For over three decades, when patrons slip into North Beach’s legendary Caffe Trieste to get their espresso fix or soak in a bit of San Francisco’s funky nostalgia, it’s been barista Paul Maedje serving up their coffee. 

The Indonesian immigrant — fittingly from the island of Java – has been a fixture at the café since wandering in looking for a job 33 years ago. While no one really knows for sure, owners of the café believe he’s the longest continuously serving barista in San Francisco and perhaps the entire West Coast. But, who knows? 

“You know what’s funny?” posed Maedje during a coffee break. “I’ve been doing this for more than 30 years. I still enjoy it.” 

In 1956, when Italian immigrant “Papa” Gianni Giotta opened the café, it was the first espresso house on the West Coast. It’s staggering to think Maedje has spent nearly half that 68-year run behind the counter, turning out cappuccino, lattes and the cafe’s signature Africano while simultaneously trading quips and neighborhood intel with the legions of morning regulars.

“People have been coming in here for decades — the 60s, the 70s,” said Maedje.”It’s just a big family.” 

Maedje was one of nine children born in his family in Indonesia. Two of his sisters made it to the U.S. before him and later sent for him. He originally moved to Los Angeles but was visiting the Bay Area in 1991 when he wandered into Caffe Trieste’s Sausalito outpost. He was hired on the spot by the manager and soon moved to the San Francisco mothership, where he was trained by Giotta’s Italian sister Yolanda. 

The job was challenging at first. Maedje’s English was rough and he didn’t recall ever seeing espresso or cappuccino machines back home in Indonesia. 

“She was pretty much my mentor,” recalled Maedje. “How to deal with people, customers, she teach me how to speak Italian – the numbers only.” 

It’s unlikely anyone taught Maedje his quickdraw sense of humor. 

“The jokes, the witty banter he has with the people who come and go,” said North Beach artist and café regular Jeremy Fish. “The number of times I’ve heard him yell to the entire line to the back of the café, ‘Sorry, we’re out of coffee!’” 

Maedje smirked at Fish’s memory. 

“The tourists are, ‘What?’” Maedje laughed.  

Maedje also has a quick memory. It’s rare regulars even must place an order because he remembers their drinks on sight. Local lore includes stories like the one about the one-time regular who returned to the café after 20 years living out of state. “Latte,” Maedje said, recalling the woman’s drink. 

“It’s like they all have the same habit,” Maedje said. “Most people don’t change their drink.” 

Maedje appreciates the cafe’s no frills offerings. There is no venti, no pumpkin spice or caramel macchiato on the menu. Only hardcore tried-and-true Italian coffee creations. 

“We don’t do flowers on the cappuccino or latte,” he said. “We just make a good coffee, that’s it.” 

For the two-person teams who work the counter, making coffee and steaming milk is only part of the daily grind. They also make sandwiches and dish out pastries. They clean tables, pump tunes on the antique jukebox and keep tabs on the corner’s goings-ons. It’s a feat of timing, focus and speed. On top of that, there’s the dealing with the cafe’s famously eclectic mixture of people. 

“After working so long you kind of learn how to deal with people,” Maedje said. “Everybody has a different character and personality , and over the years you finally learn to deal with them.” 

Like his own mentor, Maedje has gone on to train countless other baristas. Some made the cut, some didn’t. He’s demanding about the details of the job, though he’s less sure about the details of his own contribution to the café history. 

“Maybe I served more than a million coffees,” he wondered. “I don’t know.” 

After so many years mired in the stories and lives of others in the café, the café produced a story for Maedje himself. About 10 years ago he met his future husband, a German tourist, in the café. After a short a trans-continental courtship, they tied the knot. It was 2015 and the Supreme Court had just declared same-sex marriages legal in all 50 states.   

“It’s a miracle,” said Maedje. “People don’t think it’s a big deal, but it’s a big deal to me. I can be with somebody I love.”  

Though he and his siblings are scattered around the U.S. and globe, they remain connected through daily meetups over WhatsApp. At the same time, he views the Caffe Trieste regulars as his adopted family. 

“This is their living room, this is their second home,” said Maedje. “And I am their second home.”