Savoring the Memories:
Van’s Café Served Up Comfort Food for Six Decades

Auburn—There’s basic, small-town café food, and then there’s home-cooked café food that’s so good people come back for generations. That’s how it was at Van’s Café in Auburn.

Richard Vanderheiden gives a
thumbs-up outside Van's Café.

While everyone seemed to have their favorite breakfast and lunch items at Van’s Café, the Smothered Hash Browns were always a best seller. Topped with sausage, onions, green peppers, mushrooms and cheese (along with two fried eggs on top, if desired), this perennially popular dish sold out during the last weekend in March before Van’s Café closed permanently after 61 years.

Some guests came for the first time to try classics like the Smothered Hash Browns, while long-time customers took the opportunity to joke with Richard Vanderheiden, owner. “Hey, Richard,” said one of the old timers when Vanderheiden stepped out of the kitchen. “I thought sure after all these years you’d learn how to cook before you quit!”

Vanderheiden takes it all in stride, just as he has for decades. The story of Van’s Café began in January 1954, when his parents, George and Rose Vanderheiden, moved their eight children (including Dorothy, Donald, Larry, Karen, Richard, Michael, Patrick and Mary) from Carroll to Auburn. They opened the Maidrite Café, which was located one lot over from where Van’s Café sits today on the west side of Highway 71.



Richard prepares an omelet.

The whole family pitched in waiting tables, washing dishes, taking out the trash and handling all the other duties required to run a restaurant. Those were the days when menu items like potato soup cost 30 cents, tuna salad was 35 cents and roast beef cost $1.15.



Vanderheiden was especially interested in the family business. “I started working there at age 10,” said Vanderheiden, 70, who enjoyed growing up in Auburn and remembers when the town boasted three grocery stores, a creamery, a hatchery, a drug store, two filling stations, a bank and a hardware store. “My mother was a very good cook, and I learned a lot from her.”

People could count on Van’s

In the spring of 1967, Vanderheiden came back from school to help his mother run the restaurant after his father became ill. After his father passed away, Vanderheiden took over the family business in 1972 and bought the building (which dates to 1893) where Van’s Café would be located for the next 43 years.

Good enough to eat!

He operated Van’s Café each Monday through Saturday from 6 a.m. to 1:30 or 2 p.m. and Sundays from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. “People knew they could count on Van’s being open,” said Vanderheiden, who served breakfast whenever the café was open.

Lorene Knobbe, who grew up in the area and now lives in Davenport, recalled eating at Van’s many times. She was sad to hear the café was closing for good. “My mom and dad loved that place and liked to go there on Sundays after church,” she said.

Other customers began reminiscing about the unforgettable meals they enjoyed at this iconic, small-town café. Kurt McCaulley, a Lake City native who now lives in DeWitt, recalled how he and Larry McCaulley, Lynn Dial, Mike Carisch, Gregg Gass, Ronnie McCaulley and other guys who baled hay for Marj Richardson looked forward to lunch at Van’s Café. “We used to eat the hot-beef sandwiches for lunch, and lots of times we’d have two helpings.”

The café was also special to Luanne Redenius of Lake City, a former waitress who still recalls her first $5 tip. “My first job with a real paycheck was waitressing at Van’s during the early morning shift,” said Redenius, who was 17 at the time and had just graduated from Lake City High School in 1974. “Richard was a hard worker and kind man who always took time to answer my questions, no matter how busy things got—and it seemed like we were always busy.”

It’s not Auburn without Van’s Café

Through the years, Van’s Café has became known for a variety of comfort foods, including the signature Van’s Potato Soup (created by Rose Vanderheiden), meatloaf, goulash and famous 3-bean salad, which is often the most popular salad bar item.

Serving up a hot breakfast at Van's Cafe

While Vanderheiden kept a low profile most of the time, he always said “yes” when people walked in the door of his restaurant and asked, “Is this the famous Van’s Café?” He knew they probably heard the 1040 WHO Radio morning show when broadcaster Van Harden came to Auburn a few years ago to help Vanderheiden celebrate 40 years in business.

            “That was a super day,” said Vanderheiden, who noted that nearly 600 customers showed up to be part of the unique event and enjoy a free breakfast.

             Customers became more like friends at Van’s Café, which also became a part of many local family’s mealtime traditions. Jim Daisy of Lake City began bringing his son to Van’s Café for breakfast on Saturday mornings starting in the early 1980s. “I started doing this when my son was about four years old, and it was a good way for us to bond through the years,” Daisy said.

   

Van's famous Smothered Hash Browns

         Along with locals like the Daisy family, Vanderheiden served customers from each of the 50 states and many foreign countries who wanted to experience an authentic, small-town Iowa café.  “In this business, you succeed by knowing what your customers want and providing it consistently,” Vanderheiden said.

            While some people offered to buy Van’s Café after hearing that Vanderheiden planned to retire at the end of March, Vanderheiden is more focused on relaxing and spending time with family. For Beth Buelt, a waitress from Auburn, working the final weekend at Van’s Café was a bittersweet experience. “I don’t know Auburn without Van’s Café,” she said.

