Serving Up Tea

January 24th, 1924 - The wooden walls were rough and uneven. The ceiling was low. All sorts of odors lingered in the room from the night before. One young man swept up a pile of debris over in the corner. Gloomy, pale light struggled to enter the dark establishment through several foggy windows.

The harsh slurping of the uncouth, rotund owner across from me snapped me back to his attention. The scowl on his ugly face was even uglier than usual. I knew the face too well. Everyone wore it at some point in their lives. Unfortunately, they oftentimes wore it when they tried my tea.

“Yeah, we don’t get a lot of tea drinkers here.” The owner grunted. “And this… this isn’t really my… my… I don’t like it.”

I’m dealing with a wordsmith and a genius.

“Why don’t I leave some here, you can offer it to the coffee drinkers. See if anyone–”

“Look kid.” He interrupted. “I gave it a try. It’s not for me. That's it.”

He sat there for a few seconds, I tried to think of my next stab at it, but then he stood up with a heavy grunt and meandered away. I collected my tea and I left.

Rejection number eight. Someday I’ll find a place… I hope.

August 3rd, 1924 - It was so hot outside, but it was somehow hotter inside this… shack. That’s all it was. But this particular owner, his face looked intrigued. I’d deal with working in a hot, tiny shack if I could finally share my teas with the world.

“So, you do all this yourself?” He asked, taking another sip.

“Yes!” I was excited. “Dad left the farm to me. Grow a lot of vegetables and fruits, and started growing different tea plants.”

“You run the farm all by yourself?” He asked.

“My brother helps.”

He took another sip and frowned.

Uh oh.

“First few sips were nice… but then… I don’t know how to describe it. Don’t like it anymore. Sorry kiddo.”

“But–”

“Good luck with the farm.”

Rejection number 11. I’m starting to get used to this feeling.

February 16th, 1925 - I already saw the scowl on his face. I was already expecting to be rejected. Admittedly, I walked in with the expectation, which is horrible. But the feeling creeped up on me as soon as I stepped foot in any establishment. It followed me.

“Nah, I don’t really care for that!” He shouted.

“Think any of your customers might have a taste for it?” I said with a lackluster tone as I grabbed my belongings.

The man watched intently. “No, but do yourself a favor. Try one of our coffees. That’s the black gold people want. Not this herb crap.”

The man rolled away. I got up and left. I wasn’t going to drink their coffee. I headed outside and walked aimlessly… for a while… until I was tired. I looked up, and wouldn't you know it, I saw another coffee establishment.

Well, I’ll drink their coffee. Just not the other guy’s coffee.

It was a small place and there was only one guy working it. His face was flushed, he was in a constant state of stress. There were only three other customers besides me. I tried not to stare as I sipped my coffee, but it was difficult not to watch him speeding all around the place.

“What are you gonna do when the band is here?” One customer cackled.

“I don’t know! I’m so used to having Jed!” He dropped a mug and it shattered.

The customers laughed. I rushed over to the broken mug and helped him collect the pieces. He thanked me and told me I didn’t need to help. I told him it was okay and he didn’t put up any more resistance. He showed me the trash cans out back and I brought the broken pieces of the mug back there. He apologized and told me how the other guy who worked with him had just left town. He left with a woman. A young guy, 20’s, they were going to get married. When he said “20’s” he said it in a way like he envied it. He was, after all, pushing 50. He also said it in a way like he didn’t realize I was in my 20’s. As if I was the same age as him.

“So, there’s a band coming tonight?” I asked.

He nodded, his face still red from overworking himself.

“I have a proposal for you.” When I said this, his head snapped to attention. “I’ll help you out tonight. I’ll do what Jed used to do. And, if you want, I’ll continue to come in and help you out… continue to do what Jed used to do.”

“And the catch is…”

“You let me sell my tea at your establishment.”

March 10th, 1925 - It had almost been a month that I had been working with Walter. His face was less red, thanks to me lending a helping hand. The first night was busy with the band coming. Since then, Walter had arranged two more bands to come by and play. Those nights were also busy, but it was a fun and rewarding environment to be a part of.

Walter tried my teas and said they were alright. We started selling them two weeks ago. Well, we started attempting to sell them two weeks ago. No one had purchased one yet. A lot of coffee drinkers around these parts.

March 25th, 1925 - The first person to ever order one of my teas came in! He was a blunt man and said he desired something other than coffee. He tried one of my teas and instantly proclaimed it to be the best drink he has had in the past two months, “And that includes the booze!” He shouted.

