Dispatches

By JEFFREY RESSNER, in Santa Monica, California

At Patrick's Roadhouse, a hot-dog stand turned diner that sits at show- business ground zero, on the Pacific Coast Highway between Malibu and Hollywood, fresh slabs of bacon sputter on the grill while movie moguls gossip about the wife of a top studio executive and a national politician. The interior is pure beachfront eclectic, crammed with mismatched furniture, bullhorns, rubber snakes, paintings of World War II flying aces, antique mirrors, numberless pieces of nautical kitsch. It's not only the campy charm, the soulful coffee or the cheap and un-California-ishly cholesterol-rich menu that keeps this dive jumping among the surfer and industry-big-shot set. The real attraction is 72-year-old proprietor Bill Fischler, who lords over his young cook Alfredo and his gorgeous Valkyrian waitress Veronica while he greets and gooses the customers. Part W.C. Fields, part Walter Matthau (plus a bit of the Three Stooges' Curly Howard tossed in), Fischler is a wisecracking curmudgeon with style. And with customers like Fischler's, style counts.

Yesterday Terminator co-star Linda Hamilton came in, as did Zsa Zsa Gabor. Arnold Schwarzenegger is said to be a silent partner in the place, and an enormous throne has been installed for his regular visits. Jeffrey Katzenberg, who runs Disney, brings his kids in for brunch during the summer. Julia Roberts, Sean Penn and Robert Altman have all stopped in from time to time. Even Bill Clinton has dropped by -- twice, in fact, first as a jogging candidate, and then in full presidential mode. "If you want to run into me or ICM's Jim Wiatt or Jeff Katzenberg or Arnold Schwarzenegger," says producer Steve Tisch (Risky Business, Bad Influence), who sometimes brings his uncle, not exactly funky CBS proprietor Laurence Tisch, "it's a good guess one or all of us will be there any Saturday or Sunday morning."

Unlike most people with a celebrated clientele, Fischler freely offers his opinions of his customers. Asked about the battle over Paramount, he picks Barry Diller (back booth, Sunday mornings) to prevail. "He's a sharp, bright, aggressive barracuda, but he treats everyone here as equals," says Fischler. Pet peeves include stars accompanied by entourages, such as Sylvester Stallone. "He brought three bodyguards with him and insisted that all the nearby tables be kept empty." Even Schwarzenegger, who has his own restaurant in nearby Ocean Park, isn't spared. "Arnold is a good friend," Fischler says with a sigh, "but his place is like Denny's with a nice carpet."

Fischler is even willing to say that sometime customer Michael Ovitz, chairman of Creative Artists Agency and the most powerful person in show business, is a bit of a stiff. "I can kibitz with everyone except him. He can afford to be independent, I suppose." Judging by his candid razzing of the movie-business elite, Fischler can obviously afford to be independent as well.