Sheltered by two red-and-yellow Vienna Beef umbrellas and greeting lunchtime customers under a sign that reads “Chicago Spoken Here,” Eddie Ermoian is living his childhood dream by giving Boulder, Colo., a taste of his home town.
“Fast Eddie,” a retired beer distributor, sells Chicago-style hot dogs seven days a week, year round, on the Pearl Street Mall across from the city’s courthouse in a 10-foot-square space he calls “Cubs Park.”
“The highlight of my day is creating Chicago here,” says Ermoian, who estimates that he sells 700 to 800 hot dogs a week.
“Hot dogs! Hot dogs!” he yells between brisk sales. Just so no one misses the Chicago connection, he adds: “Pepsi! Pepsi! Cheeps! Cheeps!”
Ermoian, 64, grew up one mile from Wrigley Field and during the summer he couldn’t get enough of the place, especially the ballpark cuisine. “I spent every day at Cubs Park running between vendors to get the most hot dogs from the two of them during the games.” The vendors worked at opposite ends of the park in the late 1940s, he recalls, one at Addison and Sheffield and the other at Clark and Waveland. Each had a baby buggy-shaped tin cart with a burner inside. He says his grandfather stored the carts in his basement a half-mile from the ballpark, and Ermoian grew to love the street vendor business.
“When kids said, ‘I want to be a fireman or a police officer,’ I said, ‘I want to be a hot dog vendor.’ “
So, for his 50th birthday, Ermoian’s wife presented him with a hot dog vendor’s cart. During his years as a beer distributor, Ermoian used the cart for birthday parties, special events and fundraisers. He brought it with him when he left Chicago after retiring, and now, from noon to 1:30 p.m., “Fast Eddie” stands against a Rocky Mountain backdrop and provides Boulderites with the genuine Chicago hot dog experience: an all-beef frank on a steamed poppy-seed bun with yellow mustard, sweet pickle relish, chopped onions, tomato wedges, pickle spears, sport peppers and a dash of celery salt.
“Carol, baby, how are ya? Talk to me,” Eddie shouts to a woman who approaches to place an order.
Both his patter and his product attract a crowd; during the height of the noon rush, the line is 6 to 11 people deep. “I know a lot of my customers by name and recognize most of them,” he says. “The lines at lunch are based on a seven-year clientele.”
On one recent afternoon, a boy barely taller than the countertop stands in line with three men in business-casual attire and a woman who orders a “Big Deal”–two hot dogs, chips and a Pepsi for $5.
The boy steps up to Eddie’s stand with his mother. “I’ll have a plain hot dog,” he says.
“Not a plain hot dog. Come here, champ,” Ermoian says, bringing the youngster around to the back of his stand and lifting him onto the drink cooler.
“Let’s try this together,” he coaches the boy while smiling at his mother. “One . . . two . . . three: One naked hot dog!” Eddie shouts while his young friend mimics him.
Ermoian takes time off to travel to the Florida Keys during Christmastime, and he plans to be in Chicago in September to take full advantage of the local sports schedule. “The last time I went home to Chicago, the Cubs played on Saturday and the Bears on Sunday. I fell in love all over again. I love the hustle and bustle.”
And how about those Cubs, Eddie? “The city of Boulder is 5,280 feet high and Fast Eddie’s walking at about 5,400 feet this season,” he says.
When he’s not traveling, Ermoian can be found most days at his spot on Pearl Street, selling Chicago-style hot dogs in his white chef’s hat and fresh white apron, both with a Fast Eddie logo. In the wintertime, he swaps the chef’s hat for a Santa stocking cap.
“When I put that hat on,” he says, “it feels like I step on stage and the lights come on.”
