Dubious Diner and Ignorant Elams

George pictures in glasses

D'Antons has sat at the corner of Huron and Green street for about 25 years. I was about 21 when they first opened their doors. George, the owner, was open to the Black people in the neighborhood. North Oakland Medical Center was open and booming. Even Pontiac Central High School left him raking in the dough. The hospital has closed, changed names twice and the school has closed, and George is still there. Like fast food, I am subject to food torture from diners, too. But George? He was a strong personality that wouldn't be held by anyone. He still doesn't have a bulletproof casing at his register. After 25 years, no one has robbed him, shot him and he is free to do business at will. My brother, my resource for ghetto happenings, says that it's because everyone knows that George would kill or be killed. He said that where George comes from, people aren't into just giving away what belongs to them.

They had this article floating on Facebook about who has the best cheeseburgers in Pontiac. Left off the list was D'Antons. They have the best burgers in town and have for the last 25 years or so. Last week, my mother and I, went in there to get some food. We had left the grocery store and she wanted to know where she could get some food. She asked me, "What about that hot dog place by the school?" Regretfully, I turn the car that way and went in and ordered some coney's and fries for me. George was sweeping up the outside and never said a word to me. I sat there, because I know what's going on. He swept and I waited for my food. Suddenly, he looked at me and smiled through the door, "It's cold!" I yelled back, "Put on a coat!" It felt good, George was back. Then, he proceeded to make our food, without washing his hands. Picked up the buns, removed the hot dog off the fork with his thumb, and placed my fries in the bag covering the top fries with his unwashed hands.

I've been there maybe four times last year, because you know my problem and I was treated like I wasn't wanted. Sometimes, every blue moon, I would get a hankering for a burger or pancakes. Once, I went in to buy pancakes and they tasted like onions. The biggest and most nasty trick is putting a black, nasty fry in my bag that was both overcooked and rotten. They always stick it in the middle, where I can't see it on inspecting my food. It's a plan that is spread amongst diners and Elams across the city. When the woman at the Elam Brothers on Woodward did, she informed the young man handing me my food laughed at me. This from the religious zealots of the community.

My nephew went to the Elam Brothers on Woodward and bought catfish. I am a fried food junky. I didn't order, because I didn't want to infect my family's food, because they would feel that it's for me and do something damaging to it. My nephew didn't even tell me, because they know the deal. It's the unspoken situation in my family. My mother has had good food from D'Antons in the past, and didn't realize they had joined the circus. That catfish from the Elam's was delicious. So much so, I went back and bought some a few days later. At $15 a dinner, it's an expensive way to go. An even more expensive way to throw away good money. The next time I went, I got a meal for my Mom, too. She sat near the window, and picked up her fish and said, "Oh, oh, they have gotten in on it, too".

It was really no surprise, because a few weeks before, we had been at the other Elam Brothers on Sanford, Mel's place. We ordered $20 worth of fish sandwiches and chili fries. Yes, the same fish sandwich that used to cost $1.25. The same fish sandwich that Glenda Elam, the little sister, would promise to secretaries and teachers in school. The infamous Elam Brother's fish sandwich. Double fried, midget pieces, now over-priced fish sandwich. At least that's how ours was served. We spent $20 and ate nothing. That made my mother so mad. She wanted to take that food back up to them and throw it in their face.

But Melvin Elam is suspected of being more in the pharmacy business these days, than the fish sandwich business. The Elam's on Woodward keep shorter hours now, and I hope it's from all the "you buy, we fry" competition in the city. They are on Woodward and I guess the reason their prices are very high. Their daughter, who wants to be a lawyer, works for Judge Leo Bowen. You can imagine there is no love for me in that place. But I always thought that there would be some sort of respect for your business. The kind of respect that would allow you not to serve bad food to people. I see that there is no decorum in diners and Elams either.

It's not surprising, because Elam's have never done anything for anyone in this city, anyway. Back in the day, I was short a penny and was refused my order, until I went out to my mother and got it. Until, a younger Elam wanted to get into politics, did they start these Elam picnic every year. They go to a church, where Elam's go and you aren't saved unless you speak in tongues. Ignorant in da'hood mean, someone that is just rude, petty and nasty. They just don't know how to be nice. That's an Elam. Mel, stroked my chin once when I was in his joint, however, and I let him finish and looked at him like he was lost. Because that's exactly what he was. Elams live in their own little world, and that world only includes other Elams. They are, however, a part of the corruption in Pontiac. Without it, they couldn't survive. So, what is there to do?

From Sonic, to Altadona's, and their reputation for fights and murders. I am banned. It doesn't really matter what the reason, it sucks. My family won't let me go get the food, and when I bring some home, no one wants any. There is something wrong with that, but how I see it that means there is something right about what I'm doing. Seeing that I won't bend and give in to a corrupt society, I'm able to expose the corruption and tell my story. There is no reason for this kind of harm, but it's what Pontiac is and has always been. It has simply grown with the regime of the Oakland County Sheriff's Department. I have a dream that one day, I'll be able to get the chicken for a family event.