A Walk on the Light Side, and Chicago's Old Mashed Potato Club


Life is too heavy today; let’s take a walk on the light side.   

I miss Chicago.  Between the CBOT (Chicago Board of Trade) and the Picasso Thing in Daly Plaza, Chicago is a toddling town.  One of my favorite spots was the now closed Mashed Potato Club. 

In the winter of 2000 my husband and I had been recently employed by a Chicago based company and were in town for orientation.  We were staying at a downtown hotel and looking for a place to eat.  Tom was scanning the dining guide in the hotel room.  

            “How does this sound?  The Mashed Potato Club, featuring roast beef, 70 different kinds of mashed potatoes, erotic art and an eclectic crowd.”  Between the roast beef and erotic art Tom had found the masculine version of gustatory nirvana.  We checked the map, grabbed our coats and were on our way.  On the cold walk to the restaurant we decided that “eclectic” meant the presence of an artsy/college crowd. 

            It must be pointed out that Tom and I are from St. Louis.  I love both cities but for different reasons.   Chicago is a big city and wears it well.  Chicago struts.  St. Louis is a small town in a large body.  While Chicago is truly the city of broad shoulders, St. Louis is the town Judy Garland sang about in, “Meet Me in St. Louis.”  There is a benign innocence to St. Louisans, and it was spurring Tom and I on toward what we thought would be a simple supper.

            We got to The Mashed Potato Club after a brisk, twenty minute walk and were more worried than impressed with the exterior.  The bright yellow building at 316 W. Erie St. was one shade on the safe side of seedy.  Stepping into the foyer, we saw an old white couch.  I have never seen a couch with so plain a history.  It wasn’t so much that you wondered what tales those cushions could tell; it was that they were speaking all too clearly! 

I am sure that only a long walk in the blustery Chicago cold made us bold enough to open the second door to the interior of the restaurant.  What a good choice that was!  The Mashed Potato Club was warm, welcoming and wild.  We walked past several busy tables of couples, some clearly hetero and others clearly not. Chicago always makes me wish I was better dressed and this evening was no exception, that is, until our host(ess), “Barbie” came over.

Barbie was a gentleman in three-inch heels, a mini-skirt, blond wig and five o’clock shadow.  With all due respect to the fellow, if I were a man and that was the most attractive woman I could make myself into, I think I would have played the hand God dealt me, but then, I don’t know the territory.  Aesthetics aside, Barbie was one of the most congenial servers I have ever had.  He quickly brought us a tray of complimentary Jell-O shots to accompany the tall draft beers we had ordered.

I know that Jell-O shots are made with a shot of liquor.  I was NOT aware that they were made with a shot of liquor in each serving.  During our delicious meal, the Jell-O kept coming.  Meantime, the pageant of humanity that came and went was a joy to behold.  When we asked for our check, Barbie pressed us to stay until 10 o’clock when the drag show started.  A drag show!  Given one more Jell-O shot, I would enter the damn thing.  Given two more, I’d have won! 

Tom (good husband that he is) knew better than to trust my impaired judgment and we headed for the door and our hotel.  Knowing that the Mashed Potato Club has closed for good is a melancholy thought.  It was easy to relax, enjoy life’s mysteries and laugh at the world there. 

As for Barbie: here’s looking at you kid, keep the faith.

 

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