Where Hash Rules

By G.A. Cuddy

The story of the famed Charlie's Sandwich Shoppe in Boston that closed its doors in 2014 after 87 years in business! Winner of a James Beard Foundation award in 2005 as an American Classic, this updated second edition includes a photo of President Obama's visit in 2013 and some other special treats. Enjoy this love story about Arthur Manjourides, Chris Manjourides, Marie Fuller, Fontaine Anzalone, and the many colorful family members and characters who graced the establishment over the years!

Joanna Sciarrino of BON APPÉTIT called Where Hash Rules a "... love letter to Charlie’s and its truly awesome turkey hash. Beyond that, it’s an intimate history about the owners, diners, and food that have made Charlie’s an institution."

Follow this book @WhereHashRules and author G.A. Cuddy @cuddyboston on Twitter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.A. Cuddy
• Release date: Jul 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310228339

G.A. Cuddy

G.A. Cuddy's newest release is First Fiction, a novel about an American teenager named Ingrid Fallon who travels to Belfast during the tumultuous summer of 1981. Mr. Cuddy is also the author of Where Hash Rules, an ebook on the history of the legendary Charlie's Sandwich Shoppe in Boston, which Bon Appetit's Joanna Sciarrino called "worth the read for those who love food history and beautiful photography." His other offerings are In The Clearing Stands A Boxer, a poetry journal to benefit the Haymakers for Hope charity in its fight against cancer, and The Grief Poet, a play in three acts about condemned men who encounter poet Karl Shapiro on the eve of their executions. Mr. Cuddy also produced The Tao of Pink, a collection of quotes and conversations from the legendary Pink Francis, and a poetry collection entitled Ineffective Love Poems (and others).

Book preview

WHERE HASH RULES

The love story of Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe in Boston’s South End!

Written by G.A. Cuddy

Original Photography by Brooke T. Wolin

Published by G.A. Cuddy at Smashwords

Copyright © 2015 G.A. Cuddy

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1515176320

ISBN-13: 978-1515176329

Follow @WhereHashRules

DEDICATION

Where Hash Rules was written in honor of Fontaine Anzalone, Arthur Manjourides, Marie Fuller, Chris Manjourides, and for all of the family members and friends who have enjoyed Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe in Boston’s South End since 1927 until its closing in June of 2014.

This book is dedicated to Meaghan Elizabeth Miller.

FOREWORD

When I opened my first restaurant, Lucques, in 1998, I wanted it to be more than just a place that serves food. I wanted it to be a part of the community. Where we choose to gather, to relax and to celebrate is part of who we are both as individuals and as a culture. In Where Hash Rules, G.A. Cuddy entertains us with stories about a truly American family all the while teaching us about our history, our culture and reminding us of our strengths as a people.

Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe has everything an American story needs: a hardworking immigrant family, a hand-written contract between friends that has lasted over a half century, mobsters, shylocks, the proud history of serving African-Americans back in the days of segregation and, of course, the best hash in town. G.A. Cuddy takes these colorful characters and their stories and he gathers them around the table the way you gather old friends for dinner. By the time I finished the book, they felt like my friends too and I had to stop myself from booking the next flight to Boston!

Suzanne Goin

March 12, 2012

prologue

Flowers in the window and a fancy menu.

The dedication for this book was completed on September 26, 2011, though the remainder of the manuscript would not be finalized for quite a few months. Years later, this second edition would be completed to correct many glaring typographical errors, misspellings, and factual inaccuracies! Also, new stories needed to be included. For many, especially thespians, September 26 is a seminal date in history. T.S. Eliot and George Gershwin were born ten years apart, in 1888 and 1898 respectively, on this day. West Side Story opened on Broadway in 1957 on September 26 and, three years later, the first of several televised presidential debates between Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy took place.

