Don's Bucket
I need to set the record straight. None of the internet comments from customers and former owners about the burger joint on Eagle Rock Boulevard have the complete story. The internet accounts identify correctly the progression of the recent names for the place from "The Bucket", to "Dee Dee's Dive" and as of today, "Patio Burgers and Beer." What's missing from this is that prior to 1965 the place was called "Don's Bucket."
Don was a former owner who was long gone by the time I first went there in the 1950's with my dad. The place was then owned and run by a scruffy old Greek named Nick who took your order, cooked your food and collected your money.
The current fenced-in area with the covered patio, table, chairs and TV all came 30 years later. The original Don's Bucket was strictly a dumpy little stub of a building, painted shit brown, and shaped like a giant thimble with rounded corners and roofline. There was a single wooden picnic table that sat behind the building in an area covered with crabgrass. There was a closet-sized bathroom on the south side of the building you entered from the outside. It was redone and greatly expanded in 1996 to be handicap accessible.
I know all of this to be accurate because in 1965 Nick had me repaint all of the signs so they would read "THE BUCKET" instead of "DON"S BUCKET." When I was in college and had some money I would eat lunch there. The food was simple but good. The burgers were made with fresh ground sirloin and there was no ID required for a glass of beer.
One day Nick overheard some comment about my being an art major. He asked me if I would repaint the signs on the building as well as the sign that stood in the gravel parking area. He explained it hadn't been Don's for sometime and he wanted the former owner's name done away with. He told me to come back after the lunch crowd dispersed and he'd get me started. It seemed like a lot of trouble to go to for a handful of hand-painted signs that were too small to have much impact on anybody driving by. We tried to talk him out of it but Nick insisted that if I didn't help him he'd do it himself and probably make a mess of it while he was at it. This was easy to visualize having seen how Nick plated the food.
When I returned later that afternoon he had me watch the place while he walked on back to the apartments directly behind the restaurant where he lived. He returned with a ladder, some brushes and 2 cans of paint that didn't quite match the colors on the signs he wanted changed. He was the last person in the world to be concerned with such aesthetic details so I didn't bother to say anything. As it turned out, it didn't matter. The overall affect of the building's shape, color and hand-painted lettering all looked like crap, so it blended together nicely. When I finished, he asked me how much I wanted to be paid. I said I'd be happy with my next 4 lunches on him and we shook on it.
Nick was a surly old coot getting on in years. His hearing and mental acuity were not what they had once been. He made mistakes on orders sometimes but then would insist it wasn't his fault. Even though the place was open only a few hours a day, the one-man operation was taking a toll. He was there early every morning to do the prep work and then had to stay long after he closed around 2:30 p.m. to clean up.
He also had difficulty adding up the bill in his head. His eyesight was gone and he had given up writing down orders. There were only eight stools for customers so he could keep track of the orders most of the time but couldn't figure out what you owed. When you walked over to the register at the end of the counter, he'd mumble to himself for a few seconds and then bark out an amount that was close but never exactly right. If he undercharged, we'd correct him; when he overcharged, we would let it go. Before long he wouldn't bother to even try to calculate our tabs, we'd just hand him the money.
The physical demands of the job and his loss of faculties made for a real sourpuss at times. It amused the regular customers which in turn amused Nick and made for a long-running private joke we all enjoyed together.
After Nick finally hung it up, Julio Maeso took over The Bucket in 1970. It was not a smooth transition. Julio, saw Nick's attitude as a gimmick rather than a struggle with old age. Julio chose to raise the curmudgeon level to out-right belligerence and it became his signature. From the start, Julio rained insults down on customers and often served them the food he thought they deserved as opposed to what they had asked for. Julio also changed the menu, stacking burgers impossibly high, dousing them in a mustard sauce and charging 3 times more than they used to run. The price hike and the Vegas lounge act didn't fly with many of the old customers but it became a draw for new ones, especially after Elmer Dills dropped by.
Dills was a local TV and radio restaurant reviewer who paid a visit one afternoon. He went overboard with his review of the place after he saw the 6-inch high pile of a burger and had his tie cut in half by Julio. For those unfamiliar with Nick, Julio's antics and burgers went over well enough for many years. When Julio sold the place in 1995, he was given a citation by the Los Angeles City Council. Nick couldn't have cared less.
