Marvin Parish, Phil Sowers and I recently shared a few memories of our neighborhood malt shop. The three of us went to Williams and then Yukon Intermediate. That was our neighborhood.
The exchange started with the poem at the bottom of this post that Marvin had forwarded to us.
Remember when we got in trouble for “acting up” at the Malt Shop?
You know the place where you had to wait 30 minutes for a cheeseburger and a chocolate malt and it was worth it. Les was the barber and his sister ran the malt shop. What was with her? What was with Les? In this day and age the sister would be in some type of “home” and Les would probably be “registered”.
Marv and Phil,
I really liked the 50s version of email. It brings back fond memories.
I too went to the malt shop a lot growing up. Mrs. Grizell was the mother. I did not call it the Malt Shop. It was Mrs. Grizell’s to me. As I remember her, she had red hair. Her son, Les had the barber shop next store. For some reason my mom did not like the way he cut my hair, so I went to Chuck’s on Yukon. The magazines were better there anyway. Mrs. Grizell’s plain looking daughter, who worked in the malt shop was named Chickie. I call her plain, because she wore very plain dresses.
I don’t remember having to wait a long time when I ate there. Our whole family really liked the food. We used to take out our orders. That was when I learned that if you ate your food there, you had to pay sales tax. If you took it home, there was no tax. Chickie’s cheeseburgers were very good, but my favorite were the tacos at $.30.
I would get mine with hot sauce. One day when I was about nine, I asked for extra hot sauce. I may have said lots of hot sauce. Chickie obliged. That afternoon, there was a Cub Scout meeting at my house, and I attended with zinc oxide on both my upper and lower lips.
Don and Marv,
Hi guys, boy do I remember “those tacos” to this day. I believe they were the first tacos I’d ever had. My wife Pat makes wonderful tacos but I can still taste those from Lamole street. In fact, My folks thought I’d marry a Mexican girl just because I ate so many tacos. Oh what memories.
Thanks for sharing our youth. I’ll smile all night!
And now for the 50s version of email poem.