Restaurants in the Time of Pandemic: Remembering Walt's Wharf

Many good memories of Walt’s Wharf. I first heard the gospel here, sitting in the fish market, on break, and became a Christian a year or so later. It was January 1979, around midnight, in a studio apartment where I lived by myself, down the street from Walt’s on 13th and Electric.

A few memories. My favorite lunch-break meal was mesquite-grilled salmon sandwiches, open-faced on sourdough, seasoned lightly with paprika and a squeeze of butter. I was hired first as a hostess, then graduated to waitress along with my friend Karen. We wore brown skirts with cute flowered aprons tied at the waist and gold puffed-sleeve peasant blouses. Karen and I housesat for another waitress one summer in an apartment on Main, down a ways from Walt’s. There were fleas and goldfish. There’s a story.

Karen has her own tales to tell.

So sad about the closure. This is going to be a very hard time for independently-owned restaurants.

There will be more.