Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
When it comes time to crown the city’s finest each year, we often debate whether to include its perennial favorites, staples like Tony’s and Ted Drewes, O’Connell’s Pub and Blueberry Hill. These institutions have been around seemingly forever—yet few outside Forest Park can claim an entire century at the top.
Among that handful, Crown Candy Kitchen has kept customers coming to Old North St. Louis for 100 years. It’s done so without gimmicks or slick finishes, staying true to what it knows: intimate booths, no-fuss sandwiches, and malts made for the perfect summer day.
This month, staff writer Jeannette Cooperman captures life inside the city’s oldest soda fountain. It’s a story that’s classically St. Louis, one with its share of ups and downs. As he recounted some of Crown’s many stories, co-owner Andy Karandzieff told Cooperman what happened on Christmas Day 1983, when his phone rang early that morning.
“Call Dad, and tell him the store’s on fire,” his brother Mike said.
It was 13 degrees below zero at the time, and neither Andy’s nor his father’s car would start. They caught a ride from Andy’s brother Tommy. On the long drive to Old North, their father, George, didn’t say a word. After he’d recently undergone colon surgery, the news hit him hard.
When they arrived, the Karandzieffs saw a long line of firetrucks surrounding their small soda fountain. “It was mostly heat and smoke damage,” Andy says. “But TV got wind of it, and within an hour of the news broadcast, there must have been 50 people standing out there with us.
“That’s another of those moments when you realized who my father was,” Andy adds. “Christmas Day—they’re all saying, ‘What can we do?’ And they kept coming.”
They kept coming for the next five weeks, in fact, helping with cleanup and repairs, so Crown could reopen by Valentine’s Day—just in time to dip chocolate-covered strawberries.
St. Louis wasn’t about to lose its favorite soda fountain.
