Carl "Fat Smitty" Schmidt strives to make the biggest, best burger

HARLEY SOLTES / THE SEATTLE TIMES The classic burger has a bun, mayo, tomatoes, onions, 5-ounce patty, cheese, another bun, another 5-ounce patty, cheese, tomato, bacon, lettuce, pickles, mayo, bun. Customers: "You can't eat one"

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DISCOVERY BAY, Jefferson County — There it sits, towering before you like a conifer in the nearby foothills.

Your heart races and you wonder what to do. Amazement, possibly fear, sets in.

You've just been served a Fat Smitty Burger, nearly 1 pound and 6 vertical inches of $6.75 beef-eating bliss.

That's right: bun, mayo, tomatoes, onions, 5-ounce patty, cheese, another bun, another 5-ounce patty, cheese, tomato, bacon, lettuce, pickles, mayo, bun. Fitting this behemoth burger in your yap can be as athletic as putting a dog in a bathtub.

"We pride ourselves in high calories, lots of cholesterol and no B.S.," says dry-humored Carl E. "Fat Smitty" Schmidt, who's been servin' up these Whoppers on steroids since 1983. "If you want a Gardenburger, there's a town called Port Angeles."

The legend of the Fat Smitty Burger has traveled the world. Regional publications have deemed it the best in the state. Campers speak of it 'round bonfires. Prep athletes pine for it in locker rooms. Foreign-exchange students return home and describe its dimensions like it's the Space Needle.

But the burger at Fat Smitty's is just part of the dining experience. There's also the eccentric decor, the giant wood carvings outside, and the pleasure, regulars will tell you, of knowing Smitty and his wife of 43 years, Miyo, better known as Mickey.

Sipping black coffee at the diner's counter on a recent drizzly morning, Smitty, who's quick to share an opinion on everything from salmon fishing to local government, says he wants people to have fun at his diner. However, the 61-year-old former Marine warns that some of his viewpoints may offend.

"I'm a conservative and a redneck," he says. A customer can guess as much from messages posted around the restaurant. Two pictures of President Bush adorn the walls, as does Smitty's membership to the National Rifle Association. Bumper stickers read, "Are you an environmentalist, or do you work for a living?" and "Hug a logger, you'll never go back to a tree."

	HARLEY SOLTES / THE SEATTLE TIMES Fat Smitty's owner Carl Schmidt says he can handle eight Fat Smitty orders at a time on his cramped kitchen grill.

To satisfy his liberal customers, a few years back Smitty bought Bill and Hillary Clinton dolls. They hung from the ceiling by their thumbs.

"Businesses today want to satisfy everybody, so they don't put up what they feel," Smitty says. "I feel I have a right. I vote. You have to express who you are. If [customers] don't like that I'm Republican and I like God, there's the door. After all these years, we don't need 'em."

Do his politics keep people away?

Smitty estimates about 85 percent of his customers are return diners. And just about any weekend afternoon during the summer, the 40-seat restaurant is at or near capacity, with a waiting line out the door.

The location at the intersection of U.S. Highway 101 and State Route 20 doesn't hurt business either.

"If you're going north, you have to go by me," says Smitty. "As far as location goes, there's probably not a better-located restaurant in the whole damn state."

	HARLEY SOLTES / THE SEATTLE TIMES Outside of Fat Smitty's.

Indeed, truckers and State Patrol officers frequent Fat Smitty's because of its location. Tourists, hikers and fishers on their way to the Olympic National Park and the coast are drawn by the gargantuan wood carvings — the only advertising Smitty's ever used — of Smitty in his apron, Mickey overlooking her garden and the bay, and the Fat Smitty Burger itself. Smitty chuckles quietly as he explains one carving is from old-growth Douglas fir.

Back inside, hundreds, possibly thousands, of business cards and dollar bills from approving customers clutter the walls and ceilings. There have been plumbers, principals and exotic dancers. High-schoolers have left prom photos. Servicemen and women have written messages on Marine and Navy flags.

Waitress Angel Reed, who along with Vickie Smith, and Mickey, 69, make up Smitty's staff, says it's fun to watch newcomers, especially when they see the burger.

	HARLEY SOLTES / THE SEATTLE TIMES Carl Schmidt has no idea how many dollar bills he has tacked up on the walls at Fat Smitty's. They join his NRA membership certificate, Marine Corps emblems and patriotic memorabilia.

"It's usually, 'Holy cow,' but mainly, 'Holy [expletive]!,' " she says.

"That Fat Smitty, it's too much. I can't eat it all. I'm filled for the rest of the day," said Harry Manning, 84, of Kent, on his way out the door to fish at Sekiu.

Meanwhile, Roger Deardorff, 52, of Silverdale and sons Tristan, 26, and Devon, 22, are among the many who make annual post-camping pilgrimages to Fat Smitty's.

"It's a little overwhelming after eating freeze-dried food for five days, but you've got to do it," Roger said, as the three wolfed down burgers.

Fat Smitty's Where 282624 U.S. Highway 101, Discovery Bay. Hours 10:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. Thursdays through Mondays. Closed January to March. Specialty Fat Smitty Burger, $6.75. Traveler's tip Fat Smitty's only accepts cash and in-state checks. Fat Smitty's eating record April 10, 1998, 15-year-old Californian Jesse Hampton put away three Fat Smitty Burgers, three orders of fries and a large Pepsi. An outline of his size 18 shoe is on the wall. More information 360-385-4099

Smitty, who used to be "Skinny Smitty," says his reincarnation of the restaurant, which dates to 1922 and was formerly known for Curley Dew's "Curley Burgers," almost never happened. Smitty bought it, and the home next door in 1983 only after the potential buyer died in an accident on the way to sign papers.

After opening Fat Smitty's, he sold his other three restaurants in Port Townsend and Port Hadlock. Around that time he also quit drinking, which he says helped his business sense.

"To be in business today, you have to have a gimmick ... ," he says. "Anybody can make a big hamburger. The idea was to make one that was a little too much to eat but something you would try at least once."

One day, Smitty would like family friend Casey Carson to take over. Until then, he'll do what he's always done: enjoy his job.

"If you're going to pick a [career] field, it doesn't matter what as long as you enjoy what you do and do it well," he says. "I've never regretted one day of work."

J.J. Jensen: 206-464-2761 or jjensen@seattletimes.com

Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company

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