The Fortunate Eunuch

When Alessandro Moreschi died in 1922, an uncomfortable chapter of history died with him. Moreschi was the last of the castrati, male singers who were castrated before puberty to preserve their childlike singing voices. Castrati were popular performers in Europe from the Renaissance until the Industrial Revolution when governments and religious institutions banned the practice. Moreschi lent his vocal talents to the Sistine Chapel choir for three decades, performing well into the twentieth century, and is the only castrato to have been recorded performing solo. Recently, I couldn't help think of Alessandro Moreschi as I was dining a restaurant named for a castrated bull that is also the last surviving example of its kind.

The Lucky Steer restaurant stands just off I-75 in Wapakoneta, Ohio. It is the final outlet of a small chain restaurant empire concentrated mainly along the Indiana-Ohio border. I was tipped off to its existence, and indeed the one-time existence of the Lucky Steer chain via email by a reader. (Thanks Map Cat!) Mentions of the Lucky Steer brand online are scant, and a definitive outline of its history is nowhere to be found. The closest I can find is a forum post by a person claiming to be the founder's son. His story details chain beginning in 1945 when Guy Scheib opened the Humpty Dumpty drive-in in a converted gas station in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The restaurant, run by Scheib and his sons, was an overnight success in post WWII Indiana, and they quickly began expanding, changing the name to Happy Humpty along the way, as the Humpty Dumpty trademark was unavailable. Lucky Steer was launched as a more upscale sister chain to Happy Humpty at some point in the sixties, offering a steakhouse-like menu, with indoor seating and table service. At the peak of operations, there were around 23 company-owned restaurants in the two brand chain. Downfall came abruptly, according to the forum poster, when a business partner muscled Scheib out, and proceeded to mismanage the Happy Humpty and Lucky Steer brands, bringing about massive closures in the early to mid eighties. The only surviving location was the Lucky Steer in Wapakoneta. The cover of the menu at the lone surviving Lucky Steer tells the rest of the story. It had been a Happy Humpty at one point, before being converted to a Lucky Steer location, which was purchased by a former Happy Humpty/Lucky Steer regional manager in 1983. It's still owned by the same family today. 

The building is a nicely preserved relic of the sixties. 

I arranged to stop there for a quick bite on a recent weekend trip. Admittedly, I wasn't in a great mood. Following a disappointing dinner the night before, I was ready to be home. I also was not especially hungry, thanks to a lovely breakfast prepared by my Airbnb hosts that morning. Had I not been in the vicinity of Lucky Steer, I would have driven straight home. I had perused the Lucky Steer website a few days before, and found that the menu had evolved a bit from the initial steakhouse concept, and was now more dinerish in terms of offerings and price point. I stopped in late on a Sunday morning, figuring on adhering to a hobbitlike meal schedule that day. I had skipped second breakfast, and it was time for elevenses. I parked under the zigzag roof canopy, no doubt a Googie artifact of the site's Happy Humpty days. 

A vintage canopy that screams "Drive-In!"

Predictibly, the place was packed, and the crowd seemed roughly evenly split between adults over 70, all of whom seemed to have colds, and children under five, all of whom also seemed to have colds. I was shown past the large, airy dining room with a high vaulted ceiling and massive window looking out toward the street, to a secondary room, with few, if any windows. I was seated at a small table in the middle of the proverbial action. A large family was seated a couple of tables away, and I cringed as a woman asked for a cup of ice, then proceeded to pour her glass of chocolate milk over the ice, and slowly sip it, allowing the beverage to be slowly diluted by the melting cubes. A group of waitresses idly chatted with a customer who they seemed to know, while they blocked the kitchen door. Various children with oozing nostrils ran about unsupervised, making various ear-piercing noises as they frolicked. I didn't dare go near the salad bar.

When my waitress fought her way through the crowd, I ordered a Lucky Skillet, a breakfast skillet concoction with a base of some manner of fried potato product topped with vegetables, eggs, and sausage gravy. Learning my lesson from Country Kitchen, I specifically asked for my eggs over easy, to which my waitress replied, "You mean instead of scrambled?" Apparently here, like at the Country Kitchen in Hannibal, Missouri, eggs are scrambled by default. After taking my order, my waitress returned a few minutes later to inform me that the kitchen was out of "Chunkies" and asked if I'd like hash browns or home fries in my skillet instead. Not knowing what chunkies were, and having heard the terms hash brown and home fry used interchangeably to describe every manner of fried potato that's not a french fry, I asked for hash browns. This appears to have been the wrong answer, because my waitress gave me a funny look before disappearing into the kitchen.

The Lucky Skillet, curiously served on a plate. 

I found the potatoes. You know, boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a Lucky Skillet. 

