Gaslight Square

On February 10, 1959, a tornado swept through St. Louis, toppling the KTVI tower and damaging the Arena on Oakland Avenue. It eventually bore down on Olive Street at its T-shaped intersection with Boyle.

The Musical Arts Building, on the southwest corner of Boyle and Olive, was a landmark of the once fashionable West End neighborhood. Opera star Helen Traubel studied voice there; movie star Betty Grable learned to dance there; a young Vincent Price had gone to the dentist in one of its offices.

The 1959 twister took out the north wall of its upper two stories and damaged the Gaslight Bar on its ground floor. All around the Musical Arts Building was a scene of similar destruction.
 

The Musical Arts Building, February 1959

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The Musical Arts building was built around 1900. Private schools and fashionable shops were located in the area, frequented by residents of the big houses on Westminster Place. The neighborhood deteriorated to the point of becoming a notorious red-light district in the 1930s, but a revitalization began in the 1940s. Playwright William Inge lived there then, and the first version of his play "Picnic" (entitled "Front Porch") was produced at the Toy Theater at 455 Boyle.

Alex Bayou opened Smokey Joe’s Grecian Gardens in the early 1950s at 4255 Olive, with its glowing pink neon sign and its much-photographed Greek columns. By this time, the area became known as "Greenwich Corners."
 

Smokey Joe's Grecian Terrace Menu (click image to enlarge)

Smokey Joe's Grecian Terrace

In the mid 1950s, the area started to attract an assortment of saloons, eateries and antique stores, as well as the Adams Hotel, where baseball players like Jackie Robinson and Roy Campanella stayed before they were welcome at the Chase. Richard Mutrux opened the Gaslight Bar in the Musical Arts Building, a favorite stopping place for businessmen heading home from work at day’s end.

In November of 1956, Jimmy Massucci opened the Golden Eagle, just west of Smokey Joe's. Then came Theo Goldston's Eagle’s Nest and Jay Landesman's Crystal Palace, along with a drugstore, a laundry and a few other places that nestled at the intersection of Boyle and Olive.
 

Golden Eagle Saloon and Opera House Menu (click image to enlarge)

In those early days, from 1955 until the tornado of February 1959, the atmosphere was loose and casual. The various owners would meet for lunch in the drugstore, then sit on the curb, exchanging dreams and ideas. Everyone knew – and enjoyed – everyone else, and it was easy to wander from place to place, usually with drink in hand. The only threat was the streetcar that rumbled along Olive Street.

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The 1959 tornado at first seemed to have snuffed out the promise of a rebirth at Boyle and Olive. But then something good began to happen. In the wake of the destruction came sightseers and the insurance claim adjusters.

Since the Boyle-Olive area was one of the hardest hit by the tornado and widely covered by the press, people began swarming to the scene to view the damage. Many had known only vaguely where the intersection was. Now it became one of the best known areas in the city.
 

Tornado Damage, Gaslight Square - February, 1959

The infusion of insurance money led to quick recovery by the building owners. Old places, like the Gaslight Bar, soon were operating again, with more business than ever, and new places began to appear. Soon, everyone was calling the area by a new name – Gaslight Square.

By the summer of 1960, Gaslight Square was the hottest entertainment spot in town. Old-time city street lights lined the wide sidewalk in front of the Golden Eagle and Smokey Joe’s Grecian Terrace, which had outdoor tables filled with customers every evening.
 

During the 1959-61 period, the openings were almost nightly. Jack Newman had Jacks or Better. The Dark Side of the Moon, generally know just as the Dark Side, brought cool jazz under the guidance of Spider Burks and the talents of Jeanne Trevor and the Quartet Tres Bien. Ed Dorsey brought a steak house, Mr. D’s, where Ceil Clayton played the piano. Bustles and Bowes brought ragtime, the Bella Rosa offered pizza, Marty Bronson made Marty’s a sing-along place, the Whiskey a Go-Go was an early disco. Singleton Palmer’s tuba boomed through the Opera House and to the street outside, and Sammy Gardner’s clarinet sang at Joe and Charlie’s.