I was blown away by his complete lack of regard to the law, to authorities. Booze had been illegal for about five years. He didn’t give a damn. Meanwhile, most of us were secretive about our booze. I made my own, but I didn’t share it with the world. Mainly just with my brother.

The man finished his tea and demanded another. He told me he was planning a trip and didn’t know when he would be back. He wanted to have more of this delicious tea before he left. He told me his name was Ernest. I told him my name was Edward. He told me all the best ones were named with an E. He asked Walter’s name and Walter told him and Ernest promptly told him to go to Hell and then bellowed with laughter as he took his tea back to his seat.

I never saw the man again. But he was my first customer. And he was my only customer for a while.

May 14th, 1925 - We were still cleaning up after a raucous night. It was well into the morning but the place was still a mess. The band was good. The coffee drinks were aplenty. And two separate brawls broke out. It happened occasionally.

A man entered and asked what we had. When we told him of the tea, he seemed eager to try some. I served him a mug and he loved it. He spoke with me for a while. He entered in a poor mood, but his mood improved little by little. He was quite friendly. Fitzgerald, something. He said he’d come back for more tea and that we’d surely see him again. He told me to keep serving my tea. But we never saw him again.

Nice guy. Only my second customer ever.

Later that day, Walter had a surprise for me. A wooden sign he made for the business. He cut it into a crude rectangle shape and he painted a name on the front in bold white letters. The name advertised both our endeavors. He hung it up outside in hopes to attract more customers.

July 10th, 1925 - I’d now had a total of 12 different people try my tea. Of the last 10… six didn’t care for it at all, two enjoyed it, and the other two didn’t say a word about it. I suppose it was progress.

But then, lucky number 13 came in. Another man wanted to try my tea. Cole, something. He was a dashing man. Spoke with confidence. And when he tried my tea, he told me, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the best beverage he’d had all year. I loved the glowing reviews. I just wished more people had them. Or that those with the glowing reviews told more people so they’d come try my tea. But what could I expect? I had no idea if this Cole fellow knew all that many people.

But I was happy to have a few happy customers. Cole showed up the next day for more tea. And the day after that. But then we never saw him again.

November 3rd, 1925 - The tea was still selling slowly. Very few people were interested and those that tried it, very few were even mildly impressed. Most people came for the coffee and the music… which Walter had arranged for more frequently. It was fine. I enjoyed Walter’s company. He always called me “kid” and “kiddo” and acted like a father. He got flustered easily. And I calmed him down easily with jokes and stories of me and my brother on the farm. He started calling me “Ed Red”, short for Edward Redsley. I liked it.

No one had ordered tea in a month. Like I said, it was slow. But I suppose you got to stick with something, no matter how slow, if it’s what you really want to do.

April 2nd, 1926 - I took another bite of bread and chewed slowly. What a plain taste. I took a sip from my mug. There’s the flavor. But my eyes barely opened. It had been months since anyone had ordered any of my tea. I was spending most of my time helping Walter with the coffee.

Walter was finishing cleaning up. It was another raucous night last night. Another band, more brawls. I was on a break. A little bread and a little drink. Walter tossed some broken boards into the trash out back and returned to the front, huffing and sweaty. His eyes locked on my mug and he strolled over.

He grabbed the mug and brought it up to his lips. A dry mouth full of bread, I tried to tell him “No” but I couldn’t get the words out. He took a swig and instantly started coughing and wheezing.

“Damn! What is that?!”

“Uh… it’s not tea.” I said plainly.

He took another sip. A careful one.

“Ed Red, you make booze?” He asked quietly.

“At home with my brother. Usually I leave it there but I… I just wanted some…”

“Ed Red… this is good!” Walter’s eyes lit up. “The flavor… you do something different with it?”

I grinned. “Well, I do. The way I…”

“Ed Red… we can make a fortune off of this.” Walter’s green eyes deepened in hue as the money danced in his irises.

April 30th, 1926 - Walter and I had finally gotten everything set up. It was time to start spreading the secret carefully. Customers came in that day and Walter and I told them of the free tea samples we were giving out. Without fail everyone turned down the tea. So, we had to specify that we meant “tea.”

Most customers were still confused so we had to force the “tea” on them. One sip was all it took. A big smile. And we’d hook another “tea drinker.”