When my skillet arrived a few minutes later, it was piping hot, and entirely edible, if a bit heavy on gravy. In retrospect, I should have ordered biscuits instead of toast. The hash browns appeared to have been made from freshly cut potatoes, but were buried under layers of mushy gravy and eggs. I suspect it's better with chunkies, whatever they are. I finished eating quickly, paid my bill and left, slightly underwhelmed by my breakfast, but immensely put off by the atmosphere. I can't blame the restaurant for being busy at the brunching hour on a Sunday, but my own personal quirks include a strong aversion to crowds in general, and small children in particular. Lucky Steer had plenty of both. I drove off, planning a blog post in my head, the crescendo of which was set to be some quip about the steer being lucky because his inability to reproduce prevents him from being surrounded by a herd of calves with runny noses.

In the days following my visit to Lucky Steer, however, a feeling that I had not been in the right head space to give them a fair shake began to creep into my brain. I see myself as more of an amateur historian than a restaurant critic, and try, moderately successfully, not to be unfairly critical of the places I visit. Plus, I saw that they had a double deck burger, known as the Lucky Burger, on the menu that intrigued me. Pictures I found of Happy Humpty locations I found online advertised a blatant Big Boy knockoff burger called the Big Guy. I strongly suspected the Lucky Burger was a clone of the Big Guy. 

My second visit to Lucky Steer was also on a Sunday, but this time it was early afternoon. The place was just as crowded, but this time the age range of the clientele was distributed a bit more evenly, and the coughs, sneezes, and visible mucus had drastically decreased. I was delighted to be seated in the main dining room by the large window that makes up the building's glassy front facade. My Lucky Burger and fries came out quickly, despite the busy dining room.

I could find no accounts of the constituent ingredients of the Happy Humpty Big Guy hamburger, but I suspect it would have been topped with some form of tartar sauce, considering Happy Humpty shared its territory with both Frisch's Big Boy and Burger Chef, both of whom topped their double deck burgers with proprietary tartar sauces. If I'm correct, my Lucky Burger was not an authentic Big Guy, as it came with a Thousand Island-based sauce. It was also a bit smaller than I anticipated, but then again, so is a standard Big Boy, a relic of the Depression when meat was scarce. Despite its diminutive size, the Lucky Burger was a pleasant experience. It's patties were lightly charred on the edges, producing a light crunch, while the insides were still pleasantly juicy. The three piece bun had sesame seeds on all three pieces, the way Big Macs did at some point before my birth, according to old print ads and commercials I've seen. As a result, for the first time in my life, I actually got a hint of sesame flavor from a sesame seed hamburger bun. As with my breakfast, the price of my meal was more than reasonable. Including a Diet Pepsi and tip, I ended up paying just over $10. I paid more for lunch at my local Subway today. 

The Lucky Burger likely bears little resemblance to its ancestor the Big Guy, but it was still pretty tasty. 

When Alessandro Moreschi's voice was recorded, he was in his mid-forties. At the time, he was considered by even the most generous critics to be past his prime as a vocalist. Regardless, the recordings survive today, and act as a window to a time when standards of both musical taste and ethics were remarkably different than they are today. The Wapakoneta Lucky Steer functions similarly. While its menu has evolved over the years, and bears little resemblance to the initial Steakhouse fare or the drive-in offerings from Happy Humpty, it stands as our last window to a pair of nearly forgotten regional restaurant chains that are otherwise largely lost to history. I'm glad to have had a couple of Lucky Steer experiences. I'll probably return on one of may countless trips up and down I-75, provided they aren't terribly busy.

I apologize if the references to castration made anyone reading this uncomfortable for any reason. I promise it's a theme I won't discuss again, unless maybe I happen to find a Western Steer Family Steakhouse still open for business somewhere. 

Not Fricking Anybody

 

I was preschool-aged when our local McDonald’s moved from its 1970s-built dark brick mansard on Main Street to a new building on the north side of town, near the Walmart where land was quickly being developed. The old McDonald’s building was purchased by the city and is still in use today as offices for the public utilities department, still looking very much like it did when it was a McDonald’s. Ever since that McDonald’s became a municipal building, I’ve been fascinated by buildings with distinctive, recognizable corporate image architecture being reused for entirely new purposes. I’m not the only person with this fascination, as the Not Fooling Anybody website and subreddit, which are devoted to pictures of hastily-converted fast food and other retail buildings, came into existence to cater to people with the same interest.

I’ve explored this interest here on Broken Chains in the past, by both documenting the former Taco Tico buildings in and around Lexington, Kentucky and by going hunting on Google Earth for former G.D. Ritzy’s buildings. I was recently inspired to explore my interest further following one of my many trips down I-75 in Ohio.

I happened to make a pit stop in Bowling Green, at an exit I had never previously explored. On my way back to the highway, I drove past a Fricker’s, and had to stop to take pictures of it.

The Fricker's in Bowling Green, Ohio...

Fricker’s is a regional chain of sports bars mainly in Western Ohio. They seem to be doing reasonably well, and do not meet my definition of a broken chain. Likewise, I’m not a massive fan of sports, bars, or sports bars, so their food and atmosphere are of little interest to me. My interest in Fricker’s is due to their expansion strategy, which seems to consist mainly of converting existing structures with few exterior changes beyond a coat of red paint and the addition of some stripey awnings. 

