Deerhead Revisited

My recent article on the planned expansion of the Deerhead hot dog empire raised some inevitable rants from die-hard doggy fans, most of whom took grave issue with the claim that the owners were committed to leaving the "secret sauce" sacrosanct and unchanged. From the view of these "old timers," it already has, though for some, it remains a special place. Here are some of their comments:

Mr. Ruth:

I read your story with interest. Don't let them fool you! The Deerhead restaurants around town have long-ago left the original Deerhead traditions behind. Their hot dog sauce is terrible and a very pale and tasteless comparison to what they dished up in the '70s and early '80s! Beulah, the elderly black lady who worked at the Orange Street restaurant, has probably been turning in her grave for the last 20 years!

Tom

Dear Mr. Ruth:

I can remember walking down to the Deerhead hot dog bar when I was a boy from my family's sign shop, the Harting Sign Company, which was located at 6th and Shipley. I would trade in my Frostie rootbeer bottles for 2 or 3 cents a bottle and then buy a Deerhead hot dog for myself and my Dad. Sometimes he would send me over to King street to pick up a cardboard cone filled with root beer. I still enjoy taking my wife and son to the Deerhead on Maryland Avenue, even coming up from Middletown.

Bob Harting


Eric:

While I found your article on the Deerhead amusing, it left out some important facts. Number one, that sauce on the hot dogs is NOT anything like the original sauce. I am not 100 percent sure about the inception of the Deerhead as an establishment, but the story goes that it was a "spin off" venture of the old Hotel Olivere that was on the corner of 7th and Orange. But, as for the sauce, my first memories and experiences of Deerhead hot dogs goes back to about 1945-1946. Back then, the sauce was not as "anemic" as it is today, and it had a bit of a "bite" to it. So much so, that it was not uncommon for little beads of sweat to appear on your upper lip and/or forehead during consumption.

Interesting enough -- as a kid, we were allowed to sit at the first counter/bar inside the door and eat. In those days, most establishments that served alcohol was off limits to minors....the Deerhead had a resturant license and that was our salvation. Black people could only stand inside the front door and order to go. About a dozen older/greasy mounted deerheads lined both side walls in the rear seating area of the place. And that Hotel Olivere? Hundreds of Deerhead hot dogs were delivered as "room service" to a lot of the hotel guests. When not stuffing myself with as many hot dogs that I could hold, I was usually out front on the sidewalk with my shoeshine box earning enough money for -- yep, another Deerhead dog.

Mike Lehane