Vanderheiden himself acknowledged it was hard at times to say goodbye after serving a final Sunday dinner of turkey, dressing, baked ham, dessert and coffee on March 29. “For decades we’ve been very blessed with wonderful employees and loyal customers,” said Vanderheiden, who offered a special thank you to the people of Lake City for their huge support through the years. “It has been a pleasure to serve everyone. I’ll miss the people, because it’s the people who make the café.”

 

 

Soup and Small-Town Iowa Spirit

 

As the days grow colder, there’s just something comforting about a big old kettle of soup. Comfort food took on a whole new meaning this fall in Lake City when our community came together in October to raise money for the Alcox family.

Lake City’s fire chief, Mel Alcox, was partially paralyzed by a severe spinal cord injury sustained during an accident at his home in September. Volunteer fire fighters and friends hosted a fundraiser to help the Alcox family with medical expenses for Mel, who has been receiving treatment at a hospital in Des Moines—more than 100 miles away from Lake City.

On a cold, rainy Monday night, farmers took time out from harvest, business owners stopped by after work, and families gathered at the Lake City fire station to put money in the donation box and enjoy hot bowls of homemade soup, ham and cheese sandwiches, and an array of homemade bars—all prepared and donated by community members. Tables throughout the truck bays were filled as p
eople of all ages gathered to show their support for Mel and Phyllis. The kids also enjoyed signing the big, bright get-well cards to Mel, which were displayed in front of one of the fire trucks.


Remember the G-Words
I was happy to share a kettle of my homemade Beef and Barley Soup, which I modified slightly to fit the menu of three soups, including Beef Vegetable Soup, Chili and Chicken Noodle Soup. I’ve included my Beef and Barley Soup recipe below.

While this event raised thousands of dollars for the Alcox family (pretty impressive for a town of 1,800 people and other little towns nearby), it showed how small towns turn kindness and generosity into an art form. It’s also a reminder about how every day is a good day to think about the “G words” of generosity and gratitude.
I think Phyllis Alcox said it best in this Facebook post:

“There are times when we think that small towns don’t have all that we need, but when there is a tragic event in a family’s life, the support and concern for their well-being are overwhelming. And for this we are so very thankful.”

Hearty Beef and Barley Soup

1 pound beef roast, cut into 1-inch cubes


1 tablespoon canola oil

3 cans (14-1/2 ounces each) beef broth

2 cups water

1 cup medium pearl barley 

1 tablespoon seasoning salt

1/2 to 1 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper

1 teaspoon thyme

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning, or 1 teaspoon bouquet garni seasoning

4 bay leaves

3 tablespoons dried parsley

Garlic (either 1 teaspoon dried, minced garlic, 4 cloves fresh garlic to taste or 1 teaspoon garlic salt)

1 can mushrooms (or use 1 to 2 cups fresh mushrooms)

1 can diced tomatoes, undrained

1 cup sliced carrots

1/2 cup chopped celery

1 cup chopped onion

1 cup frozen or canned corn

1 cup frozen green beans

1 cup potatoes, cubed

1/2 cup dry red wine

1 tablespoon BBQ sauce

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 tablespoon steak sauce

1 teaspoon horseradish (don’t leave this out—it’s the secret ingredient that makes this soup memorable in a good way!)

In a pan, brown beef in oil; drain. Transfer meat to slow cooker. Add all remaining ingredients. Cook on low for 8 to 10 hours. Remove bay leaves before serving. Enjoy!

Honoring the Legacy of Rural Iowa's Greatest Generation

Gerald Dial, Iowa farmer

As the world remembered Dec. 7, 1941, people in my neighborhood around Lake City were mourning the loss of a local farmer and honored veteran whose life changed forever after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

As I heard of Gerald Dial's passing on Dec. 6, I recalled how this salt-of-the-Earth Iowa farmer worked hard all his life, raising crops, livestock and a remarkable family. As I got to know Gerald through my career as an ag journalist, I'll never forget the day in May of 2006 when Gerald was preparing to plant his 60th crop.

As I prepared to write an article of Farm News in time for Memorial Day, I interviewed Gerald, who enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Force at age 17. Here's the story of Gerald, a B-17 tail gunner and member of the Greatest Generation whose inspiring legacy lives on:

Aiming for Victory:

Lake City Veteran Recalls World War II B-17 Bombing Missions

By Darcy Dougherty Maulsby

 

            When the graduation speaker admonished Lohrville High School’s class of 1942 that their lives had changed after Dec. 7, 1941, Gerald Dial was up for the challenge.

Gerald Dial, Army Air Corps

            “I wanted to go into the military because all my school mates had gone,” said Dial, 80, a farm kid who enlisted in the Army Air Force at 17. The train ride from Des Moines to Wichita Falls, Texas, for basic training at Sheppard Field marked the first of many journeys that would ultimately land Dial, who volunteered for gunnery school, in the Mediterranean Theater of Operations. As a tail gunner and ball turret gunner, his 35 combat missions in a B-17 “Flying Fortress” over Germany, Austria, Romania and other eastern European nations to destroy railroads, bridges and oil refineries would earn him recognition for valor from the Lieutenant General of the U.S. Army.