...would have originally looked a lot like the still-operational Dutch Pantry in Williamstown, West Virginia.

The Fricker’s I passed in Bowling Green was housed in a Dutch Pantry building which seemed to have had minimal modifications. It even still sported the trapezoidal Dutch Pantry sign frame. A little Google Street View research revealed two additional Fricker’s housed in former Dutch Pantry buildings. Unsurprisingly, the other two Dutch Pantry Fricker’s are located along I-75 as well, specifically in Perrysburg and Findlay. Dutch Pantry’s strategy was (and still is!) to cater to travelers, so most, if not all Dutch Pantry locations were built along major highways. 

Another Dutch Pantry Fricker's in Findlay, Ohio...

...and a third in Perrysburg, Ohio

Having found multiple Fricker’s locations in old Dutch Pantry buildings, I was intrigued. I had to see if any other husks of failed chain restaurants had been assimilated by Fricker’s. Naturally, I sat down and looked at all 25 Fricker’s on Google Street View, because that kind of thing is my idea of a fun Saturday night. I found a good many nondescript Fricker’s locations set up in strip malls, but roughly as many operating out of the buildings that once housed outlets of broken chains.

Located in Adrian, Michigan's only Fricker's is a former Ponderosa. 

Huber Heights, Ohio is also home to a Frickerosa.

While the facade of the Miamisburg Fricker's makes you remember not only The Alamo, but Lone Star Steakhouse as well. 

I see a quite a few empty and reused Ponderosas in my travels. At this point, they outnumber the operational ones, so it’s not terribly surprising to see a pair of Fricker’s locations housed in former Ponderosa buildings. Likewise, all but four of the 265 Lone Star Steak House locations have closed, so it’s not terribly surprising to see one painted red and serving as a Fricker’s. 

Look close at the tall trapezoid on the left of the Middletown, Ohio Fricker's. It once held a Chi-Chi's sign... 

...as did this Fricker's in Springfield, Ohio. 

Of all the Fricker’s locations I found, though, I was most delighted by the locations in Middletown and Springfield, Ohio. Both are obvious former Chi-Chi’s, still sporting the prominent vestiges of Chi-Chi’s signature adobe architecture under a fresh coat of Fricker’s red paint. (Sadly, there are no Chi-Chi’s locations left in North America, though Hormel still sells a line of Chi-Chi’s-branded grocery items here. There are still Chi-Chi’s locations open in Europe, and you better believe I’ll eat at Chi-Chi’s if I’m ever in Luxembourg.) Well-preserved Chi-Chi’s buildings are becoming increasingly rare. Most have been demolished or renovated beyond recognition, and I think their light touch is with their buildings is what has drawn me to Fricker’s.

When the larger chains take over an existing location, they’ll often erect new facades and erase any hint of the building’s original purpose. While in Fricker’s case it’s more likely due to a limited construction budget than an attempt at historical preservation, they walk a delicate line, adding their own corporate image to a building without significantly altering its original shape, thereby preserving its connection to a struggling, defunct, or otherwise diminished brand.

I’ve never set foot in a Fricker’s, and I probably never will, but I hold them in higher regard than I do other sports bar chains, which I also avoid, simply because they give historic chain restaurant buildings a second chance at life when most other chains would heavily modify or raze them. In a time when such buildings are becoming endangered, it’s nice to see them getting regular use with a moderately high degree of preservation.

Below are a few Fricker’s locations I could not definitively identify. I’ve captioned them with their location, and my best guess as to what I think they might have originally been. Please comment below or email me if you can tell me if any of my guesses are right or wrong. 

2599 W Michigan St, Sidney, Ohio
I think this may be a former Ryan's Steakhouse. What say you, dear reader?

An anonymous contributor tells me this was previously a location of CJ's Highmarks, a local chain in Western Ohio. 

1580 Goodman Ave, Cincinnati, Ohio
This looks like a former Steak and Ale to me. Who can confirm or tell me different?

Edit: Mike from Houston Historic Retail tells me this is a former Cambridge Inn Cafeteria

8850 Governors Hill Dr, Cincinnati, OH
This one has me feeling pretty stumped, but I get a vague Joe's Crab Shack vibe from it. I'm probably wrong, but who knows what it actually is?

Edit: Multiple sources tell me this building was originally a Cooker restaurant.

Also, don’t forget to like the Broken Chains Facebook page to see when the blog has been updated. I also post a bonus picture every now and then.

Edit: My head Lucky Steer Correspondent, Map Cat, shared a link to this grain-tastic 2007 vintage Street View image of the Richmond, Idiana Fricker's that shows the Fricker's sign in an old Lucky Steer sign frame, meaning that the Richmond, Indiana Fricker's is likely a former Lucky Steer.