I find - and scan - this old post-card "Spenger's Fish Grotto" which has been in Berkeley for, like, ever. Johann Spenger, a Bavarian immigrant, opened a crab counter here in 1890 to complement a small fishing fleet. His son, Frank Sr., opened a restaurant in 1930 and died in '73, leaving it to his son, Frank Jr. This was in the way-back when the Berkeley pier an important dock for bay and Pacific crawlers and before the 80 separated the restaurant from the water, though the highway surely increased Spenger's customers - for many years it was the number one restaurant in America by volume and revenue. Go figure. The neighboring Brannon's, a blue-collar, old school Irish Bar with 75 cent vodka tonics as recently as last decade was in the Top Ten thanks, I would assume to Spenger's - what better way to hit the road then a belt of something following dinner? Moe and I used to go to Brennan's for carved roast beef and sour-dough sandwiches on the way back from his law office where I sometimes joined him on Sundays.
My earliest memories of Spenger's from six or seven - I associate it with The Rockford Files, which I was allowed to watch afterwards and a treat since well past my Friday bedtime. I took a date there once in high school and was mortified by the geriatrics crowd which, sadly, had become the main customer - just look at the picture and you can see why. The food was awful, killing a good memory. The restaurant closed some years ago but the area around it - 4th Street - yuppiefied with book shops, restaurants and clothing stores and, of course, a Pete's coffee. Spenger's made it possible.
Switching gears, the kids on half-term which means no school for the week. Eitan and I plan to go bowling, mano-a-mano, while I think of something equally enjoyable (?) for Madeleine. We spend the day with Emily and James, who recently took a job at Condé Naste, where he is on the main Board and responsible for the company's digital strategy - James at Yahoo for many years then an early guy at Skype (which was bought by eBay for a gazillion dollars). Condé has 80 publications including our favorites The New Yorker and Vanity Fair and, like print everywhere, readership down. His has a big job and is the guy to bring it on.
Me: "Dinner is ready - please listen when we call you."
Eitan: "I was out of the bath but I was listening to the radio."
Madeleine: "Eitan when you go upstairs will you get my Mr Squash?"
Eitan: "No."
Madeleine: "I knew you were going to say that. Dad, will you ask Eitan to get my Mr Squash since he is going upstairs?"
Me: "Who is Mr Squash?"
Madeleine: "He is one of my buddies."
Me: "And what makes him special for dinner tonight?"
Madeleine: "He just is. I have been missing him."
Eitan to his football: "Stranger, we meet again."
Ps: the post card photo from Ray Haywood during my year in Switzerland. We exchanged letters frequently.
I find - and scan - this old post-card "Spenger's Fish Grotto" which has been in Berkeley for, like, ever. Johann Spenger, a Bavarian immigrant, opened a crab counter here in 1890 to complement a small fishing fleet. His son, Frank Sr., opened a restaurant in 1930 and died in '73, leaving it to his son, Frank Jr. This was in the way-back when the Berkeley pier an important dock for bay and Pacific crawlers and before the 80 separated the restaurant from the water, though the highway surely increased Spenger's customers - for many years it was the number one restaurant in America by volume and revenue. Go figure. The neighboring Brannon's, a blue-collar, old school Irish Bar with 75 cent vodka tonics as recently as last decade was in the Top Ten thanks, I would assume to Spenger's - what better way to hit the road then a belt of something following dinner? Moe and I used to go to Brennan's for carved roast beef and sour-dough sandwiches on the way back from his law office where I sometimes joined him on Sundays. 