I’ve always smiled whenever I heard the lyrics of Neil’s song T-Bone because I believe I know what inspired it. Perhaps this story may either spoil your love of it or enhance your understanding. For me, it’s one of my treasured bits of Neil trivia and memories from my youth.
In 1974, at the age of 14, I worked at the Bella Vista and Alex’s Restaurants along Skyline Blvd. on Kings Mountain in Woodside, California. I was the dishwasher most nights at the Bella Vista, and occasionally I worked at Alex’s kitchen down the road. Kings Mountain is the community I grew up in. It’s along a mountain ridge in the Santa Cruz Mountains. I walked a huckleberry-lined trail through the redwood forest to my job at the Bella Vista. Pegi Morton, one of the restaurant’s youngest waitresses, was a striking figure: tall, slender, with straight blonde hair and clear blue eyes. It is through her, I believe, that Neil likely overheard the kitchen rants of the old Portuguese chef and co-owner, Art Morris. Art was a gruff, perpetually grumbly man, rarely mixing work with pleasantries. He served as a chief cook on Navy ships in his younger years, and I think he worried excessively about everything, but took pride in his skills, particularly about preparing good tasting food and knowing the patterns of his restaurant. Despite living across the street from the restaurant, his style was to drive his big, luxurious car to work. On occasion, he showed a kinder side and offered to drive me home during rainstorms or drippy fog. Art, a short, plump man with dark hair and black-rim glasses, had pink scars on his arms from working the oven, and always wore a clean white apron over a thin blue shirt, black polyester work slacks, and black work boots. His distinct personality–one you either loved or loathed–certainly lent him character.
As head chef, Art prepared all the entrees and meticulously ordered all the meat and provisions. As a co-owner, his position was secure, and he ruled his kitchen side of the business. He was a bit hard to work with, but he fit my idea of being a proper boss. While I considered myself his willing kitchen slave and generally managed to get along with him, he became relentlessly upset when pushed beyond his normal pace. I suspect his irritability contributed to Pegi’s preference for working at Alex’s. Art and the younger waitresses occasionally engaged in arguments and yelling matches at the kitchen pickup counter. That’s when I paid close attention because it was exciting. Pegi was feisty and vivacious and would stomp away if Art manifested his frustrations in a disrespectful tone. Art would quiet down, turn back to the oven and stove, and continue to mumble at a slow boil. Pegi worked Tuesdays through Thursdays and sometimes would work the overflow front dining room on weekends. She drove a red ’62 Valiant sedan, and seeing her car always brightened my arrival at work. She was pretty, energetic, and fun to be around; I liked her. She must have been about 22 or 23 then. Pegi would never eat Art’s free employee meal, preferring instead to sit at our group table and chat before work started. Neil eventually took a liking to her after meeting her at Alex’s, where she also waited tables. Tuesdays at
the Bella Vista were notoriously slow; I once saw Neil had the main dining room—and Pegi, his waitress—pretty much to himself. He would later recall in lyric, “I used to order just to watch her float across the floor.”
Returning to the heart of the story: the mashed potato incident…
On busy weekends, we would serve about 180 meals. And sometimes, especially on Sundays, we would run out of certain meats or products. We served chicken and several cuts of beef steaks (Filet Mignon, T-bone steak, and a smaller New York steak). Frogs’ legs, abalone and halibut were the odd, frozen things we served. Most people bought the chicken or New York filet. I know the T-bone was perhaps the most expensive cut of beef Art would buy each week, and he hated to waste money and ordered a couple dozen at most. He hated it when the meats in the walk-in freezer sat unsold for longer than a week. He ordered meats weekly and had them delivered. Along with the meat portion, every plate served got a split baked potato and a side of boiled English peas or peas with diced carrots. That was dinner along with continental-style soup and salad and dessert. I would make all the salads on the side table when not washing dishes. I also cleaned pots and pans.
On those hectic weekends when we served many dinners and had a packed house, we would sometimes run out of popular items. Art would get really stressed if the waitresses brought him orders for something after he ran out of it. He wasn’t the best communicator, so he’d inevitably run out of things mid-stream before fully informing the waitresses. Sometimes the waitresses all brought orders for the last T-bone at the same time, and they’d have to return to the customer to tell them. No one liked doing that. It meant less of a tip, I think. Art would bellow out so loud the whole restaurant could hear him in the back kitchen! He had these rants to the waitresses almost every weekend, and it was predictable that he’d get angry about running out of something and take it out on us and especially the hardworking waitresses. Amidst the din of the pots and pans and squeaky oven door opening and closing you would suddenly hear Art say… “Ain’t got no T-bone !!” And when the baked potatoes ran out…. he’d mix up a batch from the box of dry instant flakes and let them know… “Got mashed potatoes!” (Mashed potatoes were the backup to the oven-baked potatoes, and it was embarrassing to run out.) Oh, I remember some huge spats between Art and Pegi at the pick-up counter. I saw it all. I’m a witness to these words and how Neil was there to hear them, or Pegi may have told the story. And I recall they would tease Art about the T-bone shortages and mashed potato substitutes and how he was so predictable… Why didn’t he just buy more steaks and cook more potatoes?? I earned $1.20 an hour when I started there. I bought camera film, darkroom supplies and school clothes from my paycheck.
Pegi eventually left and never came back to the Bella Vista to work. We missed her! Even Art may have missed her. And one day when I was older, I heard this new song by Neil on his 1981 Re-ac-tor album. Since it was many years later, it took me a while to reconnect it to the memories. But when it clicked, I was overjoyed! I still smile about the moment that my synapses reconnected. I think Neil wrote the song’s repeating lyrics (seven words) from his memory of Art Morris’ kitchen rant.
I ran into Art a couple of times outside of work. He would go to Alex’s to have a drink at the bar (see: Harvest Moon music video). Sitting beside him at the bar, I found Art to be a much deeper man than I had made him out to be. He smiled and laughed and told jokes! I bet he liked that a song was written about his kitchen rant! Can you imagine?
Bella Vista Restaurant’s main dining room before guests arrived, 1974. The windows were oriented towards city lights, creating a very romantic setting.
Bella Vista’s pickup counter showing potato and steak dinners and bells to ring waitresses.
Bella Vista’s kitchen with soup steam table and gas stove where the meals were cooked and potatoes baked (colorized).
Michael Warner at work at the dishwasher’s station of the Bella Vista Restaurant (colorized), 1974.
Michael Warner, 1974
Michael Warner, 1974.
Michael Warner and the younger dogs, Hickory and Juniper, 2025. Photo by Joanna Warner