A Small Adventure in St. Louis

First off, you need to understand that I hate the Midwest.

I grew up there, lived there until I went to college. I could not get out the Midwest fast enough. Not my kind of place or people. I always feel the veneer of camaraderie masks a deeply internalized rage. So recently I had to go to St Louis to make a presentation for my work. I dreaded the trip. While I was waiting for my colleague in a fancy hotel lobby, I suddenly realized that over the Muzak I was hearing “strum ch-ch-chum chum strum” the opening guitar riff of Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings “How do I let a good man down”. “Can’t escape the Funk!” says I! Later that day I gave a luncheon presentation which means everyone got to eat but me. The staff came in and took away the remaining food before I finished the presentation so I missed lunch altogether. I couldn’t decide whether to eat or not. As I was driving back to my hotel, I saw a sign advertising Steak’n’Shake, a Midwest chain that is an institution. They are known for their “steakburgers”: smashed flat, with crispy, lacy edges and always served with a slice of raw onion. Burger heaven! So I punched “Steak’n’Shake” into my GPS and off I went. I came off the highway into an industrial neighborhood, with my destination a few miles away. Then I spotted the “Courtesy Diner”. The sign on the side said “Steakburgers. Shakes. Open 24.” It is an odd fashioned drive-in with a canopy over the parking spaces out back for “car hop service”.

I entered through the main door and spotted three young men who, by their clothes, must have been on break from a masonry job. Prison tats abounded. I took a seat at the counter, and was immediately greeted by Faye or Kaye (I could not tell as the embroidery on her shirt was marred by a large stain of some sort). Without asking she set a nice diner mug and a glass of water in front of me, and poured up a coffee. “What’ll you have” came from a voice that sounded like an air horn, distorted by half again too many teeth. I knew what I wanted and ordered a double steakburger, raw onion and a side of fries. Kaye (or Faye) shouted the order to someone in the back and proceeded around the small, well-worn room, topping everyone off and carrying on banter with every table. Out of the back came Ty (no stain here), a slender black man, with a massive toque holding in a huge mound of dreadies, so massive in fact that every time he turned his head the package would shift from side to side, languidly. I picked up a menu to see what else was offered and was pleased to see that my double steakburger was going to set me back a mere $2.75. On the wall, written in a childlike hand on construction paper were several “Daily Specials.” They had likely been “Daily” for some time as the edges were curled and the paper faded. Two that caught my eye were the “Hot Dog Omelet” (“Kids love it”) $2.50 and the Frito Pie (Fritos, Chili, Cheese, Onions) $3.75. I almost changed my order to the Frito Pie Just like that, Ty brought my order over with the fries still sizzling from the Fry-O-Later and the burger patties giving up a little grill grease into the soft soft bun. Atop the patties was slice of raw onion, not the little slivered rings of red onion that looked like they were plucked off a side salad in some east coast fern bar, but an honest to goodness SLICE of onion. My first bite was heaven, the cool crisp onion offsetting the salty heat of the burger. Faye or Kaye came back to check on me and to warm me up. Exactly what I was after. I thought about ordering a 2nd burger, but good sense prevailed. One more cup later, I settled up with Faye or Kaye and headed back out into the dreadful and forbidding St. Louis afternoon. As I was waiting for traffic to clear, I looked across the boulevard and saw a small red building with a banner sign: KDHX, “Independent Music Plays Here”. I flipped the radio to 88.1 and caught the opening chunky beat of the Pointer Sisters “Yes We Can Can” with the familiar basslines and slapping snare drum. I had caught the beginning of Chris Lawyer’s “Hip City” program. He followed that up with Jewel Bass’s “I tried it and I liked it” and then Curtis Johnson’s “Sho Nuff the real thing”. By then I was back at my hotel for more meetings, with a secret smile on my face. A brief respite from the soulless Midwest winter.

Matt Powell appreciates living in Maine, independent radio and a SLICE of raw onion.