As we followed the bumpy, dark road around the perimeter of the sleeping giant called Metrocenter Mall, it led to the food-court entrance where we found a great parking space exceedingly far away. The cop car was just behind us and moving slowly; its blue lights in the middle of this gloomy parking lot seemed incredibly beautiful.
With my top hat in place and my circus-master cape flowing, I am sure we looked quite strange to the dedicated policemen. But this night, the distinctive blue lights that usually cause panic provided security. The Jackson police were out in force for the JFP's annual Best of Jackson celebration on the last Sunday in January.
My beautiful daughter, who was five months pregnant, was at my side. Her graceful black cocktail dress looked just perfect with her two soft-looking cat ears perched prominently on the top of her head. She looked lovely, and she smiled. I could see in her eyes that her vision of Metrocenter was much different from mine.
When her loving Jackson-bred, Mississippi hunter husband found out the party was at the Metrocenter, his first reaction was, "Are you taking a pistol?" His protective instinct kicked in. My capturing his wife and taking her to the Metrocenter was a curious quandary for him to ponder.
I saw it differently. In 1978, I had left Texas Tech and came to Jackson to live with my parents during the summer. I landed a great job at Metrocenter at the J. Riggins men's clothing store.
The mall was fascinating to me. The big, new, beautiful mall was the largest shopping venue in the state. I was proud to be part of it.
The next year, I attended Hinds Community College on the Raymond campus because it was the school's only campus at the time. My father opened the El Chico restaurant located on the north side of the one-mile perimeter of the mighty mall.
I'm a fourth-generation former restaurateur; my great grandmother and uncles founded this Mexican restaurant chain that grew to 75-plus locations in the southwest, and now Jackson landed my family's chain to put in this whopping center.
It was my destiny to be part of this opening. Wearing ugly mustard-colored vests with gold buttons, black slacks and the El Chico nametag made with red "label maker" tape, we were sporty looking for this time period. Fresh-made sopapillas with soft honey butter was our signature "free surprise" that people always remember. My family's black-and-white photos hanging in the foyer were a conversation piece. I was proud to be a waiter, not a bus boy like Fernando Gomez, yet Fernando became a proud restaurateur who soon created his own line of Mexican restaurants in the area.
Some great restaurant stories came out of the mall-area's food scene. The grand, easy-flowing restaurant called Widow Watson's was an experience; you felt like you were eating in the widow's home. To up the game, there was Ruth's Chris Steak House, the top of the line. Tico's was located on Bound Street off Interstate 55 at the time and, of course, Crechale's and the Green Derby were down the road on Highway 80. But none was at the Metrocenter Mall.
Poets, an eatery and bar, opened a second location. With liquor by the glass available in the state just a few years, this popular hot spot made it big in the state's most popular shopping destination. Other chain restaurants were around: Ruby Tuesday, Shoney's, Piccadilly and more. This south Jackson part of town was thriving.
As my daughter and I walked to the entrance, I worried about my costume. I had freshly painted big black sideburns, and my salt-and-pepper facial hair was painted black with mascara. My hair was slicked back with styling gel my daughter gave me. My top hat was lined with red ribbon, and my silk black cape had matching red ribbon as the tie strings.
Was I was over-dressed? The invitation said black, red or white, mask optional or dress as a circus-like animal. As we came closer to the entrance, we saw all the smokers outside taking drags off cigarettes. Everyone was laughing and having a good time. I soon saw I was going to fit right in with the kitty-cat costumes, made-up faces and all kinds of hats. The stage was set for a festive atmosphere.
As I opened the door to let my daughter enter, she looked at me with a big smile and said, "Dad, I feel safe." As she moved past me, I looked back at all the blue lights and felt sad. What happened to this beautiful giant of a mall where I grew up? My daughter might not ever know its true glory.
Long-time Jackson restaurateur David Joseph is an intern at the Jackson Free Press.
Support our reporting -- Follow the MFP.
