The message on my voice mail said “This is Blaine House calling.” That’s the governor’s mansion in Augusta, Maine. Mrs. Baldacci’s assistant wanted to let me know that the First Lady was sorry she couldn’t attend Bob Newell’s retirement party, but to please make sure to pass along her very best wishes.

Who is this Very Important Person, Bob Newell?

Bob is a diner cook.

But to people in Maine, he is a very significant diner cook. In a state that prides itself on its work ethic, Bob is a champion, a living example of the power of persistence and the comforts of continuity.

Photo by Sean Hartnett

He was delighted. “The grill, that’s a killer when you get to be my age,” says Bob, who is now 81. “I did that for 36 years, 62 hours a week. That was a long haul.”

So it was rather a shock to the community last month when Bob finally retired.

A broad cross-section of the community turned out to wish him well at his retirement party, held at the diner. Former owners Al and Elizabeth Giberson, current and former employees, and longtime customers gathered to share their memories and wish Bob well.

Snippets of conversation tell the story:

“You worked here as a waitress for a while, right?” “Yes, for twenty-eight years.”

“How long did you work here, Cindy?” “Forty-three years.”

“You’re Patti Jean Cousins, right? You went to Gardiner [high school], didn’t you?” “Why, yes, I graduated in ‘70.” “I worked in the office.” “Oh, of course!”

“Don MacDonald was here earlier.” “Oh, really! How is he doing? We miss that place, don’t we.” “He looks great. Says he walks every day to keep in shape.”

In his 80s now, Don owned the bakery around the corner for several decades. There’s a new bakery now, but it doesn’t seem to have caught on yet, at least with the old-timers, who miss their homemade donuts.

Bob is telling James about the jukeboxes that used to be in every booth. “The kids used to come here after the football games and dance in the aisles,” he says. “Sometimes they danced on the counter.”

Patti Jean Cousins tells me she and her friends came to the diner every day on the way home from junior high school. “A bunch of us girls used to walk this way. We would stop here every day and get french fries and gravy and a cold drink, then walk the trestles home. That was when Cindy was working here. Every day we would stop here and drive her crazy.”

Photo by Sean Hartnett

It’s not that hard, Patti Jean tells me. “You put the quarter in the glass first,” she says, “Then you put a piece of cardboard or something on top of the glass, turn it upside down on the table and then slip the cardboard out.”

Then she gives me a grin and says “Not that I would ever do that, of course!”

But Cindy didn’t seem to mind. Her comment about the kids, when she told me these stories, was “they were just young and full of life, and they had been in school all day.”

At a certain point during the party, Mike Giberson, current co-owner of the diner, asks for people’s attention. “Attention, everyone,” he says, raising his voice above the din. “ATTENTION, please! Don Firth has written a poem for Bob.”

“Not really,” Don jokes. “I got this on poems.com.” We all laugh.

Don is one of Bob’s fans and a longtime customer. He has been visiting Maine since he was a kid, and is having a hard time imagining visits to A1 Diner without Bob behind the counter. Don captures the attention of the crowd with a fine speaking voice that almost masks his emotion. He reads:

Bob brought all his skills to the diner.
His transgressions were relatively minor.
The gourmet food
Made for a jolly good mood
His signature dishes--none were finer.

Bob is universally known for his hash
From its receipts he makes lots of cash
Sauteed in a pan
Makes us run for the can
None of it ever makes its way to the trash.

Bob can boil water and toast toast.
Heaven help us if he had to do a roast.
He’s over the grill,
His commands shouted shrill,
But it’s the hash that is complimented most.

Bob is retired now and going to rest.
His longevity has surpassed every test.
Never forgotten
Meals he’s still choppin’
He goes down in history as the best.