east hampton star article
george gets some press, east hampton star june 1:
Playing by His Own Rules By Kate Maier
George Watson, the owner of the Dock restaurant at the end of a commercial fishing pier at Montauk Harbor, stands apart in a place full of characters — fishermen, surfers, immigrants, artists, and hermits among them.
The former fishing village is in transition as exorbitant real estate prices and posh restaurants make their way east, but it still retains its character, at least for now. If Montauk is truly the Wild West as neighbors in more “civilized” places tend to say, Mr. Watson is making a last stand as a small-town saloon-keeper.
A former New York City police officer, fireman, and Marine Corps corporal who served in Vietnam, he has been playing by his own rules since 1973, when he made the transition from firefighter to restaurateur.
“I would term the majority of the customers here as possibly blue-collar,” Mr. Watson said in a morning discussion of restaurants, newspapers, and politics, during which he consumed four cups of coffee and finished off a cigar. He spent much of the time scuttling around the Dock in search of the papers, photographs, and bar coasters that he was describing.
The first thing people tend to notice at the Dock is the decorating scheme, inside and out. It looks something like a cross between a voodoo lounge and a hunting lodge, with pansies in flower boxes outside and stuffed foxes and deer heads inside. There is a bulletin board crammed with leftist political messages, obscene pictures, and tattered, family-style candid shots of “the locals.”
Once the retina has adjusted to the dim light, the finer details of the interior begin to emerge. An ancient glass soda bottle perched on a bar shelf reads, “Jeff Groves’ ashes. $15 a snort.” Mr. Watson described the former bar patron as a good friend, a drug addict, and an incredibly intelligent person.
“I always liked this building,” he said, reflecting fondly on childhood summers spent in Montauk, first at Hither Hills and then at a house built by his father.
After returning from a Marine tour in Vietnam, Mr. Watson took a job with the New York Police Department. About a year later, he heard from the fire department, and set out to follow in his father’s footsteps.
He had almost no experience in the restaurant business when the opportunity to buy Fitzgerald’s Bar and Grill in Montauk presented itself in 1973. “I tended bar one time,” Mr. Watson said. “My wife thought she was marrying a lieutenant in the fire department, and wound up out here. We learned the hard way.”
The Dock serves casual food from mussels to burgers to somewhat fancier daily specials. One thing that really makes it stand apart from other restaurants, however, is the signs. “The Rules,” enforced by Mr. Watson himself, are clearly written on doors, on coasters, even on the staff uniforms, which consist of T-shirts and blue jeans.
“No checks, no credit cards, no cellphones, take screaming children outside.” Ideas that seem reasonable enough are greeted with varying degrees of amusement and shock by the public, but the primary rule stands: If people venture to tick off Mr. Watson, they will be asked to leave.
“I kick people out all the time,” he said. “I throw people like myself out. No big deal. They come back the next day.”
Mr. Watson’s use of a bullhorn to discourage cellphone use in his establishment is one of the more controversial approaches to enforcement. But in general, he said, he handles most situations calmly.
“I always make it a point, when people come in with kids . . . they get the coaster, and they get the big glass,” he said, demonstrating the strategic positioning of the coaster and pint glass, both adorned with the Dock’s guidelines, which his staff of waiters is trained to follow.
Mr. Watson doesn’t want children playing in the silverware trays or running in the aisles. “But you’ve got to give them enough rope before they hang themselves. You can’t just start screaming at people. And I don’t scream at people.”
In general, if a child is “out of line,” Mr. Watson asks the parents to take him or her outside. Whether they take offense is their own prerogative.
“Now tell me those people would not be the first ones to sue you, if you accidentally spilled something on a child. I think it’s abuse. You can’t allow children to run around a restaurant. It’s insane,” he said.
Mr. Watson explained that his policies are meant to protect not only his own ears but also those of paying customers. “I think it’s extremely rude. It’s rude to everybody around here. What about the people that came in and hired a babysitter so they could go out and enjoy themselves? And you’re going to sit them down next to a screaming kid? I don’t think so.”
Many who work at the restaurant have been there for decades, which anyone who’s had the pleasure of carrying a bowl of steaming soup past a child wearing roller-sneakers will probably understand. “When it’s busy, George is working his ass off,” said Jennifer Gillen, a waitress who landed a job at the Dock last summer. “I’ve never once made a cappuccino while he was there. He’s like an extra server that we don’t have to tip out.”
