Please forgive me if I take a moment for a little self-indulgence.
Yesterday we finally had a closing on the Chatterbox.
Yay !!!
You may ask, “What took so long?”
There is a remarkably simple explanation to this debacle, and it is all summed up in one easy acronym, NJDOT.
It is a terrorist organization.
Anyway, it is finally over. Two plus years ago was our last day. A few days after that we had a get-together for any and all, present and past employees. A chance to come in, see old co-workers and say good-bye to the one old friend that we all had in common, The Chatterbox.
The next morning when I came into the Chatterbox, I sat down and wrote the following essay.
I hope you like it.
Thanks for the indulgence.
It was early evening on April 30 of 2003. Twilight was setting in and I was still able to walk around in the cavernous dining room without turning any lights on. I ambled around flipping various switches saying to myself, “I wonder what this one does?”
About an hour previous, I was handed the keys to what would become The Chatterbox Drive-In. Poking around the rest of the building and still flipping random switches, I wondered again,
“What have I done, what have I gotten myself into?”
This morning I walked into the same cavernous dining room and flicked on the small lights over the booths that light the room with an incredible welcoming glow. It was beautiful. The sights and sounds of this once vibrant building, while now somewhat reduced, are as much a part of me as anything that I’ve ever done.
But little by little the building is slowly dying.
Not from any disease or ailment, just from the natural course of events that change things from year to year.
Last night this “home away from home” was filled with many of its past and present workers. We closed the doors this past Monday, Labor Day, for the last time.
A “farewell party” as it were.
It was a truly magical event that will help the Chatterbox live on in the hearts and minds of those of us who love it so much. I know that our customers loved it, but until you live and experience the true everyday “life” of the Chatterbox you cannot appreciate the inherent vitality that was here……..
Runners sweeping in and out of the kitchen where, if you listen closely when the door opens, you can hear the crackle of the fryers, the incessant whirr of the giant exhaust fans, and the seemingly incoherent chatter on the cooking line that keeps the kitchen running like a well-rehearsed ballet.
“6 burgers all day”
“Drop 3 dogs”
“Where’s my clams?”
“86 Lobster rolls!”
“T5 is ready!”
Ding! Ding! Ding! goes the bell, hurriedly summoning a food runner back who was coming anyway.
It was all music to my ears.
Out front, the constant patter of the customers, talking over the music, sometimes made listening to orders a challenge.
“Did you say Chatterburger or Cheddar burger?”
“No ice?”
Or the ever popular, “You want fries with that?”
Again, music to my ears.
Now there is silence.
Even the hum of the ice machine is gone.
Somehow it seems……. right?
For 15 years I came here early in the morning, every day, even Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter.
Just to check.
Make sure all is good.
Now I still get here early. I’m not sure why. There are no orders to place or receive, no employees to greet or customers to serve.
Only silence.
As I sit here and write this, I am both smiling and on the verge of tears. The Chatterbox was a singularity, a compendium of human recipes that when mixed together defied the old adage,
“Too many cooks spoil the broth.”
I think we were the best “broth” I have ever had.
Don Hall
5:30 AM, Sunday, 9/9/2018
