Columns

We All Live in a Yellow Submarine

And it may just be a sandwich

By Chuck Crowder

May 07, 2008

Well, it seems that nearly 30 years wasn’t long enough to cleanse Chattanooga’s detestation for sub sandwiches served with a side of “join the family.” The Yellow Deli has returned to the Noog with a beautiful spanking new location on McCallie Avenue amid speculation that their “cult” is back in business as well.

I’m a little too young to remember the hippie-like appeal of the “Yellows,” who allegedly sucked in runaway teens and homeless people by the score to work the commune of the kitchen located in what now is the Pickle Barrel. However, I am old enough to remember how good the sammies were. My dad used to take us there every now and then for a sub and from what I remember, me likee.

Rumors (or facts, depending on who you ask) about the Deli’s past include the luring of wayward souls to become brothers and sisters in their family of like-minded long hairs in exchange for your culinary skills, and whatever money and possessions you might have left. Then, as you were cutting lettuce and tomatoes, they would be cutting you off from your real family. In other words, the traditional cult business plan.

I also don’t remember the circumstances of them leaving town—whether it was by choice or on a rail. But I did hear the stories of their past from my elder friends as the Yellows were turning a McCallie Avenue eyesore into probably the best-looking restaurant in town (from the outside at least). And I will likely venture inside to see if one of my childhood memories of good food is still valid. However, I probably will have paid my check by the time they flip on the brainwash. I’m not an extremist by any means.

But speaking of, I did recently encounter an extreme “religious” experience in Memphis this past weekend, during the Beale Street Music Festival. This annual Memphis In May tradition turns the mighty Mississippi riverfront into four stages of rock, while turning Beale Street into Bourbon Street for three days of beads, beer and general debauchery. And, as most sinful events seem to attract, there were also religious extremists marching among the revelers up and down Beale with big signs, megaphones and religious tracts out the ying-yang.

These men and women were desperately trying to bring our lost souls home to church, where they belong. But I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the way they were going about it. I’m already a Christian, and even I wouldn’t listen to a sales pitch by some kid in a cheap tie and crew cut holding a sign that says “Ask me why you’re going to Hell.” That kind of guerilla marketing for Jesus is just too offensive to take seriously—by anyone.

But as they moved from bar to bar, stopping occasionally to pray for our safe deliverance from evil, it got me thinking. Ignorance only knows extremes. Closing your mind from the way others might see things is ignorant. Whether it’s the religious fanatic street preacher or the drunk dude yelling back at them, each has taken a side that prevents them from seeing the other’s point of view. And that’s pretty sad, no matter what your preference.

My friends and I made light of the situation, but only from the standpoint of curiosity as to why they would want to subject themselves to ridicule among a crowd that just wants to have a good time. There’s a time and a place for everything, and this wasn’t it – for them.

And, even though the youngsters of the religious group had probably never even seen a beer, they didn’t seem to be completely possessed yet. I’m sure that if they have the opportunity to attend a state college, all of their grandiose views will disappear at the first raging kegger. But I still feel sorry for them, as I do those who get sucked in to the Yellow Deli cult. They will never be able to see both sides of any situation. They’ll just move from one extreme to the other for the rest of their lives.

But, as an open-minded person, I’ll still enjoy the entertainment extremists continue to provide, as well as the goodness they put into a sandwich.