Thursday, May 11, 2000 | 9:30 a.m.
It has gigantic, classic food fare, deep booths, friendly waitresses and a little bit of leftover glamour from its more hip heyday -- all of which have kept it quietly popular over the past three decades.
The Peppermill Inn, on Las Vegas Boulevard South, is one of the few local places that has preserved a piece of the Las Vegas that was in the flashy '70s -- when mob bosses met under clandestine arrangements and showgirls mingled in the dark lounges that peppered the Strip.
Tucked between the Riviera hotel-casino and the now defunct Silver City hotel-casino, the Peppermill sits slightly askew of the famous boulevard, dwarfed by the rising, refurbished casinos that make up the far north end of the Strip.
While the large casinos that have grown up around the Peppermill have had numerous makeovers, the diner, which opened Dec. 26, 1972, with shag orange carpet, chocolate brown tiles and faux-leather booths, has only renovated once in its 28 years. In 1986 the owners softened the garish '70s look with more muted, contemporary colors of deep mauves and blues with silk flowers surrounding the large tables.
The little glass jars filled with orange-colored raw sugar that sit on each table -- a trademark of the seven Peppermills throughout the West -- are now soft, pastel multicolored granules.
The Peppermill has appeared in many films, courtesy of its genuine throwback decor, including "Casino," starring Robert De Niro and Sharon Stone. De Niro was so taken with the place that he continued to frequent the lounge after filming was completed, taking up a booth in the back with his entourage.
Its decor, food, pop-culture kitsch and especially its wait staff combine to make the Peppermill one of the unique Las Vegas eateries holding proudly to its past.
Mickey Ban Hooser has been employed at the Peppermill on and off -- through a marriage, children and other career choices -- since January of '73.
"It was brand new, just sparkling new, and they had the pretty orange sugars on the table, and I said, 'This is where I want to work!' " Ban Hooser, a day manager, said.
The petite blonde didn't blink an eye when the manager gave her a quick look-over and wasn't satisfied with her physical appearance.
"He asked, 'What size are you?' and I said, 'Eight,' and he said 'You come back and see me when you can wear a size 6,' " Ban Hooser said.
At the time labor laws were a bit less politically correct than now and Ban Hooser, then 20 years old, did what she could to drop weight quickly: She drank nothing but coffee for a week until she slid neatly into a size-6 orange polyester uniform.
For Martha Montague it was slightly easier. She donned the orange-and-white uniform with the short, swinging skirt the day that the Peppermill opened. She continues to work four-day weeks in the now-red jumper (the result of a color change in '86), and continues to serve the regulars she has come to know so well in her years as their waitress.
"It's really like a family," Montague said. "The customers and the other waitresses, we just know each other so well."
Over the years the staff has held countless birthday parties, anniversary celebrations, wedding receptions and Tupperware parties at the restaurant.
"We have more Tupperware than we'll ever need because we all would go to each other's party," Montague said. "The Tupperware lady finally asked if we could invite anyone outside of work. But these are our close friends."
Each waitress has worked every section of the restaurant to better work as a team. "We know how to support each other," Ban Hooser said.
The Peppermill had a 25-year reunion and more than 100 former employees flew into Las Vegas to reminisce about a place where little had changed.
"A lot of the waitresses went on to become dancers," Joanne Valentine, manager and an employee for 12 years, said. "It was neat to look back and see all the girls dressed like little cheerleaders (in their uniforms) and talk about things, catch up."
Margie Weinstein came to work at the Peppermill temporarily. That was in 1980. She has talked about leaving, but said she would miss the people, and the place. "People leave, but they always come back," she said. "It's hard because we have so much fun here, it's more family than a job."
From her station in the diner, Weinstein has watched the city change through the plate-glass windows that face the Strip.
In the '80s prostitutes openly walked the sidewalks of the Strip. When the police paddy wagon would cruise down the Strip the ladies of the night would scatter to avoid arrest, often running through the lounge and out a back door to a large back parking lot.
"They looked like cockroaches running for their lives." Weinstein said.
Palatial portions
One of the things that hasn't escaped the evolutionary changes is the menu. When the Peppermill first opened it served typical diner fare for the times -- eggs and pancakes for breakfast, hamburgers and fries for lunch.
"A lot of people when we opened would look at the menu (prices) and walk out," Ban Hooser said. "They could get coffee for a nickel at the casinos, I guess."
Now the oversized menu features more exotic fare such as Chilean Sea Bass, Shrimp Scampi Acapulco and Gyro sandwiches, as well as basic diner food. And this is big food. The restaurant is well known for its large portions, particularly its mounded signature salads with whole avocados gracing the sides of the near foot-tall creations.
"Some of our things are memorable; once you've had a banana split here or fresh fruit salad it's pretty hard to forget," Ban Hooser said.
They still make the old-fashioned sundaes kids dream about and clamor for. Mounds of whipped cream top large scoops of chocolate ice cream. Two bananas straddle the massive creation and gooey fudge drips down the creamy sides.
On a recent afternoon a Nevada Highway Patrol officer sat down to a large order of bacon and coffee awaiting him as he slumped into a booth after a long night of working the Strip. In silence he ate as the waitress brought his regular order piping hot from the kitchen. Nary a word was spoken except a soft "thank you" from the officer as he left the diner, smiling.
Diner delight
The Peppermill has never truly advertised and yet its booths are usually full on any given afternoon with conventioneers, Manager Peggy Orth said.
"It's all word of mouth; they just keep coming back," Orth said.
