Gordonville Grill: Good Food, Good Value

I’m sure there are some Central High School folks in town for the reunion who are searching for somewhere with good food reasonably priced.

When I was in town this spring, Mother and I decided to try some places we’d never visited. I wrote about Mario’s Pasta House earlier.  (I’ve eaten there twice on this trip and it keeps getting better.) [Editor’s note: Mario’s has moved to Cape, on Broadway just west of Southeast Hospital, but it’s as good as ever.]

The second place is Gordonville Grill. It’s close to Jackson, Cape Girardeau and the metropolis of Dutchtown. There’s a map at the bottom of the page.

Owner Andy Hancock

Andy Hancock and his wife, Amy, opened the Gordonville Grill in 2007. “Ninety percent of restaurants fail in the first three years. We’ve been here four years, so I think we’re going to make it.” Based on what I’ve seen in the eight or ten times I’ve eaten there, the couple have a solid customer base that is growing as friends tell friends about the place.

“We do traditional advertising and have worked the Internet, but most of our business comes from word of mouth,” Andy explained. “We get them in here the first time, we win them over, then they tell their friends. That’s our advertising plan. In a small town, it’s our experience that if you’re the first to know of a place and introduce something new to a friend, then you’re kind of a hero.”

Gordonville Grill offers comfort foods

Andy grew up in Jackson and his wife lived in several small towns (like there’s anything else around) in Southeast Missouri. Both worked at Outback Steakhouse. He majored in business and marketing at SEMO.

They found that Cape Girardeans were initially drawn to the novelty of what Andy calls the Big Box restaurants in the early to mid-90s, but are eager to try small, privately-owned businesses now if they present good food at reasonable prices in attractive surroundings.

“I can’t compete with the big box stores with their purchasing power,” he said, “but I can provide food made from scratch with quality ingredients. We provide the personal touch. We make ‘comfort foods,’ like Beef Stroganoff and Sloppy Joes, food I grew up with.”

You can get more information, including their menu here at their website. Warning: turn your speakers down. For some reason, websites in Cape insist on launching audio as soon as the page loads.

Gordonville Grill building built in 1912

Andy said the building was built in 1912 as a general store. A Missourian story from June 21, 1938, announced that W.H. Bangert has sold his general merchandise business in Gordonville to W. A. Clark of Sikeston.

He and Mrs. Bangert operated the store for 43 years and four months, during which time the store became widely known as a place where goods were as represented and prices reasonable. In the last decades, the business was housed in a modern brick building, with residence flats in the second story and located on the most prominent corner in the village.

There was a follow-up story a month later that said Mr. Bangert, 64, was going to “take it easy” after selling his store by operating two farms, the Gordonville Post Office and filling the office of bank president.  Follow this link to read more about Mr. Bangert, an interesting character.

What’s on the menu?

I can say that I haven’t been disappointed with anything I’ve ordered. The catfish were fixed just the way I like them, lightly breaded and crispy; the fresh-sliced fried okra is a pleasing appetizer; the Ultimate Nachos were a little different than what you normally get, but I learned to appreciate them by the bottom of the pile; the Flat Iron Steak was tender and tasty, and the Prime Rib was everything you would hope it to be.

{Editor’s note: I’m going to have to temper my unqualified endorsement. My kid, Mother and I had several bad experiences there, so I scratched it off my dining list. Some of my readers say it is still good, so I may give it another shot. Caveat emptor.]

Motorcycles and matrimony

While we were eating there this weekend, we saw what appeared to be a wedding party in formal gear headed up to one of the three private dining rooms upstairs at the same time a dozen and a half motorcycles pulled in to fill up the patio with bikers and their passengers.

How to find the Gordonville Grill


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Class of 65: Who We Were

One of the advantages of being a pack rat is that you stumble across neat stuff. Here are scans of the bios we all submitted for the Class of 1965’s 10th Reunion and 25th Reunion.

Click on the link below to download a file with the all of the 10th Reunion biographies.

CHS Class of 65 10-Year Reunion bios

Click on the link below to download a file with all of the 20th Reunion Biographies.

CHS Class of 1965 20-Year Reunion bios

These are fairly large files, so here’s a way to download them if you get an error message: Right-click over the link, then chose “Save Link As” or the equivalent. When the file is finished downloading, open it with Adobe Acrobat or other pdf reader.

Doin’ the math

I did a short stint as Society Editor at The Missourian while the real one was on vacation or they were searching for a replacement. I was grousing about what a pain it was to write up all the engagements and weddings when one of the old-timers told me how it was important that I got all of the dates exactly right.

“There are a bunch of busy-body old biddies in town who clip the wedding announcements so they can do the math when the birth announcements come out to see if anybody jumped the gun,” she said.

Do you think anyone will care?

