I needed a cup of coffee or a nap on this particular Thursday afternoon when I saw the “dinner” sign. Herbie K’s Diner in Cocoa Beach, Florida to be more specific. But a diner is a diner, right? And coffee at dinner should be just the ticket to give me a jolt and get me through nap time.
During the short drive from my car to the front door of Herbie K’s, it became clear that Herbie wasn’t interested in owning yet another restaurant. He wanted to own a piece of history. And, while he was more than happy for me to stop by for a cup of coffee, he was in the memories with a malt business. I went from the current tensions of the late 1990s to the mid 1950s just by opening a door and walking through it.
There is a pristine black and white checkerboard tile floor and lots of chrome waiting to greet you. If you’ve brought your sweetie and the kids, there are plenty of booths to the left.
I headed for a red padded stool mounted on one of those chrome bases that let you swivel in and out. Perfect background music played from a jukebox in the back. “Yakety Yak, don’t answer…”
There was a time when music was part of the menu. He’s still at Herbie K’s. Mounted on the back of the counter was an old friend, a chrome monument to rock and roll’s adolescence. Everyone of my day knows that you can reach under the front of this space helmet with a mind for good music and flip through the pages of the music menu behind the glass cover. I fumbled for a quarter to go along with my growing smile, but someone else beat me to it. There is only one drum opening like that. Wipe. Pushbuttons S5. The buttons are just below the glass cover and connect to the large jukebox at the rear. This was America’s first remote control. Too bad we don’t keep the idea of two options for a room.
“Do you need a menu?” she asked as she stopped at my place on the other side of the counter. She was dressed in white and her long hair was tied up with a piece of red chiffon. She had a white waitress hat attached to the top of her hair. Her name tag announced that “Bettybop” had stepped out of the fifties to take my order. In a second or two, she was back with a cup of coffee and a white mug. “Cream?”
Hamilton Beach machines owned the back counter. Two machines could make three malts each. A friendly notice is painted on the back counter, “free java for cops in uniform.” That’s probably illegal nowadays, right?
In the corner was a glass-topped machine filled with small stuffed animals and a mechanical crane dangling over the furry trophies. Young males can still test their skills and prove their love for fifty cents. Behind me was a very familiar two-ton Polaroid with the curtain door. My father never understood why anyone would pay anything for those grotesque little image strips that fall into the outer slot after you and a few friends strike the perfect pose.
I should have gone my way, but Herbie succeeded with his concept. Herbie K has caught my attention. It was fun to sit, watch, listen and flip through the selection of music on the chrome monument in front of me. I started digging for that room. Damned. Beat again. Hang in there Sloopy. K2 pushbuttons. I really liked it because it reminded me of Pat Powers and The Barn Party at the frat house. Thirty years passed in an instant.
A couple of counter cards pushed the blue special plates. Yes, they had meatloaf. I was wondering what else they had. Bettybop was going at full speed writing in her order book as he passed.
“May I see a menu?”
“Of course dear”.
He handed me a four-page menu protected from grease or ketsup-coated fingers courtesy of clear vinyl protective covers sewn into black plastic edges. I’m glad I didn’t order fries. They are Murphy slippers. Order a “Murphy basket” and you’ll get plain fries. “Jack it” and they become cheese fries. “Make It Whistle” and your fries come with chili. Order a “crying Murphy basket” and you’ll get a half order of fries and a half order of onion rings. Don’t you like French fries? Try “Raised Elbows in the Alley.” Macaroni and cheese, of course.
If you like something healthy and light, try “Dragging One Around the Farm.” It’s a big garden salad with lots of turkey, ham, and sliced boiled eggs on top of the garden salad. “Cackle In The Garden” changes the top to blackened chicken.
The menu is adorned with line drawings of old favorites. James Dean. marilyn elvis Herbie’s story is on the cover. He owned a restaurant up north and went fishing on a cold February day. The only thing he caught was a cold. He loves to fish, so he moved to Florida and opened Herbie K’s. He now he catches the “catch of the day” instead of a cold. Snowbird does well.
Yes, they have burgers to go with Cecilia de Simon and Garfunkels. push M8. Just order “One Blown Up”, “One Blown Up And Jack It” gets you a cheeseburger, “One Blown Up, With Jack Benny” gets you a bacon cheeseburger, and if you want a variety of these with chili , you guessed it, “Make him whistle.”
“Burn A Pup” is a hot dog. “Sour It” gets a kraut-topped hot dog. You can also order from a wide variety of other popular sandwich combinations. “Jack Benny With A Dame” Tomato Grilled Cheese Sandwich. “Bossy On A Raft” is a steak sandwich. “Butter, Liver and Tongue” is, you guessed it, a BLT.
For those with a bigger appetite try “Throw A Bone On” which is the pork chop dinner or “Endless Italian” in case you are a lover of spaghetti and meatballs. “Whiskers” is the catfish dinner that the menu promises is a real treat.
I looked up from the menu of desserts and treats like “fish roe” which is tapioca pudding and “fruta con tapa” which is cake and a song jumped right out of the portable jukebox at me. We used high-tech reel-to-reel tape recorders to record that song at every speed we could think of because we wanted to pick out the obscene words we knew it contained. I finally found the quarter in my pocket, turned on the machine, and dialed Q7, Louie, Louie. Nothing happened.
“I’m sorry honey,” Bettybop said when she came to my station with the coffee pot. “It does not work”.
Dammit. A hi-tech glitch at Herbie’s just as my mind was ready to start the day. I didn’t have the heart to ask if all these memories were just props.
“More coffee?” she asked.
“No thanks. I have to be a businessman,” I told him and paid my bill and headed for the door. I turned and asked him a question before letting go of the past and opening the door back to the pressed future.
“Is there a place that sells fifties music around here?”