The Carpinteria hot dog man
By NATHAN WELTON
South Coast Beacon
Nathan Welton Photos

Santa Barbara County has its share of celebrities, but it’s probably safe to say that none of them have achieved stardom by selling hot dogs – except Carpinteria’s Bill Connell, the owner of All American Surf Dog, whose shiny red trailer is a familiar sight at the Bailard Avenue exit off Highway 101.

This year marks the tenth anniversary of the stand’s opening, which has successfully weathered dot-com booms and busts and has earned a reputation in national magazines as one of America’s top two wiener eateries.
Connell’s intricate marketing strategy may be a secret to his success.

“My target market is anyone who has two dollars, is hungry, and walks by a hot dog stand,” he said. “My business plan is called KISS – Keep It Simple, Stupid – and I manage to sell enough hot dogs to live in this expensive environment.”

As a result, the Carpinteria Valley Chamber of Commerce recently bestowed upon Connell the Entrepreneur of the Year award, almost at the same time that Santa Barbara’s Hispanic Chamber of Commerce did.

“I’m a white Irish Catholic kid from New Jersey, and I got the award from the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce in Santa Barbara,” he said, acknowledging that it brought tears to his eyes. “What a trip!”

Connell’s life has taken some interesting turns, but the former heavyweight boxer has now found his calling selling hot dogs at the beach, which has turned him into a local legend, a therapist, a listener, a sage and proprietor of a famous joint that’s an integral part of a community.

So Surf Dog’s success isn’t just about the hot dogs – it’s about the man behind the hot dogs.

“Getting a hot dog down at the bluffs is kind of this thing we do,” said Patricia Alpert, who brings her son Joshua to the stand several times a week. “But also, I feel like this place is somewhere you can come and vent and where your issues get heard,” she added, noting that she’d stop and discuss her fertility treatment with Connell when she was making a weekly commute to treatment in Topanga.

But infertility isn’t the only hot conversation topic at the hot dog stand, and Connell said he wants people to feel comfortable speaking their minds.

“Nothing’s off-limits here – we’ll talk about religion, sex, politics, or whatever else,” he said.

“I enjoy coming up here because we talk and he tells me about the weather – he’s almost like a weatherman with his statistics,” said Forrest Cochran, a Mussel Shoals resident and regular dog-eater. “But I got bummed out when I didn’t see his flag waving yesterday, because I wanted my hot dog.”

Other common discussions revolve around brain tumors, baseball, vending permits and little league, and Connell is always giving stock picking advice. Over the course of a typical hot dog day he’s continuously involved in conversation with his customers, whom he encourages to sit together at his single humble table bounded by four stools that overlooks the Carpinteria Bluffs nature preserve.

“This is the nicest outdoor eatery in the state of California,” he said, “and the nicest people in the world live between Goleta and Ventura.”

But beach life is a bit different than his previous life on the East Coast, where he competed as a heavyweight prizefighter and claimed he was nearly ready to challenge Larry Holmes. While he boxed, he supported himself by working as the maître d’ of the 900-seat Shore Casino restaurant in Atlantic Highlands, NJ, and explained that one of his main responsibilities was to ensure that people were manning the dock-front hot dog stand so that boaters could down lunch.

It proved to be mission impossible.

“The boys were always out drinking until four in the morning, so I had to man the stand myself dressed in a tuxedo,” he said. “Once I found out how fun it was, I scheduled myself to do it.”

When his boxing career ended after an accident with a drunken driver, he went into construction and became a trained chemical firefighter and toxic and hazardous waste specialist – but that didn’t last long.

“I didn’t want to be dressed up in a moon suit cleaning up toxic waste, so I had a mid-life crisis sort of thing and decided I wanted to sell hot dogs at the beach.”

Of course, everyone has his or her favorite concoction, which can be any combination of spicy sausages, Dodger dogs, turkey dogs, chili, relish, marinated onions, and a host of other condiments.

But some still fall for the tried and true meals, the Old Faithfuls of the culinary world.

“My favorite is the Dodger dog,” said Patricia Alpert’s son Josuha, happily munching away at his $2.50 lunch. “It’s the most juciest.”