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Nicholas Spillios remembers his father's downtown restaurant during the '30s and '40s.

Nicholas Spillios describes the American Dairy Lunch in the 1930s to 1940s. Located across the street from the Hudson's Bay, Spillios recalls the restaurant as an "unpretentious Edmonton dining spot." "You often found there the homeless, the well to do and even the actors who performed in vaudeville acts at the Strand dropping in for a quick snack after a performance. In spite of its unpretentiousness, its character and charm is hard to duplicate in the Edmonton of today."


In the thirties and forties, along Jasper Avenue there was only one unpretentious dining establishment which graced the grand Jasper Avenue between 103rd Street and 101st Street and that was the American Dairy Lunch. True, there was the more upscale Johnson's Cafe on 101st Street where diners actually were served at tables. My father and Con Johnson were close friends and early Greek immigrants who took great pride in their citizenship and often sparred over the best way to attract customers and keep them. But there was only one American Dairy Lunch, a virtual oasis for the hungry and downtrodden who were looking for a reasonably priced and nutritious meal, during the Depression and World War II years. It was the only cafeteria in town. My father, George Spillios and Harry Lingas managed it.


Located directly across the street from the Hudson's Bay and next door to the Strand Theatre, the Lunch's only competition was the Silk Hat at the end of the block. I recall that my father's policy was never to turn anyone away, no matter who he or she was or what his or her station in life might be. If they were hungry, the American Dairy Lunch fed them. I caught a look of the famous "Dumbbells" more than once over the years.


The restaurant was unique in being located not on the main level of Jasper, but below. On the main level, the Confectionery as it was called, occupied a narrow and elongated space complete with booths. If you were hankering for an ice cream sundae or a cool drink, you could get it upstairs. Downstairs was reserved for more serious dining. Descending the staircase, a clear view of the long and extensive counter faced you with a mouth-watering display of strawberry shortcake for fifteen cents, along with Boston cream pie or even chocolate cream puffs for even less. On the left of the staircase, the fishpond perched on a simulated grass mountain set in concrete. Here one helped oneself to water. My father was often on guard so that no one took off with a goldfish or two in a glass of water, but unfortunately someone did.


The wine god statues were lined across the perimeter of the service counter on the top of columns facing out. Several of these "gods" can now be viewed at Astros Restaurant in the west end of town. Square tables seating exactly four customers and no more were interspersed throughout the floor. My father always had his dinner at the table facing the counter in order to monitor service to customers, even while eating. He was that devoted to the "Lunch." The many pedestrians who trod the sidewalk, stepping on the glass bricks embedded there, often disturbed one. I found it fascinating to look up when I heard their footsteps, wondering whether that particular person was heading into our establishment.


I started working in the Confectionery, while still in my middle teens, under the supervision of Miss West, a stern, but devoted employee whose motto was to serve, but with enthusiasm and flair. Miss West gave me absolutely no special privileges as the boss' son.


I shall never forget my excitement when my father promoted me to work downstairs as a full-blown waiter behind the counter, at a salary of $15.00 per week! Imagine serving customers and actually calling out an order to the kitchen chef, Mr. Costouros, for everyone to hear. I thought that such a station would serve me well later. One of our regular customers was a short, thin, dark haired middle-aged gentleman who worked at the grocery store next to the Corona Hotel. He ordered the same dish on his way home from work each night-hot hamburger sandwich with mashed potatoes smothered with brown gravy for the whopping price of fifteen cents. Of course, other customers often partook of the special-lamb stew or Irish stew with egg dumplings for the bargain price of thirty-five cents-including soup and dessert! I was taken aback one evening, when one customer ordered the most expensive item on the menu, a T-bone steak smothered with onions and potatoes for the phenomenal price of sixty-five cents. I could never understand how anyone could afford such a pricey meal during the war years.


Of course, one of the treats of having my father manage the cafeteria was to be given the privilege of treating my friends on the weekend. My friends included Judge John Agrios and Dr. Chris Varvis who accompanied me to movies (for twelve cents) at the Strand or the Empress theatres (oh, how we enjoyed those double bills!) before settling down to a meal in the early evening. They will admit that they ate well with me over the years.


It was apparent that the days of the "Lunch" were numbered in the late forties, when new establishments dotted the Jasper Avenue landscape with new approaches to serving customers. Soon, even Johnson's Café was relocated. But, until that day arrived, there were many faithful customers, from the Strand employees to the Bay salespeople, who graced the "Lunch." I will never forget them or my "Lunch" memories. In spite of its unpretentiousness, its character and charm is hard to duplicate in the Edmonton of today.