Cars and food found their marriage just across I-75 from that, "Little North Avenue Trade School." It took a Georgia Tech dropout to figure out that college kids will eat almost anything in their path. Especially if that path is cheap, greasy, convenient, open late, and has anything to do with hamburgers and french fries.
The Varsity eventually became the, "World's Largest Drive-In Restaurant." Technically, the Varsity was not located in Atlanta's Upper West Side. But, it might as well have been. Most of our neighborhood could be found there on any given Friday or Saturday night.
Varsity food was, admittedly, not good for the human body, and the hard booths and small, round tables were not the most comfortable dining room appointments. But, one cannot deny that eating greasy fast food in one's own car in the middle of the busiest city in the South held a certain attraction and fascination that no other eatery could match.
However, the food and the atmosphere were/are not all that was/is unique about the Varsity. The car-hops (themselves becoming legends in Atlanta folklore) developed their own unique lingo for ordering certain entrees. A plain hot dog was a, "Nekkid Dog." A plain hot dog to go was a, "Nekkid Dog Walkin'." And, a plain slaw dog to go was a, "Nekkid Dog Walkin' on a Bale of Hay." It was like hearing a rural Pentecostal church speak in tongues when those car hops got it cranked up on a Saturday night.
This writer had the good fortune of attending a high school strategically located near the center of the Tech campus. This meant that the Varsity was only a few turns of a set of tires away. Many a school lunch gave way to a hurried sneak-off to the Varsity. The mystical draw of that great old drive-in could be heard in the mythological siren's call: "What'll ya have?" This invitation has enticed many a patron to eat more rings, fries, chili-steaks, fried pies, and F.O.'s ("Frosted Orange") than any cardiologist would allow.
During my growing up years, the Varsity was not without competition. Just down North Avenue was the family-owned, "Yellow Jacket." Also a drive-in, The Yellow Jacket trumped the Varsity's famous chili steaks with their patented, toasted-bun, chili dogs. The YJ's food was good, and the atmosphere was at least a fourth cousin to the place up the street, but even with this, living in the shadow of a Guinness Book landmark is a tough thing indeed.
When the Yellow Jacket's land was bought by the Coca-Cola Company, (or perhaps another corporation) it closed and stayed dormant for years. In recent years, the YJ re-opened under new ownership in Ellenwood, Georgia. They have the same great hot dogs as before, and all the Georgia Tech decorations and memorabilia than anyone could ask for.
For a lot of the 1950's-60's, going out to eat was not the national obsession in America that it is today. Families ate most every meal at home. Mother's cooking rivaled, or even outdid, the cuisine one could find in any diner or cafeteria. And yet, with the maturation of the baby boom into its teenage years, burger places, drive-in's and fast food establishments began to catch on.
In Atlanta, there were a number of local restaurants and chains that seemed to spring up overnight.
There was Lum's - whose claim to fame was hot dogs steamed in beer. Aunt Fannie's Cabin in Smyrna, served traditional Southern cuisine in an atmosphere reminiscent of an old, antebellum plantation. The Old Hickory House was noted for their barbecue, brunswick stew, and the largest "cat-head" biscuits known to man. Shakey's Pizza was THE place to go after a Friday night football game in the Fall. The Rio Vista offered their delicious all-you-can-eat catfish on the weekends. And, places Carroll's and Sandy's Hamburgers were the South's answer and precursor to McDonald's.
Of all the Atlanta restaurants of this writer's past, one comes to mind more than any other.
Former Georgia Governor, Lester Maddox, and his wife Virginia, owned and operated the Pickrick, located on Hemphill Street at the opposite end of the Georgia Tech campus from the Varsity, from 1947 until 1965.
This writer met Mr. Maddox once at a funeral home. He had come to the visitation for one of my aunts who had passed. When Mr. Maddox came in the door, everyone stood up and shook his hand. My Daddy brought him over to the chair where I was sitting, probably to show me off. I stood up as Daddy introduced us. Mr. Maddox leaned over to this nine year old boy, adjusted his tie, told him he was a handsome young man, and charged him to remember to always vote when he got older, and to be proud of America and what it stood for.
Perhaps this meeting is the reason behind this writer's vivid remembrance of his restaurant.
The Pickrick was known for its skillet-fried chicken. Mrs. Maddox did a lot of the cooking during the restaurant's earliest days, and reportedly used her own family recipe for the fried chicken batter. The Pickrick's menu centered around the chicken, appealing to the idea of an old-fashioned Sunday afternoon family picnic. The restaurant's by-line, posted over the front door, read: "Picknick At The Pickrick."
Mr. Maddox supposedly sold the restaurant to his employees in 1965 prior to his run for Governor. I seem to remember that politics and those who were trying to bully others for so-called "civil rights" purposes had a lot to do with Mr. Maddox's decision to sell. Later, as Governor, Mr. Maddox proved himself to be a champion of the "little man," no matter what skin color was involved.
There were many local Mom & Pop restaurants in this writer's day that often come to mind that few if any of this blog's readers would know or remember.
The Humdinger Hamburger Shop at the intersection of Hollywood Road and Johnson Road near Grove Park was an example of these locally-owned businesses. A husband and wife ran the Humdinger. She cooked the burgers on a small hot-plate-like grill while you waited. Customers could get five hamburgers, on the freshest buns this writer can ever remember eating, for $1.00.
The Humdinger did a thriving business. Mama would send this writer there often to fetch back a white paper bag full of the five burgers for a dollar. The great aroma coming from that bag was almost more than a young lad could bear. The neighborhood dogs must have loved it too, as they often provided an "escort" on the bike trip back home.
Sadly, the Humdinger's husband eventually died from diabetes complications. His wife carried on the business alone until the day that someone robbed and killed her, leaving her body lying in a pool of blood in the restaurant's only restroom. She had been stabbed repeatedly and her throat cut.
It was almost unthinkable to have this sort of savage crime happen in those days in this writer's Atlanta. Thankfully, the good always outweighs the bad, especially in the memories of an Upper West Side where everyday life was not always this way.
Readers of this blog could certainly add volumes to the list of restaurants listed in this post. Please feel free to do so in the "Comments" reply section of the blog.
Eating in Atlanta was a great part of its past. Restaurants of all kinds made living in this grand old city both pleasurable and fondly memorable.
Like The Good Book says, "Man does not live by bread alone..."
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