By Robert Beck

I was walking up 72nd on my way to the studio when the Charles Pan-Fried Chicken restaurant caught my eye. Those small-scale businesses squished into narrow spaces fascinate me. How do they make that work? Charles was closed, and I put my hands beside my face and looked in the glass front door. I saw a narrow take-out counter with a kitchen in the back, and Stephanie coming towards me with a smile on her face. She unlocked and opened the door.

“Welcome to Charles Pan-Fried Chicken! How can I serve you?”

I’d never been in a Charles and hadn’t expected to make a painting pitch at that moment, but Stephanie had that big smile, and there would be no better time. I told her about my Rag articles and how I would like to paint in the store, and she said it sounded like a great idea.  She gave me Chef Quie’s card (He’s the COO of the four-location business) and said I could call him any time. I hadn’t been at my studio for more than ten minutes when he called me. Chef Quie liked the idea too.

I came back a couple of days later, two hours before opening. First, I went to the back and considered the view from the kitchen end, but I would have to set up in a narrow lane with stainless workstations and stocked shelves on each side.  Stephanie asked if I wanted her to move anything.  I was thinking: move it to where?  And the staff was right in the middle of prep for opening.  Yet I could hear in her voice that she would make it happen. Chef Quie had said, today was my day, and I could be anywhere I wanted. They would work around me.  Welcome to Charles Pan-Fried Chicken! How can I serve you?

I prefer to avoid traffic patterns, so I located my easel at the front window, which was out of the customers’ direct path but still in a busy space. Sometimes, I had to move when people came inside or left with their bags of food. When the door stuck, I would stop painting and give it a shove for them. Most customers ordered their meals to go, but a couple of well-dressed women ate their chicken on stools right beside my easel. We chatted and laughed. The place smelled great. I could hear Stephanie welcoming people over the noise of everyone enjoying themselves. There were tables out front, and some passers-by watched me work through the window.

It was Tuesday, Catfish Day at Charles. Experience has taught me that the catfish in a soul-food restaurant is sublime, but I knew my wife was making fish for dinner, so I got the chicken for lunch. With black-eyed peas and cornbread. Yum. There’s no secret to why everyone has smiles on their faces in that place. Welcome to Charles Pan-Fried Chicken.

* * *

Mother-in-Law’s Note: Before Robert Beck wrote West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. Read Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.

See more of Robert Beck’s work and his UWS studio by visiting www.robertbeck.net  And let Robert know if you have a connection to an archetypal UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!

You can subscribe to WSR’s free email newsletter here.