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Farewell to a joke-telling accordion hero.
In his final hours, as my lips touched his ear whileIsang to him in Slovenian, a tear fell from the corner of his eye. Unable to speak, that tear held so much emotion and all the words he could no longer say. As I sang, I heard back, “I love you my daughter, I will miss you, never give up..... and by the way, did you hear the one about the blonde who walked into the bar?”
On the last day of July in 1927 a baby boy was brought into this world by a mid-wife on a kitchen table in a small suburb outside of Cleveland Ohio. His Yugoslavian immigrant parents came to America in the early 1900’s in search of and in hope for a better life. A better life for themselves and for their children. So I’m sure that Michael Hrovat and JoHanna Vidic were no doubt filled with joy that morning at the birth of their twelfth child. They named him Ludwig Frank Hrovat. Ludwig would grow up to be a man, a father, a grandfather a great-grandfather, a bar owner, an entertainer, a city worker, a friend... and yes, the best joke-teller this side of Cleveland ever saw.
This is my dad, Lud Hrovat.
Growing up on Stanley Avenue in Maple Heights, Ohio, Ludwig quickly learned that life would be hard and that you needed a lot of determination and drive to ‘make it’. He watched his father get taken advantage of by some folks because he couldn’t speak English, and watched his mother do all that she could to raise such a large family on a very small income. Basically, Lud learned how to fight..... how to negotiate... and no matter how bad it seemed, to never give up.
When Lud was fourteen, one of his dad’s brick-making employees gave him a button accordion. They had a neighbor who knew how to play and he began teaching my dad by passing the accordion back and forth. At one time this teacher said to my dad “You’ll never do it!” which were the best words anyone could have ever said. A few weeks later my grandfather enrolled him with the Wurlitzer Company for lessons on the piano accordion. Together they would make the long journey on several different buses to get downtown. As I type this I can just see the two of them sitting together, side by side, accordion by their feet -- my father filled with anticipation on just what he might learn today, and my grandfather so proud that he was able to provide this for his youngest son. If my father’s physical body was born on that kitchen table in 1927, it was when he first strapped on his accordion, that his soul found its wings.
On any given day if you walked passed the house with the white pillars, you would undoubtedly hear polka music. The sounds of Lojze Slak, Johnny Pecon, Lou Trebar, Johnny Vadnal and Frankie Yankovic would seep out from our walls and fill the air with the happiest music there is. After just a few lessons, the money and traveling were too much and from then on my dad would learn from listening to those musicians and their songs on the polka radio shows.
Attending St. Wenceslas Catholic Grade School provided my dad with a faith that would be a strength for him his whole life. He was not a great student and coincidentally he was absent a lot! One day the principle told him he was about to be paddled. I believe that it is the smallest decisions that can make the biggest impact, and in that moment my father changed the course of his life. He stood up, told the principal ‘no you won’t’ and walked out of that school, never to return again. I’m guessing that in hindsight my father might say that getting paddled that day would have been the easier choice - but my dad was never one for doing things the easy way.
In 1944, at the age of 17 he joined the Navy. When dropping him off at the bus station, my grandfather told my dad, “Remember, no matter what happens, if I never see you again, take everything for its best and accept it.” It wasn’t until sitting down to write this article that I learned of that exchange between the two of them. I’m taken aback that even with the thought that he would never see his son again; my grandfather was strong enough to give those words of advice. I wonder though if he was talking to my father, or talking to himself.
My dad served with the Seabees in WWII and was stationed in the Aleutian Islands. His first job in the Navy was cleaning garbage cans... “I made them cans shine,” my father once said. His captain took notice of the clean cans and sought out the person responsible. Once he found him, he asked what job he would like. My dad was moved up to Transportation Manager and then to Personal Photographer to the Commander. He was discharged in 1946 and returned home to his family. He opened a photography studio on Lee Road and later a beverage business. He worked for the Lewis Welding Corporation as the company’s Personnel Manager. And, most importantly, he rekindled his love for his music by forming the Lud Hrovat Orchestra.
Lud began performing on a regular basis at all the clubs, Slovenian Homes and polka bars in the Cleveland area. It was at one of those dances that he would make another choice that would change his destiny. His personality and charisma from that bandstand was irresistible to the ladies, but one in particular won his heart. Lillian Miklaus. Within a short time they eloped to Kentucky in a car so old its battery fell out on the drive home. Lud and Lil were married for 36 years and had six children Lud, Kathy, Larry, Lenny, Karie and myself.
