Beloved Damian’s Frozen Lemonade returns to Pensacola after decades
Damian’s Frozen Lemonade, a Pensacola staple, was discontinued in 2001. Now, the originator’s son is bringing it back with the original recipe.
See, I thought I was just heading to the little shop on Cervantes to interview the folks resurrecting what might be one of Pensacola’s most beloved, most missed products − Damian’s Frozen Lemonade. I was going to meet the man and legend himself, Tony Jacobs, who launched the beloved frozen concoction from a little shop on Barrancas Avenue during the Carter Era.
Damian’s was a hit from Day 1, with many, including yours truly, heading up to the little shop on March 16, 1978, a Thursday, for what was advertised on the sign out front as “Free Samples.” No one knew what frozen lemonade was back then. Not in Pensacola anyway. (In fact, a 1978 brief in the Pensacola News Journal announcing Damian’s opening started “Anthony Jacobs contends Southerners don’t know what frozen lemonade is − of if they do, there hasn’t been anyone locally affording the opportunity for enjoyment.)
I was 15 and no doubt rode my bicycle, probably stopping at Damian’s on the way to or from baseball practice over at nearby Warrington Elementary School, where most of the Warrington Youth Athletics Association teams played.
One taste was all it took.
It’s been decades since anyone has had the original Damian’s, that smooth, silky frozen lemonade with a yummy sweetness offsetting any lemony bitterness. Imagine snow that tastes like citrusy heaven, and you have Damian’s Frozen Lemonade, which stopped making the treat around 2001.
But Tony’s son Joe Jacobs, and his close friend Rick Emmons, are reviving the original family recipe. They will open a new business, At the Drop in, hopefully, on March 17, the 48th anniversary of the original opening. They’ll sell hot sandwiches, hand cut fries, and of course, Damian’s Frozen Lemonade. Tony’s not involved in the business, just supportive of his son and Emmons’ endeavor.
That’s right, Damian’s Frozen Lemonade is back. Or soon will be.
So the plan was to meet the two Jacobs and Emmons at the new location, decorated with a few old Damian’s signs from back in the day, and talk about the long-hoped for revival. I didn’t know they were actually going to make a batch so I could try it. I wasn’t prepared for that.
But there they were, Joe and Rick, concocting a batch using their blend of water, lemon and a secret ingredient or two, and soon had it in a fancy Carpigiani frozen treat machine. About 15 minutes later, a large batch poured over some sliced lemon pieces, and it was stirred up.
Tony scooped some into a cup and tasted it − the first time he’s tasted it for more than 20 years.
He smacked his lips.
“That’s it,” he said, a smile curling across his face.
Soon, a cup of Damian’s Frozen Lemonade was handed to me, just like Uncle Jeep used to hand to us Warrington kids so long ago. (More on Uncle Jeep in a bit.)
I took my first spoonful in decades and I’m pretty sure my knees buckled slightly. That taste took me back to Rue Max, Lakewood, Navy Point, Myrtle Grove and the westside. I didn’t even have a car the first time I tasted my favorite cold treat ever. But soon, because of the treat’s growing popularity, Jacob’s had a handful of old decommissioned postal trucks and converted them to neighborhood Damian’s delivery trucks, going through the streets selling Damian’s just like your neighborhood ice cream truck. My buddy Wesley began driving one of the trucks for a bit and a couple of times I hitched along to sell the treats with him. By this time, Damian’s had added a frozen orange treat, but I was always an original lemonade guy.
I apologized to Tony for the cups of frozen lemonade I pilfered during those runs years ago. He laughed, and I went back for more of my treat, which, honestly, I never thought I would taste again. (There are Italian ices and other frozen desserts, but nothing like this.)
“What do you think?” Tony asked, taking another little spoonful himself. “It’s good, right? I think they got it.”
Tony smiled. But times have been tough recently. Tragic, really.
Tony’s son and Joe’s brother Damian Jacobs, who the iconic drink was named for, died on Jan. 6, just weeks ago. He was 47 years old.
“He had been sick,” Tony said, lowering his head, accepting our condolences. He then pushed past the still raw loss to focus on why we had gathered in the old Boudreaux Service Station and the new home of At the Drop in.
“I think they’re going to do well here,” he said, his vibrant, joyous voice a little dimmer now after acknowledging his son, Damian. “It’s a great location and they’ve done a good job fixing it up.”
Joe and Rick have done most of the work themselves, refurbishing the former gas station inside and out. Gas pumps are long gone and have been replaced with picnic tables. They’ll also have tables inside and, in the back, they have a food truck where sandwiches and other food items will be prepared, while Damian’s Frozen Lemonade will be made from scratch inside.
Both Rick and Joe are 46 years old and have known each other since third grade. Both previously worked together in the kitchen of a high-end restaurant. Rick is an electrical contractor. Joe worked for Damian’s Wholesale Ice Cream for years.
