He eats at this Wichita diner’s counter every day and documents the people he meets
He’s there every day that Doo-Dah Diner is open.
Except Wednesdays. On Wednesdays, he dines at The Beacon.
But 86-year-old Richard Holmes’ favorite place, his home away from home, is a stool at the counter of Doo-Dah Diner, the popular restaurant owned by Patrick and Timirie Shibley at 206 E. Kellogg.
There, Holmes has become not only a member of the Shibley family, but he also has become the diner’s volunteer scribe and chief good-will ambassador. For almost a year, he’s been sharing his stories from the counter in a newsletter of sorts called “Counter Chat.”
The short essays, written in Holmes’ lively voice, are laminated, bound by a metal ring and slid between the salt and pepper shakers at the counter so that other diners can read them if they’re bored. They tell tales of people Holmes has met during his days dining solo on his stool. Famous singers. Fascinating travelers. Charming Wichita Eagle reporters.
For the Shibleys, their friend Richard is another one of the endearing, quirky features of their diner, which specializes in big plates of caloric goodness and friendly service.
For Holmes, the diner is a second home — a place where he makes new friends and where, pardon the cliche, everybody knows his name.
“Once I found it, I’ve been coming back ever since — almost every day,” Holmes said. “They do have good food, no question about it, but that’s not the main reason I come here. The main reason is the interesting people I meet at this counter.”
Bridge, breakfast, banter
Holmes was born at Wesley and still lives in the family home he grew up in. He retired from a career as a computer programmer at Boeing 25 years ago.
A bachelor, Holmes is known in Wichita as the guy who rides his giant tricycle all over downtown. It was about five years ago when he first triked up to a new restaurant near Kellogg. But it was a Monday, and Doo-Dah Diner was closed.
So he triked back the next day, but back then, Doo-Dah was closed on Tuesdays, too.
He kept trying. Eventually, he found a seat at the counter, and he liked his breakfast. So he came back the next day. And the next day. And the next.
Eventually, he settled on his pattern of dining at Doo-Dah every day it’s open except Wednesdays. These days, the only times Holmes isn’t in are on Wednesdays, when he meets family members at The Beacon, and on Mondays, when the diner is closed.
Over the years, he’s become close to the Shibleys and regularly attends Thanksgivings and parties at their home. He knows all of the waitresses, waiters and the kitchen staff by their first names, and they know him.
Holmes is a talker, and he will always try to strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to him at the counter. If he gets the feeling they don’t want to talk, he stays quiet for a few minutes.
“But usually I give them a second try, and you’d be surprised how many times it isn’t that they don’t want to talk, they’re just a bit aloof or shy or something,” he said. “Once I draw them out, they really enjoy it.”
For years, Holmes — a VIP whom the Shibley’s allow to bring his own pancake fixings and syrup from home — would tell Shibley about the fascinating people he would meet at the counter. Many were music professionals in town starring in productions for Wichita Grand Opera or Music Theatre Wichita. Many were travelers passing through who had been sent over from nearby hotels.
He met a French teacher from Harlem who was in Wichita to see the Frank Lloyd Wright house. He met a woman in town from Atlanta to give a lecture on communication disorders who “was quick to smile and had a captivating aura, which is difficult to acquire before the age of sixty.”
One day Shibley suggested he write about his experiences. After all, Holmes is an author. A renowned bridge player, he writes a column for the local bridge newsletter, and the newsletter chairwoman has always complimented his writing style.
“I’m like, ‘Do we not need to capture that in some way?’” Shibley remembered. “’He’s talked to some amazing people that no one ever knew came through Wichita.’”
Counter Chat
Holmes’ first Counter Chat was published in September 2017, and in it, he described his conversation with a 30-year-old automotive technician who licked his plate clean, a Koch executive’s wife who ran a fireworks business, and a handsome young man with the “looks of a rock star.”
“You would guess that he had the world by the tail, however, he is recovering from the third operation on his right eye. He is fighting to keep his vision. He grinned as he revealed his plans to sport an eye patch during the healing process.”
Vol. 2, published a few months later, chronicled Holmes meeting a 46-year-old plastics inspector who looked 25.
“We were both glad that we had ordered the blackened chicken hash special,” Holmes wrote. “He was looking forward to taking his full stomach home for a nap during the only half day that he gets off work throughout the week. He is putting in almost as many hours as I do at my job, which I have throughout enjoyed for 24 years. I am a retiree.”
Holmes also was fascinated by a man from Switzerland with a cool accent.
“Have you noticed that Kansas is the only place in the world where most people do not speak with an accent?” he wrote.
So far, Holmes has authored five Counter Chats. He doesn’t like to be rushed. He’d rather write them when he’s inspired than face a deadline.
Just last month, the Wichita Eagle’s Suzanne Perez Tobias went to Doo-Dah to cure her craving for the restaurant’s pork belly and grits and happened to sit by Holmes. She was inspired to write her own Counter Chat about meeting him.
“He asked me what I did, and I told him I worked for The Wichita Eagle. We commiserated about the writing life. He let me taste his sloppy joe and macaroni and cheese. He took a spoonful of my grits. He mentioned one particular man he met at the diner a few years ago, a well-known Broadway actor named Matt Bogart, who was in town for the lead role in ‘Thoroughly Modern Millie.’
Minutes later, who should walk into the diner but Bogart, who is back in Wichita, this time for Guys and Dolls.’ They talked for a while and made plans to meet later. I was starstruck and thoroughly delighted, and asked if I could take a picture of both of them.
I love this town. #wichitawesome”
A part of the atmosphere
Holmes stocks up on $2 bills and gold dollars so he can surprise waitresses around town by tipping with them. He also dines out for dinner every night and tries to hit up new, undiscovered restaurants.
He plays bridge five times a week at the bridge center in Parklane Shopping Center.
Back when the restaurant first opened, the Shibleys were offering gift certificates for 20 percent off. Holmes came in the next day with a check for $1,000 — and has repeated that purchase at least four times since. His gift certificate stays behind the counter and the staff staples his receipts to it until it’s depleted.
Doo-Dah’s regulars love it if they get a mention in one of Holmes’ Counter Chats.
“If they’re named, they have bragging rights,” Shibley said.
When Holmes recently went in for a surgery, Shibley posted a picture of him from the hospital on the restaurant’s Facebook page, and customers freaked out. They’d ask her daily for updates on his condition.
His cheerful presence at the counter is as much a part of Doo-Dah Diner as the monkey bread or the sound of Patrick’s raspy voice calling out orders.
“He adds to our whimsical and laid back attitude, and he takes it personally and makes sure he spreads it,” Shibley said, ”I think he has been guilty of turning more than one grumpy person around to walking out with a big smile.”
To read Holmes’ Counter Chat columns, visit the Doo-Dah Diner Facebook page.
This story was originally published July 26, 2018 at 5:26 PM.