That titans like Eliot and Gershwin may be linked to a classic diner in Boston's South End is a bit of a stretch, but their unique, creative talents of drama, humor, and rhythm were well on display each day of the year at Charlie's Sandwich Shoppe at 429 Columbus Avenue in the South End of Boston, Massachusetts. To survive in the food service industry for more than eight decades, the disbursement of amusement was as much a necessity as the serving of fresh eggs, warm blueberry muffins, and hot cups of coffee.

My goal was to craft something special for a family that deserved nothing less. Accomplishing anything short of that would have been quite distressing. I had been possessed by the dream of documenting the history of Charlie’s for several years; until recently, I had lacked the focus and drive to complete the task for a second time. After reading, scanning, and rereading the pages of this book, however, I realized there could still be several other volumes written on the stories of this legendary diner. If that were to have been the greatest dilemma of the documentation struggles, I would be more than satisfied.

But this story is not about the author. This is the story of Fontaine, Arthur, Marie, Chris, and many of the assorted family members and characters who graced the establishment. It is a tale of love, arduous toil, humor, tragedy, and perseverance. Doing justice to the legacy of a cultural institution in New England was a seemingly insurmountable challenge, but it was one well worth attempting.

And now, upon completion, I realize that these pages are fortunate to contain a fraction of the stories, anecdotes, and histories surrounding the family members and the tens of thousands of people throughout the world counted as loyal friends, customers, and acquaintances. There was always another recollection or opinion to be offered. There was always another tale of an individual who entered Charlie’s as a stranger and, soon thereafter, became a confidant. There was always another heartache. Most often, though, there was always a smile and most certainly a laugh.

Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe was a rich tapestry, one that evolved and served as pulpit and confessional to the rich, the poor, and everyone in between. It hosted Barack Obama, Al Gore, Ted Kennedy, Natalie Cole, construction workers, titans of industry, and hardened criminals. Since its opening, Charlie's played kitchen to generations of diners sharing their lives at four tables and thirteen counter stools. I present this manuscript as a gift to Fontaine Anzalone, Arthur Manjourides, Marie Fuller, and Chris Manjourides for the second time. I do so humbly and with eternal thanks.

ALL THINGS MUST PASS

For many, the notion that the existence of Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe might be enclosed by some sort of finite epoch of time was a cause for concern.

This particular story of Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe does not begin over eight decades ago, when Charlie Poulos opened his eatery on Columbus Avenue in the South End of Boston. Instead, it must begin on February 8, 2007, the day that Arthur Manjourides suffered a heart attack. The eldest son of Poulos's first employee and eventual partner, Christi, Arthur was to many the embodiment of everything that the restaurant means to the community. News of his physical distress spread like wildfire through the streets of Boston’s South End and across the many neighborhoods of the city until it mushroomed to the far corners of the globe inhabited by friends and customers of the venerable establishment.

Was it rash to overestimate such an impact? Hardly. Calls, cards, and emails arrived in bunches and bundles. Flowers were delivered. Faces familiar and strange popped into the restaurant over the course of the next several weeks to send their best wishes. Family members and friends descended upon Massachusetts General Hospital’s cardiac care unit like an artillery barrage. In certainly the darkest hour of Arthur’s glorious life, there was still a cause for celebration. But, the sense of permanence that Charlie’s had established—the sense that the restaurant would continue forever—was beset with the reality of physical limitation. The life of a man with a heart of gold from a family of bedrock hearts was in jeopardy; the potential ramifications and consequences were not to be dismissed.

Late into the night before his heart attack, Arthur had felt what he described as a toothache in his left shoulder. Numbness spread down his left arm. He arose from bed and nestled on his living room couch, content to take a few aspirins and watch television until—like he had done for the past fifty years—he would enter the kitchen at 429 Columbus Avenue prior to 3:00 A.M. to prepare for the day. But, the pain continued and tightness in his chest mounted.

Instead of dialing 911 and calling for an ambulance, he called his neighbor, Chris, who had not only been Arthur’s neighbor for over a decade but also, and always, his brother and best friend. Chris bundled Arthur into his car on that harsh February morning in New England and drove him to the hospital. According to the cardiologist on the scene, there were at most thirty minutes to spare before a catastrophe would have occurred.

