Photograph by King Schoenfeld
Reunions can be a bit awkward, as people shuffle into conversations and try to find their sense of comfort, often not even knowing who stands across from them. On Sunday, a quickly called gathering took place at South City’s MoKaBe’s, as old friends and fans came together to remember the Wabash Triangle Café, which burned almost exactly 20 years prior. A few folks drifted in just prior to the 2 p.m. start time; they looked around, decided that they were there for the same reason and fell into small group discussions while waiting for the arrival of the Wabash’s owner, the ebullient Calvin Case.
At just past 2:12, he was finally spotted, walking up to the front door with something like a smile on his face. As simply as that, the rest of the afternoon’s mood was set. Within an hour, about 20 people were gathered at MoKaBe’s to reminisce about the Café’s short life of just over three years.
“It was in 1991, kind around [this time of year], in February or March,” Case said with an added crack. “It was three days before anyone came in.”
Once they did, they found a venue that was pretty much one of a kind. Mix-and-match thrift store furniture was surrounded by local artwork. People sometimes brought things in and simply left them with Case, thinking they’d work for the space; a lot of times those items stayed for good. It was a developing sort of chaos there, with the place filling up as the months passed. The look was, let’s call it, “distinct.” A huge mural was painted behind the venue’s long stage, as a an entire wall windows looked out onto the 6100 block of Delmar, a simple blue awning running across the lengthy exterior and flags breaking up that floor-to-ceiling glass.
Case was usually stationed at the bar, pulling coffee drinks, selling beer or telling stories. All were notable parts of this job. As a storyteller, Case would entertain with stories about his days in Germany, when part of the military; or from his freewheeling, younger times in the Bay Area. As a barman, he’d bring in some of the beers he picked up on in Europe, including Warsteiner and Carlsberg, though the Foster’s “oil cans” wound up the best sellers. (It’s almost laughable now, looking at his beer prices of $1.75 to $2.50, the latter dubbed “fancy beer.”) As a barista, he brought coffeehouse lessons learned in both Europe and San Francisco, hinting at the bohemian vibes the Wabash emanated.
Coupling with some off-site food providers, like Nana Baking, Case also developed a reasonably large menu, including a lot vegetarian fare, though the burgers were probably the restaurant side’s mainstay dish.
Beyond the food and drink, music was the primary draw, as Case and his small staff brought in a variety of groups; it was a largely local roster, but also featured regional and national acts. In the latter camp, groups like Chumbawamba and Paula Cole came through, before enjoying their brief moments of fame. Pansy Division was a cult fave when it visited; ditto Trout Fishing in America. The Bodeans played a matinee “for nobody but the opening band,” as Case remembered. Recording artist Kristeen Young, he suggested, who was then-fronting her band November 9th, was maybe “the most famous person to play the Café,” well before her recent years as a fixture on Morrissey’s tours.
While talking about the bands that played the room, Case looked around for help, calling on his former, on-hand staffers (Chrisi Cummings, John Holt, Beth Steinbrenner and Richard Beckman) for added names. After a few minutes, a huge chunk of the St. Louis music community was ticked off: Red Weather, Blake Travis and Joe Bidewell, The Groupers, Vitamin A, Five of These, Angus Tweed, Fragile Porcelain Mice, Radio Iodine, Andy Ploof, The Stranded Lads, The Studebakers, Pretty Polly, Wagon among countless others.
The Wabash’s most-popular night of the week was arguably Wednesday, when poetry night was held. At the same time that the slam poetry scene was exploding out of Chicago, a regular core of readers were holding down the Wabash stage, names including Rob Templeton, Paul Stewart, Michael O’Brian, Maria Massey, Jeannie Breeze, Margeau Baue Steinau, Kevin Tong McCameron and Linda Lawson. A 2010 film by David Wraith Dandridge, entitled The Roof is On Fire, has captured much of that energetic scene.
But if there’s a real legacy to the Wabash’s short history it’s in the venue’s stimulation of the University City Loop; now enough businesses exist east of Skinker and in the city that it’s simply The Loop, but when the Wabash existed, on essentially the same plot that now houses The Pageant, the cultural amenities of The Loop basically stopped at the city limits, a big block west of Skinker. Taking its name from the nearby Wabash train station, Case and his small crew helped move a lot of people across a street that was often just as a profound a borderline as Delmar, itself.
While a bike shop, bars, a pastry shop, a bowling alley, a hotel and clothing retailers now find the east Loop a comfortable place to call home, during the Wabash’s run, it was still considered a bit (if not a lot) dangerous to step foot on that side of Skinker; the area suffered from a reputation buttressed by decades of theories and behaviors influenced race, class and simple geography.
The Wabash Triangle planted a flag in a part of town that was off-the-cultural grid during its lifespan. That spirit, though, meant that the people who’d come there were a little different, often a bit counter-cultural and perhaps looking for a little extra kick during their night out. (Some of the wilder, off-hours stories about the Wabash came about exactly because it was somewhat isolated.) For some patrons, scattered around the region, country and world, the place might not even register today; it was a just a place that existed in St. Louis for a short while, a spot to grab a drink or catch an underground band.
Others, though, remember it differently. In the minutes prior to Case’s arrival, Michael Draga, an avid local photographer and painter, said that he was going through a major transition in his life when the Triangle was operating. It was a haven for creativity, allowing for all types of expression, brought to life by amateurs and professionals alike. Kinships formed.
“Many of my best friends today,” Draga said, “were people I met at the Wabash then.”
It had that effect on people. It’s a place well worth the occasional celebration.
For more on the Wabash, check out Thomas Crone's 2010 story for Preservation Research Office.
