EDITOR”S NOTE: Rose Bruno Bailey spent a year working at Canters Deli, the dining spot on Fairfax Avenue that draws a substantial crowd from West Hollywood. This is the third in a series of six essays about her year there and the positive impact her boss, her co-workers and her customers had during a difficult time in her life.
My mother was a proud waitress, telling tales of her server days gone by in Cleveland, Oh., back in the 1970’s. Waitressing is a skill, and she was the ultimate at her craft, able to handle more than eight tables at one time while smiling with ease. She was a survivor, an even harder worker and a bit of a rebel, and always my role model. If life takes an abrupt turn, do you continue with your journey, or do you give up on your destination, cowering at the side of the curb? You can be your own hero or your own victim. My mother taught me we are all heroes and we are all the same. As the years passed she went from job to job as it became obvious the owners and managers preferred youth to experience, and sadly, she was forced to hang up her apron for good.
Canters is known for its waitresses of all ages and experience. (And the waiters too!) I refer to the terms “waitresses” and “waiters” because Canters has held onto an old-fashioned era mystique, a definitive part of its charm and dining allure, and especially for me working there. I believe the only requirement Jackie Canter looks for from her servers is to be walking and breathing and to care about Canters. I heard stories of one of the long time waitresses, an unsinkable woman named Patty, who delivered food while balancing with a walker, God rest her soul. I love this about Canters, on a humanity level. When you walk into Canters, not unlike living in West Hollywood, everyone fits in. Another Canters beauty, a woman named Bella, is an 82-year-old great grandmother. I worked beside the real heroes of Hollywood, and it never mattered if they were no longer of a certain age. At Canters, youth and experience worked together as one, which gives it a hip-yet-vintage vibe.
The staff and ambience gave me this feeling like I had stepped into my childhood of the late 1970’s. As the months passed, I began to make friends and lifelong connections, and many reminded me of my mother, my hero, and my admiration began to grow. No longer did I feel I did not belong, no longer was I the new kid. Soon new servers were added to the staff. One particularly nice waiter didn’t last long, and I questioned why, because he seemed so nice. The head waiter of the night shift, Brian, told me the fellow was a bit “too” nice for Canters. I was clearly confused and exclaimed to him that I too was nice. He told me I was cuckoo like the rest of the staff, which you can only take as a compliment. You have to be a little cuckoo to work at Canters.
During my mid-day rush, hours were filled singing along with my server soulmates to the tunes of the 70’s, trying our best to keep pace with the appetites of diners, and sometimes I was corrected for talking too much. So much reminded me of my own life, and I often felt I had been granted a glimpse of the behind the scenes life of my mother’s world. The world outside of our home that I was never privy to. I felt like a ghost tip toeing in the past and it was delicious and melancholic at the same time. Settling into my role with a bit of the same ease my mom possessed, adding a dash of my own animated spin, my little catch phrase, “If you need anything just Challah.”
One of the most poignant memories of everyone belonging and being the same was on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. I was terrified because it would be my first busy shift of many to come. It was the first of the Jewish High Holidays with Yom Kippur to follow as well as Thanksgiving and Christmas. Suddenly my training wheels were off, and it was time to show what I was made of. What sticks out most in my mind that particular day is not how much I struggled or how stressed out I was, but how everyone went around wishing each other a hearty “Happy New Year.” Guest to server, server to guest, everyone was one and wishing each other a healthy and prosperous New Year to come. I consider myself an observer of life, and the genuine sentiments I saw shared on that day moved me to shed tears and any barriers I had built to make me feel I did not belong at Canters. I belong, you belong. We all belong at Canters. We are all one. We are each other’s heroes sharing love over a plate of delicious deli fare.
Tomorrow: Holiday lessons.
