Adios, Wolfies Man

The Herald reported the owner of Wolfies, Miami Beach's most famous deli, died last weekend at 94. His daughter was quoted in the obit about how he "found" a healthy lifestyle after bypass surgery at 82, going daily to the gym and eating a much better diet. Wow -- he got to make it from 82 to 94 eating salads and hanging at the gym. And he ended up...dead!

My family started going to Wolfies in the early 70s, when we'd vacation in Miami Beach so my mother could visit my grandmother. Grandma lived at the Edward Hotel (she pronounced it "Ed Vard") on Collins and 10th Street, and we'd always take her to the Wolfies on Lincoln Road for Jewish soul food, as my Dad liked to call it.

You'd get into a line depending on the number in your party, and sit at a formica table, where rolls and cole slaw and pickles were immediately put down. The running joke is that the old folks always "stole" the rolls and packets of artificial sweetener.

One year, my parents let me bring my friend Michael Monahan along on trip. We were, I think 14. Michael had never been on an airplane before, so the whole experience was wondrous for him. He LOVED Wolfies -- I think we went 3 times during our 10 day visit, and had the same waiter each time. He was a courtly older fellow named Herbert --he greeted us with "I'm Herbert, rhymes with sorbet, but I'm from Brooklyn, not France."

His brother was a NYC fireman, like Michael's Dad, and when the two made the connection, they became bonded for life. The things I can still remember...

Years later, after I moved to Miami full time, and my father died, I'd still take my mother to Wolfies when she visited her lifelong friend Rose, who lived on Venetian Causeway. By then, the Lincoln Road location had closed, and the remaining restaurant was located on 21st Street and Collins. By the late 80s, the crowd had become more Euro tourist and gay than Borscht Belt, but the food was still the same. Mom loved it, as did Rose.

Ah, Rose. She and my mother were best friends since the late 20s, in the Bronx. Rose was married to Harry, and they never had kids, just a mean dog named Stormy -- who used to try to bite me. When Stormy died, Rose and Harry divorced.

Rose then met another guy and moved to Vegas, but he died. Then there was a "rich" older guy, and she moved to Miami Beach with him. He died, too, leaving Rose a life estate in her condo. She and my mother enjoyed their shared widowhood -- Rose would house sit with Mom when Wifey and I went on vacation, and share rooms at the Lido Spa before it became the uppity Standard.

Rose sadly descended into dementia, and Mom "has no idea if she's alive or dead." Truth is, in my mother's self contained, snow globe life, I don't think she deeply cares --and this for a friend of over 80 years. Springsteen said it best: "In the end what you don't surrender, well the world just strips away."

Wolfies closed years ago -- I'm sure the old Lincoln Road location is some overpriced pasta restaurant.

But the delicious corned beef remains, in my stomach memory...