Memories From The Mint

 

1968 - Seattle Municipal Archives - 191827

It’s possible that “The Corner Market” building at 1^st Ave and Pike Street has been photographed more than most Seattle landmarks and while it is a respectable place now that wasn’t always the case.  Built in 1912 it featured open storefronts along the 1^st floor perimeter while the interior featured other food specialty businesses including the Pacific Poultry Company on the 2^nd floor.  At that time it was an altogether decent place to conduct business, do your shopping and to see and be seen.  

The Corner Market went into a steep decline during the ‘60’s just as I was coming into the labor market with only 20% of the space was being utilized.  Heck, all of 1^st Ave was pretty seedy and quite sporty then and I chose the Corner Market for my first job that didn’t involve newspapers or lawnmowers.  The open storefronts along 1^st Ave had been closed in to house the “Modern Barber College” (nationally accredited), “The Taco House” (specializing in fish and chips) and “The Mint Restaurant and Dollar Room” where I first started my long climb to retirement. 

1968 - Seattle Municipal Archives - 191827 Crop

The restaurant was open and dimly lit with a few tables and a long counter.  The Dollar Room was an open bar at the end of the room.  Every surface in that space was either visibly dirty, sticky or both.  It smelled like a mix of bleach, beer, urine, vomit, ketchup and mustard with the restrooms adding their own special touch.  The local Unfortunates always sat at the counter and that’s where my station was.  I had a large, deep metal sink with a spring-loaded goose neck rinse faucet.  My job was to rinse the dirty dishes, stuff them in the dishwashing machine and stack them when they were done.  Since the dishwasher was often out of order, I was usually hand drying them before stacking. 

I mentioned that the neighborhood was seedy and have to say that the clientele matched it to a T.  The restaurant was inhabited by characters from a film noir.  There was always a host of down-and-out winos trying to shake off the evening’s activities and wake up with a cup of coffee.  Every one of them poured so much sugar into their coffee that it would spill over the rim into the saucer.  After sneaking up on the cup and sipping it down an inch they would add more sugar until it overflowed again and then repeat the process at least once more. 

1937 - G. Ray Hawkins Gallery

The Unfortunates who were fortunate enough to afford breakfast would always order the same thing.  Eggs, toast, hashbrowns and coffee.  They would employ the maximum-sugar-cup-sneak routine and would also drench their toast, potatoes and eggs with ketchup, a condiment that I have always found vile beyond words.  Some of them would top off their nasty nourishment with a huge squirt of French’s Mustard.  Of the three foods that I avoid due to the immediate projectile vomiting effect they have on me ketchup and Yellow Death are the top two.  Those diners never finished their meals and usually barely touched them leaving me to clean up.  

I could usually tell when I was going to be having a gagging episode by watching how steadily the diner could walk when they came through the door.  If they were not walking straight my chances of heaving increased exponentially.  Standing over that sink rinsing what they couldn’t eat from their plates with hot water created a toxic steam that rose up and coated my body.  At times I would get the dry heaves over the sink and run to the bathroom for a breath of “fresh air”.  

There were some other characters who were regulars.  One guy drove a van and he would park out front in the loading zone and come in to get the owner.  They would go out into the van and after a bit the owner would come back in, all smiles, with garment bags full of suits and fur coats.  He told me that I should go out and see if there was anything I liked.  I always passed.  

Another was a tweaky guy who always wore a long-oversized trench coat.  He was skinny and always acting nervous like he was afraid that someone was sneaking up on him.  His trench coat hid the multiple wrist watches that he wore on both arms and the lining of the coat featured multiple pockets holding only God-knows-what plus some means of hanging necklaces and other dangly jewelry for display.  He would open his coat and the store was open.  I never got a really close look at how he hung merchandise inside his coat or what was in his pockets because he mostly took me for a guy who needed a good deal on a wristwatch.  He said that my cheap Timex wasn’t really waterproof and that if I was going to wear a watch while washing dishes, I needed a Rolex.  

And then there was Seattle’s Finest who didn’t seem bashful about walking back to the “Dollar Room” for complimentary cocktails.  They always made sure to give me a threatening stare when they came and left as though I was the only one they had to worry about exposing their transgression.  I suppose that the Unfortunates understood the Law of the Jungle and that I needed to learn?  I don’t know but you should have seen how Tweak reacted when they would walk in.  He was a walking felony and he knew it.  Being nervous by nature he would start tweaking about at a higher frequency, making some odd, barely audible sounds, slide out of the chair like an empty coat falling to the floor and just disappear.  One second, he was there and then next he had vanished.  I suppose that in his line of work it didn’t matter if the cop was clean or crooked, he just needed to be unseen and elsewhere immediately. 

Motion Picture "Super Bad"

I'm not sure why I got to thinking about this.  Maybe retirement allows me to look at work differently.  Maybe it was the new Timex that I just bought to replace the old one that got water in it.  Maybe Tweak was right and I should buy better watches.  Maybe it was that whiff of ketchup I caught at Ivars that reminded me of my face dripping with ketchup and mustard infused steam………..oh……sorry I gotta run………I’m gonna to be sick!