Farewell to a St. Paul landmark

Although we all knew the end was near, it was still a sad piece of news. Such is the way it is when the news comes that an old friend is gone.

I cannot count the hours the spent at Lendways, an oasis among the battleground that is the Frogtown area of St. Paul. But I can say for certain that just about every one of them were joyful ones

Although it was hardly known for this sort of thing, I met both my wife and ex-wife there. They were among the legions of folks who came in for simple but good food and simple but good drinks.

It was a place where folks like Calvin Griffith, the ex-owner of the Minnesota Twins, could come in with friends and have dinner without being disturbed. I remember walking in one night and seeing the man at the round table near the back. People walked by, waved hello at the man who brought major baseball to Minnesota and went on their way. Can you imagine that happening anywhere else in the country?

Calvin knew the owner of the place, the loquacious Ignatius Theisen. Iggy was an old friend of Jim Rantz, the Twins' longtime farm director who still works for the team to this day. Partially as a result of that friendship, a bevy of media types used to come in for hours of uninterrupted socialization.

For years, Lendways was next to a strip club. The dancers thought nothing of coming in to get meals to go before they would be due up for their number. The regulars thought nothing of it, either and never bothered them.

Later, when the morals police took over the area, the strip club became a police station. Such was the respect for the way Iggy and his son David ran the place that the cops often caught people who shouldn't be behind the wheel and returned them to the bar. The warning would always be the same. "I know where your car is and I better not see you behind the wheel for 24 hours. Now call somebody and get a ride home," the cop would say. If nobody was at home, a person who was sober was designated the driver for the miscreant. Kevin Kelly, a longtime bartender there, or David would assure the driver his drink would be waiting for him when he came back.

It probably couldn't happen today. And I am fairly sure MADD would not approve. But nobody got hurt.

When the Capitol was in session, Lendways became the local answer to Switzerland. Many a political deal was crafted in the back room over lunch. Some lawmakers stayed in the small apartments over the bar during the session. It was understood they could come and go without being harassed over the day's activities down the street.

Again, that is something that could probably not happen today. And I often wonder if we are the better for that fact.

This was one of the very sports bars around town, running busses out to the old Met Stadium and then to the Metrodome for Twins and Vikings' games. For years, Iggy always took Sundays off. Then a few of his regulars suggested it would be a good idea to have a place the boys could go to watch a Vikings' game. Sharon Kelly, a longtime worker there, offered to run the bar. Fairly soon, the Sunday afternoon business began to boom. It was never advertised but it didn't have to be. Good news often travels fast.

Like all good things, however, it had to come to an end. Iggy saw the trend in the area and figured the time had come to get out. Five years ago, he decided it was time to pull the plug. The place's last official night at a bar was a gala affair. My best memory of it is coming out of the bar into the parking lot to see my wife and ex-wife engaged in pleasant conversation. As I approached with drinks for both of them, I heard one say to the other, "Oh, I hate it when he does that." To this day, I have never found out what "that" was. It was one of the many secrets told in the old place.

Lendways gave way to a rib restaurant that was only open a day or two a week. I am told the ribs were quite good. But I could never bring myself to go in there. It just wouldn't have seemed right.

Then the word came the city wanted the land for itself. The cop shop closed a while back. The rib place closed down a month ago. Several of us drove by a few times shaking our heads in dismay. None of us who spent time there wanted to see the final blows fall. We had lost our place years ago.

The regulars have long split up, found new homes and made new friends. But every now and then, a story comes up and somebody would say, "Remember the time at Lendways ..."

A bulldozer can't take away that memory.