During my last year in college, I remember hearing from those who had graduated before me that Hermosa Beach was the place to live upon entering the real world.

As recent graduates from UCLA, my best friend and I migrated from Westwood to the hip, eclectic town and moved into an apartment only two blocks from the beach.

We spent one of our very first Saturday nights as Hermosa residents cavorting between several bars on the pier plaza. It felt as though we had entered a time warp and we were back visiting our old college stomping grounds or we had been transported to New Orleans during Mardi Gras.

Six months after our relocation, the novelty of those half-dozen bars on the plaza wore off and the quest for the perfect watering hole soon began. This is when we found the Mermaid Restaurant located at the corner of the pier plaza and The Strand.

We frequent the place quite often but perfecting the art of becoming a Mermaid regular is an entirely different challenge and it’s not one accomplished by very many people my age.

I recently spent a day and night at The Mermaid to find out more about its regulars and what actually happens at a bar and restaurant that has been around since 1954.

It’s Sunday morning and I’m sitting at a booth near the restaurant’s front door hoping to blend into my surroundings, but it’s difficult considering I’m the youngest person in the place and I don’t know anyone sitting at the bar.

My server walks up to me, I introduce myself and she says, “Hi, I’m Barbie; I’m one of the mermaids.”

Sounds from the televisions positioned around the restaurant faintly hum underneath the quaint conversations between patrons.

Two young guys walk in and head straight for two vacant stools at the bar.

One looks to the other and asks, “When was the last time you were here?” He responds with a laugh and replies, “Last night.”

According to the Mermaid’s manager, Diana Albergate, most regulars sit in the same bar stool. Owner Quentin “Boots” Thelen sits with them every morning and usually works on a crossword puzzle.

“I think it’s like the first day at school when you sit in a seat and you come back the next day and just tend to sit in the same seat,” she says. “If they walk in and someone is sitting in their chairs. then they will sit somewhere else but as soon as that person leaves, they will usually claim their seat back.”

A door to The Mermaid opening onto The Strand is slightly open as blazing rays of sunlight illuminate its westerly edges. Noises from outside — bicycle and in-line skate wheels rolling over the concrete, the passing dialogue of those walking by and the random patterns of volleyballs flying into the air seem to seep inside. The dark walls and booth seats attract warm weather rare to typical winter seasons.

The Mermaid’s atmosphere has a lazy easiness about it which I can only presume is reminiscent of the days when Hermosa Beach was once a quiet, tiny town along the water.

The bartenders have an astute presence about them displayed in the way they pour drinks and spend time talking to those sitting at the bar. They seem to know a little something about almost everything. Their conversations shift evenly between topics and people, and they have stories about many different subjects.

“How’s the life of leisure?” asks Tom, the bartender.

“It’s treating me good,” says Danny, a regular who walks in.

“Coors Light?” inquires Tom. “You know it’s not everyday we get a celebrity in our little bar.”

Danny and one of the restaurant’s cooks, Stanley, begin telling jokes and it’s quite obvious The Mermaid is the Hermosa Beach version of Cheers.

“I had a retirement party, and there was so much booze and food,” says Danny. “They did a good job. I also had my wedding reception done by the same company. I was able to pay it off in five payments. I think my payment plan lasted longer than the marriage.”

“I’m going to retire two minutes before my funeral,” says Stanley.

The heads of the two younger men sitting at the bar shift back and forth between those involved in the casual Mermaid banter common among its regulars.

“Are you still with that woman?” asks Stanley.

“Yep,” replies Danny.

“Does she know it?” quips Stanley.

“We have a lot of talent in this room,” announces Tom. “Everyone is so funny today. Did you all take happy pills in the parking lot?”

Stanley has been a cook at The Mermaid for more than 20 years. He works in the morning and usually spends time at the bar after his shift.

“He gets off at 3 p.m. and is in a seat at 3:01,” says Albergate.

Albergate knows quite a bit about the history of The Mermaid and Thelen because he is her stepfather. He married Albergate’s mother when Albergate was a teen-ager.

Albergate grew up at Ninth Street and The Strand, and spent a lot of time at the restaurant.

“This is where I learned to use the correct silverware and to put a napkin in my lap when I was a kid,” she says. “Some of our regulars come everyday and some come a few times a week. Many have been coming for 40 years or longer. Most regulars are in their 60s, 70s, 80s and are retired. For many years, the Mermaid was one of about four restaurants which included the Lighthouse Cafe in town.”

Albergate can remember only one time when the restaurant closed for business in its almost 50-year history. It was the day when U.S. President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

Most bartenders and servers have been working at The Mermaid for more than 20 years. Bartenders Wayne McFadden, John Begley a.k.a. “Irish John” and John Farrell a.k.a. “Boston John” have worked there for more than 20 years. Server June Triplett recently retired and she is well into her 70s. Roughly six bartenders and eight servers work at The Mermaid.

As I’m scanning the restaurant, I see actor and comedian John Lovitz eating lunch with a friend in the corner and I realize The Mermaid is the best place for a celebrity to patronize because no one bothers you and no one really cares if you’re famous or not.

When Thelen first bought the restaurant in 1954, the kitchen was once where the fireplace is now. He expanded the building, adding a coffee shop and a dining area, and relocating the kitchen.

Some regulars include Hermosa Beach Mayor Sam Edgerton who is there every Friday night and longtime lifeguard Paul Matthies who is now retired.

“I think Sam likes my father,” explains Albergate. “I think he admires his vision.”

Aside from owning The Mermaid and other property, Thelen served on the City Council in the 1960s. During his tenure the city bought the foghorn at the end of the pier. He also pushed for the passing of bonds so the city could buy land now the site of parking lot “A” just south of the plaza and land now occupied by the parking structure on the other side of the plaza.

As the night stretches itself over the sky, The Mermaid undergoes a transformation in the dark, becoming a dimly lit, swanky lounge with candles burning on tables. I can’t help but think of the fictional bar the Reagle Beagle from the 1970s sitcom “Three’s Company.”

Every Sunday, guitarist and singer David Arlen performs behind the now-defunct authentic piano bar.

“We used to have a piano player and a working piano bar; that’s what you had back then,” says Albergate.

A group of women usually turn out for the gig and sing along, dance and bring their own instruments. A man from the management staff of one of the “glitzy” bars (as they’re called) usually come down to the restaurant on Sundays to dance with these more mature ladies.

During one Sunday a group of young kids dressed in 1970s pimp garb stopped by the restaurant and sat in the corner near the fireplace. Just as the music started, the women started dancing and the young adults in costume began dancing with them.

“It was like watching two foreign powers coming together,” explains Albergate. “I think people like The Mermaid because it’s consistent; it provides a comfort in life.”

The Mermaid still has a cigarette vending machine and a Ms. Pac-man arcade game in the corner near the fireplace. The ashtrays which are no longer used still have the phone number inscribed with the word, “Frontier” and the numbers “4-9344.” Many years ago, the first two digits of a phone number were designated by a word and the first two letters of that word coincided with the numbers on any phone pad. The letter “F” stood for 3 and the letter “R” stood for 7.

Since the renovation of pier plaza, The Mermaid has had to compete with other bars and restaurants popping up in the downtown such as Patrick Malloy’s, Sangria, Sharkeez and the Beach Club. However, it continues to remain consistent in its theme and atmosphere with the ongoing business from regular customers, and from younger patrons who are in search of a comfortable and quiet place.

“There has been competition but we have remained steadfast,” says Albergate. “We don’t bend to new trends easily.”