BOW Life Goes On #15
San Diego, California
February 28, 1974
7:50 p.m. Pacific Standard Time
“Know what I’m thinking?”
“No…” Marsha asked “...what ‘are you thinking’?”
“I’m thinking that if ‘Write Hand’ doesn’t go as we expect, maybe I’ll talk to Mister Sawyer about becoming a Mercedes salesman.”
“That takes ‘lots’ of training…” Sophie said “...most of it done in Germany.”
“Besides…” Marsha asked “...what do you know about cars anyway?”
“Well…” he said “...I do know how to change a tire, after all.”
“And turn the ignition on.” Marsha added.
The Cadillac taking the ‘U.S. 8 South’ on-ramp heading to the City of San Diego and ‘Fisherman’s Grotto’.
“Let’s eat!”
****
Commercial fishing boats, sight-seeing boats, fishing and charter boats for hire: ‘Fisherman’s Wharf’ not a pretentious name to attract tourists but truly a functioning wharf with, minimally, ten long piers, many with, depending on size, three or four boats secured bow to stern on either side of each pier.
Completely dark by the time the Cadillac arrived, the entire scene eerily lit by glass encased bare bulbs atop and running intermittently along the length of all ten piers.
‘Fisherman’s Grotto Restaurant’ is a huge barn of a place with nautical memorabilia hanging upon the walls and suspended from the high pitched ceiling.
Dimly lit by high hanging, old fashioned wooden wagon wheel chandeliers along with flickering lanterns on each table barely giving light enough to read the menu.
“Harriet!”
Motioning to a disheveled but still attractive, possibly seventy year old woman in a denim pants suit.
“Sophie!”
Coming from behind the hostess podium bellowing “You fat old ‘chink’! Where you’ve been? Can’t remember the last time I seen you!”
“Yeah, well…” Sophie replied in a semi-serious tone “...it’s a long time since I had a good case of food poisoning. So thought I’d stop by and see my old… ‘very old’ pal Harriet.”
Hugging, looking over Sophie’s shoulder. “You brought some friends you want poisoned, too, have you?”
Standing apart now. “No, they’re not friends… Well, yes, they are friends, but they’re also clients that just bought Rodney Sawyer’s place.”
“ ‘The ‘Sawyers’ place! Been there once a few years back when we catered an anniversary party. Well good for you kids!”
Hugging Marsha and shaking Mitchell’s hand. “Where you two from, sweetie?”
“Don’t get too close to this one Marsha…” Sophie, said in a semi-serious ‘warning’ tone “...she’s an old ‘lesbo’!”
Having no idea what ‘lesbo’ meant, however warming to the hostess.
“From Illinois…” Marsha responded “... a place about fifty miles north-west Chicago called Schaumburg.”
Asked in a semi-serious despondent tone…
“And you bought the Sawyer place from this one,” jerking her thumb in Sophie’s direction.
Enjoying the interplay of words, glancing at Sophie. “We did.”
A line of customers forming.
“Then you got the best real estate lady in all of San Diego county. So…” Harriet asked “...you here for dinner?”
“No…” Sophie said facetiously “...we’re here for your ‘annual marble tournament’! ‘Yeah’, we’re here for dinner!”
Grabbing four menus. “Come on!” Harriet led the three to a window table overlooking the eerily lit wharf.
Motioning to a waitress. “These are my friends, Katie…” she said “...take good care of them.” Said more for the benefit Mitchell and Marsha, then as instructions to the waitress.
“Enjoy your dinner and when you get all moved in, you two come on back, ya’ hear!”
Glancing about the nautical adorned walls and ceiling. “This is my kind of place, Harriet, and if the food is as good as Sophie says…” looking from Harriet to Sophie “...we will definitely be back!” Mitchell said.
“Okay...” backing away “...I’ll hold you to that.”
Waiting at table side, Katie appeared to be not too much younger than Harriet.
“Can I get you drinks?”
Seeing Mitchell hesitate. “Don’t give it a thought…” looking from Marsha to Mitchell “… have whatever looks good. I’m buying here!
“Yes, Katie...” Sophie said “...I’ll have a Margarita, blended with salt.”
Serving Sophie any number of times over the years. “You’re usual, huh.” Looking across the red checked oil-cloth covered table. “What can I get you kids?”
‘Margarita’? He’d heard of Margaritas, but never had one so... “Me, too, a ‘Margarita’ like her…” cocking his head towards Sophie “...please”
“Ma’am?”
Feeling a bit uncomfortable being waited on and being called ‘Ma’am’ by a woman old enough to be her grandmother.
“Okay...” looking at the waitress “… they ‘do’ know how to make a ‘Harvey Wallbanger’?”
“Yes…” said gruffly, but good naturally “...of ‘course ‘ we know how to make ‘ball-bangers’!”
Catching the humerus meaning. “That’s what I’ll have, then….” giggling “...A ‘ball-banger’!”
“So…” giving them time to think during the car ride here, Sophie ashed again “...what did you think of Rodney and Sarah?”
