A culinary and aesthetic entrepreneur who brought Polynesian flare, fare and fantasy to more people around the world than anybody else, Trader Vic set a standard for Tiki culture that few, if any, could ever match.

His life was an epic rags-to-riches story of the self-made American man.

Born Victor Jules Bergeron, Vic grew up a poor, sickly child, contracting scarlet fever, typhoid and tuberculosis all by the age of four. The latter would cost him his leg two years later.

Urged by his mother, Vic developed a fierce independence, vowing never to let his disability stand in his way. In his teens, the family moved to Oakland where his father opened a small grocery store .

Right across the street, his uncle opened up a saloon and asked if Vic would like to help mix drinks. With few other jobs open to him, Vic accepted and began studying books of cocktail recipes.

After seeing what a knack he had for mixing drinks, Vic decided to open a place of his own nearby. With just $500 in savings, he built a 22 x 26 foot beer shack in 1934 and named it Hinky Dinks.

Two years later, business was booming and the restaurant was growing in size . But still, Vic couldn’t help but think how much more he had to offer to an America now free from Prohibition.

The entire experience left such an impression that Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist Herb Caen called Trader Vic’s “the best restaurant in Oakland.” So just like Donn Beach before him, Vic trekked from the South Seas to Louisiana and Cuba, studying with the world’s top mixologists, honing his craft, and nurturing all sorts of strange concoctions.

Returning in 1937 with an arsenal of colorful new drinks and recipes, Vic rechristened Hinky Dinks as Trader Vic’s, after a nickname given to him by his wife .

Again taking inspiration from Donn Beach, Vic spiced his joint with an eclectic assortment of bamboo, nets, foliage, spears, figures, masks and other South Seas ornaments gathered from his travels. Countless hand-carved tikis followed.

The highlight of course, was the wide range of exotic cocktails meticulously mixed and measured by Vic, such as the Scorpion, the Suffering Bastard, Tahitian Rum Punch, the Samoan Fog Cutter, and, most famously of all, the Mai Tai.

The latter got its name after Vic made a rum mixture for a couple from Tahiti, Ham and Carrie Guild. After tasting it, Carrie raised her glass and exclaimed “Mai Tai—Roa Ae”, Tahitian for “Out of this world—the best!”

(Although Donn Beach would claim to have invented it eleven years before in 1933, most in the know side with Vic on the issue .) By this time, Vic had also added a wide range of Cantonese and Polynesian fare to the menu, which he picked up from Chinese cooks in San Francisco. Although far from exotic to most American diners today, Vic was far ahead of his time in introducing it to a mass audience.

In 1949, the first chain, Trader Vic’s Outrigger, opened in Seattle, followed by many others in Hawaii, Chicago, Portland, Denver, New York, Boston, Dallas, Vancouver, Munich and Havana.

Trader Vic’s** was now so popular that Best Western and the Hilton contracted with him to open chains in their hotels. United Airlines even began providing fare from his Trader Vic’s Food Products Company to passengers bound for Pacific Rim destinations -- a practice still in effect to this day.

Vic’s passion and enthusiasm for his craft was evident in his own Polynesian recipe books and drink guides, where he could rip on the prissy mores and pretense of cocktail gatherings:

• “This Emily Post stuff is not for me. I frankly don’t give one goddamn whether the fork is on the left side of the plate or underneath it or whether the bread-and-butter plate is to the left or the right. In my joint, you’re lucky to have space left on the table for one at all.”*

Along with his countless rum-soaked drinks and wooden leg, Vic's gruff, salty charm cemented his image as a larger-than-life legend, an authentic South Seas adventurer who had really been all there and done all that.

Of course, he was much more : a culinary innovator who brought Polynesian cuisine to the masses, touted sushi way before it was hip, and even introduced Americans to Mexican food with his Senor Pico restaurants.

His innovations have left an indelible stamp on America’s palette and style .

And although most of the original Trader Vic’s establishments are now gone, nearly two dozen more have emerged since the beginning of the 21st century all over the world, from Bevery Hills to Berlin and Bahrain to the Ukraine .

This, by far, is the biggest testament to his enduring popularity and influence .