            “In air battles of great intensity, Gerald Dial has gallantly and repeatedly carried the offensive against heavy opposition to the heart of the enemy and has, by his unfaltering courage, earned the gratitude and praise of his fellow countrymen, as well as his commander.”

Gerald's WW II scrapbook

Preparing for war

            Dial, who had two brothers who also served in World War II, recalled how the training his crew received in Sioux City before shipping out prepared them for combat in Europe. After completing his training at Sheppard Field and Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas, Dial was sent to Lincoln, Neb., where the military put together flight crews. When the 10 members of Dial’s crew were assembled, they were sent to Sioux City for additional training in the spring and early summer of 1943.

“We flew almost every day over the Dakotas, Nebraska and Kansas,” recalled Dial, who farms near Lake City and planted his 60^th crop this spring. “Because the pilots were green and had to learn how to fly in tight formations, we lost more planes at Sioux City than overseas.”

Being stationed in Sioux City came with one big perk—Dial could catch a train to Manson and hitchhike home to see his high school girlfriend, Alice Ann, and his family. “Those were the days when it cost 15 cents to take your date to the show in Lohrville,” Dial recalled.

Movie dates quickly became a thing of the past when Dial and the crew were sent to Italy in the latter part of 1943. The crew’s operational assignment put them with the 99^th Bomb Group at Tortorella, a few miles south of Foggia on Italy’s eastern side. The crew lived in six-man tents heated by an improvised stove (made from a 50-gallon oil barrel) that ran on 100-octane gas. “We lived in those tents all through the winter, but we were far luckier than the infantrymen who slept in the mud,” Dial recalled.

When Dial’s pilot, Pat O’Neil, and the crew flew their first mission 10 days after joining the 99^th, they targeted a troop concentration near Bologna which was bombed from 20,000 feet. “We thought there was quite a bit of flak, although this was really a fairly mild run in comparison to what we found the next day over Blechammer on the German-Polish border,” said Dial, who always took Alice Ann’s ring with him on each mission he flew. “A terrific barrage put several holes in our plane.”



Gerald enjoyed lunch in the field with his wife,
Alice Ann, and son, Dwight
 

            Before that first flight over Europe, Dial was promoted from a corporal to a staff sergeant. Air Force rules at the time specified that servicemen had to be at least a staff sergeant to fly in combat. “It had something to do with the fact that if we were shot down and captured, this higher rank would help us receive better treatment,” said Dial, a 59-year member of the Lake City American Legion.

It also reminded the men’s loved ones all too clearly about the danger the crew faced. At 18, Dial was the youngest member of his crew, which included three men whose wives had babies on the way. For Dial’s girlfriend Alice Ann (who married Dial in 1945), it wasn’t always easy to keep her mind on her home economics studies at Iowa State. “In my Delta Zeta sorority, four of us had boyfriends, husbands or brothers who were tail gunners. It was hard to see young guys on campus who’d come back from the war with legs gone and other injuries.”

Remembering a cold Christmas

For Dial, bombing missions (which typically started at 4 a.m. and wrapped up by 4 p.m.) were determined by the weather. The downtime created a little free time to write letters to loved ones and jot a few quick notes in the “My Service Diary” that Alice Ann’s father had given him before he left for Europe. In an entry dated Oct. 1, 1944, Dial wrote, “Sat around in tent and read. Played blackjack all day. Rained to beat heck the whole day. Tonight went into the Red Cross, wrote letters and had ice cream and cake.”

Dial would have plenty to write about after a bombing mission on Christmas Day 1944. The crew, who had to wear oxygen masks in the unpressurized bomber starting at 10,000 feet, also wore electrically-heated flight suits to protect against temperatures that dropped to 50 degrees below zero. As the mercury plunged, Dial’s suit failed to heat up. “Going to the target wasn’t so bad because the sun was shining into my position, but coming home I was in the shade as the plane’s radio picked up Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas,’” recalled Dial, “I vowed I’d never be that cold again.”

Coming home



Gerald farmed near Lake City and Yetter for
more than 60 years.

            After returning to the United States on a troop transport ship in May 1945, Dial became a gunnery instructor at Laredo Army Air Base in Texas. Because Japan wasn’t out of the war yet, Dial and his new bride knew there was a chance he could be sent overseas again. Both were relieved when the war ended in August.

            “I got off the train in Jefferson, my folks picked me up, and within a week I was running the two-row corn picker,” said Dial, who picked corn through December and helped with hay baling, threshing and other jobs until he and Alice Ann had the chance to rent a farm west of Lake City in December 1946.



A long time member of Lake City's American Legion,
Gerald served oyster stew each winter.

A few years ago this farm where the Dials raised their seven children and still live today provided a unique setting for a reunion of the five surviving members of Dial’s World War II crew. As old scrapbooks, photos and letters were pulled out once again, the words that Officer James Sutton wrote to Dial on Oct. 30, 1945, from the Laredo Army Air Field rang as true as they did decades ago. “Your contributions toward the victory for which we fought, and which, after almost four long and trying years, we so recently won, have earned the undying gratitude of our country.”