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Behind the Plate: Newport waiter ‘Santi’ Islas gives service a simple name

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Editor’s note: This is the first installment of Behind the Plate, a series of articles about longtime local restaurant workers.

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On a recent Friday evening, business is booming at A Restaurant.

Patrons descend on the West Coast Highway institution, whose roots in Newport Beach date to 1926. The customers envelop the bar three deep and fill the tables and booths while others wait outside to gain entrance.

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The music is loud but not overbearing, the conversations engaging but not to the point of yelling. The fireplace glows, giving A Restaurant a warm, inviting aura.

Hustling within the bustling scene is Primitivo Islas, a member of the restaurant’s wait staff for 36 years, starting when it was called the Arches. His attire is company standard: black slacks and white dress shirt neatly pressed, A Restaurant lapel pin attached to the shirt collar.

“You have to be clean and ready to go,” he says.

If you ask for or about Primitivo, you’ll likely get blank stares. The 54-year-old is better known by his nickname, Santiago, usually shortened to Santi.

Islas’ legend at A Restaurant, buttressed by his long tenure there and at its predecessor, began soon after his first day, which he can easily recall: Jan. 6, 1980. The story goes that within a week of starting his job at the Arches, a regular patron asked him his name. “Primitivo,” the trainee replied.

“From now on, your name is going to be Santiago,” the man said, apparently picking it because it was easy for him to remember. The regular lived on Santiago Drive, about two miles from the restaurant.

The name endured to the extent that some employees don’t know him by any other. That was a problem once when school officials called the restaurant asking for Primitivo because his daughter was sick. The hostess said no one by that name worked there.

Now, Islas says, the host team knows his real name, just in case.

On this Friday evening, like any other, most patrons are locals out for a night near the harbor. Retired Angels pitcher Chuck Finley sits at the bar with friends.

“I used to serve him at lunch,” Islas says while scooting by on his way to a table.

A Restaurant operating partner Jordan Otterbein, a Newport Beach native, scans the room. He recognizes almost everyone.

That’s part of what sets A Restaurant apart, he says. Many other Newport locales teem with conventioneers and tourists. No one knows the others’ names or the names of the operators and employees.

“Not at A,” Otterbein says.

A Restaurant has little turnover, he says — many employees are full time and stay for years.

Among the servers, Islas is a kind of father figure. “He’s the ultimate professional,” Otterbein says.

Islas lives in Garden Grove, where he bought a home. He’s the father of two grown daughters and a 9-year-old son. He has their pictures taped inside his black waiter’s notebook.

“I always carry them here,” he says with a smile. “I’m a family man.”

Islas was born in the Mexican state of Jalisco to a family of doctors and priests. He came to the United States in 1978, first to Chicago as a dishwasher.

Better weather drew him to Orange County. He heard about a job at the Arches through friends and got hired as a busboy.

Arches owner Danny Marcheano noticed his work ethic. He asked Islas about being a server.

Islas turned him down. One reason was the intimidating amount of tableside services Arches waiters did in those days: making salads, flambés, cherries jubilee, Bananas Foster.

But after he got married and had children, Islas needed more money. In 1985, Marcheano bumped him up to the waiter team, which wore full tuxedos.

Islas recalls that his first table had three people. He didn’t want four, fearing he couldn’t handle it.

The occasion didn’t go well — Islas dropped a cocktail. Fortunately, the guests were kind.

Now, more than 30 years later, Islas carries drinks like a pro, expertly moving between the bar and tables with a serving tray holding two martinis and a highball.

“If you don’t know how to carry a martini or champagne glass, it’s easy to spill it,” he says. “You have to have control of the plate.”

Pointing to a martini, he says, “This is what I dropped when I was new.”

In 2008, the Arches became A Restaurant under the ownership of Newport Beach native Joseph McGinty Nichol, aka McG, a Hollywood director whose movie credits include “Charlie’s Angels” and “Terminator Salvation.”

The restaurant — one of the oldest in Orange County — was renovated and a new staff brought in. Most employees of the Arches, which relocated to another part of Newport before permanently closing in 2011, didn’t make the jump to A Restaurant.

Islas did. But first he had to reapply for his job.

“What did I know about interviewing?” he recalls. “I was so nervous. It was not easy to start over.”

For one thing, Islas felt clueless about computers. A Restaurant used a modern point-of-sale system; the Arches relied on handwritten notes.

Still, Otterbein says, there was no question about keeping Islas.

“We, of course, wanted to keep him. He’s so great,” Otterbein says. “So many people have gotten to know him over the years, and he has regular customers who come in and request him all the time.”

A server of Islas’ experience knows the little things that can make a big difference for guests.

On this night, two of his customers go out for a smoke. One had ordered a $144 steak. Rather than place it on the table and let it go cold, Islas goes outside to let the customer know it’s ready.

“I don’t want them to miss it,” he says while strolling past Table 20, near the fireplace.

“That was John Wayne’s table,” Islas notes. “It was Table 10 at the Arches. People like certain tables. They like to watch the action.”

Minutes later, Islas speeds through the lounge, grabbing an unfolded napkin and refolding it with the finesse of a magician.

Islas is slender, possibly from hours of burning calories while power walking to the bar, kitchen, wine cellar and registers, where he is now proficient on computers.

He has no plans to retire.

“People say they’ve seen me here for 30 years,” Islas says, “and I look the same.”

bradley.zint@latimes.com

Twitter: @BradleyZint

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