Around the corner from where I work is a bit of Atlanta history that is closing its doors. Bobby and June's Kountry Kitchen was an institution in Atlanta for 30 years. Bobby Crowe served as greeter, a rotund Santa Claus of a man, calling the men by name and the women usually by "darlin." His wife June ran the register and was just as much of a people person as her husband. Their two kids worked there also. The food, in my estimate, was not near the draw as was the Crowe family and the atmosphere they and their longtime staff created.
Bobby himself rocking on the front porch.
Running out to lunch last week I noticed that the front door of the place was propped open (as you can imagine, a rickety screen door probably original to the building). I had forgotten that for close to a year now they've been selling off all the contents of the restaurant. I popped in, was greeted by the ever-smiling Bobby, and surveyed what was left of a family's dream. Mostly big items (deep fryers, stoves, tables and chairs), but I decided to dig a little. And hidden behind a shelf of pots and pans was this little gem. Bobby's right-hand worker, a near toothless older gent, faithful to his boss to the very end, explained to me that this was used to corral all the waitresses' checks (each waitress had a number), with totals tallied at the end of the day by Bobby and June. When I asked Bobby how much he wanted for it, he said "how about $5." Sold. I explained that I wanted it because it had their names (or what was left of their names) on it, to which he replied, "that's the last thing left, other than menus and business cards, that has our names on it." I plan on using it on my craft table to hold . . . who knows what. Because when you think about it, it's chock full already, with a ton of memories and lives.
(I also bought five giant lidded pickle jars for $1 a piece. Sure to find a good use for these.)
(Photos of restaurant courtesy of AJC)
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