22 - "I am a busboy."

            “The Bean and Spirits Factory” opened at the east end of the Pearl Street mall in November, 1978. Although Bruce and I worked there for less than a month, it was memorable. Through the lens of a 21 year old boy with a crush on half the waitresses, I wrote:

            First day of work. Place hectic, first day open, scaffolding in front. Many waitri, few customers. Good Mex food. Waitress from Herbie’s that W proposed to (through me) works there, and the young blonde female busnerd, Kathryn, is her roommate. She is too young to date, but marriageable.

            Roberta (“Bert”) sings about cocaine and pinches me whenever I pass. Marla, Eliza, Sandy are all kind of quiet. Barb is too, but has a zany flirty smile. Cynthia and Elaine did cocktails. I want to marry Elaine.

            I did eventually get around to my male co-workers:

            Nick Palazzo is crazy, kidding insults with him already, a dead ringer in all ways for Eric Stratton of Animal House.

"Hi, Eric Stratton, Rush chairman, damn glad to meet you."

            Juan and Terry are the dishwashers, tough young ghetto kids; Terry’s real loose, they both kid an awful lot and eat huge amounts of food. Juan: “We come from the ghetto. It’s a tough neighborhood. They either like you, or they don’t, and they usually don’t.”

            One co-worker I didn’t like was the chef:

            Mickey is the cook, somewhat surly, but mean at heart.

            Tom and Joe were the bartenders, friendly and generous with “duty drinks.” This is a restaurant practice that varies widely. Some reward staff at the end of their shift with a free or reduced price cocktail; others don’t like the idea of staff mingling with customers. On opening night, we celebrated with margaritas and kahlua and cream.

            The owners later attempted to curb this practice, announcing that henceforth, we would be allowed only one duty drink. Tom and Joe got around this limitation by putting our “one drink” in a liter container.

            After opening night, Bruce and I went out with our new co-workers.

Boulderado Hotel - Still there, since 1908

            Bert, Kathryn, W, Nick Palazzo and I went to expensively designed bar at the Boulderado Hotel, listened to a blues/jazz combo, drank lots of white Russians! After a while, we noted it was well after midnight and that W and I would not be able to check into the hostel so late. All three of our friends offered put us up. We went with Bert finally because she had to go to work with us in the morning.

            W and I stripped down to our shorts and got in a big double bed while Bert talked to her roommate. I got up to go to the bathroom and when I returned there were two people in bed. However, despite Bert’s valiant efforts, I remained virtuous until the taxi came for us in the morning. I assume W did also. I thought all night about my chess game with Hooven. 

             Awoke to clean snow, tea for me and W, and a few hits off the bong for Bert before the taxi came to take us to work, miserably hung over and burnt. Fortunately, it has been incredibly slow. Made a Spanish Coffee/Empanada sign. Mickey called W a “dumbshit” for reversing two Spanish words, and when some tortilla chips fell on the floor, he picked them up and declared they were still OK to serve. “They don’t collect garbage.” 

            Besides Mickey, I had some issues with other co-workers. I ranted in my journal about one who used homophobic slurs; another who seemed racist. And:

            Got into an argument with Eliza about suicide. She said it was always violent. Argument began with her saying meditators were weird, and I said at least they’re non-violent. But she knew a violent meditator.

            I kept my options open for other jobs. A couple days after starting at Bean and Spirits:

            I drove 16 miles to Marion’s at the Ranch, very classy place. Gregg sounded promising; I can possibly begin in a few weeks. From Marion’s, I went to the Bustop for blackjack dealing classes. It’s not too easy, and not something I like or am good at. I’m not slick.

            Another night:

            Work sucked as usual, but a young boy was there with his hip parents, and dug exploring the restaurant. I let him blow out some candles at night’s end and told him about wax. I gave him some, which he rolled in his fingers, saying “wack-ss.” I told him what the philosopher, Rene Descartes, did with wax.The boy wasn’t interested.

            Despite these challenges, the lax duty drink policy was an undeniable perk. One typical entry: Tom made us a couple of pitchers each of piña coladas after work. Another: Tom sold me one white Russian for 27 cents and gave me another and Bruce forced me to drink several piña coladi.

            I was happy when we got our first paychecks!

            Bruce and I cashed our checks and went shopping for record albums.

            Halloween at Bean and Spirits was festive. 

