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By Patty-Pat Kozlowski
By Patty-Pat Kozlowski
November 2, 1995. Yes, it was 16 years ago when America was introduced to "The Soup Nazi" via the television sitcom Seinfeld.
What else can you remember from 1995? Clinton was President. It was the year O.J. Simpson went on trial in January and was given a not guilty verdict in October. San Fran won the Super Bowl, Atlanta won the World Series. The Grateful Dead’s Jerry Garcia died and the Oscar for Best Picture went to "Forrest Gump".
And a four worded phrase was introduced into pop culture thanks to Seinfeld’s "Soup Nazi". It was yelled, it was shouted, and today it is still popular- "No Soup for You!"
Do you remember the episode? Here’s a rundown-
Jerry, George and Elaine go out to a new soup stand Kramer has been raving about; its owner is referred to as the "Soup Nazi" due to his temperament and insistence on a strict manner of behavior while ordering. Jerry explains the procedure for ordering which George accepts, but Elaine rejects.
When Jerry and George get to the soup stand, George follows the procedure but notices that he did not get the free bread with his soup order. Jerry tells him to let it go, but George asks for some, and is told he will have to pay $2 for it. When George objects, claiming that everybody in front of him got free bread, he is told that the price for bread is now "THREE dollars!" When George continues to protest, he quickly has his money returned and his soup is brusquely taken back, with the catchphrase "No soup for you! NEXT!"
That was the basic outline of the episode. And 16 years after this episode ran on television, hundreds of people stood in 29 degree weather this past Saturday outside Doc’s Gourmet Café and Soup Bar at 169 W. Girard Avenue to get yelled at, put down and told off by the Soup Nazi, played by actor Larry Thomas.
The Soup Line: Neighborhood History
And yet it was not the first time, and unfortunately not the last time, this neighborhood saw a long snaking soup line. The big difference? People on Saturday were shelling out $5 for a container of Sweet Corn Chowder and Chicken Gumbo and then maybe another $10 for a photo and autograph from the Soup Nazi. But when you stood in the real Kensington soup line, you were there to feed yourself and your family with no money in your pockets and nothing in your belly.
Back in 2004, the St. Francis Inn Soup Kitchen on Kensington Avenue turned 25 and throughout that quarter century, thousands of people stood in line to the former go-go bar location trying to get food. Every day, food was laid out and served by Franciscan friars, nuns and volunteers for those who stood in the soup line.
Fast forward seven years and this Spirit Reporter is in line on Girard Avenue with about 40 people in front of me on the coldest Saturday of my life. Wedged between the Poison Apple Tattoo Shop and a nail salon, the only thing keeping me from freezing to death is blues harmonica player Larry Wise, stationed at curbside, who’s tapping his foot on a drum cymbal and crooning that, "my baby, my baby makes my temperature hot!" (Tell ya what Larry, if your baby makes my temperature hot right now, I’ll put a $20 bill in your bucket!)
Behind me, a guy known as "Big Tuna" pulls out his cell phone to call a buddy.
"Dude, she’s [his girlfriend] getting her nails done and there’s this soup place next door and the Soup Nazi guy from Seinfeld is there, so I’m standing in line instead of sitting in the nail place."
But other than Big Tuna, the rest of the people knew the Soup Nazi was at Doc’s and stood in line to be degraded.
It was about four months ago when Darryl O’Connor opened DOC’s Gourmet Café and Soup Bar at Front and Girard. Emblazoned on his chef jacket reads, "DOC’s ICE CAFÉ". What gives? "I make my own water-ice," said Doc. "We sell our soup in the summer, but not like in the winter so that’s when we have our water-ice."
With over 100 soup varieties in the hot months, a chilled carrot ginger, chilled spring pea with mint or a golden summer tomato soup just might be the ticket.
How does one know what kind of soup DOC’s has on the menu? Call them at 215-423-5350 and they’ll give you the soups of the day. They deliver and they cater and they make sandwiches like hoagies, wraps, meatballs and even quesadillas.
But back to the Soup Nazi. If I had to be a Seinfeld character, I know I would be Costanza. I’m a George. My parents are George’s parents. And I knew the Soup Nazi would have me for lunch. And I knew I would screw up my chances of getting soup because I wouldn’t get the bread or I would order wrong or ask for extra napkins and tick him off even more.
With my $5 out I got to the counter and said, "One chicken gumbo, please." And I moved down the line trying not to make eye contact.
But Thomas, dressed in a DOC’s café chef jacket and white bandanna around his neck, could not be any nicer and appreciative of the crowd. 16 years after his appearance on Seinfeld, this guy knew what a good thing he had.
"People come up to me all the time and say, ‘You’re so nice; you’re nothing like the Soup Nazi at all’," said Thomas. "And then my son tells them they should live with me."
The DOC himself spooned my chicken gumbo into my cup and did indeed give me a thick cut wedge of rye bread wrapped in foil. As I turned to leave, I made eye contact with Thomas and he hit me with a machine gun rat tat tat statement of- "NO SOUP FOR YOU!"
Cross that one of my bucket list.
