Big Al's Award Winning Paradise Cafe
Home of the Famous Foccacia Falafel
Open for Service
July 12th, 13th and 19th, 2008
Big Al’s Paradise Café
A History
Big Al’s Paradise Café is an attitude, as much as it is an occasional purveyor of fine foods and beverages. Today it is best known as the gem of the Old Mission Beach Athletic Club’s annual World Championship of Over-the-line, which takes place on beautiful Fiesta Island, San Diego, California. But, it is not so much the exotic morsels and splendid concoctions prepared by the Paradise Café’s chefs that are important. Rather, it is the spirit of adventurousness and excitement that the café’s founder, Big Al himself, exemplified. The history of the Paradise Café is found in the history of Big Al.
Chester Alan was the first born son of Beatrice and Buford Arthur, making his entry in the early spring of 1901. Chet, born and raised in Chester, Illinois (the home of Popeye) was an honors student at Lafayette High School, where he met his first love, the enticing Penelope Oil (Olive’s younger sister). The love triangle, and tragedy that followed, resulted in Chester’s flight to nearby St. Louis, Missouri where, to hide his grief and sorrow, he joined the 129th Field Artillery.
In 1918, his unit—Battery D—was among the first dispatched to that great crusade across the sea to save the world for democracy. He bunked with another young lieutenant on board the troop ship by the name of Harry S., with whom he struck a lifelong friendship. On Chester’s last night at sea he was chosen, as is the custom, to sit at the grand dining table with the Expeditionary Force’s ranking generals. During dinner he was asked by General Blackjack Pershing where he had attended school, to which Chet replied “Lafayette High School,” and observed what an irony it was that he would be traveling to France in aid of the Revolutionary War hero’s homeland. His thoughts on the subject were later echoed by the famed General on landing in France when he remarked “Forget us Lord, lest we forget the sacred sword of Lafayette.”
After the Army, Chester set out to see the world, and in 1922 moved to Mexico City to study art. There he met the lovely Frida, with whom he lived and loved for several years until tragedy again struck when she forsook him for another young artist—Diego.
Again faced with lost love, Chet fled to Key West, Florida. His skills as an artillery man, and an artist, were not sufficient to keep food on the table, so he entered the employ of a group of men in the import business as a speedboat captain. It was in Florida where Chester began his life long affair with Rum, and was given the moniker “Big Al.”
Having made it big in the speedboat/import business Big Al decided to return to Mexico City, where he had made amends with Frida and Diego, to continue his studies. Unfortunately, in 1937, Frida and Diego took on another border, Leon and his wife. Big Al was forced to share his small bedroom with the two ugly Russians who sat awake all night swilling vodka and inventing cliché’s.
During his art studies Big Al had studied several South Seas models. Abandoning the small home he shared with Frida, Diego and Leon Big Al set out for Lae on the island of New Guinea. Once there he quickly landed a job at the Hotel Cecil tending bar. But, once again his poor picking struck him down. He spent the night with a lovely tourist, Amelia, he met on her last night in town. So taken with her was Big Al that he stowed away aboard the plane she and her pal, Fred, were leaving on the next morning. Yes, again, tragedy for Big Al when Amelia lost her way, and the plane went down.
Big Al found himself awash, with nothing more than some flotsam, and the bottle of rum he had taken with him. He finally made shore on Howland Island, and spent the next five years working his way back across the Pacific as an itinerant bar tender. Big Al rejoined his old unit, Battery D, and found himself stationed at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii, on December 7, 1941. Unfortunately, he missed the action that day, as he had spent the prior evening with the lovely Lelani at her Hotel Street business establishment. The advent of World War II was a lightning bolt stimulus for Lelani’s business, but bad news for Big Al’s love life.
Once again Big Al was on a lonely island in the south pacific. There he drowned his sorrows in rum and was eventually returned to the ranks on KP duty. It was while peeling potato’s and washing pots on that remote, unnamed island/atoll under the palms swaying in the breeze that Big Al conceived the Paradise Café. An accidental spilling of torpedo fuel onto a loaf of bread led to the famed “Torpedo Juice” and the birth of the tradition now known as the Paradise Café. Big Al found peace, native ladies and Torpedo Juice.
As could be expected, however, the end of the war led to numerous unhappy arrangements with women of dubious repute, wealthy dowagers, teen aged harpies, post card cuties and, unfortunately, jealous husbands, unhappy fathers and angry big brothers. The Paradise Café went from pillar to post, throughout the orient. Big Al traveled from Singapore to Bangkok, to Rangoon, to Tahiti and beyond. All the while, leaving a trail of lost loves, rum and the aforementioned husbands, fathers and brothers.
Finally, Big Al’s spirit, adventurousness, and Torpedo Juice, later renamed “Nackaree”, arrived at the Beachcomber Bar in South Mission Beach. He was begged by current operators of Big Al’s Paradise Cafe to bring his enterprise to the Over-the-line, and the rest is history.
But, as he stood at the peak of success, on the verge of fame and fortune, he was struck by the wayward arrow of a misguided cupid. Big Al ran off with a gypsy fortune teller, in the back of her VW van painted with flowers and peace signs. Big Al was last seen driving off into the sunset, headed south, wearing a tie dyed T-Shirt, singing “Give Peace a Chance” with his 18 year old olive skinned, green eyed companion.
His friends at Big Al’s Paradise Café can only wish him well, and hope that his spirit has led him to happiness. Big Al must most certainly, at this very moment, at the age of 106, be resting under a beautiful palm tree, sipping a Nackaree and whispering sweet nothings to his 21 year old gypsy fortune telling hippy girlfriend.
The End
"30"
Winner of 2nd Place in the Hospitality Division
Firstplace in the hearts and stomachs of the other contestants
No "FAT CHICKS" (which is in the heart and eye of the beholder)