And there were more places. Wade DeWoskin opened Port St. Louis, Rosemary (Pat) O'Brien had Tortilla Flat, Myron and Becky Levy brought Japanese cuisine with Kotobuki. There was the Natchez Queen and the Butterscotch Lounge, the Blackhorse and the Roaring Twenties, the Left Bank, the Islander, the Club Tres Bien and the Living Room.

The entertainment places and restaurants on the Square had increased tenfold. On April 17, 1961, the Smothers Brothers opened in a revue at the Crystal Palace. Second on the bill was an 18-year-old singer named Barbara Streisand.

To many, this was the golden-age of Gaslight Square. By the summer of 1961, Gaslight Square’s fame had spread far and wide. Conventions were coming to St. Louis because of it. Sightseeing buses were letting people off at Boyle and Olive on a regular schedule. Parking had become a serious problem.
 

Gaslight Square Map (click image to enlarge)

[Click links for articles on 2¢ Plain and Port St. Louis.]

The Laughing Buddha

One of Gaslight Square's pioneering establishments was Lee Young's Laughing Buddha. Opened on April 24, 1960, the coffeehouse, which did not serve alcohol, became a favorite night spot for underage folk music enthusiasts.

Young, an attorney from Union, Missouri, originally opened his coffeehouse in the Boyle side of the Musical Arts Building, between the Gaslight Bar and the Westminster Emporium drugstore. One of the many handwritten signs outside the Emporium pointed to the Boyle location. However, in 1961, when the drugstore space became available, Young moved The Laughing Buddha to the corner of Boyle and Olive. The handwritten signs were replaced by a smiling Buddha, designed by artist Ernest Trova (enlarge images below).
 

Boyle and Olive, 1960 (click image to enlarge)

Boyle and Olive, 1961 (click image to enlarge)

The initial space, a former barbershop, had the feel of a cozy living room. Well dressed teens sat on sofas and chairs, with non-spirited drinks on coffee tables, as they listened to their favorite folksingers.
 

Jeanine Young and John Mitchell sing at the Laughing Buddha St. Louis Post-Dispatch, July 10, 1960

The larger corner space had a more formal stage near the front, with tables and chairs. Coffees and pastries were served in the back of the room.

Decades later, Lee Young reminisced about The Laughing Buddha from his law office in Union, Missouri.

Of course, that was our entertainment. We had folksingers. We had two who became very prominent. Judy Collins would show up about every three months and sing for an engagement. [And} Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul & Mary. I think the first time they sang "Puff, The Magic Dragon" was at the Laughing Buddha. It was a new song that a friend of his had just written, and he wanted to sing it.

So, we had a lot of the folk singers who sang nationally. And then, locally, we’d always have a singer, Bob Winters, and he was there all the time. He was sort of the backup singer. We didn’t ever have to introduce him. But then we’d always bring in a singer from the outside.

The Laughing Buddha, Jul 28, 1961	Bob Winters, 1961

The Laughing Buddha was a much quieter place than most of the Gaslight Square venues, except for its noisy espresso machine, which generally waited to roar into brewing mode until performers were in the midst of their most mellow songs. The cigarette machine had a weird voice that said "The Laughing Buddha thanks you" whenever a pack of cigarettes was purchased.

We were part of the early coffeehouse deal. Nothing like what’s going on today with Starbuck’s. People thought it was ridiculous to pay a dollar for a cup of coffee, when they could get a drink for a dollar. But no, we were giving them the same fancy coffee that we’re getting now.

We used to get our coffee from O’Connor. O’Connor coffee brought in some chocolate in tins that they’d get in Holland. And we made a hot chocolate with milk. And it just amused me, the people who came strictly for the hot chocolate. It was always, it’s the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve never been able to find that hot chocolate syrup again. But it was excellent. People loved it.

I used to get some of our pastries from a local bakery, and I think we were one of the first spots in St. Louis to serve baklava. We had an Italo-American supplier, who was a wholesaler, and he used to get tins of it for me out of New York City. Nobody made it in this area. It was one of the desserts in the coffeehouse.