Mr. Watson’s controversial views on the finer aspects of the service industry are enough to make people take notice, but the fact that he fancies himself a writer helps some who live in Montauk survive the summer.
“At the Dock, we feel that in order for a joke to be funny, it must be told at someone’s expense,” Mr. Watson asserts at his new Web site, www.thedockmontauk.com. This philosophy can be seen at work in “the paper,” as his self-published newsletter is called by those who cringe to see their names appear in it.
Bound with a staple and featuring a hand-drawn depiction of a muscle-bound Mr. Watson wrestling a snake, the little stack of photocopied pages is titled “The Truth: Sometimes It Hurts.” The author said his publication has a circulation of “more than 200” and comes out “whenever necessary.”
Mr. Watson makes sure to include himself among those he derides. “Unlike The East Hampton Star, this paper will print all letters to the editor, be they anonymous, slanderous, libelous, obscene, racial, or ethnic,” the newsletter says.
“The only letters that won’t be printed will be the ones that are derogatory toward Mr. Watson. Since all the letters to the editor this week were of a disparaging nature concerning Mr. Watson, none will be printed.”
Even a gonzo-journalist like Mr. Watson has limits. “There are certain things you just can’t write about,” he said, going on to explain that he ignores repeated requests to “report” such real-life matters as infidelity. “It’s a fine line that most people don’t realize. Insulting people, it’s an art . . . you want to make fun of people, you don’t want to humiliate them.”
Aside from employing his newspaper to circulate local gossip, Mr. Watson uses it, and his restaurant, as a way to air his political views.
“I hate George Bush,” he said. “I was over in Vietnam, and the only thing that I thought was good that was going to come out of Vietnam was that we would never, ever, make this mistake again.” He paused and thought a moment. “And it’s so, so, sad.”
Yet he is a registered Republican. “I mean, do you have a brain?” he asked. “Each issue is separate, don’t you have to weigh things out in your mind and see what’s right and what’s wrong?”
One issue he was eager to discuss was immigration. “These people are no different than the Irish, the Italians, the Jews, the only thing is they have dark skin. They are good, hard-working, family people, who are just trying to make a buck . . . they have jobs that the fat, lazy Americans won’t take.”
“I have been here 33 years. I can’t remember the last time, never ever, do you get an American person, a kid, or whoever, looking to wash dishes. It’s always the Spanish people who have been working landscape jobs all day and now are coming down to do their second job. These people are not taking American jobs, and none of these people are being exploited out here.”
Mr. Watson closed his restaurant on May 1, the day of the nationwide immigrant strike, to shoot a commercial for Plum TV. It features an assortment of Dock regulars as well as Mr. Watson enforcing his cellphone policy on the bullhorn. It will air from Memorial Day to Labor Day.
“The only time I advertise, generally speaking, is when we open,” he said. “I don’t like being lumped in, next to. . . .I’m not going to mention names, but other restaurants which suck.”
The commercial was his wife’s idea. “I have 12 local characters, all lined up in costume, and we bring a camera in and just sort of introduce them,” he said with a smile, declining to go into further detail.
Whether one agrees or disagrees with Mr. Watson’s policies, politics, and prose, he makes an impact. And diners certainly have fair warning.
“If you are looking for a cold beer, good food, and a laugh, stop in,” Mr. Watson says on his Web site. “If you are self-absorbed yuppie scum with a cellphone and ‘free-spirited’ children, go elsewhere.”
Playing by His Own Rules By Kate Maier
George Watson, the owner of the Dock restaurant at the end of a commercial fishing pier at Montauk Harbor, stands apart in a place full of characters — fishermen, surfers, immigrants, artists, and hermits among them.
The former fishing village is in transition as exorbitant real estate prices and posh restaurants make their way east, but it still retains its character, at least for now. If Montauk is truly the Wild West as neighbors in more “civilized” places tend to say, Mr. Watson is making a last stand as a small-town saloon-keeper.
A former New York City police officer, fireman, and Marine Corps corporal who served in Vietnam, he has been playing by his own rules since 1973, when he made the transition from firefighter to restaurateur.
“I would term the majority of the customers here as possibly blue-collar,” Mr. Watson said in a morning discussion of restaurants, newspapers, and politics, during which he consumed four cups of coffee and finished off a cigar. He spent much of the time scuttling around the Dock in search of the papers, photographs, and bar coasters that he was describing.
