Muhammad Ali, a Chocolate Chip Milk Shake, and a $100 Dollar Bill

In 1982, I was 16 years old and was attending a tiny Jewish high school in the basement of Temple Beth El on Crescent Heights. Upon my daily release from the dungeon, I would walk up to Sunset Boulevard to go to Schwab’s Pharmacy where I could grab something to eat. Schwab’s closed later that year, and I didn’t know it would be one of the last times for me to hang out at the favorite place of James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley. On my way there, I would walk pass Coconut Teaszers, a punk rock venue, and Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Shop.

When I needed a job to buy a car, the manager at the Baskin Robbins (who was a friend of mine) hired me. Every day after high school, I scooped and restocked ice cream, mopped the floors, cleaned the bathrooms, and wore a silly uniform that invited my friends to come by to tease me. The job wasn't glamorous, but I was happy to earn some spending cash to buy the much-desired parachute pants and moon boots so I could dress the part for the upcoming Duran Duran concert at the Forum.

One day, a Rolls Royce drove into the parking lot and out came a tall, well-dressed man. He walked up to the counter to place an order. Looking at him, it took me a few seconds to register it was Muhammad Ali. “Muhammad Ali!” I blurted out. He responded, “Yes, that’s my name. Now here is what I want you to make me.” He continued, “I want a milk shake with chocolate chip ice cream and vanilla syrup.”  “Yes sir”, I said, and off I went to make a milk shake for the Champ. My co-worker was as stunned as I was; we worked in tandem making the best chocolate chip, vanilla syrup milkshake in the world. We blended the frozen concoction and proudly served it up in a large paper cup. “Would you like whipped cream Mr. Ali?” I asked. “No thank you,” he replied. As I handed him the milkshake, he popped a $100 dollar bill onto the counter and said, “keep the change.” And just like that he was gone.

At 16 years old working for $3.35 an hour I don’t know if I was more shocked by meeting the Champ or by realizing my cut of the $100 was $50. We didn’t even ring up the sale, we simply put the $100 dollar bill in the register, and each took out $50. When we told the store owner what had happened, he smiled and said “yep, Ali comes in here all the time, usually on a Thursday afternoon.” Guess who was on the schedule every Thursday?

I only saw the Champ two more times. But it was the same routine: chocolate chip shake, vanilla syrup, and a $100 dollar bill. The only difference was, once we saw that Rolls Royce drive in, we raced to work making sure that shake was ready for Mr. Ali the second he walked in the door. He smiled with pleasure knowing that we respected that the Champ should not be kept waiting a second for his treasure. We proudly presented his order before he needed to ask for it. “Mr. Ali, your chocolate chip shake with vanilla syrup.” Each time, he would smile and place a $100 dollar bill on the counter before leaving.

There wasn’t anyone there to see Mr. Ali's graciousness. But what he did made a difference in the life of a young punk. Was he even there for a chocolate chip shake or did he just love the idea of treating us to his presence and generosity?

My job at Baskin Robbins ended in infamy when I instigated an ice cream food fight and was subsequently fired, but my memory of serving “The Greatest” will forever be frozen in my mind.

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Author Joel Bertet provides mediation services focused on resolving disputes in the construction and real estate sectors. With 30 years of experience, Joel is an established construction lawyer, legal advisor, licensed General Contractor, and Licensed Real Estate Broker. Joel can be contacted at joel@resolvebertet.com.