It must have 30 coats of paint.

It has changed doors and windows too many times to count. It was the former Game Collective, a medical marijuana outlet until November of last year.

In looking back, it was also a Chinese late night eatery, a video store and heaven knows what before that.

I recall it as the former Epicure Restaurant in White Center. It was once the second office for me in the ‘50s and ‘60s. It had everything but the keyboard of Vi Childs whose music must echo still from the dim little lounge in the rear. The air yet heavy from those years of cocktails and cigarettes.

This ageless building with several faces sits on the corner of 16th S.W. and S.W. 98th St. in the heart of the town. A town now in the throes of a battle being waged for annexation to Burien.


My office was one block west of the Epicure, on 17th, making for an easy stride to coffee. I had a very small gathering area inside the newspaper building, certainly not adequate for staff to meet. It made sense to use the restaurant.

Besides, my secretary could not make coffee like the beautiful German waitress I eventually married. Elsbeth Warsow was my bride for 43 years. 


The Epicure was the best place in town in those days. They advertised JUICY-RAY roast beef on a glowing spit above the glassware on the counter as you walked in the door. Jim Willis, proprietor extraordinaire, was always there to greet me with his Cheshire cat grin.

Jim served typical American cuisine but it could honestly be described as neighborhood cafe food with a little nightlife. Weekly meetings for the Lions Club and the Jaycees were downstairs. The basement was great for Sunday night bingo games.

My second office was actually the middle booth on the north wall, right below the velvet painting of a pirate. I don't know if it was symbolic of my swashbuckling style in those days, as Jim never served any grog or turkey legs. Maybe he just liked me.

Not long after I arrived in White Center (1952) I found the Epicure and began my morning ritual. Jim recognized quickly how often I was summoned to the restaurant phone on the wall in the smoky lounge.

He must have known my mother would not approve. Mom led the temperance movement in N.E. Portland. She'd walk the neighborhoods in the ‘30s, recruiting the least sober, depression era drunks to seek redemption at the Mallory Avenue Church.

My own dad had trouble with the bottle for nearly 40 years although I doubt Jim knew that. He just found a way to solve his own problem of me tying up his business phone. He fixed me up with a personal phone... right at my booth. He gave me an extension number on a cradled wall phone.

I was a good customer, of course, but Jim knew also that I'd never ever walk across the street to Dick Busey's place as long as I had my own phone. The added benefit was time. I never got to use the phone at home. We had teenage boys at the time. They were always talking with teenage girls.

Time has changed the Epicure. Built in 1947, it now sits empty, facing an uncertain future in this tough economic climate. Jim Willis, Vi Childs and my lovely Elsbeth would probably like to visit it again.

They might even ask for a new coat of paint.

(Editor's note: The latest is that Full Tilt Ice Cream will be taking over the space, according to Full Tilt owner Justin Cline)