The first thing people tend to notice at the Dock is the decorating scheme, inside and out. It looks something like a cross between a voodoo lounge and a hunting lodge, with pansies in flower boxes outside and stuffed foxes and deer heads inside. There is a bulletin board crammed with leftist political messages, obscene pictures, and tattered, family-style candid shots of “the locals.”
Once the retina has adjusted to the dim light, the finer details of the interior begin to emerge. An ancient glass soda bottle perched on a bar shelf reads, “Jeff Groves’ ashes. $15 a snort.” Mr. Watson described the former bar patron as a good friend, a drug addict, and an incredibly intelligent person.
“I always liked this building,” he said, reflecting fondly on childhood summers spent in Montauk, first at Hither Hills and then at a house built by his father.
After returning from a Marine tour in Vietnam, Mr. Watson took a job with the New York Police Department. About a year later, he heard from the fire department, and set out to follow in his father’s footsteps.
He had almost no experience in the restaurant business when the opportunity to buy Fitzgerald’s Bar and Grill in Montauk presented itself in 1973. “I tended bar one time,” Mr. Watson said. “My wife thought she was marrying a lieutenant in the fire department, and wound up out here. We learned the hard way.”
The Dock serves casual food from mussels to burgers to somewhat fancier daily specials. One thing that really makes it stand apart from other restaurants, however, is the signs. “The Rules,” enforced by Mr. Watson himself, are clearly written on doors, on coasters, even on the staff uniforms, which consist of T-shirts and blue jeans.
“No checks, no credit cards, no cellphones, take screaming children outside.” Ideas that seem reasonable enough are greeted with varying degrees of amusement and shock by the public, but the primary rule stands: If people venture to tick off Mr. Watson, they will be asked to leave.
“I kick people out all the time,” he said. “I throw people like myself out. No big deal. They come back the next day.”
Mr. Watson’s use of a bullhorn to discourage cellphone use in his establishment is one of the more controversial approaches to enforcement. But in general, he said, he handles most situations calmly.
“I always make it a point, when people come in with kids . . . they get the coaster, and they get the big glass,” he said, demonstrating the strategic positioning of the coaster and pint glass, both adorned with the Dock’s guidelines, which his staff of waiters is trained to follow.
Mr. Watson doesn’t want children playing in the silverware trays or running in the aisles. “But you’ve got to give them enough rope before they hang themselves. You can’t just start screaming at people. And I don’t scream at people.”
In general, if a child is “out of line,” Mr. Watson asks the parents to take him or her outside. Whether they take offense is their own prerogative.
“Now tell me those people would not be the first ones to sue you, if you accidentally spilled something on a child. I think it’s abuse. You can’t allow children to run around a restaurant. It’s insane,” he said.
Mr. Watson explained that his policies are meant to protect not only his own ears but also those of paying customers. “I think it’s extremely rude. It’s rude to everybody around here. What about the people that came in and hired a babysitter so they could go out and enjoy themselves? And you’re going to sit them down next to a screaming kid? I don’t think so.”
Many who work at the restaurant have been there for decades, which anyone who’s had the pleasure of carrying a bowl of steaming soup past a child wearing roller-sneakers will probably understand. “When it’s busy, George is working his ass off,” said Jennifer Gillen, a waitress who landed a job at the Dock last summer. “I’ve never once made a cappuccino while he was there. He’s like an extra server that we don’t have to tip out.”
Mr. Watson’s controversial views on the finer aspects of the service industry are enough to make people take notice, but the fact that he fancies himself a writer helps some who live in Montauk survive the summer.
“At the Dock, we feel that in order for a joke to be funny, it must be told at someone’s expense,” Mr. Watson asserts at his new Web site, www.thedockmontauk.com. This philosophy can be seen at work in “the paper,” as his self-published newsletter is called by those who cringe to see their names appear in it.
Bound with a staple and featuring a hand-drawn depiction of a muscle-bound Mr. Watson wrestling a snake, the little stack of photocopied pages is titled “The Truth: Sometimes It Hurts.” The author said his publication has a circulation of “more than 200” and comes out “whenever necessary.”
Mr. Watson makes sure to include himself among those he derides. “Unlike The East Hampton Star, this paper will print all letters to the editor, be they anonymous, slanderous, libelous, obscene, racial, or ethnic,” the newsletter says.
“The only letters that won’t be printed will be the ones that are derogatory toward Mr. Watson. Since all the letters to the editor this week were of a disparaging nature concerning Mr. Watson, none will be printed.”
