James Beverly Townes, 89, had a difficult time leaving the corner of Humphreys and Chestnut streets, the location of the restaurant he and his dad built when “Bev” – as his family called him – got home from World War II.

“I was there 40 years,” he says. But in 1985, he needed to sell out. “My doctor said ‘Hap if you don’t get out of that restaurant, you’re gonna die….You are in such a rundown condition you’re going to ruin your health.’”

Townes is among the city’s best-known purveyors of meat-and-three delicacies, but friends like Johnny Cash, Chet Atkins, Mickey Mantle and others who dined with him likely never even called him by his name.

He was simply “Hap,” proprietor of Hap Townes, a Nashville landmark where country stars mingled with cops, firemen, legislators and crooks over plates of butter beans, creamed potatoes, greens and – famously – roast beef.

For a long time Bev was “Little Hap,” proud son of the much-loved senior Hap, who started the Nashville culinary legend in the 1920s.

“When Dad first opened up, he built a pie wagon in the backyard and he rolled that thing around town looking for a place to settle,” says Townes of Gardner Townes.

He moved the pie wagon to different sites before opening restaurants.

The third one, the famous one, now houses Gabby’s Burgers & Fries, where owner Doug Havron is trying to learn from Townes some of the secrets to a long and lucrative existence.

One of the keys to success has been staying true to the attitude that gave birth to the nickname, according to Townes: “My father had a real good personality … One of the customers said ‘here’s old happy, happy, happy Hap.’ It stuck. People began calling him ‘Hap.’ ”

When the little boy began serving customers their plates and cleaning up at closing time, his cheerful demeanor earned him the “Little Hap” moniker.

So when Hap and Little Hap, then an Army Air Corps veteran, opened on Chestnut at the end of World War II, there was a double dose of happiness and good cheer awaiting customers.

The elder Hap stayed at the restaurant until he was 88 years old and died two years later in 1980.

Townes pauses to reminisce about the police who used to meet him at opening time, 4 a.m., and make sure there were no problems. “This neighborhood wasn’t so good back then,” he says.

Those protective police received meals for their trouble. And they often were joined by bleary-eyed firemen and Johnny Cash, who would call ahead to see if he and his weary musical pals, guys like Marshall Grant and Luther Perkins, could come in for food at the end of a long night recording or playing.

And then there was the regular presence of Nashville’s Certified Guitar Picker, Chet Atkins.

Gospel legends George Beverly Shea and The Gaithers also found comfort at Hap’s.

Other music regulars included Ray Stevens, Uncle Dave Macon, Porter Wagoner and DeFord Bailey. The latter ran a shoe repair shop on 12th Avenue South, near Wedgewood, after his Grand Ole Opry years and music stardom ended. Hap was one of the Harmonica Wizard’s clients.

“You know, when we first opened up, a plate lunch was a quarter and drinks – iced tea, buttermilk, whatever – was a quarter.”

After he sold out, another family ran the restaurant named “Hap Townes” for a decade before the place was shut down.

For more than 15 years, the squat structure was deserted, an almost-lost relic of happier times. Hap enjoyed his retirement with his wife of 57 years, Anne, and their Brentwood existence.

Townes is glad Havron is reinvigorating the old building and seeking advice from the guy once called “Little Hap.”

“I told him when someone comes in the door to speak to them, go up to them and say something to them, get their attention, shake hands with them.

“Let them know you appreciate the business and when you hear that cash register ring, you thank each and every one of them when they go out the door…. That’s a policy he carries out.”