Having given it thought since leaving the showroom and the drive to this restaurant, I think they’re kind of snooty, Marsha thought, saying, “I think they’re nice.”
“Me?” Tapping his chest.
Thinking a moment. Trying to formulate his thoughts regarding Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer.
Of course grateful that they’d priced their beautiful home reasonably enough for he and Marsha to be able to afford topurchase it.
However, there is this ‘thing’ about self-assured people, and if they’re ‘extremely’ wealthy it adds to the aura of…
“ ‘Regal’...” he said. “...Rodney and Sarah seem to be ‘regal’.”
“And they ‘know ‘it.” Sophie said unkindly.
Coming with the drinks. Placing the Margaritas’ before Sophie and Mitchell and the ‘ball-banger’ before Marsha….
“Would you like to place your orders now?”
“Yes. How’s the ‘snapper’ tonight?”
“Fresh…” Katie said “...came fresh off the boat about four hours ago. But seeing as you all are special friends of Harriet’s, I’d strongly recommend the ‘Barracuda’.”
Looking up from the menu. “Barracuda? They’re the fish with those sharp teeth can can eat people?”
“Suppose so. But Harriet will guarantee that her barracuda’s ‘never’ eaten anyone, and it’s ‘delicious’! Order it, Mitch, I ‘promise’ you’ll love it!”
Shrugging his shoulders. “Okay, if you say so.” looking at Katie “...I’ll try the Barracuda.”
“Like salad tonight, Sophie?”
“Yeah. Along with your special garlic dressing, baked potato with sour cream and chives and, uh, asparagus.” Looking across the table. “The garlic dressing here is ‘fantastic’!”
“ ‘Sold’!” Mitchell said. “Whatever she’s having…” nodding at Sophie then looking to Katie “...I’ll have.”
Pen poised, waiting for Marsha.
“The rack of lamb, please…” looking up “...with all else they’re having.”
“Thank you, Katie.”
“You’re welcome, Sopjie…. I’ll be back soon’s it’s ready.”
Once Katie had left, looking about this huge, completely open restaurant while regarding two other waitress carrying over loaded trays.
“How come all the waitress here…” Marsha asked “... look like they should be home knitting, or maybe in a nursing home?”
“This place…” motioning about “...was built sixty years ago by Harriet's husband, ‘Morris Lipschults’…”
The name ‘Lipschults’ ringing a foggy, far distant bell in the memory of Mitchell Lipensky.
“I’ve never gotten the straight story from Harriet. But when after twenty-five years or so, Morris either died or they were divorced, or both, Harriet inhabited this place.
“By that time she was no ‘spring chicken’ but enjoyed doing the job and wanted to continue ‘hostessing’ as she had those years when Morris was alive.
“But then owning this place — as most of the waitresses at that time were approximately her age and were ‘experienced’ with the menu and knew many the old time customers by name and what is ‘most’ important, many of the ‘Grotto’s’ waitresses had become friendly… Some ‘very’ friendly — if you know what I mean — with the fishermen on the wharf and when the fishing boats pull in, which is most often in early morning, they’ll bring the best of their catch to Harriet — who pays a premium and gives them free coffee before the guys ice and crate and cart the rest of last night’s catch to market.”
“Very interesting...” Mitchell said, and asked sincerely “...and she kept the same waitress all these years?”
“Yes, mostly...Harriet keeps whomever wants to continue working for as long they want to work, or for so long as they can handle their job. And the ladies want to keep their jobs …” Sophie continued “...because on most nights they’ll make a hindered bucks or so on tips.”
“A ‘hundred bucks a might’…” Marsha asked incredulously…” taking a sip of her ‘Ball-banger’ “… all on tips!”
“Plus…” Sophie continued “... It’s only a few bucks, but they get their hourly pay also.”
“Hey…” getting past the salted rim of the large bell shaped glass, taking a gulp of the icy margarita “… this tastes like an alcoholic, lemon -lime Popsicle.”
“Never thought abut it before, but I guess it does.”
Taking a sip from her glass, then licking the salt from her lips. “What do you and Mitch plan on doing tomorrow?”
Not knowing how long it would take to find a property they wanted to purchase, Marsha and Mitchell—leaving their children and Sabra in the care of Mitchell’s mother — allocating the morning they flew to San Diego… including the afternoon once arriving in San Diego and the next two days for house hunting —if need be. They would fly back to C Chicago on the fourth day.
Sipping on her ‘ball-banger’. “We’re planning on renting a car and look around our new city.”
“We thought we’d drive out towards Sea world...” Mitchell added“...then to ‘Coronado Island’ and then head into Mexico.”
“If you’re just going to ‘Tijuana’, I’d suggest that you leave the car in the parking lot on the American side and walk across the bridge into Mexico. Going into Mexico is never a problem. They don’t care and you aren't checked on this side or the other.
"Coming back though, be ‘sure’ to have both your driver’s licenses or some kind kind of major identification so you can get back into the ‘U.S.’..”
Looking over Sophie’s shoulder, heading in their direction Marsha spotted ‘old’ Katie carrying a large, fully loaded tray raised at head level, in one hand.
Next BOW Life Goes On #16
