On Massachusetts Avenue, two doors away from Briggs and Briggs, a white arrow inscribed with "Bill's Place" points to the unpretentious entrance of The Merle. Inside, an equally unpretentious array of stools, chairs, tables, and shelves lined with boxes of cereal is crowded into the small, narrow room. But it's not the decoration that gives The Merle its color. It's the home-style cooking and the one-big-happy-family atmosphere, both copiously supplied by portly, white-hired restaurateur Bill Shay that makes Bill's Place the place it is today.

The food, always good, but never fancy, attracts a capacity crowd three times a day and a small soda fountain at one end of the counter caters to fair crowd of chronic in-between-mealers. Bill prides himself on his food and says that it is the home cooking that is the secret of his success, but the crowd gathers at meal time no less to hear his colorful chatter than to sample his table d'hote.

The first thing Bill does after greeting his customer by name is to put the daily menu in front of him. "Have a look," he said, is the invariable dialogue for this part of the routine and when Bill walks back with a glass of water he adds, "One glass of Belmont Spring water coming up."

But Bill has more than colorful dialogue. He uses psychology, too. After years of early rising, he is fully aware of early morning blues and he gives all his patrons special sympathy and attention at breakfast time. Men over forty get the compliment, "Hello, young man," each time they enter, whereas the downy-cheeked Freshman is always addressed as "Mr." and is treated with extreme respect. Bill knows each of his customers by name and does most of the work behind the counter. He rises at five thirty, works thirteen hours a day and is always in a good humor. The Merle is justly called "Bill's Place." Because Bill is the whole show and he's good theatre any time whether you're hungry or not.