Hot Dog Dreams
Drive down Congress Avenue any weekday between eleven in the morning till two in the afternoon and you’ll see the Retired Dogs hot dog stand on the west side of Ninth St. and Congress Ave. Like many things in Austin, there is a story behind this simple business that the proprietors, Matt Knezevich, and Dick Strobel, shared with me over a few nights of poker. It’s a story of what can happen when a dream, even a small one, comes true.
Matt and Dick have played poker together for almost two decades on the first Friday of the month at Matt’s house. They proposed inventions, hatched easy-money schemes, and shared their dreams with a support group of medium-stakes gamblers once a month down in Matt’s backyard bomb shelter in Crestview. Matt’s wife knew when they bought the house that Matt was restoring the deluxe 1950’s era underground bomb shelter to its’ former glory so his friends would have a regular place to play cards. It had deteriorated into a water-filled breeding ground for tree roaches. Matt’s poker buddies and his brother Anton helped pump out the water, scrub it out and paint it. Matt and Anton installed telephone and electric lines, a small refrigerator and air conditioning. One of Matt’s buddies donated a sturdy hexagonal poker table.
Matt’s younger brother Anton owns and operates his own heating and air conditioning business and has listened to the schemes and dreams for over twenty years, even before he helped turn the bomb shelter into a playing card parlor. Matt and Dick aspired to self-employment, but many of their ideas seemed half-baked to Anton. He was the practical one, both in business and at the card table. Anton worked hard, saved his money and he didn’t care if the bet was only a quarter, he wasn’t staying in if he thought he was going to lose. At many of the games he would give Dick and Matthew motivational advice.
“If you guys were really serious about any of these ideas, you’d quit your jobs and start working to make it happen right now. It’s one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration. You guys need to move from the idea stage to rolling up your sleeves and getting to work. ”
One of the regulars offered that they were like Ralph and Norton from the Honeymooners television show.
Everyone at the table worked hard, self-employed or not. That’s what they all had in common. The idea was to find a way of living where you were your own boss, master of your own destiny. The idea didn’t have to be totally original, though some were. They wanted something simple. There had been enough bureaucracy in their lives, both twentieth and twenty- first century style. The idea they decided to act upon was from the nineteenth century, a simpler time. When they discussed and thought about it, becoming hot dog vendors had a great deal of appeal. It was an idea proposed by Dick one night while he was reminiscing about walking the streets of New York City. When he moved to Austin over forty years ago to attend college, he found a new home, but he missed the Nathan’s hot dog stands of his youth.
Around the time Dick retired from the school district, Matt’s wife was able to retire from nursing. The time had arrived. Matt quit his job as a network administrator and joined with Dick to start a hot dog stand on Congress Avenue.
They took Anton’s advice, rolled up their sleeves and began the process of waiting in city offices, filling out forms, acquiring insurance and licenses, attending food preparation class, purchasing a proper food cart and going through health inspections. Matt spent considerable time sitting around potential locations, counting foot traffic and feeling the vibes of each space. One stood out from the rest. On February 9, 2009, Retired Dogs set up for the first time on 9th Street and Congress Avenue, in front of the courtyard of the I.B.C. bank. One of the managers at the bank came out, shook hands with them and asked if they might need a business account. They opened an account under the name Retired Dogs. Their dream of self-employment was now a reality.
Dick and Matt have simple fair, but they put a lot of thought into every aspect of the product. A Nathan’s quarter-pounder with a large fresh bun, every topping one could desire, all wrapped in a waterproof sleeve. They charge three dollars a dog, even if you get chili and cheese. Drinks and chips are a dollar. If you get change back, it will be with dollar coins. When you visit their stand it’s apparent that being friendly and providing attentive service is fun for them. Other hot dog vendors have opened for business on Congress Avenue. Mike and mike’s is located just a few blocks south of Retired Dogs.
Their menu is almost identical, but they can’t quite capture the karma of two men working out a dream.
Launching a new business in the present economic climate might be risky, but the economy works in Retired Dogs favor. As people look to economize, many downtown office workers find a tasty, quick and cheap lunch a welcome respite from more expensive alternatives. Dick and Matt would be the first to admit that their timing was as lucky as pulling a full house in a game of five card draw. Dick takes the money and Matt makes the dogs. They’re only open from about eleven in the morning till one o’ clock or thereabouts in the afternoon during work weeks. They have plenty of regular customers, and business is brisk. If you go downtown and buy hot dogs from them, you’re watching two middle- aged boys doing exactly what they want for a living. Others might retire to the beach or in the country. These two like the view from Ninth and Congress of a growing and thriving metropolis. They revel in being part of the mass of humanity that is the community of downtown Austin.
The Friday night poker games continue. Matt’s brother Anton hasn’t given a motivational speech to the first Friday regulars in months. He’s content to offer advice when asked but otherwise he leaves the Retired Dogs alone. He has his own business to run. Dick and Matt still bounce ideas around the card table. Matt wonders if they should introduce breakfast tacos or sausage wraps. Dick would like to franchise the Retired Dogs idea to retired couples, perhaps open half a dozen hot dog stands around Austin. If they get that established, he believes they could branch out into other cities in Texas, maybe other parts of the country, maybe other parts of the world.
Anton sits his cards down, and cautions Dick he shouldn’t try to grow too fast. Dick answers,
“I know, but a man’s allowed to dream here isn’t he?”
