The Kauffman
I had yet to hear the weather news on Ground Hog Day, so I hopped in the car, chasing my own wintery shadow around The Cities — KC K and KC Mo. I don’t remember much about Kansas City from my first blog visit, back in 2003 … mostly I remember The Plaza and all the wonderful fountains, the statue of native American “Massasoit” cloaked in a pinkish/purple sunset and The Cheesecake Factory. This time around, I am quite enamored with The Kauffman Performing Arts Center and also all the old renovated buildings and cool businesses in The River Market district.
On my first full day out and about, I stumbled on the River Market area, and as I dissected this retail zone, I happened upon a vintage, hole-in-the wall diner, The City Diner. Nothing fancy … one of those places that has obviously been there forever, with old bar stools, interesting characters, and engaging waitstaff … but alas, no Wi-Fi at The City … The word around the campfire is, however, that you can filch a network hookup from a neighbor …
But I look at situations as a glass half full, right? There was plenty to enjoy from my barstool at the front counter … the gritty feel, the eclectic menagerie of workers and the crazy regular sitting nearby, an elderly man spinning on his barstool … When one of the waitress said she wanted something to drink, he piped up: “Do you want a drink? Do you want an alcoholic beverage?” I smiled at the waitress. She said nothing and made no eye contact. The room went silent for just a split second. No one said anything … then the sound of clanking plates and rattling silverware resumed. Bizarre.
He made random comments about whatever, for about 10 minutes … loudly wrestled a newspaper, occasionally commenting to no one about a headline … grabbed his order and left. I figured he either owned the joint, or was casing it … one or the other.
Ha … and I wonder what the waitresses thought of quirky me. When my waitress asked to take my near-empty food basket away, I jokingly waved her off and called “Time out!” I explained to her that even though it looked like I had finished my meal, that in fact, I had not finished because I still needed to take a photo of the last french fry.
“Say what?” her facial expression questioned.
I explained that I wanted a photo of the french fry … took the shot, and said take it.
Scratching her head, she returned to the kitchen. I realized they were probably a little concerned, with two bonkers customers in one day — Ground Hog Day — so I invited her to see the shot on my iPhone.
“Doesn’t that look just like a profile of the space shuttle?,” I asked her.
She wasn’t very enthusiastic, but she replied it was “more like a jetliner.”
She had a point … I closed the photo and forgot about it …
As i enjoyed what I am guessing must be The City Diner’s trademark – a fried porkloin sandwich with horseradish, I remembered that for several days I had been considering a daytrip to St. Joseph, Mo. … St. Jo-Mo.
Now I had my opportunity.
Why this? Well, you see, St. Jo is the home of Cherry Mash – third oldest candy bar in The United States (ha … and the birthplace of Jesse James … THE Jesse James). I have been doing my part to keep this candy brand alive, for the last month … well actually most of my life … on every road trip, when I can find the sweet mound of chocolate covered cherry sweetness. I have been tweeting photos of the brand, posting them and sporting about a bag-a-week habit of Chase’s CMs since i got to KC. You know them right?
I know them all too well. First as a kid, they were my mom’s favorite back then, which made them my favorite, which I would sneak from her stash at every opportunity. I remember she would sometimes take a bite out of one and save it for later. You could see the teeth marks cutting into the chocolate and that fuchsia/cherry colored cream inside. Ha … It was like a forensic record in sugar. You would think her leaving her mark on the tiny round mound of chocolate cherry goodness would be enough to keep it safe. Not with me around. I would snatch it up and finish it off, if I found it.
Well, as some of you know, our family lost Mom last year. I thought it would be a fun little tribute to go see the place where her favorite candy originated. (She was kind of zany too …) And, she so liked her some candy. For Cherry Mash to be her favorite said a lot!
I left the diner, plugged in the coordinates for the city of St. Jo, and headed out. Five minutes after I had snapped the photo, I was in the car, on a bridge crossing The Missouri River. I looked down below the bridge, just in time to see a train crossing a trestle below. Any guesses on what coincidentally was the cargo on the freight train?
I was blown away. I have never seen such a thing on a train before. There were three or four jetliner bodies, partially assembled, unpainted … in profile … no wings, just a nose, tail and the fuselage. I looked for a place to pull over on my bridge for a photo. There was no place to stop, so you have to take my word for it … Yes … pretty much a perfect visual pun of the french fry described in detail above.
God’s sense of humor, I call it …
On to St. Jo.
