Greg Bean
Coda
This is a story about optimism, but before I tell it, I have to tell you a little bit about small towns in Wyoming.
When I was growing up there, I went to high school in Casper, which at about 35,000 inhabitants was referred to by the folk who lived in truly small towns as “the city.” Casper had two single-screen theaters, probably 20 restaurants, a couple of strip malls, three chain department stores, and Lou Taubert’s, a five-floor building where Lou sold Western clothing, boots and ranch supplies like saddles and lariats.
You may not believe it, but people would drive hundreds of miles to shop in Casper, see a movie and eat at a restaurant. At that time, we had the only Italian restaurant in the state (featuring what I now realize was a lot of melted Velveeta), one of the three Chinese restaurants and the only pizza parlor. We also had The Dump drive-in (which sported a 55-gallon garbage can spinning on the roof) where high school girls would bring cheeseburgers and root beers to your car, and where Sarge McClintock would spin records in the KATI Kaboose (a little pull-trailer that the radio station lugged around for on-site broadcasts) every Friday night from 8 p.m. until midnight.
You could always spot the out-of-town visitors. They were the ones who’d stand on Second Street marveling at the stoplights, because there were no stoplights where they came from. They were the ones shaking their heads at all the “traffic,” which to them meant there were more than two cars waiting for a light to go green. They were the ones who looked a little nervous in the main hallway of the mall, because they seldom saw so many people (maybe a couple hundred) in one place. They felt like the world was simply closing in.
And for them it was. They came from places like Moneta, and Baggs, and Bondurant, and Marbleton, and Cora, and Daniel, and Shoshoni, and Kaycee and Encampment, where the total population never edged above 500, and in many places was much smaller, maybe 10 or 12 souls. Some places, like Waltman and Ucross, were so small that if the only resident decided to sell, the buyer would be purchasing the whole town. In that state, a town like Cody, with maybe 7,000 residents, was a big town. Casper was a metropolis, and Cheyenne, with around 40,000 residents and an Air Force base, was so crowded it was unimaginable.
It hasn’t changed that much, and those small towns are still pretty much the same as when I lived there.
Which makes the story of Vince and Cheryl Pierce, who live in the small town of LaBarge (population 493, elevation 6,600 feet) that much more fun.
People in New Jersey, the most densely populated state in the nation, might have a hard time imagining life in that place. There are no stoplights in LaBarge. No new buildings were erected there between 1997 and 2006. There are three bars, but there are no hotels, no clothing stores, no lawyers, no schools (students take a bus to Big Piney).
And no restaurants.
To get a hamburger, a stack of pancakes, or even a tuna sandwich, residents of LaBarge have to go to Dry Creek, where they have a four-stool grill at the convenience store, or drive 20 miles to Pinedale, where the population of about 1,500 supports a few eateries.
What LaBarge needed, according to the Pierces and a few of the other folk around town, was a diner. And after some research, they found one on the Internet that was for sale, a historic diner called the Moondance.
Only problem was, at that moment the Moondance was sitting on Grand Street in the SoHo district of New York City.
According to a story in my old newspaper, the Casper Star Tribune, by Jeff Gearino, the Moondance, which was built in the 1930s and seats about 34 people on 10 stools and six tables, is a New York icon fallen on hard times. Famous for its hand-cut fries and half-pound deli sandwiches, the Moondance had been featured in the movie “Spider-Man” as well as in episodes of “Friends” and “Sex in the City.”
An urban redevelopment boom forced the closure of the diner earlier this summer, when a real estate developer bought the property, but the building was owned by the American Diner Museum, a non-profit group from Rhode Island that preserves, restores and relocates historic diners across the country. To the delight of Vince and Cheryl Pierce, the building was for sale. And apparently, the price was right, because last week the Pierces flew to New York to finalize the sale and hired a company to remove the diner from its foundation and prepare it for moving.
When they get back to Wyoming, the Pierces plan to drive back to New York with a semi, plop the Moondance on the back and haul it clear across the country to LaBarge, where they’ll reopen it and serve traditional diner fare (4,000 miles to sling cheeseburgers?). They figure that between the 493 residents of LaBarge and the increased traffic to Pinedale and Big Piney on account of the natural gas boom, they’ll attract enough business to keep the lights on.
As far as I’m concerned, that’s optimism. I hope it all pans out.
A New York diner getting a second chance in a Wyoming town so small it does not have a single lawyer.
The residents of a small Wyoming town who finally have their own restaurant. And not just any restaurant either, but a well-loved icon from New York City, a place so foreign to the people in LaBarge it might as well be Tibet.
When I close my eyes, I can imagine it now. Early evening on the banks of the Green River. The tiny town of LaBarge nestled at the base of the red cliffs that surround it. The neon glow from the sign of the Moondance diner – no longer with a view of the Holland Tunnel, but a pretty nice view of a sagebrush prairie – inviting a hungry rancher or farmer or family with kids, to stop by for a pastrami and slaw, or maybe even a nice Reuben and a thick shake. The headlights of dozens of cars on the road leading into town, cars with people from a hundred miles away who’ve traveled that far for a unique meal and a bit of New York City history. A taste of Gotham on the plains.
Is this a great country, or what?
Gregory Bean is executive editor of Greater Media Newspapers. You can reach him at gbean@gmnews.com.