“Dear Joe, My grandfather, an FBI agent was relocated to Long Beach in the mid 1940’s. Joe Jost’s quickly became his favorite place. My mother tells stories of my grandfather bringing her there as a young girl and says that at the time she couldn’t believe that her father would bring her to such a “rough place.” I have been going to Joe Jost’s since before I can remember, but I can remember taking gulps out of my grandfather’s schooner of Eastside when my age could be counted on the fingers of one hand. I grew up going there on Saturdays after water skiing with my grandfather, uncle, and brother at Golden Shores and the Stadium. As a youngster I used to order hot dogs instead of Specials as my grandfather’s face would strain with disapproval. I remember staring at the big patches of peeling paint on the ceiling and wondering what kind of anti-gravity time warp held them up there and kept them from falling. I’m in my late 30’s now, and my grandfather passed away years ago. Joe Jost’s is where I go when I miss him. I feel him there. (I figure that if he went to heaven, that’s where he’d be.) When I’m having a bad day I go there to cheer up. It doesn’t matter who I sit next to at the bar, it’s always a real Long Beacher that I feel an affinity with. Whenever my firm gets a new manager from out of town, I take them to Joe Jost’s to show them the pearl of Long Beach. They usually want to get to know all of us in the office by taking us out to lunch, one on one, at our favorite restaurants. My coworkers generally pick the fancy expensive restaurants on Pine Avenue to impress the new manager with their good taste. They are always shocked at the modest bill from lunch with me at Joe’s which amounts to less than their tip on their other lunches! And I think they are honored to be amongst the real unpretentious people of Long Beach. The icing on the cake of the whole experience is when I show my guests how to make a cow out of an egg, pretzels and a pepper. And with the appropriate placement of one more pretzel I turn the cow into a bull. Thanks for the great times and fond memories. I’ve taken my son to Joe’s and hope to bring my grandchildren there as well for their first beer.”