1951: An Anchor On The Corner In Lafayette Square

 What’s in a building? It’s entire history, for one; and in Lafayette Square, that can be considerable. 

2001 Park Avenue has been holding down the Northeast corner of Mississippi and Park Avenue for a long time. It appears in the Compton and Dry map of 1876, looking much like itself, but for today’s first floor windows and the long single story extension down Mississippi Avenue: 

It was most likely built as a commercial/residential building. From at least 1880 through 1886, it was a drug store run by Hermann E. Hoelke; known as Sassman’s Drug Store by 1894. 

Fred J. Kloth took over the spot in 1895, operating a grocery business. It wasn’t his ‘forever’ site either, as it morphed into a wallpaper store owned by C.A. Lewis three years later. Speculation, as with all things around 1896, would lead one to wonder if the tornado chased Kloth out of business in the Square.

Similarly, it’s not too cheery to point out that the next owners were Stubblefield and Kern, Undertakers, who ran their enterprise there from 1901 at least through 1906. In the year of the great World’s Fair, with its myriad marvels, a funeral notice appeared in the obituaries of the April 22 Globe-Democrat, observing that Virgil Evens, aged 8, would be conveyed from his funeral at Stubblefield and Kern to his interment, via electric funeral car. 

One of the owners nearly became one of the clients in May 1906. The Post-Dispatch reported that Charles Kern was searching for a gas leak in the building by the use of a lighted candle. He ran it along a length of piping in a hallway. Leaking gas collected between the first and second floors, resulting in an explosion that rained plaster and lath on Kern’s head and blew out the street side windows. Although not seriously hurt, Kern would have to deal with an estimated $75.00 in damages.  

By 1911, 2001 Park Avenue was back in a happy place, as a confectionery owned by Henry Stone. His shop was burgled for $21.00 in June of that year. A newsboy saw him in the early morning act, and went for a patrolman. Stone, who slept upstairs, was roused and found that the cash was gone. When asked if he could identify his money, he remembered a nickel that had been languishing in the change drawer, worn so smooth that Stone felt he couldn’t give it to someone as change. When found with the nickel, the robber, who lived in the neighborhood went to trial, and was sentenced to four years in the penitentiary. People get a lot less for a lot more these days. 

By 1938, the corner building was recast as a tavern operated by Kenneth Korkoian. His license was suspended that year, as he was caught selling liquor after closing time. The tavern business must have been a good match for the available trade, as the building carried on in that capacity through the early 1950’s.  

By 1950, he ran the tavern at 2001 Park Avenue, and lived upstairs with his family. Business was so spotty that he began taking bets, in an attempt to break even. He was arrested by police who raided without a search warrant, and a grand jury refused to indict him. Red commented that his intent was to “quit the betting game as soon as he evened the score with his own bookie.” 

A year later he was again arrested on the same charge, but with tighter police procedures:

‘Thrown for a loss’ would seem one more apt metaphor, as the papers had a field day with the story. This time, he was tried, convicted and fined $1,000. When he later appeared in court to pay the fine, Red forgot to bring along an additional $114 to cover court costs. Judge Mayfield joined in the inescapable references, advising Red “this court is like football; you’ve got to be ready for the kickoff and not fumble the ball.” Facing a stay in the dreaded city workhouse, Red was saved by the intervention of a bondsman who lent him the money. 

Ron Taylor remembers 2001 Park Avenue as a bar owned by Harold Pope, appropriately called Pope’s, during the mid-1970s, when they were still pouring Falstaff from the tap. These two photos are from 1975:

From 1977 through 1980, it was a more refined spot known as The Commons; an uncommon restaurant, in that it only had two entrees on the menu, a 16 oz sirloin steak, and another item that changed monthly. Dinner was by reservation only and no children under 12 years of age were allowed. Some of the offerings were beef Wellington, roast duck and 3 pound Maine lobster. This is a long stretch from the ice cream store and bookie bar roots of the place. Within a couple years, the Commons was compelled by waning business to welcome the kids to join in, and eventually hosted everything from blues jams to short plays.

In 1981, the long and somewhat ramshackle Mississippi Avenue extension was working as O’Neil’s Barbecue, followed a year later by the Mississippi Saloon and Bar-B-Que Shack, which received an enthusiastic review from carnivorous Joe Pollack of the Post-Dispatch. 

Real estate roulette continued for this corner location. There was the short stint in 1980 as an art gallery and blues bar known as Emanuel’s. From 1982 to 1986, the front of the building was Salvatore’s Casa di Pasta, again well regarded by diners and critics alike. Salvatore D’Ippolito worked for years at Cunetto’s and his sister was really a double sister, who left the convent to become his business partner in Lafayette Square. 

It had a nice run as Ricardo’s from around 1989 though 1994. Pollack reviewed Ricardo’s in 1990, praising it for hitting the mark between casual trattoria and high-end Italian dining. Moderate prices, friendly service and good selection ensured a “solid, dependable and regular clientele, much of it from the neighborhood.” Finally, a place calibrated to stay a while. 

And it was a smooth turnover when Mark and Michelle Adams moved across Mississippi Avenue to another location (now Polite Society.) The building was bought by Arcelia Sanchez, who ran St Louis’s top rated Mexican restaurant there from 1995 to 2005. This ad was from 1997:

Arcelia passed away in 2008, and by 2012, the building had become Laredo, another Mexican themed restaurant, taking us to the present with Brad and Mandy Estrella and their Puerto Rican/Dominican/Cuban restaurant, Mayo Ketchup. In probably the most difficult year a restauranteur will ever encounter, they’ve managed to maintain their large and enthusiastic fan base. There is something different here, too, that bodes well for a long stay. 

2001 Park Avenue had largely aged in place for 145 years. A little window dressing here and there, but no fundamental commitment to the long term strengthening of the corner location. A new owner has finally injected some working capital into refreshing the building on all three floors. Mayo Ketchup looks to be situated here successfully as long as they care to feed us, and when Covid has finally run its course, it will call for a general neighborhood celebration in this great old new place.