I can hear my father as I type this... make sure to include the story about the time our house in Twinsburg burned down, when I only had 22 cents in my pocket and our son was only 22 months old.“ And make sure you tell them, about the one Christmas that I donated the 30 foot Blue Spruce from my front yard to the Cleveland Clinic as a ‘thank you’ for saving my life so many times and… did you hear the one about the guy goes into a carpet store?“
In 1960 he bought a bar on Libby Road in Maple Heights and called it Lud’s Tavern. He owned and operated the tavern until his first health problems at the age of 50 forced him to sell it in 1978. For many many years he worked full-time, ran the bar at night and performed on weekends. I could write pages and pages about the years that he owned that bar and all the people that he touched and entertained. Weekend nights were filled with music and laughter, my dad playing his accordion from behind the bar after finishing a gig for a local wedding or anniversary. Not only was he a great entertainer, but as a bar owner -- he became a great listener. He would talk to folks all day, encourage them, laugh with them and be their friend. But there’s one thing he would NOT allow.... cussing! He always prided himself with the fact that it was a ‘family bar’. Clean enough to bring your children too. So on top of the bar sat a clear glass jug labeled ‘Cuss Club”. If anyone sitting on that bar at anytime would use foul language they would have to put a quarter into that jar. One time one of the regular patrons who had a hard day, (and a hard time controlling himself), walked in, sat down and threw a ten dollar bill in the jar... ‘There you go Lud, now, leave me alone damn it!” Every Christmas my father would collect all those quarters that added up during the year and give the money to a family from the church who couldn’t afford to celebrate. I think often about those kids who opened presents on Christmas morning who might not have if it wasn’t for my father.
At fifty years old, while vacationing on Rock Creek in Ashtabula County, a friend found him face down in the water and completely blue. He died that day....and many 
times since. But his body constitution must have been part feline because we used to joke that he had nine lives! His health chart reads like a rap sheet.... three heart attacks, open heart surgery, thirteen catheterizations, three stents placed in arteries near the heart, out-of-control diabetes resulting in the removal of his right big toe, a reversible colostomy, severe arthritis, pneumonia, loss of both rotator cuffs and oh yeah... a handful of small strokes. As the years passed he spent more and more time battling his illnesses. And that’s just it.... he fought. Every time my brothers and sisters would think ‘this is it’ and we would all travel home to say goodbye... and he would fight back. And the thing is, he would come back stronger and better than before! This man, who only had 26% of his heart working, refused to quit.
Our family moved from Maple Heights to Mentor when I started high school. After selling Lud’s Tavern and being semi-retired he was looking for his ‘next gig’ Lud worked for the City of Cleveland as a Supervisor of Radio Communications of Operation 'Snow Bird'. Basically, he told the salt trucks where to go during the harsh Cleveland winters and sent them out to patch the potholes in the summers. Yesterday, on my way home from making funeral arrangements, we hit several potholes on Rockside Road -- “Dad, could you get someone on those?” I said. I think the part of the job my dad likes best was when there was a really bad snow storm, and the television crews would interview for the evening news bout the conditions of the roads. Whether he was on stage or in front of the camera my dad knew how to reach people.
I remember sitting at my First Communion party and thinking that it was boring. And then, my dad took out his accordion. In an instant the room was transformed. The music he made brought a joy to people like nothing else on earth. In the last ten years he gathered up some old recordings that he made and released them on a CDs. I have it playing as I type this.... and I’m so glad that his music will live on in the hearts of so many.
If my dad had success in life as an entertainer and business owner it was because of one person: my mother Lillian. She was the silent, behind-the-scenes partner who kept everything going. In the fall of 1982, after only a three-month battle, she lost her life to cancer. With a broken heart my dad found a way to continue through life.... still bringing his joyous spirit and can-do attitude to everyone he met. He moved from Mentor to Seven Hills to begin a new phase in his life. He retired from the City of Cleveland but he was busier than ever! He was actively involved with the Slovenian Home in Maple Heights where he was named Man of the Year in 1992. He continued to entertain with his accordion on many bus trips where he could be found holding the microphone telling yet another joke. In his business he even found some time to enjoy his 13 grandchildren and 9 great-grandchildren.
He became a real snow-bird late in life and bought a second home in Naples, Florida where he brought his infectious spirit to a whole new group of people. Anytime he would take his accordion out at the pool, the crowd would quickly grow from ten to twenty to thirty... and one time it grew to over 250 people and they shut him down!
The last few months were full of some hard days for Lud. His health began failing rapidly, and he had used up the last of his nine lives. On July 13, 2009 at 9:50pm, Lud left this world and entered eternal rest. The key word here being... rest. No doubt that the first person to greet him was Lil, after being apart for over 24 years I can only imagine the joy they experienced in seeing each other again. And I’m guessing she helped him strap on that accordion so that he could entertain St. Peter at that gate with an old Slovenian melody. I’m sure he told him the ‘one about the blonde and the computer’ and as he walked he probably glanced down to make sure there wasn’t any hole-patching that needed to happen on that street of Gold. I don’t know what was said when he stood before the throne, but I like to believe that his maker told him, “Good job my son, you worked hard, you helped many, you brought so much joy, you used all the talents I gave you.... now go REST!”
