Country Journalism
Gallatin's Yellow Rose
By Joseph Snyder
Kenneth Mitchell, who served as Daviess County Farmers Home Administration supervisor for more years than I can recall, took great delight in springing a good story on the editor whenever the opportunity arose. One day he came into my office to tell me that an editor had died following a lengthy illness and his medical bills were so severe there was nothing left for burial. A friend, after soliciting funds all afternoon, lacked a dollar of having enough to meet funeral expenses. Wearily he approached a citizen on the street and said,“Sir, could you spare a dollar to bury an editor?”
The stranger pulled a $5 bill from his pocket and replied, quite cheerily, “Here…bury five of ’em.”
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Joseph Snyder in the press room of the Gallatin North Missourian newspaper. Photograph, 2005. Courtesy of Joseph Snyder. |
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The story was told to me in jest, I think, but it makes the point that anyone who serves the public is an easy target for complaint and condemnation. Small-town editors must be near the top of the list. My 40 years in Gallatin with The Gallatin North Missourian in various capacities produced my full share of criticism and controversy. Because I decided early on to be something other than “a polly-parrot trained to make change,” I found myself out on more limbs than all the squirrels in Daviess County.
Voicing opinion is an occupational hazard of the news business, and the smaller the newspaper the more personal journalism becomes. The editor must learn, and it takes time, that he must not take every criticism or “dressing down” to heart. Sometimes it turns out he is right and former critics and adversaries will reconsider and become supporters. When the editor is guilty of an error in judgment or opinion, he must simply bite the bullet and admit he erred no matter the embarrassment or pain. There were times when it seemed all I did was say, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
A hundred readers may like or agree fully with what you write, but one person may take heated exception. That reader, in all likelihood, will sit down and write you a scathing letter or, worse, berate you at length on the phone just as you have settled down for an evening of relaxation at home.
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| The Gallatin Publishing Company. Photograph, ca. 1950s. Courtesy of Joseph Snyder. | |
Sometimes a particularly irate subscriber will confront you in front of the post office or during coffee time in the café, where he or she will give you “the whole load” right in front of everybody. All those readers who like a story, or approve of an editorial position taken, usually remain among the silent majority. That’s just human nature, I suppose. Most of us are prone to be quickly critical and much too slow with a kind or favorable comment.
I believe an open, forceful, and thought-provoking editorial page is the heart and soul of any newspaper, great or small. I recognized I could not please everybody and along with that came an awareness that one can talk about “freedom of the press” for hour upon hour, but the first responsibility of an editor in a small town is to survive. Period.
Gallatin’s Yellow Rose
At one time there was an old, old picture on the marble mantle in Gallatin’s nationally known tearoom, the McDonald Tea Room. The lady in the picture had been given some color by tinting, but the gentleman opposite her had been left looking rather anemic in the shaded tones of black and white photography. That photograph of the late Virginia McDonald, founder of the famous tearoom, and Duncan Hines, the man who put her dining establishment on the map for thousands of gourmands across America, was then a key to the personality of one of Gallatin’s, if not Missouri’s, most unusual and flamboyant characters.
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Virginia McDonald wearing one of the designer hats for which she was known. Photograph, n.d. Courtesy of Joseph Snyder. |
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Virginia was noted for her steady stream of high-pitched chatter, her large but gay designer hats from New York and Paris, her extravagant but tasteful gowns—and the little bell she kept on her desk to draw the attention of the waitresses and, quite often, her own presence. Her outgoing personality was as much a part of the tearoom legend as were the unsurpassed food specialties that made her famous from New York to San Francisco. From a single counter in a building that had once housed a grimy blacksmith shop, Virginia prepared, cooked, and served delicious food. The rest is history, and thousands of people who had never even heard of Gallatin, much less visited it, came to taste her delightful preparations.
And coming once, they came again, because Virginia was the tearoom. She possessed unusual taste and culinary skills. She was not a particularly attractive woman, but the quaint and exclusive atmosphere she envisioned for her tearoom reflected her exceptional taste and feminine traits, among them her constant quest for love and beauty. Her late husband, Charles, built the tearoom without a blueprint, stick by stick, and it was a labor of love for him, too, for he adored his Texas gal.
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| The McDonald Tea Room, as it appeared in the 1940s, and a review written by Duncan Hines. Photograph from Kentucky Library & Museum, Western Kentucky University. Copyright © Pinnacle Foods Group Inc. All rights reserved. | |
Her success is as American as any Horatio Alger story. There was nothing easy about it; it was hard work and demonstrated courage in the face of adversity, and triumph over illness and debt. Virginia started with no business training, $8,000 in debt, and was recovering from several years of serious illness. She came to Gallatin from Austin, Texas, as the young and fun-loving bride of Charles McDonald, a hardware salesman whose father ran a blacksmith shop there. After she had contracted tuberculosis and overcome it, but with their meager savings gone, she decided to meet the crisis by starting a restaurant. In the early days someone had labeled her “Gallatin’s Yellow Rose of Texas,” and she relished the title and lived the role.
The tearoom was located a block west of the town square, far off main highways and isolated from major centers of population. Al Bohling, a feature writer for The Kansas City Star, wrote, “There is no real reason for its existence, except that a great cook decided to go into business next door to her home.” Gallatin, a town of only 1,642 citizens, “obviously couldn’t support such a place on its own,” he wrote. Virginia’s home, Maple Shade, was the only house in town without a kitchen of its own.
In later years there was more of an identifying sign on the tearoom than there was in Virginia’s time. Many people would drive past the place, not aware they had reached their destination, missing the few wooden letters on the front of the main dining room that barely stood out from the wood and stucco building. Encouraged to place a more noticeable sign for strangers to see as they drove into town, she always said: “Well…if they drove this far to eat a decent meal, they’ll find my tearoom.” Truly this wasn’t arrogance—it was just Virginia.