Someone asked me if I thought anyone would care that I was dredging up all of this old information on my classmates.

  1. The Internet and my Mother’s attic are forever.
  2. You’re the one who married him / her. Don’t blame it on me.

We’ll see you all this weekend. Stay tuned to this space for pictures. (Russ Doughty said that skinny dipping was involved at the 10th Reunion. That’s the one I missed, wouldn’t you know it?)

Terry Kitchen and The Ghosts of Central High School

Terry Kitchen, Class of 1970, and athletic director of Central Junior High School (our OLD Central High School) was one of my stops when I toured the school last fall.

Kitchen was a standout athlete at Central in his day and went on to play baseball at SEMO. He’s been with the Cape school system for more than three decades.

Some of those trophies just didn’t want to leave

I have to admit that I was just going through the motions when I talked with Kitchen. I nodded politely when he went through a litany of athletes who had passed through the school. Then he mentioned the Ghosts of Central and my ears perked up.

With little prodding, he launched into a tale that sounded like something Mississippi story-teller Jerry Clowers would cook up, including the Southern drawl and the speech cadence of a tent revival preacher.

I immediately kicked myself for not being in a better position. Kitchen was severely backlit, so a lot of detail is lost in the shadows. Still, this is one of those stories that doesn’t need visuals. (That’s a tough admission for a photographer.) Kitchen’s voice carries the account.

Watch the video to see what I mean.

Terry Kitchen’s Ghostly Encounter

Gallery of team photos

Here are a gallery of photos that Kitchen rescued from the trash when the school was being transformed from Central High School to Central Junior High school.

L.V. Steinhoff, My Dad

When I ran across one of my Dad’s scrapbooks, I was immediately drawn to this resolute-looking young man on his 20th birthday. He had a signature, even then, that was unique. I tried to emulate it for years, but never came close and eventually adopted an illegible scrawl to sign checks and memos.

Here’s a guy not even old enough to vote who is going to leave his literal mark on the world in the form of roads, bridges and airfields.

Who needs Tonka Trucks?

My Dad had the greatest toys in the world. While other kids were playing with toy trucks, I was riding on bulldozers, hanging onto the sides of draglines and sniffing the magic smell of freshly-turned earth and diesel fumes. When I catch a whiff of that half a century later, I can close my eyes and hear the clack-clack-clack of the steel tracks, the throaty roar when a diesel engine cranks up and the slippery sound steel cables make when they play out over massive pulleys.

OSHA would freak out today, but he gave me a basic set of safety tips and trusted me to have the good sense to follow them. When I hadn’t even reached double digits, let alone my teens, I separated debris from gravel going up conveyor belts, climbed up crane booms and crawled under railroad cars. (You can read about that here.)

The family was involved in his work

One of the first pictures in his Steinhoff, Kirkwood and Joiner scrapbook was two-year-old me holding a $4,219 check for road work done on Route SB in Reynolds County at Ellington, Mo.

Because Dad’s work took him all over the state, he was away from home a lot. When I was about a year old, Mother told him that this wasn’t going to work out unless we were able to be with him. They bought a small trailer that moved from job to job about every four months.

Mother was telling me this afternoon that it was a great life. She met lots of interesting people and made a lot of friends. We lived in the trailer until I started school. For years, the trailer would be what I’d turn in when teachers told us to draw a picture of our house.

Dad was a handsome man

For a man who spent most of his time pushing dirt around, he could put on a suit and look quite dapper. Here he is in 1960, posing with the family’s 1959 Buick LaSabre station wagon that we took on our epic vacation to Florida.

Everybody got involved

No matter what the project, it was likely the whole family would be involved, even if it was (in my case) shooting photos of it.

Dad and Mother in the back yard in Cape

By the time I went away to college, Dad was starting to think about retirement. He and Mother bought a trailer over on Kentucky Lake. Dad got more and more involved in Scouting activities with my brothers and all of them traveled for fun, rather than to figure out where the next construction project was going to be.

No good thing lasts forever

Dad and his partner, Jim Kirkwood, were in the process of winding down the company in the summer of 1977. Dad was looking forward to his garden in Dutchtown and to spending time on Kentucky Lake.

I had postponed my summer vacation for a couple of weeks to get my first photo department budget done after being named Director of Photography at The Palm Beach Post. I was punching away at the adding machine late one night when I looked up to see Lila and John Lopinot, my best friend, standing in the doorway of my office.

I could tell from their expressions that this wasn’t a social call. They cut to the chase.

“Your dad suffered a heart attack this afternoon at Kentucky Lake. Mark was there and tried CPR, but it was too late. He was already gone. He had been carrying sandbags to build a sandbox for Matt to play in when we came home.” He was 60 years old.

The next few days were a blur. The world will remember that week, because it’s the same one in which Elvis died.

I don’t miss Elvis.