The response team acted quickly and, within seconds of his arrival, Arthur was on the operating table having a stent placed into an artery that had been completely closed. The doctors at Mass General had saved his life. Chris had saved his life. The precarious nature of the procedure was not lost on all of those affected by the issue. Resolutions were made. Lifestyle changes were adopted: some in principle, some in reality, and some were boasted about but never initiated.

For many, the notion that the existence of Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe might be enclosed by some sort of finite epoch of time was a cause for concern. For eighty-one years to that point, it had existed nearly unchanged with its original tile floor, counter stools, and cold storage unit that had been purchased, used, in 1927. Now, with its second-generation patriarch ailing, questions were raised as to how the restaurant could possibly continue to operate.

In so many ways, Arthur’s heart attack was a reality check that, sadly, nothing may last forever. Time after time, cities reinvent themselves with growth, demolition, and the layering of brick, mortar, paint, and asphalt over elder structural landmarks. Poverty and gentrification, as well, tend to be contributing factors. This had certainly happened in the South End of Boston.

For brothers Arthur and Chris Manjourides and for sisters Fontaine Anzalone and Marie Fuller, the longevity of Charlie’s has been a testament to the bond established from the first day their father, Christi, stepped through the door to begin working in 1927 at the age of eighteen. He empowered himself from short-order chef to co-owner to owner to the man responsible for training his four children in the operation of the business to the grandfather of a Microsoft employee, a P.T.A. leader, a chief of the state appellate, a business vice-president, a business owner, a filmmaker, a PhD in bio-statistics from Harvard, a business executive, and a software developer who has led divisions at Yahoo! and Google.

Charlie's Sandwich Shop was the success story of a family that was willing to roll up its sleeves from the depths of immigrant poverty to produce generations of satisfied, loyal customers and offspring who have reached the upper echelons of white-collar America. This family served turkey hash, eggs, and toast in ample supplies but surpassed those generous portions, in quantitative and qualitative terms, with love, gratitude, and respect for all who entered the restaurant. The difference between Charlie’s and just about every other restaurant in Boston was manifested in the looks on the faces of princes and paupers, queens and drag queens, billionaires and rock stars, and ditch-diggers and bums who sat down and felt immediately satiated.

Whether by the sultry nature of Fontaine, the endearing smile of Marie, the wry gaze of Chris, or the gregarious laugh of Arthur, itinerant passers-by were welcomed to become regular customers, regular customers became friends, and friends became lovers. Births, weddings, divorces, funerals, illnesses, glories, and tragedies were equally celebrated and suffered.

Charlie’s evolved to become a central part of folklore for Boston. It reached legendary status without self-promotion, pretense, or aplomb. In its early days, it served African-Americans when no other restaurant in town would do so. Sammy Davis Jr., who grew up just one street over from Charlie's, used to tap dance in the doorway for spare change. Duke Ellington dined there. Joe Louis, too. The Pullman Porters had their Boston headquarters on the building’s second floor and owner Charlie Poulos was admitted as the only non-black member so he could play cards and shoot pool. When the restaurant ceased operating on a seven-day, twenty-four hour basis, a locksmith was called because no one could find a key to secure the front door.

Boston—and particularly the South End/Back Bay area—was tough, rough, and gritty in 1927. In many ways, it still is due to an integral mix of old money, new money, blue-collar laborers, white-collar executives, criminals, immigrants, and castaways. It is impossible to measure the profound effects that Fontaine, Arthur, Marie, and Chris had on this area of the city. Their story, and that of their families both near and extended, is the quintessential tale of the hopes and dreams of all immigrants to the United States. It is a tale that in the modern world might seem archaic; in some respects, it is an allegorical fable that transcends time and place. And, like Arthur's training to complete 26.2 miles just fourteen months after his heart attack, it is a marathon.

