Hope for the Future

Buddy Moen remembers always wanting to run a restaurant. When he was eight his mother him cook for the family. His first meal was liver, onions and pasta shells preceded by a green salad. But he was not a “mother's boy” and never called a “sissy.” In high school he was two years the captain of the football team on defense, honorable mention on the all state team at strong safety.

But at Everett Community College he didn't go out for football; he wanted to cook in the college restaurant that was open to the public on Friday nights and for Saturday and Sunday brunch. Buddy studied marketing as well as food service. In the evenings he tended bar at Romano's Macaroni Tavern in the Alderwood Mall. (He said he wanted to learn there after reading in Hospitality Magazine that Macaroni was the best organized of the upscale national franchises. He also figured he could make better tips there, serving food as well as drinks.)

Betsy Payton worked around the corner at the Apple Store and often came to Macaroni at the end of her shift for a small plate – usually shrimp – and a glass of wine. Payton flirted with Moen and Moen flirted with Payton. One evening when she worked late Buddy came into the Apple Store and asked Betsy if she would have dinner with him at the nearby Red Lobster. While that was not Betsy's dream date, she agreed when Buddy explained he was studying that chain for a term paper.

Betsy was a favorite of her grandfather, Ben Vanderlugt. She had spent summers at his farm in Lynden and played with the calves. Now retired with a young wife – he sold the farm to Betsy's uncle – and living part time in California – he asked Betsy to set him up with an Apple system to trade commodity futures. Betsy, who worked on the “genius desk” in the Apple store, had a number of followers who traded futures. Ben was so delighted with his system that he invited Betsy to spend a weekend at his new house in Birch Bay. Betsy asked Buddy to go along.

To escape the talkative young wife, Gwen, – much younger than Betsy's mother – Betsy took Buddy for a walk on thebeach. Not far from Ben's house, they came upon a vacant restaurant building with a for-sale sign, called the Blue Fish yet painted brown – “Bad marketing there joked Buddy.”

Back at the house Buddy peppered Ben with questions about the “brown fish.” How long had it been closed? Was it ever profitable? How much does the owner want? Ben explained that the owner's price was way out of line and that community people wanted to get hold of the building for a visitors' center, a bath house and what all that could not be profitable – “They're socialists,” said Ben.Finally Betsy, who had been trying to coax Buddy away from talking about the restaurant with fingers on his knee, clapped her hands and said: “Grandpa, I'm afraid we're gonna stay up tonight. Can we use your computer to make a business plan?”When they came down to breakfast, Ben and Gwen were not surprised to see the table covered with paper, rather than dishes.The first page was a summary. The owner wants a million but he will accept a lease-to-buy with a hundred thou up front with no rent until Labor Day. After that, 15 percent of profits, defined as revenues less expenses. including reasonable salaries for management.

“But that place is a shack,” said Ben. “

“It's not what's inside the building; it's what people will see looking out. Beautiful water, flocks of sea birds, marvelous sunsets. The deck on top will be full of people,” Buddy responded.

When he had finished reading all 12 pages of the plan, Ben said, “OK, you've got your hundred thou,” and Gwen said, “50 thou more for working capital.”

Buddy kept it simple. He got five gallon pails of white paint cheap. (When Betsy pointed out it was glossy, Buddy said, So much the better.) Three guys who wanted to be waiters did the painting for minimum wage – “we'll make good tips”, they said after reading the business plan. Big pots, large plates, salad plates, unmatched knives, forks and spoons, and wine glasses were a steal at a salvage place. He ordered Dreamfields low-carb mac in bulk – “Good nutrition is our offer,” said Betsy, talking “branding.”

The restaurant opened the Friday before Memorial Day:

Mac&Cheese+Crab

Just one dish with a green salad and a glass of pinot grigio (non alcoholic for kids) and Birch Bay black berries with whipped cream for desert. All for $13.50. Additional wine for $3.50 per glass or $9.50 for big, 1½ liter bottle.

As marketing manager, Betsy put her Mac Mini to work, starting with a list of all the Libertarians in Whatcom County for a special evening the first Tuesday night. Ben got his friend, Ron Paul to come. Congressman Paul passed his own hat, “To get these young people started – they are Free Enterprise personified!”

Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays were fine – the average wait was 25 minutes and the average check for two, $37. “We're making money on $14,” howled Buddy. Betsy became the Twofor Queen of Weeknights. With computer lists from the County she sent out coupons for birthdays, marriage anniversaries, etc. – “Come celebrate paying your taxes!” was the most popular. (The average check was $43.)

Nobody remembered the brown fish.

ak