One spring day back in 1956, the family was driving down Los Angeles' Sawtelle Boulevard when junior spied a giant plywood donut sitting atop a nondescript strip-mall storefront. "Donut, Donut!" the boy cried. The Primos were on their way home after a disappointing day of house hunting. An offer they had made fell through, their hopes of fulfilling the American dream dampened. But a hungry three-year-old could care less about building a life. "Donut, Donut!" he insisted. His father pulled over.
At the time, Ralph Primo was a night student and would soon want to take on a second job for the summer. So he asked the shop's owner about part-time work. The store keeper, Paul Hodges, said he didn't need any help. He said that after six months in the business he was giving up and selling the donut shop.
"For how much?" Primo remembers asking. "Two thousand dollars," the owner said.
When he returned to the car with the bag of donuts, Primo told Celia they had just bought the shop. "WHAT?!!!" exclaimed a rather shocked wife. "Look honey," Primo said, "we'll run the business for a year - build it up - then sell it and we'll get a better house."
--Baking Buyer Magazine