Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Frank Schmitz
What started as a handful of high-top tables and a tiny bar, whimsically named BARcelona, grew into one of Clayton’s more successful restaurants. The sprawl of sidewalk tables that crept up and down Central Avenue defined outdoor dining there for years. After almost two decades, a half-block residential development forced owner Frank Schmitz to relocate. Alas, a deal fell through at the eleventh hour, leaving Schmitz with furniture, fixtures, paella pans, and no place to go. Until he finds a new spot, Schmitz is considering a BARcelon-eta—a 1,000-square-foot pop-up mini version—just to keep the brand alive.
When you heard that BARcelona was in the footprint of a new development, was the plan to move it or close it? Move it. I had been looking for over a year to move BARcelona within Clayton. I got very close to striking a deal, but we couldn’t come to an agreement, so I was forced to close with no plan going forward.
So then what? The plan was to close BARcelona and move the furniture and equipment into the new space in the same breath. Since that didn’t happen, the new plan was to put everything in storage and take my time researching a new spot. The pressure is off me now. I haven’t even had time to drive the streets and look around. I will look at any place that makes sense, from 2,500 to 3,500 square feet, but my preference is to stay in Clayton. And I really want to be able to re-create what people are used to, that open feeling spilling onto the sidewalk.
So what’s the plan going forward? When I had two BARcelonas, I thought I might franchise, but that never happened. Since 2017, I’ve been happy with the one. Going forward, the plan is for BARcelona to reopen. If I find a place in a week or a few months, fine. If I haven’t found a spot by the spring, it’s probably not going to happen, and I’ll retire. That said, I’m determined to do one more BARcelona.
Talk about growing up in Germany. I went to culinary school in my hometown, Frankfurt, Germany, did some military service, and moved to Switzerland to work with my brother, where I gravitated more to the front of the house. In 1982, I moved to Bermuda, got married, and took more schooling there to get a hotel and restaurant degree. I opened a 45-seat bistro in Hamilton called le Figaro, became a partner in the wine shop next door, and was in charge of food and beverage at the Departure Lounge for 10 years. By 2001, I had divorced and had enough of the island and left to come here. I met my second wife, Eloise, a few years prior, when she was vacationing in Bermuda. She happened to be from St. Louis.
So you moved here. Yes, Eloise wanted to get married and have children, so I moved here. One of our go-to places was Café Mira, where we became friendly with the owner, chef Mike Johnson. He and I started talking; we knew that Eddie [Neill] wanted out at Café Provencal, and we bought him out. My idea was to do another French restaurant there, but Michael was insistent on tapas, so BARcelona it was. He gets full credit for that decision.
Were your parents in the business? They owned a few restaurants—traditional German places. My brother [Claus] and I worked in the kitchen, my mom worked the front of the house, and both of my sisters became waitresses. So all four of us kids were involved. No other career ever presented itself for us. Claus, Ellen, and myself ended up moving to St. Louis. Claus owned the three Mosaic restaurants, as well as Prime 1000 downtown, and Ellen started Coastal [Bistro & Bar] with Claus and me.
Talk about Bocci Bar, the modern Italian restaurant that you owned. My wife was looking for office space, and we looked at the second floor at 14 N. Central, at which point the landlord convinced us to take the whole building since there was nobody downstairs. That’s how Bocci was born. My wife designed it. Helen Lee [with Tao Lee Architects] brought her ideas to life, as she did with our other places.
Bocci was a stylish restaurant with good food. Across the front was a window wall that collapsed like an accordion, which completely opened up the shotgun space. My intent for Bocci—which is the plural of bocce, by the way—was to have an all-Italian wine list, fresh pasta, and a thin-crust pizza dough that we made ourselves. And it clicked—it became popular. This was 2011, at the same time that we expanded BARcelona the second time. The year before, my sister Ellen, Claus, and I opened Coastal together. So for a time, we had BARcelona, Bocci, and Coastal along Central [Avenue], all within steps of each other.
Talk about Coastal Bistro & Bar, the seafood and beach-themed restaurant. My sister Ellen designed Coastal, but the small-plates-style menu there was inspired by Claus’ and my memories of Bermuda and the coasts—East Coast, West Coast, and the islands. Coastal introduced lobster rolls to a lot of St. Louisans, and the oyster happy hour was popular. We even drifted into some Gulf Coast dishes, like shrimp and grits and fig cake.
When did Bocci and Coastal close? The leases for both ended in 2016, and we chose not to renew either. Staffing and management had become an issue, and Claus had just opened Mosaic in Des Peres, which spread him thin. At the same time, I had been running the food and beverage concession at Shaw Park for five years, which was profitable, but it was busy in the summer, when our other restaurants in Clayton were also busy. In September 2017, the BARcelona I had opened in Indianapolis expired, and I decided I didn’t want to travel back and forth anymore, leaving me with only the one in Clayton.
You had some dry-aging cabinets for meat inside BARcelona, which was an interesting twist. My brother Claus and Nadia Bruno founded and still operate Steak Locker, which makes dry-aging cabinets for home or commercial use, which is a clever niche. I sold BARcelona’s two cabinets a few weeks before we closed.
Back in the early days, I remember how BARcelona’s outside tables slowly crept down the sidewalk. [Laughs.] Now they cover the whole block because there’s nobody left on the block. But back then, we were instrumental in establishing outside dining in Clayton. In 2002, there were precious few sidewalk tables then. It was just us and the Seven Gables Inn. Our sidewalk tables were a function of the expansions.
Expansions, plural? In 2004, when we expanded the dining room and added French doors, it was logical that there be a few tables outside of them, and Clayton agreed to it. In 2011, when I expanded on the other side—where the bar is—I repeated the process, and Clayton approved again, so we added a few more tables. When Jennifer’s Pharmacy announced it was closing, I asked to use their part of the sidewalk, which gave us more tables. At that point, Clayton established an ordinance that said if your neighbor gives you permission in writing, you can use their sidewalk per your agreement, and the tables can be left there. That’s how that long row of tables started and progressed. And during the pandemic, Clayton was fine with any and all outside dining. We got up to 80 seats, I think. Even though it’s seasonal, that’s where we made all our money. You drive by, see all the action, and you want to jump in and participate.