And they bring friends. Early morning diners and late-night lounge lizards fill the over-sized booths amid the white-silk flowers on thick stalks that extend to the mirrored ceiling, encompassing each table in a screen of privacy.
"A lot of time people will come in and say, 'You have been so highly recommended. The cab driver told us to come, the front desk told us to come, the valet.' So sometimes they've already come with such high expectations," Ban Hooser said.
Orlando Mayes regularly has coffee at the counter of the Peppermill and reads the newspaper as he has for the past two years. "It's old-fashioned, kind of nice and friendly," he said. "My kids get a kick out of the banana splits and they always want to come here for that."
Bruce Shuter has taken a seat at the Formica-topped counter for coffee and conversation daily for 12 years. "They have a friendlier attitude than most diners, like Denny's. It's a place you can actually come in and feel like home," Shuter said.
Customers are nostalgic about the Peppermill, Ban Hooser said.
"We have people who come in and say they went on their first date here and now they've been married 20 years," she said. "They come back and sit at the same booth they did when they were young."
Cab drivers, card dealers, police officers and security guards fill the booths at any given hour of the day. "Sometimes during conventions we will see the same people for the whole four or five days they are here," Ban Hooser said. "They have breakfast, lunch and dinner here."
As the sidewalks of the Strip began to heat up under the sun on a recent afternoon, Judith and Dan Malinowski, of Tucson, Ariz., slipped into the dark lounge of the Peppermill to cool their heels and sip on a fruity drink.
"We come to the (lounge) to get away from the hustle and bustle of Vegas," Judith Malinowski said.
She and her husband kicked off their shoes and laid back on the blue-black cushions of a large booth with a good view of the fireplace. "We know where to come and relax and feel welcome," she said. "It's more than just the good food and drinks; it's our place to come."
Conrad Tandy and Creighton Oler, who have been meeting at the Peppermill for six years about once a month, feel the same way -- it's the people who make the total package.
"They are more polite here, up-front, decent," Tandy said. "Most places you go they just ask you what you want. It's hard to explain."
Oler chimes in: "The food is good, it's got ambiance, the physical layout is comfortable and you feel more relaxed."
"And the waitresses are charming, beautiful," Tandy said.
"And hot!" Oler said. "You can say it -- hot!"
Lasting kitsch
As the sun sets over the Strip, the night shift at the Peppermill opens the window blinds to the cars cruising the boulevard. Attention shifts to the back of the building to the lounge where the nightlife, albeit not as glamorous as in days past, is beginning to take shape.
Young twentysomethings in silky shirts and slick hair shyly settle into the softly lit booths amid the towering trees. A fireside sitting area at the front of the lounge is the main attraction.
Flames spout from a gas pipe in the middle of a shallow, softly lighted blue pool, creating an intimate atmosphere for couples to coo over each other. Customers sit on the edge of the fire-pool, the flames playing off their bare shoulders, their laughter contained in the sunken area.
Back in the day the lounge was the place you brought the person you weren't supposed to be with. It still holds that quiet hush of secret trysts, powerful players and '70s decadence.
"It was the, the, the place to go," Sandy Huggard, night manager, said. "Now Vegas is so big, it gets lost."
The drink menu includes the usual fruit drinks, such as strawberry Daiquiris and the potent Scorpion -- six shots of various liquors served in a 64-ounce oversized brandy glass.
When she was a waitress in the '70s Huggard regularly served three priests who would stop in for a few drinks and wind down before going home. "We try to protect their privacy," Huggard said. "If we start seeing cameras we try to be really stringent."
Many of the waitresses were former Playboy bunnies who brought some cocktail techniques via the Playboy mansion to the serving style of the Peppermill, Huggard said.
One former playmate from San Francisco would put her aching feet in the toilet and flush to get a quickie foot massage. "She said that's the way to do it, but there's no way I would do it," Huggard said, adding, "But after a while your feet would be so sore."
The cocktail waitresses, classically clad in floor-length black dresses, wore three-inch high heels, which she said made it difficult to walk on the thick shag carpeting.
"Your heels would get stuck in the shag," Huggard said. "You had to learn to walk through the carpet."
Every waitress at one time or another has dropped a tray of drinks, Huggard said, but probably the worst in her memory would be when a frozen cocktail was dropped on the head of an unsuspecting Casanova as he cuddled with his sweetheart by the fireside.
"The waitress was coming down the steps and dropped a whole chocolate banana (drink) on his head," she said. "He had an Afro and when it fell into it, half of his Afro was down. He was not a happy camper."
The lounge also gets a lot of conventioneers and college students who have heard of the somewhat famous spot, as well as exotic dancers and strippers (who the servers say tip generously).
Although the mood is mellow, it also seems to allow for the occasional customer to push the limits.
Last month a young man took a dip in the 2-foot-deep fireside pool and swam a mini-lap before jumping out, shaking off and walking out the back door.
"He just made a quick swim around it and was gone before anybody could get too upset with him," a Peppermill bartender, speaking anonymously, said. "It was probably a dare."
"It's like the original 'Star Trek,' " said Dave Miller, a stagehand at the MGM Grand hotel-casino and frequent lounge visitor. "If this were the lounge (on the Enterprise ship), Captain Kirk would be here having a drink."
"It's right there, the fireplace, that makes the place," Mike Goldy, a local lounge lover, said. "It's a great place to start the evening off." Goldy and his buddy, Chris Coffman, have been frequenting the night spot for seven years.
"I like that everything is low, the chairs are low and you can sit back and relax," Coffman said. "You get the campfire feel next to the fireplace and it's just easier to talk to people and drink and relax than other places now."
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