People were smart enough. They knew the rules. Prohibition had been going on for years. We wanted them to spread the word carefully. And if people had to be brought down under different pretenses, not quite false ones, “you’ll love the coffee” well, then, so be it.

June 30th, 1926 - Customers were spreading the word quite well for us! All our existing customers knew about the “tea” and we had been seeing many new faces pop up!

A lot of people ordering my “tea” but not many ordering my tea. In fact, only four people had ordered my tea in the last two months and two were by accident. But man have people been ordering the “tea” and enjoying it! And it was something I was making… something I was “brewing.” People were enjoying my drinks. It wasn’t the original intention but it still felt good.

August 9th, 1926 - One of the regular “tea” drinkers, Pappy, strolled up to me, big grin on his face. He had a young friend with him who he introduced as Skippy, but I got the distinct feeling that wasn’t his name.

“Red tea. It’s been a cloudy August.” Pappy’s grin grew.

I served him up his “tea.”

“Green tea.” Skippy said.

I reached for the tea and Pappy elbowed Skippy in the gut.

“Oh, it has been a cloudy August.” Skippy said.

I laughed and moved my hand away from the tea and got Skippy his “tea.”

“It sure has.” I responded. “I wonder if it will clear up.”

“Hope not!” Pappy saluted me with his “tea” and the two found a table.

More new faces entered the doorway, innocent eyes scanning the establishment with nervousness and excitement. Walter pointed them in my direction. “Best tea in California right back over there fellas!”

October 15th, 1926 - Pappy and Skippy were back. I finished with the orders of the two newcomers in front of them and they approached me.

“Red tea. Is it apple season yet?” Pappy smirked. I handed him his “tea.”

“Green tea.” Skippy said quietly.

I stared at him silently. He felt my eyes on him. Pappy chuckled. Skippy looked up slightly.

“Too many apples yesterday.” Skippy mumbled.

I chortled, got him his tea, and the two found their usual table. As they walked away, I saw the glint of a metal badge on the chest of the man behind them in line. A burly man, wearing a police officer’s outfit.

I froze.

“Red tea.” The officer said confidently.

I slowly prepared his tea. I could feel Walter’s eyes watching me from across the establishment. Most of the eyes of the patrons stayed down, staring at their drinks and their feet. I handed the officer his tea. He sipped it.

“This is tea.” He said plainly.

“That’s what you ordered.” I responded.

“I heard you all serve booze under the guise of tea.”

“No, sir. Booze is illegal.”

“I know that. How old are you, kid?”

“23 years old.” I responded.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Too young to know your ass from your elbow. Look, you may not know this, so let me be the first to tell you. Don’t talk back to a police officer.”

“But I wasn’t talking back to you. I was just talking… to you.”

“You being smart?!” He burst.

“I was just telling you that we don’t serve booze because it’s illegal is all, sir.”

The officer huffed and slammed the mug down on the bar. His tea spilled everywhere and he turned on his heel. He began to march out.

“You forgot to pay!” I called out.

I swore Walter’s eyes almost fell out of his skull. Half of me regretted it. But the other half of me stood by it. Why should this guy be allowed to push us around and treat us like this? All over some booze. Sure, it was illegal. But only because authorities told us it was illegal. There was nothing wrong with a little booze. The officer spun around and eyed me with coal black pupils.

“You know what, that tea is on us.” Walter piped up. “Free for you, Officer…”

The officer never looked at Walter. He stared at me. “Darby.” He turned and marched out.

A collective sigh was breathed from all our “tea” drinking patrons. And even from our tea and coffee drinkers. I was still holding my breath. A tingling sensation surged through me. What a rush! I was a bootlegger, after all.

October 31st, 1926 - The band played on and all our patrons whooped and hollered and danced. Walter and I enjoyed the scene, but we watched on carefully as we had been for the past couple weeks.

“We have to be careful with police.” Walter told me. “And careful with how the word spreads.”

“We might need some help.” I responded, watching our happy patrons.

November 3rd, 1926 - It was the first time we saw Officer Darby return to our establishment. He didn’t wear his uniform. I suppose he assumed we would forget him and wouldn’t recognize him. But his burly stature and his mean face were etched in all our minds. He stood behind Pappy.

“Red tea. I predict snow this month.” Pappy grinned. I was unsure if he was aware that Officer Darby stood right behind him.

I stealthily prepared Pappy’s “tea” as it was located right next to the tea… I was able to conceal where it came from if I held my hand low enough behind our high counter. I was sweating profusely. I handed Pappy his “tea” and quickly wiped my brow with my shirt sleeve.

