Neighborhood ‘community’ closes its doors

Bonnie’s Cafe forced to close after 38 years on University Ave.

Personal reflections from waitress MARIA HERD

“How would you like your eggs with that?”

After graduating from Hamline University last year, I set out to pursue a career in journalism. I had been itching to get out in the world and ask hard questions to policymakers and those who influence our community. But with a competitive job market, I found myself waitressing at a cafe and asking different types of questiocasns.

“For your toast that comes with the meal, would you prefer white, wheat or English muffin?”

However, a job that I took to make ends meet, ended up being a window into a community, a family-run business and a piece of St. Paul history that I feel grateful to have been a part of.

Bonnie’s Cafe (photo left by Maria Herd), 2160 University Ave., was opened in 1978 by Juanita “Bonnie” Roell. Bonnie passed away in 2013 with cancer and gave the cafe to her daughters to run.

When I first started working at Bonnie’s last summer, I learned a lot about Bonnie just from all the articles that were posted around the cafe.

The year she died, the City of Saint Paul designated June 5 as Bonnie Roell Day, honoring her for creating a lasting neighborhood diner that served generations of customers, as well as her “entrepreneurship and character.”

And from an old Midway Como Monitor article, “But she was also well-known for hiring staff from all walks of life, and for making an effort to give jobs to those in need of a second chance.”

I can’t tell you how many times an older customer would tell me, “Oh I use to come here all the time in the 80s, the place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Then you must have known Bonnie,” I would usually say.

And everyone did know Bonnie. The way they spoke about the woman seemed to bring her to life—sometimes I felt like she could walk through the kitchen any minute.

They went on about her big heart, her graciousness, always making sure that no one left her cafe hungry, even if they couldn’t afford it.

Bonnie’s legacy lived on. I saw that same spirit among the customers during my time waitressing.  On several occasions, a customer gave me extra money for their bill and asked me to put it toward another person’s bill who appeared in need of a helping hand.

It would warm my heart when it was my turn to pass along the message that their meal was covered by a kind stranger. It’s not every day that you see someone’s face light up like that.

Furthermore, after the cafe closed at the end of March, our cook Chris Johnson organized to donate the leftover food to the Union Gospel Mission and Lutheran Church Wellness Center, which fed over 200 people.

“My message is to uphold my mother’s impeccable reputation, her dignity, and respect for others. Let it be known I did everything to carry out her legacy, of which I couldn’t have done without our stand-up staff members, our dedicated customers, our community and supporters, every single person who walked through those doors,” Bonnie’s daughter and owner Becky Moosebrugger told me as her final statement about the cafe.

How Bonnie’s Cafe had to close finally after almost 40 years, was really, really sad. The Dubliner, the bar next door, made a deal with the landlord to take over the space and turn it into a restaurant. Becky hadn’t known about the negotiations and had no say in the matter.

What’s even more sad, is that Becky was planning to give the cafe to her children. Her son’s fiancee, my manager Allie, worked at Bonnie’s for over two years. Bonnie’s Cafe was a small family business that had been run by three generations.

In her interview with KARE11 on our final day of business, Allie said, “The saddest part for me is the customers. There are people we see on a daily basis, and now they won’t have that to come to.”

Photo right: Bonnie’s Cafe was packed with customers wanting one more omelette or blueberry pancake on its closing day—March 26, 2016. (Photo by Maria Herd)

The regulars at Bonnie’s Cafe is another aspect of what made the restaurant so special. So many people would come in for breakfast every day, or couples and families would stop by every weekend. We knew all of these people by name, and they knew us. We would ask about their kids and their jobs; they would ask us about our dogs and vacations. Bonnie’s Cafe was its own little community.

Okay, maybe I didn’t know everyone’s name. But I did recognize a lot of the same people. There were the “coffee and water guys” who always sat at a booth and only had coffee and water. There was the guy with a book who always got blueberry pancakes.

Then there were people I remembered because they always asked for peanut butter on the side, or always ordered the Around the Clock with extra crispy bacon.

And of course, we knew a lot of the regulars’ orders by heart. We would start making their breakfast and getting their coffee or diet Pepsi as soon as they walked in the door.

Furthermore, friendships were made in the Cafe. Later on, I found out that some of the men who frequently ate breakfast together actually met at Bonnie’s.

Stepping into the cafe was like stepping back in time. Up until our last day in 2016, we still didn’t take credit cards. I swear that our ancient looking cash register (photo left by Maria Herd) belongs in a museum next to a typewriter. The cafe sported vintage green booths, green and white checkered tablecloths and floral wallpaper from the 70s.

Last but not least, I miss the food. Bonnie was not only an incredible and caring person—she knew good breakfast. Bonnie’s Cafe won the “best breakfast” and “best cafe” in the Twin Cities awards from City Pages multiple times.

Some of our most popular dishes were the roast beef hash, the polish sausage and the biscuits and gravy. My favorite recommendations were the blueberry pancakes, the scrambler, and the Denver omelet.

Bonnie’s spirit and legacy will live on—in our stomachs as well as our hearts.