Chilling with the Mister Softee veep

IF LOCAL KIDS could choose to be the scion of any family

business headquartered in the Delaware Valley, a lot of them might pick Mister Softee, founded in West Philly and now based in Runnemede, N.J. Jim Conway is one of two lucky baby boomers, along with his cousin John Conway, to be living that soft-serve dream.

Jim Conway, who turns 59 today, is vice president at Mister Softee Inc., which was founded in 1956 by his father and uncle. He oversees the firm's truck and franchise sales and works with its 360-plus franchisees, who dispatch 600-plus ice cream trucks to salivating children in 18 states. Cousin John, the president, handles finance and administration.

Jim spoke with Becky Batcha early this week about the iconic brand and its Pavlovian come-to-custard jingle.

Q What was it like growing up in a family with a fleet of ice cream trucks? You must have been incredibly popular.

It was kind of neat. At my birthday parties and my sisters' parties growing up, we always had a Mister Softee truck.

But when you live with something, it loses its uniqueness, if you will.

Q Did you ever drive a Mister Softee truck?

Oh, yeah. I've driven trucks all over the

region, from Northeast Philly to Cherry Hill and everything in between. Same with John.

We both, literally, grew up in the business. We started as kids, cleaning and stocking trucks. At different points in our lives, we've owned and operated trucks. In high school and college, we drove trucks.

We've done everything there is to do, outside of being a mechanic.

I went out to the shop to borrow a screwdriver and one of our mechanics asked if I was sure which end to hold.

Q In your father's obituary in 2006, the New York Times wrote this about the Mister Softee jingle: "For some listeners, it heralds summer. For others, it recalls childhood. For still others, it constitutes a form of torture." Where do you stand?

Personally, I liken the song to the beginning of spring and summer, the change of season. If the operator does things properly, the music should not be annoying to anyone.

I live in a town [Haddonfield] where we have a Mister Softee. I wouldn't want him to sit outside the house playing music for half an hour. You can stop the truck, play the music to introduce yourself, then turn it off. There's no point in continuing.

Q Between the trucks and the jingle, your father and your uncle were pretty sophisticated at building a brand.

I think it was sophisticated for its time. In 1956, building a franchise business was very, very new to the United States.

It's interesting. It was kind of novel at its creation, and it's gone from novel to nostalgic. We're now serving ice cream to third- and fourth-generation customers.

Q Food trucks are such a big thing in Philadelphia right now. Has anyone ever acknowledged to you that Mister Softee was an inspiration?

Only the two guys who opened up Big Gay Ice Cream, Doug Quint and his partner. Doug is a professional musician. Classical music. I guess that didn't pay very well. He initially started working for one of our franchises in New York, driving a truck.

They decided they liked the ice cream business so much they opened a parlor in New York, and now one in Philadelphia.

Q Are there Uber-style "disruptors" to the Softee business model that keep you awake at night?

No. There are not. It's funny you should ask. One of my sons works for Uber, in Hawaii.

In the last two years, we have done collaborative events with Uber in New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. They'll have a day where, for a nominal fee, someone who has the Uber app can essentially order an ice cream truck to come to their home or business. It's a pretty interesting concept.

The social-media stuff has really helped a lot for our franchises who've embraced it. With Twitter and Facebook, they have this immediate contact with customers.

A customer will say, "Hey we're having a party of 50 people at my house. Swing the truck by." It happens all the time.