2006 marks our 77th anniversary and makes us the eighth oldest Restaurant in the Northern Territories of the Conch Republic. Unfortunately, our Founding Chef, Scott, didn't live to see it. He passed away in 2001 at the age of 94 and his former patron, Bob, took over operations at that time. Scott was a great story teller - a salty Bahamian character whose language could make a longshoreman blush - and what follows are a few stories from his life as observed by friends or told by Scott himself.

As a young man, he was very handsome as evident in pictures hanging on the walls of the diner. Scott performed in some of the bars around the Conch Republic as a guitar player and singer from about 1911 to 1927 and was always sought after by the ladies. He tells of being dragged off the stage one night by a jealous man with a fierce grip on his collar. Scott recovered quickly and "the no-neck regretted himself for some time to come" after Scott let him have it in the kisser with his trusty 1917 Martin 0-30.

In 1929 he started the Diner as Scott's Hamburgers just south of downtown in an old cigar rolling shed near the Grove. At some point, his location was directly across the street from a very small house of ill repute and Scott kept a keen eye on the doings across the way. He fed the girls and listened to their stories about various police, politicians, judges and other clients. We suspect that he was party to some knowledge that ended up putting him in possession of a surplus Flagler Railway car.

After many years of flipping burgers downtown, his building was sold and demolished to make way for developers that were cutting back the mangrove and building up the outlying neighborhoods. So Scott left the Big City and moved his railway car down the coast a piece where he reopened in 1948 at the crossroads between the Keys, the Glades and Miami. Scott built an apartment onto the back of his railway car (it's now the lower dining area and kitchen) and lived on the property alone with his dogs for almost forty years.

Scott was extremely independent. He often said, "I don't know about this affirmative action stuff, I always took good care of myself" and “music and burgers are color-blind!” But Scott did make two concessions in his life that we know of. When he turned eighty, he switched from Cohibas and Spliff to filtered cigarettes and light beer, and he finally placated the health department by posting a hand written sign on the wall next to the door which read "No Smoking Section - First Counter Stool Only.”

During the 50's and 60's, Scott's became a familiar stop for the fraternity boys looking for a cold beer and some local color. ID's weren't carefully checked since Scott didn't think any more of that law than he did the new smoking ordinances. "I have my laws and they can enforce their own laws!" His dogs were just as ornery as he was. The mutts tried to bite any customers that didn’t leave something in the tip jar for the performers who played in the lower dining room, and had a special fondness for those frat boys.

Scott lived out his last years in the duplex behind the diner. One of our waitresses paid Scott a visit after her shift to swap some songs and have a light beer. She sat down on the couch, but felt something hard push against her backside. She reached between the cushions and found a gun. She said, "Scott, this gun is loaded!" Scott replied, "Well, it wouldn't do me any damn good if it wasn't." The occasion for the visit was Scott's 90th birthday.

By then, Scott had already sold the Diner (back in the eighties, IIRC) to one of those frat boys, Roger Uberhandsly, who wasn't nearly as good at story telling, much less playing guitar and singing, but he did own the Diner for 20 years until 2001 when he sold it to Unca Bob. Bob renovated the Diner, and brought back many of the patrons that left under Roger’s management. Bob has his hand full with his other full-time job (computer prognostication), so his nephews Rico (that’s me at the register!) and Boomer (he’s that other guy, fixing the generator out back!) have taken over the helm at The Guitar Diner. We bet that Bob will drop in to plink a bit as he has been coming to the Diner for two decades. We vow to continue the Diner's tradition of being a homey place for guitar players and their friends and fambly to come grab a piece of pie and a cup of coffee between gigs. Since we are of a certain age, we are running the Diner somewhat differently than before. We’ve created a bit of a co-op, and are ably assisted in keeping the lights lit, the musician’s fed, and the riff-raff “out” by the Diner Team, our long-time friends and patrons of the Guitar Diner: Dragon 5 and 10’s. If you have any questions about our menu, hours of operation, or wish to sign up for performance slots on open mic nights, please write to any of us and your suggestions are Always Welcome!

So welcome back to The Guitar Diner! We’re happy to have you and hope you visit the Tip Jar often (to help keep the doors open).


Sincerely,

Boomer, Dragon5, 10’s and Dr. Rico