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Duncan Hines enjoys a meal at a restaurant in Toronto in 1953. Photograph from Kentucky Library & Museum, Western Kentucky University. Courtesy of Cora Jane Spiller. |
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It was after Duncan Hines “discovered” the tearoom that it gained national attention. He gave it his coveted recommendation at a time when only two other Missouri establishments were so rated, and Hines even went so far as to declare Virginia’s tearoom as one of the ten best places to eat in the United States. This started the diner pilgrimage to Gallatin for good food. Virginia’s unique combination salad, prepared with a glorious “house” dressing, the ingredients mixed within the leaves of a whole head of lettuce, was unsurpassed anywhere. Those who have traveled some 40 countries of the world say they have yet to find an equal to her combination salads, which were served as she originally designed them.
People enjoyed the way she served food—family style with the vegetables passed around so that each guest served himself or herself and took as much as he or she liked. If more was desired, the bowls were replenished from the busy kitchen and passed again. Virginia wanted her patrons to leave Gallatin happy and, above all, full.
No bills were ever placed on the tables in Virginia’s time. Diners paid her personally as they left. She was always in position behind a small kneehole desk, dispensing a gracious kind of hospitality, and a running commentary for as long as one cared to linger and listen. She soon mentally catalogued the favorite dishes of her regular patrons. If she knew you were coming, your preferences would be served at your table whether they were on the menu for that day or not. It was one of those special touches her friends loved.
Another big boost came when she was asked to expand an earlier cookbook for international distribution. How It Is Done! was published in 1949 by the late Frank Glenn of Kansas City, who owned one of the city’s fine bookstores. Within six months, the book went into its third printing. It reached the heights in 1950 when it was chosen as a Book-of-the-Month Club selection. The fifth printing, sold out long ago, has become a collector’s item.
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Cover of Duncan Hines’s restaurant review publication, 1960 edition. Photograph from Kentucky Library & Museum, Western Kentucky University. Copyright © Pinnacle Foods Group Inc. All rights reserved. |
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During this period, Virginia was much in demand. She flew all over the country making speaking appearances and giving cooking advice, and modeling clothes. A feature story with color photos cost Better Homes & Gardens more than $3,000 to prepare, and the magazine flew Virginia to Chicago just to take her picture, which accompanied the story.
She received her “Oscar” in 1962 when she was honored by the Duncan Hines Institute, and it was this award, of all she received, that she valued most highly. Only 50 leaders of the dining, lodging, and vacation industries in the United States were so honored, and Roy H. Park, editor in chief of the institute, personally presented her with the Silver Anniversary award. The honored establishments were cited for “excellence in service and hospitality over a span of 25 years” and for having contributed to the “raising of standards of the industry to the lasting benefits of travelers.”
Many notables tasted her food, among them former president Herbert Hoover; actress Martha Scott, who was a native of Jamesport, Missouri, a neighboring town; Branch Rickey, baseball magnate; writer Dorothy Thompson; Margaret and Mary Jane Truman; and numerous elected officials. One-time Missouri governor Arthur M. Hyde was one of her staunchest supporters.
“He was one of the best friends I ever had,” Virginia often said. “His favorite dish was the black raspberry ice.” He said it should be held reverently in the hands and inhaled as you would a fragrant rose.
The late J. C. Penney, the chain-store founder whose hometown is just 13 miles south of Gallatin at Hamilton, and who owned several choice farms in the area, was another steady patron of the tearoom. His weakness was her corn muffins. Virginia said Mr. Penney never requested that she bake muffins especially for him: “He always called to tell me he was coming and knew that I would have muffins on the table for him.”
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| Virginia McDonald's tearoom, ca. 1940s. From How It Is Done! by Virginia Rowell McDonald, 1949. Courtesy of Joseph Snyder. | |
Being a somebody in a small town leads to legends, and one was that Virginia once asked Mr. Penney to leave the tearoom because he showed up in overalls. Virginia always denied the story, and friends who knew her well declared she would have served
J. C. “even if he had appeared in barnyard boots or swimming trunks.” She did not serve liquor, and she heartily disapproved of guests who were obviously under the influence on their arrival at the tearoom. She could regale you with amusing stories about the times she asked embarrassed and angry patrons to leave because of drinking. Her peppery presence, however, left little doubt that she meant what she said.
Now and then she would prepare a feast for friends from Gallatin, St. Joseph, or Kansas City. These meals would be lavish indeed, consisting of at least seven courses, and only on these occasions would a delicate wine be tastefully served at the proper time. Some of the Midwest’s most successful and socially prominent people attended these special dinners—by invitation only.
Was Virginia popular in her hometown? Frankly, she wasn’t, at least not to the rank and file, who considered the tearoom a “fancy place” that catered to snooty people and who thought most of her “airs” fanciful and contrived. Virginia was never able to correct this erroneous feeling, and it remained a source of psychological pain and regret to her. The fact is, she was a generous person, often too generous for her own good, and she truly loved Gallatin and its people.
As the years passed, Virginia’s health deteriorated. At one time she arranged to leave the tearoom to the Daughters of the American Revolution. It had been her hope they would continue to operate it after her death and preserve its traditions as they had the “old tavern” at Arrow Rock, a historically important settlement near Columbia. But when the word was passed that the tearoom had notes at the bank, and that future management and staff problems seemed certain, the DAR cooled to the idea and indicated they were not all that interested. But it was in Virginia’s mind to preserve the tearoom for the benefit of Gallatin, and when she died March 1, 1969, she left it in a trust “for the good of my adopted home town.”
Postscript: The tearoom was owned by a series of individuals and businesses throughout the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s. It was destroyed in a fire on July 4, 2001.