It is important at this point to mention that I didn’t drive north through the Missouri farmland blindly … well, not totally. I had gotten on the Cherry Mash Website and sent to them an e-mail asking about tours. The Website stated fairly specifically that they do not give tours … but in my line of work, it helps to be persistent. Even if I couldn’t tour the place, I had heard there was a factory store. What the heck. It was only about an hour away …
I drove around St. Jo for just a few minutes to study the architecture of several wonderful old buildings, and I totally gawked at the huge courthouse. I think it was the courthouse, but as I circled it, I never saw a sign???
“I’m done now.”
I pulled into the parking lot of the YMCA and fed the GPS the address for the candy factory. Off we headed, our destination about five miles out of town. Have you driven with a GPS? … It makes navigating a breeze … until you get to one of those creative intersections with oncoming traffic from five directions, a roundabout, and a few one-way streets thrown in. I tried to follow the evil headmistress GPS voice word for word. When she ordered turn, I did. Which put me on a pretty empty street, except for three or four cars coming right at me. “Those idiots. They’re all going the wrong way,” barked Mr. Safety to himself. Quickly I pulled into a driveway and corrected my choice of directions.
I couldn’t believe it. There wasn’t a patrol car in sight. Yes, this is Groundhog Day, i joked to myself as I drove on, in the correct direction.
A few minutes later, I could see the familiar Cherry Mash logo on a building a few hundred yards away. In a parking lot nearby, there were two police cars, side by side, with the officers chatting. “Cherry Mash must have the same effect as donuts,” I surmised. (I also remember Chase Cherry Mash had a little character called The Candy Cop.)
I looked further up the street, and saw one vehicle at the factory. And there was a gentleman outside. I drove a little faster, passed the police, and I saw him lock the door and head for the Chevy Suburban parked outside. I pulled up just as he was opening the door to The Chevy.
“I guess this means I am late,” I said, kind of pleading in my tone.
He replied, “That depends … depends on what for?”
I explained that I had come all the way from Texas (which is true without some of the weeks and weeks of details) to see the place that makes my mom’s favorite candy. He said they were closed, but there was a store.
“Can I buy some candy? … Do you have t-shirts?”
He nodded and said, “Come on in, but we’re closed, so I can’t make change and can’t take plastic.”
Thank goodness I wasn’t carrying a C Note. I would have dropped it. He showed me around a bit, and I scoped out the shirt I wanted, and I saw a huge box of the candies. You bet I wanted both, so I started counting cash … aloud … so he would know the situation.
“Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven … That’s all the cash I have on me.” (I was already playing rock/scissors/paper in my mind to determine whether or not I buy more candy, or a shirt, when) he said, “I’ll sell you both for twenty-seven dollars.”
I grabbed a red shirt to add to my fashion collection, and a 24-pack of the mashies, and we had a nice chat. I believe he said his name was Barry. I do know he said I was a very lucky man. “Why?” I asked.
He explained that the store is not open on Sundays … ever. “See those police cars? They were just out here and they called me to come turn off the alarm system …” A false alarm. Ground Hog Day! … I wondered what caused the alarm. Had someone called in a bomb threat? … a cherry bomb threat, maybe? Or was this the St. Jo version of swatting?
Who knows? But whatever set off the alarm and brought the police, probably saved me a traffic ticket and helped me score some excellent Cherry Mash swag instead of a wasted trip.
I took a few shots of the antique Chase’s Cherry Mash point-of-purchase displays, an old invoice, some historic photos, miniature delivery trucks and other Cherry Mash memorabilia. (Wonder if there are collectors? I think I just became one)… Most interesting: did you know that in the 1970s Cherry Mash test marketed a “Coconut Mash” wrapped in a similar design as Cherry Mash, only brown? Barry explained it had a coconut center, and was quite delicious, but it didn’t take off … not like the CM!
Barry was so nice and full of information … took great pride in telling me about the brand and about the various TV shows that had featured the candy several times. He said you can tell when their episode of “Unwrapped” airs, because the Internet sales go crazy.
But, Barry shrugged a bit when he told me there was no Wi-Fi for me.
Not a problem. I got what I needed and more, so I headed to my car. That’s when Barry handed to me one of the vintage design Cherry Mash coffee cups that I had been eyeing. We like our fans of Cherry Mash … and Texas has been very good to us … especially West Texas. (Probably my family’s patronage, I suspected …) What a sweet guy!
Know what I sayin?
