Fun Ray Goes to Quizzo

As one might expect from a man who practices a dying art, Ray separates work from life.

by Mike Newall

Ray Cutuli has been especially hard on Patrick the Quizzo Guy lately, and that may be as a telling an indicator of the failing economy as any. Ray is a toiler in a dying craft, the only silversmith left on Jeweler's Row where there were a half dozen like him just 25 years ago. Today, Trio Silversmiths, located on the third floor of the Old Jewelry Trades Building on Sansom Street, is one of only a handful of places in Philadelphia where you can still get Mom-Mom's teaspoons restored.

"It's a labor-intensive job," says Ray, standing beside his polish machines and torches. "None of the kids today want to learn a trade. Plus, it's microwave society now. Who cares what they eat their dinner on anymore?"

As one might expect from a man who practices a dying art, Ray separates work from life.

"There's 'Real Ray' and 'Fun Ray,'" explains Chris DiCamillo of Accredited Gem Appraisers. Chris does a perfect impersonation of Fun Ray, which is approximately eight parts Italian Redd Foxx and two parts Jackie Gleason.

"It's all in the gravelly voice," says Chris. "And in the hand signals — Fun Ray does a lot of hand signals and kicks his legs when he talks."

Real Ray is a dedicated craftsman who for years performed all silver restorations for the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, and who proudly displays an overstuffed office folder filled with e-mails from satisfied customers. Like this one from Sharon Fine:

"Just wanted to let you know that the silverware (candlesticks, serving pieces and 19th-century water pitcher with handled tray) arrived by UPS yesterday. Wow!!! They look absolutely wonderful!!! Now they'll sit out where people can enjoy them instead of wrapped in newspaper in a basement. Thank you so much for giving grandmother's things a new lease on life."

Fun Ray, on the other hand, spends his evenings standing at the bar in Coco's, the Eighth Street tavern where he and his jeweler friends drink Tuaca and shout, "What the, who the, where the ..." any time a pretty woman walks past. Fun Ray also gives great discourses on his favorite massage at the now defunct Camac Street athletic club.

"The masseuse would wear what you could call a jockstrap," Fun Ray begins, "and he'd put a sheet over you and pour boiling hot water on you till you turned red like a lobster, then he'd soak you up and down with a soft bristle brush, twist you up like a pretzel, and put you back together again, then wash your hair and dry you off. Next, there was the eucalyptus rub ... "

Fun Ray's antics are a welcome distraction for jewelers drinking away the blues of the worst fall season anyone on the Row can remember. With the metal restoration market all but cornered, Fun Ray had remained relatively unscathed by the economic downturn. But that's changing now.

"I used to get 30 e-mails a weekend from potential customers," he was saying recently. "Now I get about three. These are tough times."

Perhaps not coincidentally, Fun Ray has stepped up one of his favorite pastimes: pestering Patrick the Quizzo Guy.

"Okay, the shout-out round is now over," Patrick will say, looking directly at Ray. "Everyone please refrain from calling out answers."

With that, Ray will spend the next 30 minutes yelling out things like, "Can't hear ya, repeat the question," "1926," "46 pounds" and "Napoleon."

HALF OFF DEPOT

Why live life at full price?

Ray has also taken to replacing Patrick's pencil jar with a shot glass full of 1-inch pencil nubs. And Patrick recently switched to a cordless microphone after nearly losing his voice yelling at Ray to stop pulling the plug on the old one.

Each week a randomly selected customer can win a pot of money by answering a question correctly. Last week, Chris put Ray's name in the hat.

"Please tell me there's another Ray here," said Patrick, shaking his head.

The two men stood next to each other in front of the crowd.

"It was a showdown," says Chris.

"What R&B singer sang backup on Steve Winwood's 1990 solo album?"

"I don't know."

"You gotta take a guess."

"Leave me alone."

"Take a guess, Ray."

"OK, Napoleon."

Ray won himself a $25 consolation prize.

Dispatch is filed from all corners of Philadelphia. E-mail mike.newall@citypaper.net