Arthur’s heart attack required that everyone associated with Charlie's take stock of that notion. The use of the term we here describes, in no uncertain terms, all who had the pleasure to dine on griddle cakes and omelets or be slashed down with a witty barb originating behind the counter. How much longer will Charlie’s endure was the question then? The answer is, now, sadly known. Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe closed its doors on June 28, 2014.

Charlie’s marked its 87th anniversary in March of 2014, nearly six years after Arthur walked the course of the Boston Marathon on April 21, 2008. And, until its final day, Fontaine still rolled her eyes at the suburban crowd that invaded the place on Saturdays. Marie still sashayed from customer to customer with her beauty and charm. Chris still drew the stares of diners marveling at his artistry on the grill. And Arthur, well, he still spread his joy for life and benevolence to all. This was the essence of Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe. In blog postings, newspaper articles, obituary notices, and in the voices of its family members, this is its story.

INTRODUCTION

No one is quite sure who first put forth the idea that Arthur could complete the Boston Marathon just fourteen months after he suffered a heart attack. From all recollections, the notion began as a joke in the restaurant and developed into a cohesive workout plan involving his cardiologist at Mass General, Dr. Aaron Baggish, and his personal trainer, Pete Bognanno. From that point, in the opinion of Fontaine and Marie, a monster was created. They were, as usual, correct. The Team Arthur blog was started in December of 2007. Soon thereafter, t-shirts were designed and sold to over ninety supporters. The Boston Globe ran a cover story on Arthur's recovery process. Each week, Arthur would be joined by his trainer and others to walk the streets of Boston. Sometimes, these treks involved simple jaunts around the paths of the Public Garden and Boston Common. Later sessions took place on the running trails that line the Charles River – along the esplanade near Boston University, across the bridge on Massachusetts Avenue, past both Harvard University and M.I.T., and back to the Boston side of the river via the Longfellow Bridge. Weather was never a hindrance. Arthur and his mates, masochists all, battled wind, rain, sleet, and snow that would make the hardiest mail delivery person proud.

Equipment became Arthur's fascination. He bought an iPod Shuffle, new running shoes, winter gear including more fleece than he had ever owned, sunglasses, a long-distance running hydration belt, and a heart monitor. Often, after twelve hours in front of the grill at Charlie's, he would push himself to stride up and down Joy Street on Beacon Hill, one of the city's steepest roads, for a quick workout in the afternoon. On other days, he would visit his gym to stretch and gyrate on training mats. According to Pete, however, these sessions were often interrupted by Arthur's gawking at the many attractive Back Bay women at the facility!

There were many doubters and detractors along the way. Snide comments about Arthur's certain failure – seemingly made out of earshot at the restaurant by a jealous few – only served as further motivation beyond his progress from open-heart surgery to marathon finisher. We have included every Team Arthur blog posting in Where Hash Rules to illustrate the truly remarkable and humorous nature of what took place during his five months of training. The introduction to the blog stated the following:

On February 8, 2007, Arthur Manjourides suffered a heart attack. On April 21, 2008, he will complete the 26.2 miles of the 112th Boston Marathon. This blog will detail his training and the support of his family and friends.

Was the training schedule followed exactly as it was designed? No. Did Arthur eat a perfect diet, never miss a training session at the gym, or follow every rule that his doctor prescribed? Of course not. What he did, however, was walk 26.2 miles to complete the most prestigious marathon in the world just fourteen months after being on death's door. As Arthur was oft heard to opine in the days leading up to the event, It can't be worse than a Saturday at Charlie's.

--

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Arthur covered a distance of 4.3 miles in just over an hour. It was an impressive first session. The temperature was hovering around thirty degrees and the wind was brisk.

Monday, December 3, 2007

The Training Schedule

Going from an intensive care recovery room at Mass General to walking 26.2 miles in just over 14 months takes an incredible amount of support, determination and dedication. In preparation for the marathon—and to continue his physical improvement—Arthur is going to be working out at his health club, Equinox, with his personal trainer Pete Bognanno at least twice a week and following an aggressive walking program each Sunday.