The Laughing Buddha Menu, 1961 (click image to enlarge)

On the night of January 10, 1962, the Musical Arts Building was badly damaged by a spectacular fire. The following day, The Laughing Buddha was a mass of ice-coated debris.

There was a fire in the Musical Arts Building, on the second floor. And that, of course, did so much damage we had to close. And we subsequently remodeled and I decided we would then open up as a bar, known as The Lorelei. I wish we’d remained The Laughing Buddha, but that was . . .

The Three Fountains

One of Gaslight Square’s most glorious moments came on December 20, 1960 when Richard and Paul Mutrux opened The Three Fountains restaurant in the Musical Arts Building. It was one of the most elegant restaurants in the nation, and it served French cuisine to match.
 

The Three Fountains, Musical Arts Building, 1963

Richard and Paul Mutrux were two of 12 brothers and sisters, nine boys and three girls, including Paul's twin brother, George. Their father and their mother were both of French descent.

"We lived in a rambling house out in Ladue when that was out in the country," Paul recalled, "and every time another child or two was born my father added another room."

Papa Mutrux had started life as an artist – he painted, among other things, the murals in the City Hall in University City. Their mother was well trained in music and she taught them music at home. But the thing they remembered most about her was that she was an outstanding cook. Early in life they learned the difference between ordinary cooking and excellent cooking, and it set their standards high.

During World War II, Paul and his twin brother George worked together as architects in Bordeaux, helping to build an ordnance depot. They had an apartment and two French cookbooks, one an Escoffier, and decided to master French cookery.

"In time we got pretty good," Paul said modestly. "I might say that our boeuf Bourguignon was rather sensational."

In 1957, Paul returned to St. Louis. When Richard opened the Gaslight Bar in the Musical Arts Building, Paul played the guitar there at night. Then he and Richard got the idea for a high-class restaurant in Gaslight Square."Richard’s a good interior decorator; I made sketches and we went to work on it," Paul said.

Richard Mutrux saw things a bit differently.

When we were working on The Three Fountains, I was having problems with my brother. My brother’s a brilliant architect, and so he was doing this great interior and I was the decorator. And I don’t know if you know much about architects, but most architects are not decorators. Totally different breed. And my brother wanted this austere place that had no decorations, just lights.

I started buying these things like, oh, I bought these chandeliers from the World’s Fair that had been out at Washington University. And I bought this great big sculpture of a woman standing on a wheel, or something like that. And every time I’d buy something he’d cringe and say, "Oh that’s so horrible, that’s horrible." There was a house in Clayton that had been a big mansion; they tore it down to put up a church. But there was a six-foot high stained glass window of Romeo and Juliet. I got it for like, I don’t know, $300 or something, and I put that in the corner. And my brother looked at my mother and said, "He’s ruining the place, he’s ruining the place!"

Well it turns out that these were the big things. The Romeo and Juliet window was where lovers wanted to have a table. And when you saw the chandelier, the Romeo and Juliet window and the statue, they ended up being the focal point of the whole restaurant.

Paul Mutrux (right) and twin brother George	The Three Fountains Dining Room

The Three Fountains exuded luxury, with a multilevel interior lavishly decorated with antique fixtures. The wrought iron balcony railings were salvaged from the Grand Avenue bridge. There were burled mahogany panels from the Merchant’s Exchange building. Two of the three fountains that gave the restaurant its name were copies of the third, which came from a private garden in Vandeventer Place.
 

The Three Fountains

The Three Fountains built their business around such specialties as tripes à la mode de Caen (prepared by Paul), les escalopes de veau Cordon Bleu (sometimes prepared by Richard), cuisses de grenouilles à la Provençale and Paul’s own French bread. There were also recipes from La Tassée du Chapitre, a Parisian restaurant owned by Paul’s twin brother, George.
 

