breast-cancer diagnosis wasn't a surprise.
Because of her family history, she had participated
for years in a rigorous diagnostic program through Northwest Hospital's Seattle
Breast Center. "I
knew if I was going to survive I needed to catch it early."
Her choice of treatment was a bi-lateral mastectomy with reconstructive surgery,
once unthinkable to her, but a decision she doesn't regret. A series of more
impetuous decisions determined the course of her early life.
Smart steps from the start
The Canadian-born Symms was a military brat living
reluctantly with her parents in Germany, when she met an American GI and married
him at 18. They settled in Chicago, but not for long. "I was raising children, it was hot and I was
bored," she says.
At her instigation they moved to Seattle, and by 1970 she was a divorcee with
two children looking for a way to augment $150 a month in child support. A neighbor
who sold real estate mentioned a listing for Little Caesar's Big Hero Sandwich
Shop at First Avenue and Spokane Street. Asking price: $5,000.
"They were making $600 a month, twice what I could make anywhere else," she
reasoned. The hours were nine to three, Monday through Friday. I thought, perfect:
I can drop my son off at the church day care; my daughter was in first grade." She
talked the sellers down to $1,500, talked her neighbor out of the realtor's commission,
and took ownership after a week of training.
Two years later, when the initial lease expired,
Symms found a better facility nearby, this time negotiating an option to buy.
Little Caesar's eventually became Wild Strawberry, a café and catering
operation, which was sold in 1996, though Symms still owns that property along
with two adjacent lots.
Real-estate investments have been the underpinning
of her financial security and the key to her ability to grow her business. She
has accumulated assets by buying and renovating houses, then selling them at
a profit. "Banks," she
found, "don't like to lend to restaurants."
Nevertheless she was armed with bank loans when
she opened her second restaurant, the Roanoke Exit, in 1980. When interest rates
soared to 21 percent, things looked bleak. "I thought I wouldn't survive.
I was doing the unthinkable, not paying my payroll taxes because I didn't have
any money."
Eventually she was able to get at the equity in
her house, pay off the loan on the Roanoke and get some cash infusion. Then the
IRS came calling. She finagled a two-year repayment schedule and repaid every
cent. But having nearly hit bottom professionally was a wake-up call. "It was clear I was in over my head." That's
when she joined the Washington Restaurant Association and began attending seminars
on everything from meat-cutting to finance. Serving on the board and eventually
as president of the WRA awakened her political activism. Convinced of the importance
of voting, she became an American citizen in 1991.
Lombardi's launch
Launching Lombardi's in 1987 was a strategic move. Wild Strawberry and the
Roanoke Exit had reached their maximum in revenue and profitability, and Symms
wanted to focus on one concept with growth potential. She knew Italian themes
were hot; it suited her passion and fit with her acquisition in 1986 of Ribbons,
a fresh-pasta company.
By 2000, when Symms received the Nellie Cashman Woman Business Owner of the
Year Award, she had opened a third Lombardi's at the Everett Marina. Though she
had sold Wild Strawberry, Roanoke Exit and Ribbons, she still had a lot of pots
on the stove. Management problems and the economic downturn also took its toll.
Symms was struggling again.
She turned to a restaurant consultant and friend,
Karen Malody, who helped her tighten up systems and procedures. "Operating three restaurants is a
lot different than operating two," Symms observes. "You can't do the
hands-on nearly as much and you have to have systems that ensure consistent quality
from day to day, shift to shift, store to store."
These days she concentrates on the company's strategic
direction, but it's not always easy to stay hands-off. "My staff will tell
you I'm getting better at it, but when things go awry your tendency is to jump
in.
"I don't cook or wait tables any more, but I'm very involved in training
and developing the menu." And she still loves being in the restaurants. "It's
juice to me on a Friday night."