We've created a routine that should allow Arthur to finish the Boston Marathon in a time around seven hours. The plan is to walk the first 13.1 miles in about three and a half hours, then alternate walking and slow-jogging every mile for the remainder of the event. Here's a look at our schedule for Sundays (if you would like to join Arthur on any of his training walks, meet us at Charlie's at 9:00 am).

12/2 Walk 1 Hour

12/9 Walk 1.5 Hours

12/16 Walk 2 Hours

12/23 Walk 2 Hours

12/30 Walk 2.5 Hours

1/6 Walk 2.5 Hours

1/13 Walk 3 Hours

1/20 Walk 3 Hours

1/27 Walk 3.5 Hours

2/3 Walk 4 Hours (including a 1-mile jog)

2/10 Walk 4 Hours (including a 1-mile jog)

2/17 Walk 4 Hours (including a 1-mile jog)

2/24 OFF

3/2 Walk 5 Hours (including two 1-mile jogs)

3/9 Walk 5 Hours (including two 1-mile jogs)

3/16 Walk 4.5 Hours (including three 1-mile jogs)

3/23 Walk 4 Hours (including three 1-mile jogs)

3/30 Walk 5 Hours (including four 1-mile jogs)

4/6 Walk 4 Hours (including five 1-mile jogs)

4/13 Walk 3 Hours (including three 1-mile jogs)

4/20 REST IN BED ALL DAY

4/21 BOSTON MARATHON

CHAPTER ONE

He Became Obsessed

As rigid as he was, he would buy every child a chocolate bar in the shape of a heart on Valentine's Day. That was my father. Everyone got a heart with chocolate.

Marie

My father was tough. If a customer complained that his coffee was not hot enough, he would take that person's cup and put it on the grill for a few minutes. After the customer got it back, we would hear a scream because someone’s lips were burning. When there was a lot of construction going on in the neighborhood, he would get great satisfaction from killing rats in the basement with a huge flashlight. He would come up the stairs and have blood from the rats all over his hands and apron.

Fontaine

After my mother died, we (my husband, Joe, and our children, Christa and Joey) shared the family house in Belmont. My dad would complain that Joey was playing his music too loud in the basement, so he would switch the breakers and shut the power down in the entire house. Then he would complain about the loud noise from the neighbors, but it was coming from the other side of Route 2 at least half a mile away!

Marie

He liked to do things his way. That’s the way it was. He was used to working twelve-hour days. We never ate dinner with him at home. He preferred to eat alone. If we needed money for school or to talk to him, we would send notes under his bedroom door because he went to bed so early and would leave hours before the sun would rise in the morning. When he came home and went to sleep, we knew better than to make noise and wake him up. Fontaine

He was very difficult. It didn't matter if you were family or not, he treated everyone equally tough. He did not want you to talk too much to the customers or be idle even for a moment. Of course, I lived in the same house with him so if I didn't feel well he would come check to make sure that I was really sick. If I weren’t dying at the time, he would tell me to get up and get to work. It was difficult. I could never get a day off because he would come and check on me!

Marie

As I remember as a young teen, my recollection of my father was always working. Working was the most important thing in his life. He didn't take many days off and my mother ran the household. And we communicated with my father through my mother.

Fontaine

As rigid as he was, he would buy every child a chocolate bar in the shape of a heart on Valentine's Day. That was my father. Everyone got a heart with chocolate. He loved to dance, especially classic style Greek dancing, and he loved his Metaxa. He would have a shot each day before work at two in the morning and then a shot when he came back home. So, when he died, we put a bottle of Metaxa in his coffin!

Marie

My father's family was originally from Greece. They had gone to Turkey from Greece looking for work. My grandfather worked for the Turkish Army in some type of capacity and my father would tag along and