           A stoned Joe gave me a pitcher of margaritas, spoke of baccarat, 9-ball and Vegas. I made Juan happy by telling Tom he wanted a margarita, so Tom put one in a paper cup for him.

            Many co-workers were in costume, and some friends from the hostel even came to visit - including Steve, who was a big hit wriggling on the floor in his caterpillar costume (i.e., his sleeping bag).        

That is apparently me, Steve, the Giant Artichoke, and Bean and Spirits behind the scaffolding.

              As my Bean and Spirits career went on, my restlessness grew. I wrote on October 23, 1978:

            The sun is out. The leaves are golden, red, and falling. Snow is topping the trees and mountains. The clouds are low on the hills; the sky is clear and blue. I am a busboy.

            We left Bean and Spirits November 11, 1978. I wrote:

            Work was uneventful except that it was our last night. We ate a lot, and Mickey even made me a crab enchilada. We said goodbye to our friends, and Don (one of the owners) said we could “have a job there anytime.”

            Forty years later, I took Don up on his offer. I showed up to 1441 Pearl Street, my Bean and Spirits t-shirt no worse for the wear. Alas, it is now a candy store.           

             

 

            Word is, the restaurant didn’t last long at all. This was no surprise; after the opening night success, we were slow to the point that Bruce and I were often sent home. The owners would blame the weather, or construction. The competition on Pearl Street has always been fierce.

            I was thrilled to reconnect recently with Nick Palazzo (not his real last name). I must have written his full name in my 1978 journal to differentiate him from me. He laughed when I read what I wrote about him, and caught me up on his own life.

            He had moved to Boulder in 1978 from the east coast, falling in love with the city and the mountains, enrolling at Colorado University. He didn’t last long at Bean and Spirits, and doesn’t recall much about it, except a vivid memory of Mickey making enough refried beans on opening night to feed the army that didn’t quite materialize. Nick left there shortly afterwards to work for a moving company, and then as a carpenter, before a crazy situation drove him to leave Boulder.

            Nick’s roommate was a Vietnam Vet, going to CU on the GI Bill, and working full time on top of that. When roommate’s girlfriend announced she was moving to Germany, he “went off the deep end” and began dealing cocaine. Nick would occasionally find himself answering the door for “crazies” in the middle of the night.

            Nick went home back east to get his wisdom teeth out, and when he returned a couple weeks later, the locks were changed. He found an open window and discovered half his stuff was missing, sold by his roommate. He left Boulder shortly afterwards.

            Nick was a competitive athlete, and when his playing days were over, he worked his way up in athletic administration, only to realize that the long hours and 7-day weeks caused him to miss too much of his daughter’s life. With the support of his wife, he recently resigned his high level job – and is now doing interior painting, where he “creates a masterpiece every day.” In fact, I caught Nick on the phone at Lowe’s, buying supplies.

            He told me, “It hit me that there’re more important things than making money, and life’s too short. I love my family life now, and there’s no looking back.” Nick my friend, I am in full agreement.

            He’s been back to Boulder once. He had breakfast at Dot’s, one of the few places still in existence from 1978, though it has moved from its former location adjacent to a gas station. Nick told me, “The huevos rancheros were even better than I remembered!” 

            

The original!

(On my recent trip, I tried to go to Dot’s outpost in Nederland, just west of Boulder. It was supposed to be open and the front and back doors were unlocked. But when I entered, nobody was in there, despite recently finished plates on the tables and counters, and fresh baked goods on a tray next to the oven. I stayed for nearly five minutes shouting and waiting for someone, even chatting with another prospective customer, before giving up. I half expected to find a dead body somewhere.)

I should mention one other former Bean and Spirits co-worker I was able to track down - Tom, one of the bartenders. A few years before I worked with him, he was a key player for a major college football power, and I used to love talking with him about football. Even though Tom has a low social media profile, given the detail I recalled, I was able to track down his son - who patiently passed on a couple of my increasingly pleading messages to his father. Though I have yet to hear from Tom, I still hold out hope.

Next: Tracking down transients from the Boulder Youth Hostel.

Illustrations: Comics: Stephen Jackson. Photos from internet: Animal House, Skinner from Ratatouille movie, margarita, chessboard; Boulderado from its website. Dot’s: boulderinn.com. 2018 photos, including of 1978 paystubs: me, except one taken by a stranger I bugged into taking, with me in front of the candy store.