That company was born from that simple Barrancas lemonade stand and is now a nationwide wholesale distributor of top brands including Ben & Jerry’s, Popsicle, Klondike, Haagen Daz, Good Humor, Nestle and many more, after stopping production of their own product around the late 1990s. Tony Jacobs sold the business just before COVID.
Now, Joe and Rick are starting their own business, At the Drop in, or @the drop in as on the logo. Joe said the name is a nod to one of his favorite and formative bands, At the Drive-In, an acclaimed Texas post-punk band. They’ll sell custom hot sandwiches, hand cut fries and other food items along with, of course, Damian’s Frozen Lemonade − the same original family recipe from Italy that then made it way to Rhode Island, where the family lived before moving to Pensacola in the 1970s.
Soon after opening in 1978, another family member arrived in town, Tony’s uncle Edigo “Jeep” Zanni and he became a familiar face at the little shop at 3670 Barrancas Ave., where the restaurant Pollos el Gordo is located now. Zanni was often the one who would sell the yummy goodness, stooped over so he could see us kids through the window outside where you ordered and were served. Zanni, a U.S. Army veteran who served during the Korean War, died in December 2021 at the age of 92.
Yet together, the family built a Pensacola treasure, even branching into area schools where it was served.
Years back, Tony told me, “It qualified for the school lunch program because of the fruit content. Totally an accident.” Later the company would begin selling their frozen lemonade and orange drinks at amusement and theme parks, including various Six Flags locations, as well as colleges such as Florida State University and the University of Florida.
For many Pensacola adults, Damian’s memory is still as fresh as the lemons they used at the Barrancas location. When we asked on Facebook about people’s memories of Damian’s, we got plenty of responses:
“We had them at the downtown gym where I worked, and they were the best!!! We were supposed to pay 50 cents for them, but I am pretty sure we drank all the product and had little payment! We loved to mix the orange and lemonade. I would take that brain freeze right now!” – Susan Rowland Worth.
“The neighborhood kids screaming on the hottest day in Pensacola “The DAMIAN MAN”. I can still taste them.” – Tara Leidner Vonbodungen.
“They sold these at Random Middle School in the mid-90s. I was wildly envious of the kids who had extra lunch money to get one.” – Sarah Cook.
“In 1979 all the Canterbury Woods kids were addicted to Damian’s. That white mailman-looking truck would drive through about 2-3 hours ahead of the mosquito truck that circled the neighborhood in the later afternoon. I always wanted to large size but was told to get two small cups so that I could share with my big brother. Bonus points if you got more than one lemon wedge. I remember when they started making the orange ones, too. But I still preferred the lemonade ones after skateboarding all day.” – Scott Magno.
Pensacola songwriter Bo Spivey even honors Damian’s in a song about another long-missed Pensacola favorite, St. Anne’s Round-Up, “I Remember St. Anne’s,” with the lyric “Last day of the Round-Up/Sun beats down below/I grab myself a Damian’s Lemonade/I climb aboard the cakewalk one more time before I go…“
Bobbie Chasarik worked for Damian’s from1983 to around 1998.
“I can’t imagine a kid living in Pensacola at the time Damian’s was around who didn’t know what a frozen lemonade was,” Chasarik said. “The orange was my personal favorite, but the lemonade was addictive, too. I sliced many fresh lemons and oranges during my decade of working there, both making and serving their popular deliciousness. From the fruit they used in their frozen products to their home-made ice cream to the hot dogs they served up, too, at their original store on Barrancas Avenue, everything they offered was made with quality ingredients and customer service and satisfaction in mind. The original owners, Jeep and Tony genuinely invested their souls into their company and also into their community. Their products brought years of joy and excitement to countless children and to just as many adults, too.”
If you’re not from Pensacola, or not old enough to remember Damian’s, you’re probably wondering what the fuss is about. But it was special and very hard to forget.
So much so that on Monday, when I went to visit a couple in their early 60s for a different story, I mentioned Damian’s to them. Both their eyes lit up.
“I remember Damian’s,” said the man, Benny Luntsford, 64, as his wife, Becky Luntsford, 63, said how much she used to love it. Thing is, that story is a Valentine’s love story about loving and living through Alzheimer’s disease. Benny was diagnosed a few years back with early-onset Alzheimer’s.
When I asked, he couldn’t remember his age. But he remembered Damian’s Frozen Lemonade. Hopefully the still active couple can visit At the Drop in when it opens and tickle those tastebuds and massage the memory bank.
“My brother (Damian) and I had talked about bringing it back for years,” Joe Jacobs said. “And Rick and I have talked about it for years.”
Now, Rick and Joe are doing it, hoping to recreate the magic.
“The original − you can’t touch it,” Emmons said. “But we’re going to try to touch it.”