(Chicken) Robinson like a glove.

A popular veteran of the hospitality industry, Mr. Robinson marked his three score years and ten on Wednesday by doing what comes naturally -- working a full day at the Lobster Pot, where he has been a familiar and well-liked figure for 20 years.

In fact, the only concession Mr. Robinson has made to his working life was the recent change from night barman to daytime maitre d' to aid his recovery from major heart surgery.

Retirement isn't an option.

"I have an expensive hobby -- travel -- and since nobody's going to pick up the tab I'll just keep shuffling along,'' he jokes.

Immaculately groomed, and equally neat of speech, the seemingly ageless Mr.

Robinson loves nothing more than people. Both on and off duty he has earned a reputation for friendliness and diplomacy, and thoroughly enjoys being a goodwill ambassador for his country.

"I have always enjoyed meeting people. It is such a challenge,'' he said.

"When you are in the business you are selling yourself just as much as you are selling the business. When people enjoy having a conversation with you during your service they certainly recommend you to their friends, and they also come back.'' Indeed, his knowledge of the Island and what makes it tick means that, year after year, visitors make a point of seeking him out. With a memory honed by long years of training, Mr. Robinson remembers them all.

In fact, a reporter once wrote of him in a Washington Post story about the Island, suggesting that readers should look him up for answers to all their questions about Bermuda.

"The response was unbelievable,'' the former barman exclaimed. "At first, I couldn't figure it out because I didn't know about the article, which somehow got on the international wire services and went around the world.

People kept coming in here with all sorts of questions.'' Though he has spent most of his working life in the hospitality industry, Chicken -- as he is universally known -- first started out helping in his father's Court Street drug store.

A graduate of Miss Neverson's School and the Berkeley Institute, the young lad soon found himself pedalling all over the Island delivering medicine and confectionery for his father.

"It took me three years to save 3 for a pedal cycle,'' he said.

Then along came the Second World War and the United States Navy's attempts to turn him into a cook, but thanks to the visiting USO, which was responsible for entertaining troops, Mr. Robinson found himself "out of the kitchen and behind the bar''.

And he never looked back.

When the war ended in 1945, he returned briefly to his father's store before working in various local hotels, both as a bartender and a waiter.

"I enjoyed it all,'' he said of those early years. "Everything was a learning experience.

"I find that in the hospitality field the more you know about different departments the easier your job becomes. Curiosity got the better of me and I was always eager to learn.'' Entering Mr. Mike Selley's employ as a bartender, Mr. Robinson saw service at the American House, Quarry Bar, Imperial Hotel and Grotto Bay. Only once was he truly abused by clients.

"One Sunday night three sailors ordered drinks in the Quarry Bar,'' he recalled. "We were very busy and they walked out without paying. I went after them and explained that if they didn't pay it would come out of my wages.

"Two of them put their arms around my shoulders and lifted me off my feet.

The third one threw a punch. Fortunately, I was able to lower my head sufficiently so the blow landed on the side of my skull, but I certainly saw stars! By the time I had recovered they were gone. There were so many sailors in Hamilton that I couldn't tell one from the other so I just had to chalk it up to experience.'' In fact, Mr. Robinson still chuckles when he recalls those lively days when servicemen swarmed the town and Shore Patrol kept an eye on every bar.

"When you had a weekend and there were British, American and Canadian sailors ashore it was always trouble because they never got along. But the Shore Patrol never let anything get out of hand,'' he said.

Then came a stint at the Elbow Beach hotel bar, where the easy-going Bermudian really began refining his bartending repertoire.

"They had a cocktail hour every day from 5.30 p.m. to 8 p.m., which was the best training you could get in mixing a variety of drinks,'' he noted.

When asked how he was able to keep the formulas for so many cocktails in his head, as well as keeping pace with new ones, Mr. Robinson modestly described it as "a learning process''.

"The main thing is never to be afraid to admit you don't know how to mix a particular drink,'' he said. "It happens quite often that people will call a drink by a different name to what we are used to. So I ask them to give me the ingredients, and I take it from there.'' And how does he know how much of each ingredient to put in? "I guess it's like mamma baking a cake,'' he said. "She never had a recipe, she just made it. In any case, there is usually one liquor which is the basis.

If the ingredients include liqueur, it's just a dash.'' It was when he moved on to the No. 1 Parliament Club, owned by Mr. Hans Pedrolini, that Mr. Robinson says he got his greatest business experience.

Very upmarket and patronised by a distinguished clientele, the Parliament Street restaurant also had a sideline -- catering in private homes. Such was the owner's faith in his employee that Mr. Robinson was left to his own devices in making the appropriate arrangements.

"Challenges like that made life interesting,'' he said. "When Sir Henry Tucker's son got married, I was in charge of catering for 600 guests. Mr.

Pedrolini turned the whole thing over to me.'' But such responsibility had its price.

"Mr. Pedrolini certainly took advantage of my good nature,'' Mr. Robinson remembered. "Often I would be getting ready to close the restaurant and he'd say, `Where do you think you're going? I would say, `Home to my family' and he'd say, `Oh no you're not, we've got a party to do'. And I'd have to go to some place after midnight and set up hors d'oeuvres or something.'' On another occasion, he had to cater a cocktail and dinner party at Perot's Island for Mr.

Stanhope Joel. It meant taking all the supplies to the Waterlot Inn dock and rowing them over to the island bit by bit.

"It was the longest and hardest day of my life!'' he exclaimed.

But then, Mr. Robinson has always been a true professional from the "old school''.

"In any type of occupation, you have to love what you are doing. If you take a job just to have a job, then you are only going to look forward to being paid at the end of the week. You are not looking forward to work the next day.

"My present boss complains that I put in too many hours but you get to the stage where it's easier to do something yourself than try to tell somebody else to do it. At least then you have the satisfaction of knowing that the job has been done properly.'' Indeed, doing the job properly is what Mr. Robinson is all about.

"I was always told: If you are going to be employed by someone else, there's always going to be a problem. It is up to you how you handle it. You are the employee and the employer is the one who gives the orders.'' Brought up as much by three maiden aunts as well as his parents, Mr. Robinson remembers vividly the firm hand that was kept on him.

"I came up through a very strict family, I can assure you,'' he said.

"Their basic advice was, `If you want respect you must first give respect'.'' And it's today's lack of respect or professional pride in Bermuda's young people which saddens him.

"They really don't care whether you hire them or not,'' he said. "They don't even dress properly for an interview. I always tell them, `You must try to look your best and present your best side'.

"When I first started in this work, you had to be at your job 15 minutes ahead of time for inspection. They looked at your clothes, your hands and nails, and your hair cut. You lost points for not looking right -- and lost points meant lost money because gratuities weren't shared equally if you didn't do your job properly.'' Looking back on a career which also included the innovative Travellers' Club, where women could sit, undisturbed and drinkless, whilst awaiting the arrival of their escorts -- "We even provided magazines for them to read'' -- and many stints in charge of bar supplies at the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club during Newport-Bermuda races, Mr. Robinson says that he has enjoyed it all.

Despite the many sacrifices he has had to make, he raised 14 children, and now enjoys 40 grandchildren and nine great grandchildren.

His travels, which he describes as "part of my education'', have taken him to China, Africa, and much of Europe. An avid reader, he is also a dedicated beachcomber and follower of cricket.

"It is amazing how much you can get done in a day if you arrange your life,'' he said. "The key is organisation.'' CHEERS! Mr. Edwin (Chicken) Robinson, who celebrated his 70th birthday this week, has no thoughts of retiring from a lifetime in the hospitality industry.

Popular with locals and visitors alike, he is known for his friendliness and courtesy.