The Three Fountains Menu (click image to enlarge)

In 1964, Gaslight Square boasted 36 night spots, an estimated six-million-dollar business and a good national image. By the summer of 1968, it was down to six night spots, and The Three Fountains was being stripped of its antiques by Richard Mutrux.

We’re moving downtown. It’s the only thing we can do. Most people have been reluctant to come into this area in the last year. They are frightened about crime in the streets.

Gaslight Square has gone from a name with a great national image to a name that is detrimental to a business. Gosh, we used to have customers from all over . . . Jane Russell ate here. And Mitch Miller, Senator Abraham Ribicoff, Lorne Green, Arthur Godfrey. Lyndon Johnson made a reservation when he was Vice President.

But things changed overnight about three years ago. And when the riots came last year, people just stayed out in the suburbs and shivered. We had a drop in business . . . er, as we say, not enough of an increase in business. This happened to businesses in urban areas all over the country.

So I’ve acquired a piece of real estate downtown with five other people – a good, safe place not far from Busch Stadium that we feel won’t be torn down. We’ll reopen – with the same décor – in about four months.

Richard Mutrux lived on until 2006. The Three Fountains died in the summer of 1968. It never reopened.

Kotobuki

In 1958, Ted Okamura opened the Tokyo Inn at 18th and Chestnut in downtown St. Louis. Myron Levy was a frequent customer at Okamura's restaurant. He was often one of the only customers, and customer and chef would sit and talk.

"We will open another restaurant, Okamura and Levy," said Levy, "and put it where people can find it, in Gaslight Square."

Levy was employed by the County Highway Department; he knew nothing about the restaurant business. But in October of 1960, Levy, his wife Rebecca and Okamura opened the Kotobuki Japanese Restaurant at 4287 Olive in Gaslight Square.
 

Myron Levy St. Louis Post-Dispatch, May 6, 1960	St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Oct 30, 1960

Kotobuki, 1962
Kotobuki Dining Room, 1962

Okamura was stationed in the kitchen and Levy created all of the specialty cocktails. Becky Levy ran the front of the house, greeting customers and asking them to take off their shoes before they went upstairs onto grass mats.

On weekends, there would be an hour or two wait for a table in the upstairs Tatami dining room, where the "Kotobuki Sukiyaki Dinner" was prepared tableside. The kimono clad servers were the Japanese wives of soldiers stationed at Scott Air Force Base.

The waitress prepares your dinner in a manner that offers you a visual treat, an olfactory pleasure and a delicious taste sensation. The platter, as artfully arranged as an ikebana flower setting is presented for your visual enjoyment. The waitress then begins cooking the food at the side of your table so that the delicate odors of the cooking delight the nose and whet the appetite. Then the delicious combination of meat and exotic ingredients in a specially blended sauce is served and the taste of this famous dish is even more delicious and delightful than the eyes and the nose have promised.

Kotobuki Sukiyaki is prepared with the finest tenderloin of beef, sliced paper-thin, cooked in a sauce of imported aged shoyu, blended with the finest mirin sake, with mushroom; bamboo shoots, tofu (soy bean curd), shirataki (translucent noodles) and fresh garden vegetables.

Dinner included miso soup, sunomono salad, tempura, Japanese pickles, cookies, sherbet, tea and coffee.

The first floor dining room offered conventional steaks and chops, in addition to a wide ranging Japanese menu.
 

Kotobuki Menu, early 1960s (click image to enlarge)

The Levys closed Kotobuki in 1965, as the charm of Gaslight Square evaporated into noise and rowdy crowds. There were plans to move the restaurant to the Central West End, but a space large enough with sufficient parking never materialized.
 

Kotobuki, 1964

O’Connell’s Pub

In the fall of 1961, Jack Seltzer, Ray Gottfried and Frank Mormino opened O'Connell's Irish Pub at 454 North Boyle. After a few months, Mormino, who had opened Europa 390 in the Central West End, sold his interest to Dick Draper.
 

O'Connell's Pub, 454 North Boyle, 1963

Norah McDermott was a customer in those early days. She would end up working as a server at O'Connell's for 36 years.