Pappy found his table and Officer Darby casually strolled forward.

“Red tea. I predict… snow this month.” He said, his eyes bouncing around, scanning our establishment.

I saw Walter glare at me from across the establishment. His eyes bugging out, a slow head shake “No” paired with his flushed skin. I knew not to serve an officer. I prepared a tea for Darby and handed it to him.

“Snow? Even in this heat?” I feigned a grin.

Darby took a sip and frowned. “It is November, after all.”

“It isn’t Minnesota. It’s California… after all.” My toxic sarcasm slipped past my manufactured joy.

Darby’s eyes drifted to anger, then recoiled into innocence. He took another sip of his tea. “What’s Minnesota?”

Pappy cackled with laughter, but when Darby’s head whipped around in his direction, he quieted down.

“A much colder place.” I answered simply.

“Oh yes. Land of a thousand rivers, right?” Darby looked back at me.

“A thousand lakes!” Pappy wheezed another laugh and then fell into silence as Darby shot another look at him.

“Did you just correct me?” Darby was fuming.

“That’s our local geography expert. He’s a cartographer.” I tried to lighten the mood.

Darby’s head swiveled back towards me. “What the hell is a cartographer?”

Pappy finished swallowing his “tea” and began to open his mouth again but I cut him off. “Pappy has traveled all over the country. Makes maps. Takes it seriously. Right, Pappy?”

Pappy nodded. Darby grumbled something, paid, and then found a table to sit down at and sip his tea. Everyone in the establishment grew uncomfortable, clenching their buttcheeks tight as a hemmed dress as Darby sat in the exact center of the room. Everyone except Pappy, who was a bit too loose. Not of the buttcheeks. Of the mind.

Maybe of the buttcheeks too.

The establishment grew silent… obviously silent. Darby observed all the patrons. He sipped slowly. Methodically.

Walter went over to one table of regulars and whispered something to them. They began talking again. Another table began to talk. The atmosphere was still quiet, but at least not silent. Pappy began talking loudly into the air, hoping his words would land on someone’s ear drums, as he often did when he got a bit too loose.

Walter brought some bread over to Pappy. Pappy happily indulged, stuffing his mouth, limiting his talking.

Darby eventually left. 32 buttcheeks unclenched. And Pappy hollered for more bread.

My body tingled with thrill once more.

November 12th, 1926 - An electricity buzzed through the air. Plenty of patrons were in and out today, many drinking and enjoying my “tea.” It was a great feeling to know I brought that to them. I even had two people who came in for my tea and enjoyed that too. But that was far from the main attraction here.

A slender man approached me at the counter. A new face. He had a small smile on his face.

“Red tea. I predict snow this winter.” He said casually.

A phrase I had heard plenty of times that day. Another person to enjoy my “brew.” I’d be bringing happiness to yet another customer. I began to reach for the “tea” when Skippy burst in through the door, heaving, out of breath.

“The band rejected your offer!” Skippy yelled out to Walter and me.

Walter’s eyes popped open and his head whipped over to my direction. I slowly shifted my hand from the “tea” to the tea… and I prepared the slender man his drink. I slid it over to him casually. He took a quick sip, swished it around. He took another sip. He snorted through his nose, paid, and sat down at a table. Everyone sat on pins and needles. The slender man drank half of his tea and left.

We stealthily peered out the windows and watched as the slender man strolled across the street and met with someone hanging out in the shade underneath the large brim of their hat. The man lifted the brim of his hat. It was Darby. The slender man spoke to Darby and Darby stood up with frustration and stormed away.

December 17th, 1926 - Darby and the slender man burst into our establishment. A few other officers followed them. They had permission to search the place. We let them.

They found nothing.

They found nothing because Nadine, who we had met two months prior, tipped us off. We knew they’d be coming soon enough so we dried the place out. All the booze was back on the farm with my brother.

Darby and the others left with disappointment.

February 26th, 1927 - Another raid by the officers. This was the seventh one. And it was the seventh time they found nothing. We hadn’t brought the booze back on the scene since the first one. We were waiting them out.

My tea grew in popularity, slightly. But I’m sure that wouldn’t last.

May 26th, 1927 - Nadine and I had our fifth date last night. She was there at the establishment today, all too happy to have some green tea. My best customer.

Walter informed me that it had been three months since any raids. He thinks the police had given up. He thinks it was time to bring the booze back. And so we did the very next day.

