June Newsletter
Testing, testing. Is this thing on? I had visions of a cinematic guest broadcast. A news report that suddenly becomes garbled and goes black before being broadcast from an unknown location. A hijacked medium, held hostage by a rebel with a message to get across.
A little theatrical I know, but those of us who read the usual newsletter written by theatrical producer and publican Wilton Morley (so that makes three of us), know that his Lordship (a pub owner is called a landlord in Britain so I’m not being facetious, promise) errs on the side of theatrical. There are the stories about the roof caving in at the original Mad Dogs during a storm – everyone continued to eat, in case you were wondering, stoically picking out bits of insulation from their soup. The chefs storming out because they didn’t want to make Duck A L’Orange (I made that one up), his love affairs with well-known Starlets (this one’s true), his legendary brush with the Australian authorities, and ultimately him finding a little roadside restaurant on MacDill in Tampa which led to amongst other things, me receiving an eleventh hour call to write a newsletter. I just hope there’s someone out there.
A good restaurant is a theatre. It might sound strange, but you never notice it until you do. The show begins from the moment you book. The excitement builds, you get ready to go out, you enter the building, the sights, smells, the sounds of your feet on the tiles, the clinking of glasses, the greetings. Off to the table, comfortable seats, one drink, two, an expert table wipe, the lights go down, the silverware is jingled, the music sounds a little louder, the food starts to appear, placed by pirouetting servers working in tandem, “That tastes so good, try it”, interesting characters appear around you, “How is everything tonight?” You watch the date nights, the mates night, and everything in between. The whole experience should feel like a show where you forget the outside world. No one understands this more than a theatre producer, and that’s why whichever building Mad Dogs is in, the show goes on thanks to Wilton Morley and the whole team.
Today, if you come here as much as I do and sit at the fireplace for long enough (as I do, I have very few friends), you see post honeymoon dinners, birthdays, team building sessions, make ups, breakups, boys nights and reunions. In every British soap opera there’s a pub that sits at the center of the action. Births, deaths, divorces, adultery, engagements and any raft of human conditions take place in the few hundred yards around (sometimes inside) the pub. Everyone gathers daily to recap the dramas and gossip, and the pub is always Lorded (or Ladied) over by a tough as boots character who keeps the peace and beer flowing no matter what’s going on outside. Barbara Windsor, beloved English actress was known for screeching her famous phrase: “GET OUTTA MA PUB.” (For a real-life rendition of this phrase catch me on a weekday evening around 7pm at Mad Dogs, will take payment in Peppadew Peppers. Or you could just watch it on YouTube, whatever you prefer).
Where was I going with this? Who knows, but I do know that not enough is made of the lore of Mad Dogs, and its main characters, The Colonel, Wilton, and Blake. I’ll save this story for if I’m ever invited back for another guest appearance. But those who know this trio, know that not only do they eat their own cooking by being around almost every day, but that they saved this fine theatre from disappearing altogether. It wasn’t an easy journey, and I remember distinctly hearing about it during my first ever dinner in Tampa many years ago, before I had even stepped foot in the original. Planning was being done for the new one that night, and the phrase seared into my head by an impatient Albert Alfonso was uttered after great debate - “so ..are we doing this?” They did. I’m very grateful for this theatrical center of Tampa life, and I’m sure all you regulars are too.
Omar Butt
Resident Englishman, Understudy to Wilton Morley