Even a gonzo-journalist like Mr. Watson has limits. “There are certain things you just can’t write about,” he said, going on to explain that he ignores repeated requests to “report” such real-life matters as infidelity. “It’s a fine line that most people don’t realize. Insulting people, it’s an art . . . you want to make fun of people, you don’t want to humiliate them.”
Aside from employing his newspaper to circulate local gossip, Mr. Watson uses it, and his restaurant, as a way to air his political views.
“I hate George Bush,” he said. “I was over in Vietnam, and the only thing that I thought was good that was going to come out of Vietnam was that we would never, ever, make this mistake again.” He paused and thought a moment. “And it’s so, so, sad.”
Yet he is a registered Republican. “I mean, do you have a brain?” he asked. “Each issue is separate, don’t you have to weigh things out in your mind and see what’s right and what’s wrong?”
One issue he was eager to discuss was immigration. “These people are no different than the Irish, the Italians, the Jews, the only thing is they have dark skin. They are good, hard-working, family people, who are just trying to make a buck . . . they have jobs that the fat, lazy Americans won’t take.”
“I have been here 33 years. I can’t remember the last time, never ever, do you get an American person, a kid, or whoever, looking to wash dishes. It’s always the Spanish people who have been working landscape jobs all day and now are coming down to do their second job. These people are not taking American jobs, and none of these people are being exploited out here.”
Mr. Watson closed his restaurant on May 1, the day of the nationwide immigrant strike, to shoot a commercial for Plum TV. It features an assortment of Dock regulars as well as Mr. Watson enforcing his cellphone policy on the bullhorn. It will air from Memorial Day to Labor Day.
“The only time I advertise, generally speaking, is when we open,” he said. “I don’t like being lumped in, next to. . . .I’m not going to mention names, but other restaurants which suck.”
The commercial was his wife’s idea. “I have 12 local characters, all lined up in costume, and we bring a camera in and just sort of introduce them,” he said with a smile, declining to go into further detail.
Whether one agrees or disagrees with Mr. Watson’s policies, politics, and prose, he makes an impact. And diners certainly have fair warning.
“If you are looking for a cold beer, good food, and a laugh, stop in,” Mr. Watson says on his Web site. “If you are self-absorbed yuppie scum with a cellphone and ‘free-spirited’ children, go elsewhere.”
posted by The Dock Montauk at 12:13 PM
42 Comments:
chris... get your sh$t together man... Beach Dog is coming for ya...
i'm going to flush a cherry bomb down your toilet
We all know your the little man in the fam... believe me... we feel for ya. But coating yourself in red wine at James' wedding was too much. Too much for any god fearing human. OH YEAH!!!!!
Chris you've become - not only the "Master Jedi" your "little Chris" always wanted to be. But something bigger! Something more...practical, less humiliating...less gay and, more, i don't know- 2006? YES! 2006!!! You've become a regular computer dork! A real code writing commando with this website! You make me proud!
And you sure know how to dance -YEEOW!
hello mr watson,
i enjoyed the article about your restaurant in the star.
we may have very little in common, but our shared feelings towards g. w. bush is similar.
check out this bumper sticker (they've been selling like hotcakes)
http://www.bushtheend.com/
- b. isenbek
i ate at this dump and was berated for my cell phone use. c'mon, its 2006. and get some corona for christ's sake.
Test Test testicle
When is George going to get his ass in gear and put out a news paper?Theres plenty of shit out there that needs to get out to the general public.
Why is it that no one is commenting in here?
Maybe I'LL just start talking to myself.
Hey dog whats happening?
Not much. Kinda gloomy lately. Really bumbed out that the Dock raised its prices.
Yeah i hear ya.Probably have to start going down to the old/new Peir one for eats now.
By the by dog today was Georges birthday and he said he is now 37. I think he is lying. Wadda ya think?
CHRIS PLEASE TELL THE SR. WATSON THAT THE 60'S ARE OVER HE SHOULD BUY A NEW SHIRT!!!
I think its about time someone down there broke down and did something about the excessive heat situation.
By the way fatjewlawyer George gets those shirts when RtB is done with them.