May 27th, 1927 - I was a bootlegger again. No one ordered tea. Everyone ordered “tea.” It was a grand time. As long as I was making people happy with my creation. Even if it wasn’t my first creation. My most loved creation. But the thrill was back.

August 10th, 1929 - It was my and Nadine’s first day back to the establishment after getting married.

Business was great. The officers only tried to bust us a couple times in the past years. They tried using our codes. But we had too many codes to combat the codes. Too many eyes on the outside. Too many loyal followers. Nadine helped to organize a system with the customers and us, designating our best customers as “deputies.” Her system was flawless. Her organization was impeccable.

I had introduced two more teas and three more “teas.” We were bringing in even more customers than usual.

January 1st, 1934 - Last year they said booze was no longer illegal. We thought it was a joke at first. But it wasn’t.

So, we were selling booze out in the open now. No more hiding!

Walter took his old sign down and put it out back. He said most people were coming for the “tea” which we could now openly call booze. And there was no need to have the sign that hinted at what we were doing. We could be loud about what we were selling. He said he would make a new sign but I doubted he would ever get around to it.

March 31st, 1935 - Nadine and I decided to stop trying to have kids. We tried many times and it never worked. It was heartbreaking but we had each other.

Business was booming. We were the place that sold booze and also coffee… and yes, tea to the occasional passerby. We were the place with no sign. But the place everybody knew.

December 2nd, 1949 - Nadine got really sick. She stayed home all day but told me to go to work anyway.

December 18th, 1949 - Nadine’s condition kept getting worse. Today was especially bad. I told her I would stay home with her but every day she told me to go to work and that she would get better soon enough.

At least business was still doing well.

January 20th, 1950 - Nadine passed away. I was a wreck. Walter told me to take some time off.

February 20th, 1950 - I returned to work. Walter told me to take more time off but the cherry red face on the old man told me he needed more help. And so I was back.

September 18th, 1961 - Walter got really sick. He stayed home while I tried to run everything myself. It was tough.

January 11th, 1962 - Walter passed away. I was left to run the business by myself.

July 25th, 1962 - It had been extremely difficult running the business myself. As red-faced and panicked as Walter always was, he was a calming entity. I missed his presence at the place. And I missed him as a person. And I still missed Nadine every day.

Business had been drying up. Who knows why? Maybe this really was a multi-person job. Maybe I couldn’t keep up with everything that was needed and customers found new establishments. Maybe coffee and booze wasn’t a combination that people wanted anymore.

November 8th, 1962 - I finally decided I would have to sell the place. I couldn’t keep up with everything. No one liked the coffee anymore. I wasn’t a coffee guy so I didn’t know what I was doing. Even after all these years. Too late to learn now. A 60-year-old man trying to learn a new skill? Nope. I only had two skills that ever proved valuable.

January 7th, 1963 - Three people had been to take a look at the place already. This was the fourth. His name was Herbert. He seemed nice enough. I couldn’t remember his last name. Herbert was looking around out back. He returned with a smile on his face and a sign in his hands. That old sign that Walter made once upon a time.

“Old sign?” He asked.

“Very old.” I said, suddenly aware of how much older my voice had gotten. I cleared my throat, hoping to restore some youth to my vocal chords.

“I like it. Think I could use it?” Herbert asked.

“You mean you want to buy the place?” I asked.

“Yeah, if you’d stay on with me. The tea you have… loved it! There is definitely a market for it here.” Herbert was filled with young enthusiasm I once had… and it was contagious.

“Really?” I was in shock.

“Yeah, I think I could get someone to make a newer sign. But I love the name. Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. Simple, yet effective.”

“That sounds… great!” I was at a loss for most words. “What was your name again?”

“Herbert Hyman. Coffee expert. But definitely need that tea expert on board with me. What do you say?”

“I say yes!” I jumped up and shook his hand. “So, really? A market for tea here in Brentwood?”

“Ed… I got high hopes. Not just a market in Brentwood. Brentwood and beyond.”

A tingle surged through my body. That thrilling feeling was back. Not the thrill from bootlegging… skirting the law… living to tell about it. The thrill of making my way back to my original passion.

**************

Herbert Hyman opened the first Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf in Brentwood, California in 1963.

Prohibition lasted from 1920 - 1933.

A few prominent figures in this time period made their way into the story as characters.

The rest of this story was fictional. (Or was it?)

I hope you enjoyed my fictional retelling of this period in history!