We lost a lot more than history in that fire…

by Darryl Wilkinson

It may seem odd to write an obituary for a building or even a business, but that’s reality. McDonald Tea Room sat dormant when fire consumed the building last Wednesday. Reviving this business appears futile; it’s dead.

Actually, the business — in the tradition of founder Virginia McDonald — died years ago when gas prices cut into the customer base, eating habits and time constraints forced changes away from Virginia’s famous cookbook recipes, and competition (from the McDonald’s with the golden arches, from the buffet galleries and their like) undermined its future.

The Tea Room declined through a succession of owners dependent upon nostalgia. Its opening by the Kirkendolls had rekindled hopes that the Tea Room might not just survive but thrive again. Their remodeling was splendid. Initial customer response to the reopening was encouraging.

That’s what made last Wednesday’s fire so cruel. Bud and Jean were even discussing a return to weekend business hours and had the electricity turned back on inside the building the previous day. And as long as there were lights shining through the windows, there was hope about the future.

So, there exists not only sadness but a bitterness over this loss — a healthy sign that McDonald Tea Room still matters in this community. The Tea Room, even as it stood unused, was a reminder of what still might be, what could be. If only… So, not just history but hope went up in smoke last Wednesday afternoon.

Little towns like Gallatin dot the prairies throughout the Midwest. And if some say we don’t have much of a business future, few argue about Gallatin’s grand and historic past. The Tea Room was an important, intimate part of Gallatin’s past. It offered a measure of our community’s identity.

The railroads were the lifeblood; business bloomed. The railroad crossings down Lamma Hill once enticed an entire college to relocate here. The railroad that brought thespians to Gallatin’s opera houses also brought travelers and salesmen and opportunity for people with courage and ambition like Virginia McDonald.

Virginia didn’t start with money. She was a Texas belle who honored her husband in a move to Missouri to take care of her father-in-law living in Gallatin. She cheated tuberculosis, not only surviving a 7-year illness but planning ways to work out of debt even while on her sickbed. She worked with what she had, defied the odds, made her business her life, and won her place in national acclaim.

She built business slowly but surely, the old-fashioned way. A new building wasn’t constructed for McDonald Tea Room with grand opening pronouncement. It grew gradually, starting from a lunch counter serving hot dogs and soups to school children. By 1939 the north part of what became the Crystal Room was opened and …well, the rest really is history. Living history.

That’s the McDonald Tea Room that defined us as a community: — cordial, even gracious; hard-working, defiantly independent, stubborn to change from previous success, proud. What better fit for a county some say time left behind — with township subdivision, no hospital, no car dealership, and few purely franchise businesses of any kind. It takes grit to conduct business here. Always did.

During years of decline, community leaders weren’t always sure whether the Tea Room was an asset or liability. The shine of the Tea reputation dulled; expanded hours and services didn’t pay. Fewer people sought a leisurely lunch and those traveling sometimes found the doors closed even during posted hours. Bus tour bookings dwindled for various reasons. Local patronage waned.

Local tourism booklets and brochures tended to focus attention on its nostalgia rather than its present. It takes no business wizard to know it’s hard to cultivate new business when recommendations are couched in past tense.

Many times the food was excellent; sometimes not. I cherished the aroma of irresistible freshly baked bread which warmly greeted you within a step or two of the doorway. I enjoyed many, many fine meals and good times there, and I still appreciate those who worked so hard to make the meals and service exceptional. But the best meal I ever ate at the Tea Room was when one owner seemed to celebrate his departure from the business. The worst was an embarrassment called breakfast for an important regional meeting — something the Tea Room really didn’t want to host and was not prepared to host properly; yet, it was done as a courtesy because Gallatin offered no alternative. But that’s the restaurant business: unfair and often unreasonable expectations spiced with those inevitable comparisons to “better” somewhere else.

I never met Virginia McDonald who died in 1969. I did not know McDonald Tea Room during its best of times. And yet, it was not hard to understand how McDonald Tea Room earned its place with distinction and enjoyed times when it was the measure for other restaurants.

Should Maple Shade be preserved in the same way that Hamilton has made the boyhood home of J.C. Penney a centerpiece in their community betterment efforts? I dunno. Maybe yes, but not if we’re destined to simply live in our past. Somehow someone using Maple Shade to house a new tea room seems a more fitting tribute to Virginia McDonald while replenishing a little hope in Gallatin’s future. Perhaps Gallatin needs a Virginia McDonald more now than back in 1931.

McDonald Tea Room, which perhaps brought Gallatin more fame than any other attraction — countless newspaper articles, magazine features, radio shows, promotional events and even Book- of-the-Month Club notoriety — commanded only a couple of inches of space on a back page of the next morning’s St. Joseph edition. Not even a picture. Two television stations included video footage of the fire in their reports, and other inquiries were made. But generally these media just don’t seem to get the sense of our loss. Their epitaph: “McDonald Tea Room doesn’t really matter; it’s in the past.”

Our younger generation doesn’t even know what they’ll miss. One youngster, who can hardly be faulted for his lack of remorse, aptly summarized the new generation’s attitude and emphasis on fast foods. His response? “Well, it’s too bad it burned down …but now maybe we can get a REAL McDonald’s.”

How do we get him to understand that we had the one and only?