From the outside, Ed Debevic’s looks like an average diner. In fact, its gaudy colors and retro décor make the place positively precious. Step inside and the restaurant looks no more suspicious than the exterior. The collectibles and eclectic items plastered on the walls are fun, cute and remind you of the good old days. The meal looks promising.
Ask to be seated, however, and everything changes.
The hostess gives you a dirty look and beckons you to follow her to a table. She stalks off without another word. A waiter comes by and throws a pile of menus at you, and he has bad aim. He takes your order while yelling at you for being unclear with your requests, then makes snide remarks and hurls genuinely hurtful insults at you: yeah, your hair color looks fake; fatty, you need to lose weight; and they make ointment for horrible acne like yours, you know. Finally, the exchange is over and he walks away, grumbling. What is this horrible place?
Ed Debevic’s of Chicago is not an average restaurant. While most eateries make their business on service — that is, politely bringing food to paying customers — this particular diner takes a different tack. Part restaurant, part theatre and part sadist hot spot, Ed Debevic’s gimmick is treating its customers like crap. The waiters, who my friends and I soon realized were simply angry actors, even berated children, some of whom were crying. Clearly, as first timers, we didn’t know what we were getting into. All we wanted was a quick bite, not an extra-large helping of emotional baggage.
We were stiff and angry when the waitress brought our food and another bout of verbal abuse to the table. As soon as she left, we dug into the food while wondering loudly how anyone could enjoy such an awful experience. How on Earth does this place make money?
But they do — plenty of money. The other customers, who were clearly regulars, seemed to thoroughly enjoy the mediocre fries, burgers, hot dogs and other common diner fare while reacting delightedly to the hostile staff and cheering for popular waiters. The impromptu and rife-with-attitude dance routine the waiters performed all over the restaurant was met with raucous support. The line to be seated was long even at 3 p.m., and at least three birthday parties came through while we were there. We could not imagine why the place was so popular.
But the longer we stayed, the more we realized what a uniquely innovative marketing strategy Mr. Debevic has developed. As pissed off as we were at first, we couldn’t stop talking (or complaining) about the place and thusly realized its genius. First, we ruminated about who could ever enjoy such an awful form of entertainment (masochists, we concluded). Then, we considered shouting obscenities back at our waitress, Lola (we decided to take the high road). Hours later, long after we had left the restaurant, we were still discussing it. We’d later go home and tell all of our friends about it, who would inevitably want to try it too. The gimmick is jarring at first, but none of us could deny that we were intrigued.
And therein lies Ed Debevic’s power. First-timers will either become addicted or so angry that they’ll spread the word (wiser people than me say that there’s no such thing as bad publicity), making this “restaurant’s” reputation almost viral. To be sure, I plan on taking friends there just for the experience, even though I was appalled at first. Tourists are also enamored with the place, as it doesn’t exist outside Chicagoland, and its convenient location near the El Red Line stops at Chicago Avenue and Grand Avenue is perfectly situated for attracting new customers. Ed Debevic’s isn’t going anywhere.
Maybe Ed has a sense of humor too. After all, the diner is supposed to be an icon of Americana. Perhaps he meant to say, however subtly, that bitterness and rudeness are just as much icons of American culture as sweet apple pie. In any case, I shudder to think what impression our fair country would make if foreign tourists found themselves in the clutches of Ed’s staff, for I doubt anywhere else in the world this brand of “service” would be accepted. Whether or not it intends to, Ed Debevic’s makes an interesting statement.
Should you try Ed Debevic’s? It depends. Are you willing to withstand verbal abuse and dirty looks from your waiters for average diner food you could easily find without a side of insults? Do you want to see an interesting show and have story to tell afterward? If you know what you’re getting into before you go, you’re likely to find the place far more amusing than I did. So go ahead and give Ed a shot.
But Ed Debevic’s is not for the faint of self esteem or the sensitive (or anyone who is looking to pay for quality service and food.) Some fall in love with Ed and come back again and again. But as for me, it simply made me yearn for Zagat-rated fine dining establishments and waiters who at least pretend to be nice.
Ed Debevic’s, 640 N. Wells St. Chicago, Ill., 60620; (312)-664-1707.