Joe C: George Happy New year to you and your family. All the best in 2007, Semper Fi
anyone seen the land crab
chuck wheat sells short porgies i have all his secret coordents to catch the big ones and will sell to the highest bidder!!!!
wherethe hell is t bone???
is ereryone sleeping
hey scumdog i couldent help but to notice you talking to your self having lived ln montauk for a couple years i know that is not uncommon for someone w a 668 exchange on your phone thank god the bars in n.y. are open till 4 in themorning!!!!
im really lookin for scotty fletcher anyone help me out?
i also have the licence on the patent for BUM-B-GONE spray of witch i stole while on a colvert mission at the tippary inn works on all bums when they wont!!!!
dont tell R.T.B i dont want him to see me coming!!!!
is mary still tending bar at liars????
dancin billy kevin from maine sid the squidd sharon any of these guys still alive
joey flapjaws is really a francican monk cleverly disquized as a long liner he will blow you the second you fall asleep ]he loves the picles a little too much SCARY!!!!!!
dont make me send you guys a picture of my ass to get you moving cause ill do it !!!!!
i can see there is too much action 4 me to handle im at blackrandy69@yahoo.com
ya know i dont WANT to start trouble its just my nature. dont even tell me that its past everybodys bed time in the 668 excange i know better
itake it its still quiet in the winter down there
i hope im just not too much action in one place i wouldent want to piss off the locals if i come down for a little sea hab
Hi everyone,just thinking of you,obviously,lol.
,From your site I can see you have a beautiful restaurant and your doing good.
cooking must run in the family,I am also a cook at a restaurant[the tap & grill] that has a similiar menu to yours,but we accept credit cards lol we should raise the minimum,just kidding.
always in my heart and prayers xoxo
Im back. Whats up suckers?
So what did George do for his birthday? I hear him and BJ and a nice evening. Watta hear?
"Even a gonzo-journalist like Mr. Watson has limits. “There are certain things you just can’t write about,” he said, going on to explain that he ignores repeated requests to “report” such real-life matters as infidelity. “It’s a fine line that most people don’t realize. Insulting people, it’s an art . . . you want to make fun of people, you don’t want to humiliate them.”
Well, George, or Chris, or whomever... humiliate away, and of course the final "everyone in this town hates you, even your 'friend' George" was an especially heart-warming way to drive the nail into the coffin of my relationship this past weekend. Thanks, for giving him the ammunition.
For the record, I smoke weed every day, drink more than I should, and am not opposed to popping pills from time to tome. Whatever you and the rest of your high-horse tropical-winter spending pathetic townie firends want to look down upon, embellish all you like.
But I'll never apologize for being crazy. A good friend of mine once said, "you have to go on and be crazy, craziness is like heaven..." and I tend to agree. Where would I, or any other artist, be without their emotions, their irrational behavior, their souls?
You could say I'm giving up, but I like to think of it as removing myself from your pathetic, mundane, alcohol-soaked existences. Go suck an egg, Mr. Watson, and give Richie Brown a hand job while you're at it. And next time you want to poke fun at me for being dumped, cheated on, or temporarily unemployed, say it to my face before you blab it to your toothless townie friends, you spineless little prick.
Toothless people are usually the ones who smoke week everyday.
If you think Mr.Watson is spineless Then the hypocrite ship has sunk.
2 wrongs don't make a right,And if he's sharing his judgements around town,
Then kudos to you for telling your business to the whole world.
You may be crazy,But some people are crazier.
Next time watch your mouth,
Or go pop a pill.
You're right, Christine. I should have never said anything about anybody's teeth, that was way out of line.
And George isn't spineless. He's actually one of the people I respect the most in this town, that's why I wrote that damn silly article in the first place. But since I have to leave, and I know more shit will be talked, my drunk ass just wanted to set the record straight before I go.
I wish you all nothing but the best, and will always love Montauk ,because of places like the Dock, even if Mtk doesn't love me. Cheers.
we all make mistakes no ones perfect,i was wrong to come at you i just got angry from the name calling,because that man has done alot of good things you may not know.
it probably was'nt my place to involve my 2 cents about something i know nothing about.
i reacted on impulse.
but admiting when we are wrong is what makes us stand up.
it shows you have good character,
and if you love montauk you should'nt leave work out your differences with others,unless your leaving because you want to.
I'm moving to Springs... sans man and one of my dogs... maybe I'll make it back here someday, I hope. But it's too close for comfort right now, hence the lashing out. I love George, I do. He's just got impeccably bad timing sometimes, and speaks his mind to often for a lot of people... kind of like myself.
Post a Comment
<< Home