COMMUNITY COMMENTARY:Saying goodbye to ‘the boat’

Even though it was 30 years ago when I got my first job as a hostess at the Reuben E. Lee restaurant, it saddens me to know that “the boat” — as it was referred to by all of us who were members of the Far West Services family — has been slated for demolition. (The property most recently housed the Newport Harbor Nautical Museum).

The boat was a special place. High school couples dined before proms and semi-formal dances. For anniversaries and birthdays, we’d try to carry a tune while bringing out a complimentary, freshly baked, decorated cake — not just one slice of something.

In fact, because I worked every Friday night, Saturday night and Sunday brunch back in 1977, my husband and I surmised that we probably crossed paths for the first time when his sister and former brother-in-law took him to the boat for his 21st birthday.

Patrons didn’t seem to mind the two-hour wait on Saturday nights for the seafood deck. They would just go to the bow (the bar) and listen to Kenny Larsen or Young & Cole perform while throwing back strawberry coladas and deep-fried artichoke hearts smothered in lemon-garlic butter sauce.

I’ll always remember the Monte Cristo sandwiches, the best shrimp scampi on the planet, the steak Oscar and big cuts of prime rib. My friends and I really enjoyed my 20% employee discount at Coco’s, the Gorda Liz (where my prom date and I dined), Reuben’s and Tibbie’s Music Hall. To take my prom date to the boat would have been like having dinner at home with my parents — my co-workers were like family.

People were always disappointed to hear that the boat was a floating barge. It used to rock in heavy winds and when the stern wheeler (paddle wheel) was turned on — that was just a prop. People seated in the stern would get sea sick.

During July, we all traded our “Disneyland-esque” attire for Hawaiian duds to promote tropical drinks — the waitress who sold the most won a trip to Hawaii. I always enjoyed looking at the busboys, many of whom were members of Orange Coast College’s crew team. And, I’ll never forget the sign on the back of the swinging kitchen door that said, “Smile damnit [spelled wrong], you’re going out on stage.”

So with a toothy grin, we’d all say things like this: “We’ll do our best to give you a seat on the starboard side for the boat parade.”

“Seafood deck or stern wheeler? Do you want steak or seafood?”

“It’s your turn to go down to the the hold and get toilet paper for the ladies bathroom.” (The hold was the storage area that always flooded.) “John Wayne’s upstairs having dinner with Joey Bishop?” (The Duke preferred the seafood deck).

“Sorry, we really don’t take American Express.”

After one year of working at the boat, I decided that I wanted to have my weekend evenings off, besides just my prom. It was time to move on — retail was beckoning. Some Seattle-based store was opening its first store outside of the Pacific Northwest at South Coast Plaza. It was rumored to have an incredible women’s shoe department.

Nevertheless, in the future, when I drive on Coast Highway, I’m really going to miss seeing the boat and feeling like I’m 17 again.

lives in Newport Beach.