This artist’s rendering of the old Otto Way on a matchbook cover hearkens back to when just about every restaurant or business advertised this way. Also before local telephone numbers changed from four to seven numbers by adding 231 (Adams 1). Below are some Otto Way memories I received in response to my column on December 31st. The first is from Maragaret Shaw Forsyth, who shared her “Joy of Working” at KOAM radio and a Kansas City station memories in this column a couple of years back. The second is from Jack Coughenour, who has, in the past, shared memories of his librarian mother, as well as about whom I’ve written in reference to his uncompromising work defending the Constitution as Federal Judge for the District of Washington — J.T.K.

• Ahhhh...the Otto Way.  Carolyn Brunet and I, along with other friends, were there every night.  We just had a coke and, on occasion, would split an order of French fries...sometimes 3 or 4 ways.  

We were "town girls" who worked and, of course, we went there to meet college boys.  The Sig Tau house was right behind the Otto Way, so you could be sure some of those guys would be there. 

On a handful of occasions, I was called to the phone.  LaVon (the owner) would say the "station" is looking for you. If there was a sudden change in programming and commercials had to be re-scheduled or cancelled, KOAM radio would find me there at my second office.  — Margie Forsyth

• Your piece about The Otto Way brought back some great memories. My future wife, Gwen, lived at the Alpha Sigma sorority, and had an early curfew.  After dropping her off, I have fond memories of meeting my friends at the Otto Way for coffee. I recall those sessions including Gene Corsini, Casper Fernetti, Bryan MacMillan and others. — Jack Coughenour

Note: It’s been a while since I thought about scrounging up enough money to split one order of French fries (‘sometimes 3 or 4 ways’) with my friends. Or pitching in for gas to drag the gut in a ‘three on the tree’ 1949 Chevy. As for where I went after an early date drop off, it was Cobb O’Hara’s pool hall in the Republic. Or, in later years, Barto’s Idle Hour, where I’d meet old high school friends as well as my always smiling, up from Tampa, Fla. to attend PSU buddy, Walter Adams. — J.T.K.