I used to go to O’Connell’s for lunch all the time. And dinner, because I lived in the area. And it was one of those odd circumstances where the business was changing hands, the owners were getting out of it entirely. They sold to someone else. I didn’t really like the operation as if was conducted at that point.

Richard Mutrux, from his vantage point at The Three Fountains, remembered the change of ownership.

It had been a total failure for a while under one ownership, under two ownerships, and the third ownership. And then this guy, Jack Parker, a fantastic person . . . I mean before he opened O’Connell’s, some would think he was sort of a joke around the place. Somehow he’s magic, because he opened O’Connell’s and suddenly everybody started going to O’Connell’s. And it was this amazing place.

Jack Parker, 1961	Jack Parker, 1962

Jack Parker grew up in a little house on the corner of Dover Place and Colorado Avenue in south St. Louis. "I was born in 1937, so it was the tail end of the Depression," he said, "and by the time I was cognizant, it was the second World War."

He went to Cleveland High School, where he pledged Delta Psi Kappa – a frat more famous for good times than good grades. "I was kind of a goof-off, and I didn’t apply myself," Parker remembered.

After he worked grooming racehorses and selling DeSotos, Parker moved into a cheap apartment on Olive Street and got his first good bartending job at The Opera House on Friday and Saturday nights, when Singleton Palmer was there. Slowly, Parker educated himself, determined "to be able to discuss Albert Camus with the guy next to me on the bar stool."

Parker eventually became the bartender at O'Connell's, supervising both drinks and the tiny grill that prepared hamburgers and London broil, the only menu items. A few months later, he added a soup tureen.

In 1965, when profits started to fall and the pub’s owners decided they wanted out, Parker arranged to take over the business.
 

Jack Parker tending bar at O'Connell's Pub

O'Connell's Pub	Jack Parker

Parker hired Norah McDermott as a server in 1966.

O’Connell’s was a place you could go and talk. We played mostly classical music at that time. You had the newspaper reporters, the professors from Saint Louis University, Washington U. Very much a conversation bar.

It had been one long room, originally. The grill and the soup pot, a coffee machine was here. There was a very long bar and booths along the windows. Tables and booths at the end. Jack eventually got the storefront next door. Knocked a hole through the wall and that was quite good. I started working at that point. Certainly, now people think Jack founded it because people don’t remember the other lot.

Norah McDermott serving customers at O'Connell's

The burger was the mainstay on O'Connell's menu, introduced by a guy who’d tended bar at P.J. Clarke’s in New York. All the other burgers in St. Louis – even Medart’s – were flat-grilled. The O’Connell’s burger was thick, made with top grade beef, and it could be ordered rare.

There was also roast beef, cooked to order with or without au jus, the Coney Island, with a premium frankfurter grilled to perfection, and a salad with "Mayfair" dressing. Daily specials including fish and chips on Friday, and there was a soup of the day and chili.
 

Jack Parker at the O'Connell's grill, 1969

By 1972, the once happening Gaslight Square was nearly vacant and Parker had to make a decision.

It was a desperation move by that time. I could've gotten out a couple years before then. This was my whole livelihood, not just a business that was part of my whole shtick. This is all I had. It became a decision of where to go, how to go, when to go. I had started looking a couple years before then. And it just happened.

He packed up everything and moved to a 1905 Anheuser-Busch tavern on an isolated, industrial stretch of South Kingshighway. He's still there today.

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Theories abound as to what caused the demise of Gaslight Square. Some believe its very success is what killed it. Its growth lacked any kind of control. By 1965, the area was becoming dominated by discotheques with go-go dancers and loud recorded music. The charm of the original Square evaporated into noise and rowdy crowds.

Crime was also a factor in the decline. Customers became reluctant to park on the streets where muggings and robberies were being reported.

A new generation was coming of age, one more interested in attending rock concerts and anti-war protests than in patronizing quiet bars and listening to bagpipes, banjos and Dixieland jazz.

One after another, the restaurants and bars closed or moved.
 

O'Connell's Pub, Kingshighway and Shaw

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