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“My life is basically a series of long-winded stories fueled by caffeine and late-night writing.”
— Popular opinion put forth by family and (some) friends.
“You ever see Elvis perform live?” was the question asked by someone in the group gathered in the lobby of the Rio Theatre in Center. We were sharing memories after watching the new documentary “EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert.”
Great movie, if you’re a fan. Lots of recently discovered never-before- seen footage from 1970s performances and moments, both on and off stage.
“I think so,” I said. “But that’s a long story; one you’ve probably heard. But I’ll bet you a cup of coffee that I have an Elvis story you might not have heard before.”
“Seriously?” my friend said.
“You know that I contend coffee is somewhere between medicinal and therapeutic, right? It’s also my belief,” I continued, “that the beverage’s benefits may also be determined by what sort of container from which one’s java is enjoyed.”
This comparison of coffee containers arose a couple of years ago at the coffee club. Conversation centered on caffeine consumption from one of the popular insulated metal cups versus my favorite: the classic curved-side, thick-bottom, white porcelain mug. The signature mug long revered by serious coffee drinkers originated during World War II. The military commissioned Victor Insulator Company to design a mug with thick walls for insulation and durability, plus extra weight on the bottom to prevent tipping. The result quickly became an American eatery icon known as the “diner mug.”
“I thought you said you had an Elvis story,” my questioner quizzed.
“Wait for it,” I pleaded. Blessed to have grown up in a coffee-drinking family that enjoyed pre-interstate highway travel, many of my memories include diner mug coffee. It was a time when every Texas road cafe or diner offered not only tables and booths but also a counter near the kitchen where the coffee-only bunch or the dine-alone clientele perched on stools. Chatter was constant as white-uniform-wearing waitresses moved about, rapidly refilling coffee mugs. They knew what regulars wanted and greeted everyone as “sweetheart” or “honey.”
My grandfather always looked for the place with the most trucks in the parking lot. He swore that’s where the best coffee was being served. His guaranteed first coffee stop on regular trips between Pittsburg in East Texas where I spent summers with my grandparents, and our home at the time in the West Texas town of Seymour was a small cafe and motel in Greenville.
The inconspicuous eatery sat on the north side of U.S. 67 just east of town. A simple sign noted the name of the place, “Floyd’s Cafe,” right before the highway bends southward toward Dallas.
“Still waiting for Elvis to enter the building,” my impatient friend said, checking his watch.
“Patience,” I replied. “A good story needs a good buildup.”
So, one summer morning after numerous stops at Floyd’s, my grandparents and I entered to see a brightly colored plate on the wall above one of the booths. On it was hand-printed: “Elvis Ate Here 3-14-58.”
At that point in my story, I hesitated, then delivered the longawaited plot-twisting surprise ending.
“So, 68 years ago tomorrow, Elvis ate at Floyd’s Cafe in Greenville, where I also like to think that he enjoyed a cup of good, hot coffee in a diner mug,” I said.
After that, I always looked forward to seeing the plate during subsequent visits to Floyd’s.
As a student at nearby East Texas State University during the late 1960s (now East Texas A&M University at Commerce), Floyd’s was still a good place for coffee, a chicken-fried steak or a hamburger.
Floyd’s faded away sometime after I graduated from ETSU in the early 1970s. Also fading from Americana by then were uniformed waitresses, diners and cafe lunch counters. The venerable diner mug filled with hot coffee has remained a favorite, however, as has Elvis Presley’s music and his place in American entertainment history.
Along with my longwinded story ... at least, so far.
